“A Benin Bronze bears witness to a chequered, cross-cultural history in this mellifluous, meticulously crafted poem.” Patience Agbabi, poet, author and Orwell Youth Prize 2024 judge
I was born from molten brass, cast
by my own, a witness of time
as it ebbs and flows, heals
and scars, takes and restores.
Sun weathered, brass forged,
glass caged, darkness smothered.
Numbered and named,
your ‘Benin Bronze’
Yet still I am entwined amongst
the mangroves’ roots.
Since time itself, I hung.
With my brothers and sisters,
fathers and their fathers.
Echoed history lining the
palace walls.
I think of my great Oba whom I depict,
he stands proudly, steel rings encircle
his neck, they whisper warnings.
In each hand a leopard swings
from its tail, two mudfish hang
from his belt, conquered.
I wonder what became of him.
Murmurs of a renowned tapestry, it depicts
another nation’s Oba. If I were to rip it,
ship it, to every point of the compass,
the story, lost. His power, forgotten.
As were we.
A rippling chain of history, each a link.
Etchings upon our surface bear
centuries’ weight, centuries of life.
This they cannot understand.
They who stifle yawns, hush whispers,
cast nought but a fleeting gaze.
They who alarm us, cage us,
separating us from our people.
We may line your shelves
and fill your rooms. You sought
to take our voice, replace
it with your own. But now
in stillness I realise,
history always belongs to the conquerers.
We asked previous winners and runners up of the Orwell Youth Prize to interview the 2023 cohort about their Orwell Youth Prize writing. Below, 2021 winner, Bella Rew, interviews 2024 runner up, Esther Butterworth, about museums and cultural history, humanising sculpture, and poetic structure:
Bella: The core of this poem is a ‘Benin Bronze’. What inspired you to focus on that object in particular?
Esther: I decided to write about them when I visited the British Museum with my family and saw the Benin Bronzes displayed in the Africa gallery – behind glass and under artificial lighting. I felt it was a real tragedy that such culturally significant artworks, which literally narrate history, are being kept in museums with no intention of returning them to their country of origin. As someone who is not part of that culture, I can’t even imagine the depth of that loss for those who are. However, I wanted to try and put myself in their shoes and write about it, because this and other cultures affected in similar ways deserve to have their history respected and have the justice of their artworks being returned to them.
Bella: Although the poem is almost ekphrastic in the way in which it brings the figure and its history to life, you chose to write it from the perspective of the object rather than someone looking at it. Could you elaborate on this choice?
Esther: I chose to write from the perspective of a Benin Bronze to humanise the sculptures. By giving these inanimate artworks thoughts and feelings, I wanted readers to see the wrong in taking them from their rightful home – a place where they are a vital part of the culture – just to fill up shelf space in our museums. In many cases, visitors skim their eyes over the display case and move on, so I wanted to put the focus on the artwork rather than the spectators. I feel this applies to so many artworks and this issue needs to be discussed more.
Bella: Your use of space is particularly striking in this poem. What effect did you hope the fragmented structure of your writing would have on your readers?
Esther: I wanted the separation of words that are usually placed side by side to create a fragmented reading experience, representing the current gap between the Benin Bronzes and their home. I also enjoyed experimenting with the structure to emphasize specific words and phrases that I wanted to stand out.