Both works ‘The Emigree’ and ‘Checking Out Me History’ explore individualistic and internal
conflict as a result of displacement and historical inaccuracy. Rumens by-and-large feels
displaced as a result of conflict; with South London heritage, the ‘Emigre’ is a synecdoche
for those whose ‘fascinations lay elsewhere’ - whereas Agard appears to exploit the
fragmented relationship between ‘his’ Patois and educational-norms, where he combats this
internal conflict with a metaphorical ‘bandage.’ Both works mirror the beauty and dissimilarity
of the past, searching for something once regarded as so special in the ‘past,’ whilst
simultaneously adjusting to the new norms and customs of Western society.
Rumens' work is composed in free-verse, mirroring this rambling nature of speech and
memory, whereas Agard’s work is elongated and fragmented, perhaps to exploit these gaps
that form the cornerstone of world history. Rumens work, with an absence of a conformed
rhyme scheme, titled with an additional ‘e’ symbolically fractures her memories to a further
extent, where she is complicit in her own oppression as a position of femininity. The works
are dissimilar in this respect, since Agard is not reminiscing on something/somewhere that
he left - instead, unveiling the history he wished to possess. Rumens acknowledges her
heritage, personal history and reflects on this - whereas Agard questions why he did not
know the wider societal history. Agard’s question is reinforced in the italicised, indentations
throughout his work: these lines display the other side of history, juxtaposed by the
imperative ‘dem tell me’ - they did not ‘teach’ with any elasticity, but instead command: this
rewrites history, exacerbating this existing oppression. Rumens' work, however, longs for
what she did once possess - her indirect speech, phonetically sounding colloquial combined
with the first-person ‘I have no passport… no way back’ criticises this materialistic value of
identity, strengthening this imagery of a ‘frontier’ - these ‘frontiers’ are merely illusory, and
strain Rumens’ from accessing her identity - perhaps, symbolic for the tyranny itself, and the
political strain. Structurally, Agard replicates this idea and the division of lines are illusory,
too - perhaps this communicates identity as ‘branded’ within us, something isolated from
political control - this is revised in both works, of the possessive ‘me’ and ‘I’ that dominate
the works.
This yearn for change is reinforced by Rumens employment of the verb ‘branded,’ evoking
elements of categorisation and deduction of individuality - yet it is by ‘sunlight,’ a continuous
motif that signposts the jovial memories - the ‘light’ should exploit, but instead it conceals the
oppression of the past. Whereas in Agard's work, The metaphorical ‘bandage up me eye’
coalesced with the colloquialism is ironic, where this ‘bandage’ should theoretically cure - yet
it only worsens the harm already created by miseducation - the way the ‘bandage’ is crafted
by ‘history’ evokes an undertone that ‘history’ is the cure. This ideology of blindness is
subverted by the slight transparency of the ‘bandage’ - Agard can vision a form of change,
whereas this vowel-heavy extract widens the mouth, phonetically, highlighting this shocking
divide. Nor Agard or Rumens’ work is overtly confrontational, but instead a divide between
‘dem/us,’ or ‘me/they’ respectively - instead, it longs for unity, as Agard expresses in his
regular rhyme scheme of a fragmented AB.
Agard's work, referencing ‘Battle of Hastings’ in ‘1066’ and the throwaway ‘all dat’ minimise
its significance, portraying it as factually insignificant due to its distance - curtailed
descriptions mimic its lack of importance - there is ultimately no thorough explanation. The
conjunctive ‘But Toussaint L’Ouverture/no dem never tell me bout dat’ juxtaposes what ‘dem’
did tell ‘us’ - the plethora of monosyllabic and pejorative language in ‘no…me…bout…dat’
highlight this divide, and gaps in knowledge. Stressed by enjambment, Agard discusses
‘Toussaint’ in italics to embellish black history: we never grasp who ‘dem’ defines, tapping
into this theme of identity - it is exclusive to us, away from this autocracy. Rumens, similarly,
employs modal verbs ‘may be at war’ and 'may be sick with tyrants’ to emphasise this
dislocation, or perhaps her divergent perceptions of the ‘country’ - this ‘sunlight’ conceals the
‘tyrants,’ also structurally, where it concludes each stanza. Rumens did publicly state that the
conflict as a result of displacement and historical inaccuracy. Rumens by-and-large feels
displaced as a result of conflict; with South London heritage, the ‘Emigre’ is a synecdoche
for those whose ‘fascinations lay elsewhere’ - whereas Agard appears to exploit the
fragmented relationship between ‘his’ Patois and educational-norms, where he combats this
internal conflict with a metaphorical ‘bandage.’ Both works mirror the beauty and dissimilarity
of the past, searching for something once regarded as so special in the ‘past,’ whilst
simultaneously adjusting to the new norms and customs of Western society.
