Be
(i.m. Benjamin Zephaniah, 1958-2023)
Be kind in supporting the hopeless and homeless
as they endure another freezing December;
Be bold in protecting the planet we live on,
and its verdant and lush natural splendour;
Be angry at supremacists lording it over us,
our fight is righteous, so never surrender;
and be proud to stand up for our siblings and comrades,
regardless of faith, race or gender;
and be extra nice to yu turkeys dis Christmas.
They’ve just lost their most strident defender.
Oh man. Today’s been a kick in the teeth, as we learnt of the death of the truly great Benjamin Zephaniah, a legend of the poetry world, the performance poetry world, and the world.
Like a lot of people of my generation, I’m sure, I first came across his work at school, with his amazingly rhythmic children’s poetry, most famously the legendary “Be Nice To Your Turkeys This Christmas”. It was only as I grew up, became more aware of the socio-political landscape of recent decades and his place in the lineage of spoken word that I truly grew to appreciate him, devouring as much of his work as I could lay my eager hands on.
If you’ve never read his rejection of an OBE, it’s worth doing. This was a guy who minced neither meat nor words.
I wanted to write something in tribute to him for today’s Door, but have to check my privilege in doing so, having grown up in a straight, white, middle-class family and a largely straight, white, middle-class town. I wasn’t sure if it was my place to euologise him, when so many others could do better, with much more of a fitting eloquence too.
But actually, exhortations against racism, against imperialism, against division, don’t and can’t work if they’re only aimed at the victims – it’s up to the rest of us to call out this shit as well, and do what we can to change the world, and unf**k the systems, we’ve always benefitted from. So that’s broadly what this poem is – a call for a more tolerant, more engaged, more empathic world, and a world that hopefully outlasts all of us.
Although obviously, it had to reference the turkeys too. It is Christmas after all.
I remember my Aunt doing a “party piece” at Christmas a few years ago, and reciting Zephaniah’s immortal “Talking Turkeys”. Reading it as written, in the Caribbean patois, but with a fairly liberal sprinkling of Wiltshire vowels in there too, it ended up sounding like Pam Ayres taking a daytrip to Notting Hill Carnival.
It’s days like this that make me feel I should be a vegan. Maybe time to cut down on the meat, at least. We can all do something.
Rest in power, Benjamin Zephaniah. Thanks for everything. Eighteen days to go…
Owen x
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