TPP621S - THEORY AND PRACTICE OF WORLD POETRY 2B - 2ND OPP - JAN 2020


TPP621S - THEORY AND PRACTICE OF WORLD POETRY 2B - 2ND OPP - JAN 2020



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NAMIBIA UNIVERSITY
OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY
DEPARTMENT OF COMMUNICATION
QUALIFICATION: BACHELOR OF ENGLISH
QUALIFICATION CODE: 07BAEN
LEVEL: 6
COURSE CODE: TPP621S
COURSE NAME: THEORY AND PRACTICE OF WORLD
POETRY 2B
SESSION:JANUARY 2020
PAPER: THEORY
DURATION: 3 HOURS
MARKS: 100
SECOND OPPORTUNITY / SUPPLEMENTARY EXAMINATION QUESTION PAPER
EXAMINER(S)
Mr. A. BREWIS
MODERATOR:
Mr. M. MHENE
INSTRUCTIONS
1. Answer ALL the questions.
2. Write clearly and neatly.
3. Number the answers clearly.
4. Indicate whether you are a FM,PM or DI student on the cover of your
answer booklet.
5. Upto 10% will be deducted from your final mark for language errors.
THIS QUESTION PAPER CONSISTS OF 12 PAGES (Including this front page)

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Answer ALL the questions.
Question 1
Compare and contrast the following poems , paying particular emphasis to the main
theme of the poems and how the poet carries this theme across to the readers.
[35 MARKS]
Keamogetsi Molapong
Reconciliation
With Independence knocking
On my forbidden door
| learned a new word
Reconciliation
Reconciliation is an insult
To our Black integrity
A humiliating smack
On innocent black faces
Look at this skin
| once glorified my colour
But now the skin | carry
Brings pain to my haunted life

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Yet, |am made to be blind
Listen, the pale | see
Reminds me of the Blackness
| started to hate
The face | was given
The typical flat nose
And extra big mouth
Has been savagely destroyed
Now it’s just another Black face
Filling an empty space
No shape, no identity
Look at us, our African pride
Has been hypnotised by reconciliation
No time constructed by chance
The cultures of my people
Reconciliation has been
Pushed down my brain

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Like gunpowder in a barrel
And the tension is quite high
Once anger snaps
Death will claim through pain
Smoke screen another Black life
From the eyes of man
With Independence idling
In front of my broken door
Justice shall never prevail
With Independence knocking
On my forbidden door
| learned a new word
Reconciliation
(Come Talk Your Heart 2005:98-99)

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A.L. Nghifikua : Reconciliation
Reconciliation keeps Namibia together
Every Namibian should support it
Console yourselves with a belief in new peace
Only through it can we have hope
Namibians all, together we can compromise
Capital punishment holds no solution
Only peace brings stability
Let us strive for calm and unity
It is our duty, Namibian people
Affirm this harmony for composure and oneness
Embrace it for equilibrium
Tolerate it for amnesty
Namibians , do reconcile!
Secure Namibia from wanton destruction
People of Namibia, reconcile to survive
Encourage your neighbour to support this initiative

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Mobilise your region to defend this belief
Improve your relations with friends and with strangers
Organise yourselves to construct a new wholeness
Admit your mistakes and build up your future
Learning a lesson from others before us
Harmony or chaos, the choice is our own
“united we stand, divided we fall”
Yes, Namibians, we can reconcile!
Question 2
[35 MARKS]
Do a detailed analysis of the poem The Angry Young Man by Thaniseb. In your analysis make reference
to imagery , what message is the poet bringing to the reader and the techniques he uses.

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The Angry Young Man
He stumbles past
the carnival in celebration of New Year’s Eve,
armed with the school-leaving-certificate...ungraded
In a soiled brown envelope...
worn to the edges and adorned here and there
with patches of sweat and odour of a lesser fancy.
He pauses momentarily;
his unpractised eyes sweep gingerly
over the mass of soiled, flapping paper
pinned to the weathered noticeboard,
his mind tripping over consonants and
vowels, punctuation and diction:
with his lips twisted in a tortured grimace
(his hands tighten on the envelope),
he slowly turns and trudges away
on his battered tekkies(1)
of make and shape long lost...
Into the chattering lunch hour traffic.
With no space for expression in the transition
trudging his way through the mist of our future.

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At the other end of Independence Avenue,
at the statue of ‘an unknown soldier’,
sits a young man with an idiotic grin and eyes wide shut,
conversing with the spirits invisible to a naked eye;
Che sneering at the world from his blood red T-shirt
‘Look, he who calls himself an artist in his soiled jacket,
creased pair of worn jeans and loafers,
of a label unknown on his feet,
the rebellious dreads , peeping in all directions
under his rainbow-coloured wooly...’
‘Hah, he surely is no Picasso, nor Mozart’, quips the elderly woman
walking a posh dog.
With no space for expression in the transition
the young man trudges his way through the mist of our dreams.
The angry young man declared ‘the Cadre’ yesterday
and the enemy of the people today walks past the library-
the anthology of ‘freshly-ground’,
angry free verse clutched under his arm.
‘The revolution is over’,
sighs the empowered thirty-something publisher.

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‘Whoever reads that trash with no rhyme,
reason nor rhythm’, grunts the English professor.
With no space for expression in the middle of transition,
the angry young man trudges his way through the mists of our dreams.
At the entrance to the Nice Restaurant with a state banquette,
of all sorts of pleasantries in progress,
..on Independence Day,
stands a young lad with empty eyes
and the smell of all the failed promises
clinging to his scarecrow body,
reaching out a weathered ,practiced hand
‘Please Meneer(2), a one dollar for bread’.
‘Please Ausie(3),your leftovers for a homeless boy’.
‘Nee man, Voetsek, Namibia is free.Get a job.Where are your parents?”
Grunt the immaculately dressed couple coldly.
With no space for expression in the transition,
the little homeless lad trudges his way through the mist of our
transformation.

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There, waiting on the edge
with his prodigal heart hovering on the edge of sanity,
looking for someone to save him from himself
stands a young man — his mind a burning furnace-
his lover’s heart still pulsing in his hand,
With no space for expression lost in translation.
(A visit to Zoo Park, Windhoek,May 2005)
1) sneakers
2) Madam or Auntie
Question 3
[30 MARKS]
Discuss the effective use of imagery and the concept of “time” as used by Issiek Zimba in his poem The
Voice of Namibia, below.
THE VOICE OF NAMIBIA
There will come a day
When the voice, the voice
Of the people will be heard,
the voice will be that of

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free children of Namibia.
The hour is approaching
for the children of Namibia
to take up the throne of
freedom and justice,
and once the clock, strikes
one, a change of wind
will blow across Namibia.
Comrades of Namibia
pick up your arms,
forge ahead to strike a
blow, a blow that will
create a new nation of
peace, freedom and of tranquillity.
March on Namibian children
march on to Windhoek,
for this is the only time to strike
hard, to strike a blow and fight
for the beloved country.
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The struggle should continue,
for, not later than now, a wave
of freedom and justice will
roll across Namibia.
TOTAL:100
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