Rumens' work is composed in free-verse, mirroring this rambling nature of speech and
memory, whereas Agard’s work is elongated and fragmented, perhaps to exploit these gaps
that form the cornerstone of world history. Rumens work, with an absence of a conformed
rhyme scheme, titled with an additional ‘e’ symbolically fractures her memories to a further
extent, where she is complicit in her own oppression as a position of femininity. The works
are dissimilar in this respect, since Agard is not reminiscing on something/somewhere that
he left - instead, unveiling the history he wished to possess. Rumens acknowledges her
heritage, personal history and reflects on this - whereas Agard questions why he did not
know the wider societal history. Agard’s question is reinforced in the italicised, indentations
throughout his work: these lines display the other side of history, juxtaposed by the
imperative ‘dem tell me’ - they did not ‘teach’ with any elasticity, but instead command: this
rewrites history, exacerbating this existing oppression. Rumens' work, however, longs for
what she did once possess - her indirect speech, phonetically sounding colloquial combined
with the first-person ‘I have no passport… no way back’ criticises this materialistic value of
identity, strengthening this imagery of a ‘frontier’ - these ‘frontiers’ are merely illusory, and
strain Rumens’ from accessing her identity - perhaps, symbolic for the tyranny itself, and the
political strain. Structurally, Agard replicates this idea and the division of lines are illusory,
too - perhaps this communicates identity as ‘branded’ within us, something isolated from
political control - this is revised in both works, of the possessive ‘me’ and ‘I’ that dominate
the works.
This yearn for change is reinforced by Rumens employment of the verb ‘branded,’ evoking
elements of categorisation and deduction of individuality - yet it is by ‘sunlight,’ a continuous
motif that signposts the jovial memories - the ‘light’ should exploit, but instead it conceals the
oppression of the past. Whereas in Agard's work, The metaphorical ‘bandage up me eye’
coalesced with the colloquialism is ironic, where this ‘bandage’ should theoretically cure - yet
it only worsens the harm already created by miseducation - the way the ‘bandage’ is crafted
by ‘history’ evokes an undertone that ‘history’ is the cure. This ideology of blindness is
subverted by the slight transparency of the ‘bandage’ - Agard can vision a form of change,
whereas this vowel-heavy extract widens the mouth, phonetically, highlighting this shocking
divide. Nor Agard or Rumens’ work is overtly confrontational, but instead a divide between
‘dem/us,’ or ‘me/they’ respectively - instead, it longs for unity, as Agard expresses in his
regular rhyme scheme of a fragmented AB.
Agard's work, referencing ‘Battle of Hastings’ in ‘1066’ and the throwaway ‘all dat’ minimise
its significance, portraying it as factually insignificant due to its distance - curtailed
descriptions mimic its lack of importance - there is ultimately no thorough explanation. The
conjunctive ‘But Toussaint L’Ouverture/no dem never tell me bout dat’ juxtaposes what ‘dem’
did tell ‘us’ - the plethora of monosyllabic and pejorative language in ‘no…me…bout…dat’
highlight this divide, and gaps in knowledge. Stressed by enjambment, Agard discusses
‘Toussaint’ in italics to embellish black history: we never grasp who ‘dem’ defines, tapping
into this theme of identity - it is exclusive to us, away from this autocracy. Rumens, similarly,
employs modal verbs ‘may be at war’ and 'may be sick with tyrants’ to emphasise this
dislocation, or perhaps her divergent perceptions of the ‘country’ - this ‘sunlight’ conceals the
‘tyrants,’ also structurally, where it concludes each stanza. Rumens did publicly state that the
