Stylistics And Literary Techniques Question Paper

Stylistics And Literary Techniques

Course:Bachelor Of Arts In Literature

Institution: Kenyatta University question papers

Exam Year:2009

KENYATTA UNIVERSITY
UNIVERSITY EXAMINATIONS 2009/2010
FIRST SEMESTER EXAMINATION FOR THE DEGREE OF
BACHELOR OF ARTS AND BACHELOR OF EDUCATION

ALT 300: STYLISTIC AND LITERARY TECHNIQUES

DATE:
Thursday 24th December 2009

TIME: 11.00am ? 1.00pm

K.I. Laibuta
WHICH MAN DIED?

The man, they say, died,
Was buried in rags, behind cracked dry lips
That, I recollect, gave me a smile of hope,
Was a short way above sore feet
That walked from street to street
Behind a belly I had once filled
With the remnants of my potato chips
After an extravagant snack lunch with my girlfriend
Very close to Uhuru Highway.

The man, they say, died,
Buried in our midst and rotten for recognition?s sake,
Behind the road on a sidewalk on Kenyatta avenue,
While faces watched him waste away,
Towering hotel lodgers watching from above,
And those that remained alive spat on his grave
And sped away to avoid the persistent ghost
That beckoned in graceful silence for a coin
But soon vanished form their conscience
Because they had not interest in the images of the dead
For whey they haunt you
You cannot eat in peace,
Sleep in peace,
Walk in peace,
Or curse them in peace,
But is it true?
Has the man died?

No, not at all.
The man lives but Man died.
Man died, now long buried
In clean colourfull linen
And a smile for an epitaph
To read that he died happy,
Died well fed, well sheltered,
Man died well educated
Trying to leave a trace of his being
For posterities to ponder over,
Buried in his expensive sport car
With his business car beside the ?coffin?.
Has passed away behind the oak desk
Pacing up and down thinking money
Making policies, deciding and determining
The fate of those out there;
Those that made his heat beat
Died, Man, perusing through share certificates,
Carefully scrutinising a handful of title deeds,
Died, died, died all the more.
Then
Man was laid to rest.
He died not complaining to anybody about anything.
He even happy in his death
Jubilantly asking for another bottle of beer
And humming a tune he would dance to tonight,
Looking around suspiciously
As though searching the word over
For whatever he might have left behind
For he held the world in his hands,
Looked around one more time
And his eyes seemed to settle
On one he was ashamed of calling Brother,
And he looked, he shook his head
Wishing that the man had died
To cleanse him of the lingering shame.

Arrow of God
Chinua Achebe

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