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By Davis Ndyomugabe of Qachecks
What happens when philosophers stop questioning the world around them? In Death of the Philosopher…, Davis Ndyomugabe of Qachecks challenges modern thinkers to reclaim independent thought, courage and their responsibility to society. The poem confronts intellectual conformity, environmental destruction and the silence of thinkers in the face of injustice. For Davis, the philosopher does not die when the body dies. The philosopher dies when the courage to question, challenge and seek solutions disappears.
Modern philosophers are the walking dead.
They have lost their claim to higher thinking.
Baits and lures
They’ve gluttonously swallowed.
Their probing minds are hanging on spits
Like pork ribs.
Everywhere, we see them
Hobnobbing with the status quo.
They’re holding begging cups
Like alms-seekers.
Their minds and brains are bereft
Of any iota of original thinking.
Alas, we now know
The modern philosopher
As a copy-and-paste “thinker”!
Original thinking
Took an early flight.
Like the one-eyed man
Leading the blind in darkness,
They’ve lost their bearings
Of original thought.
Just like the referee or umpire
Dictating terms on how it is done,
Yet having so little an idea
About the game.
He’s like a judge sitting in court
To adjudicate matters
Of which he’s clueless,
And yet his final decision
Is “callously” binding on the parties,
As the evidence of eyewitnesses
Is ignored!
Indeed, it is all water!
Without water,
All life is dead.
Neither good nor bad
Is relevant
In the absence of water.
Man has assigned himself
The role of god
Over all creation.
Higher animals,
Despite their bountiful energy,
Desperately look on.
They’re tamed
As helpless eunuchs
Bathing with princesses,
Like the hog rolling in mud,
Adorned with emeralds and gems.
Man has dissected nature
To imperfection,
And the cruel acts
Of his handiwork
Are reeling before all:
Destroyed wetlands
And burnt forests.
Extinct fauna and flora
Are the last epitaphs.
The Garden of Eden
Is wholesomely raped.
Climate upsurges
Menacingly roar, ruinously.
Yet today’s philosophers
Cluelessly look on.
They’re invisible
In the set pattern
Of the chaos.
One is excused for saying
That they’re enablers
Of today’s strife!
Is there anything else
The modern thinker can propound?
Or are they busy
Minding their daily bread
Like peasants?
Hasn’t the philosopher abdicated
From his “thinking” role
In society?
Or are they so deeply hewed
Into cowardly coexistence
With the status quo
That their original initiative
And courage to pick out planks
From the emperor’s eyes
Are lost…?
Philosophers read
The problems of their times.
They prescribe solutions
To issues,
However painful.
When we have “armchair” philosophers
Detached from reality,
We’re not surprised
At their silence!
A philosopher’s life
Is a bed of needles
And a cushion of thorns.
He’s ever probing
And is mistakenly seen
As a crazy nuisance.
He’s oddly branded
As insane.
As a seer,
He sees what society
Is blind to.
Comfort is his last walk
On the beach.
How can a philosopher toast
With the powers that be?
His is to bring out
Answers and solutions
To the problems.
How then can he point out
The errors, ills and mistakes
Of the spoilers
When his mouth is full,
And the chaos of the time
Is glorified
As the new normal…?
Then,
That is when
The death of the philosopher
Is announced…
— Davis Ndyomugabe of Qachecks
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