Africa Says
Carl Phillips

Before you arrive, forget. The first line of Africa Says pretty much sums up what Africa is trying to say. Of course many people have ideas about Africa and feelings connected to what it is or who the people are that live there. But none of that matters, for Africa is not what you think it is. The speaker in this Poem speaks with an air of authority and knowledge, which is fitting as Carl Phillips is an African Studies and African American History professor. He seems to be talking specifically to a Western audience, one that has misconceptions and preconceived notions based on literature and cultural presumptions rather than facts. He seems to have the goal of informing the reader, or even warning the reader, who has never been to Africa before, what and what not to expect. Carl Phillips uses vivid diction and a recursive style to get across the point that Africa is not a static idea, easily characterized, but rather a dynamic entity not to be tamed, changed or even understood from the outside.
The author uses lots of very vivid and intense diction in this poem, portraying very savage and powerful feelings and settings. The analogy between Africa and a woman, which goes on throughout the poem, takes on life-like vividness in some parts. “She smells of henna or attar, or rises steeped in musk that in other women does not stray from between the legs.” This intense invocation of a smell has such a savage nature and strong effect on the reader, its hard not to read twice. With other descriptions such as “the running sores at the breasts of the women who bed beside stalled trains,” he is clearly trying to invoke an emotional response from the reader who can only imagine what this reality must be like if he has in fact never been to Africa. This vividness overpowers any preconceived notions you have while reading this poem.
This vivid language is also manifested in his continued use of the imperative and the purposeful actions carried out by the woman who represents Africa. The speaker commands the reader to forget, which, obviously, is nearly impossible to comply with. Other commands such as “Don’t be surprised…” and “…know better…” he gives to the reader, as if these were actions which they could actually control. But one can not consciously forget something, or not be surprised by something. By giving these commands which are so hard to obey, the author seems to be acknowledging the futility of his own intent to change your ideas. He may also be warning you of the difficulty of actually understanding Africa, even if you want to. The lines “She says she has no desire to return,” and “she takes nothing you offer, and moves on bare feet away from you” give Africa the sense of having free will and intentions, creating a more vivid image of an actual woman with personality and motive. His use of the second person (you) throughout the poem enforces his authoritative perspective, and knowledge on the subject. He walks the reader through actions and experiences as if you have no choice in the matter and are merely subject to the will of Africa.
The author uses a recursive style in this poem, as if he tries to undermine his own language several times in order to get the reader to rethink what he supposedly knows. He compares Africa to a human body, but then compares your body to a machine (equipment), giving two very contrasting metaphors for the human body. The former represents a holistic view of and entire continent functioning as one body, while the latter embodies an opposite and more western idea which represents a dichotomy between the mind and body and the individual and society. He says to forget all you know about Africa, then proceeds to list numerous things as if he wants you to learn or remember something. Toward the end of the poem, he says, “you were never here.” He writes over half of the poem about you, the reader, being in Africa, then flips that idea on its head. Then he resumes, saying “For this reason, you may decide to stay put thinking you have left nothing finished.” Again, he makes you completely rethink what he has said up to this point, citing not being there as a reason to stay. It is as if all along he is not only undermining what he is saying, but actually what you are thinking.
This makes you feel like you do not know what to expect or what even to think anymore. Then he says “You may have an urge” leaving that line hanging, invoking again a sexual idea or an urge toward Africa as a woman, but he follows it with “to make each move count” which brings you away from the idea of an urge at all and instead to some kind of plan or purpose. Finally, the last line seems to undercut the entire poem. “You may have learned nothing at all.” The author this whole time has been trying to teach you something and change your idea about Africa, yet here he says, almost admittedly, that you may have learned nothing. Or perhaps he is talking about the “you” in the poem who will experience all of the things he talks about. This “you” is supposed to realize upon going to Africa that it is not what “you” thought and going to Africa should change your idea, but it may have had no effect at all.
The entire poem uses very vivid language, yet at the same time is ambiguous and even undermines what it has already said in order to try to force you to rethink that which you presume. The author is constantly making you reanalyze what you read, as you should do with what you think you know about Africa. More generally, the poem serves almost as a reminder not to judge or make assumptions that are not based on experience. Whether it’s a foreign country or a strange person, we are not all the experts we think we are.