Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva, ran a creative writing and storytelling workshop, hosted by The US Embassy in Kampala, Amongst the insightful advice, Beverley mentioned how important it is to start with why, knowing the overall purpose for your writing, the essence of credible characters, and a story so powerful that even the creator wishes to dive into the book, and live side by side the complex characters lives.
Below is a link to the entire recording.
Poetry is an unparalleled form of communication.
‘Today, the sky smiled at me, and my heart escaped into the sun’s warm embrace.’
Both sentences describe the day; but the second is more memorable.
I’ve always been fascinated by the musicality of words. Music in itself, is my happy place. I listen to rap, love songs from the eighties and gospel music, while I’m in the bathroom. And I often follow leading poets and speakers on YouTube. I’m restless, when it comes to immersing myself in poetry. I take risks when it comes to speaking and creating. From working on radio, where I felt at home, from 6:00am to 10:00am every weekday, I woke up Kampala City.
I pray too; not as often as I used to, because I want to do more receiving of the things I’ve been praying for, over the decades. I do pray, though and read the bible, at least three times a week. Listening to audio-visual sermons are important, too.
The lockdown has been my ultimate happy place, over the past few months. Saying that with the knowledge of the devastation it has caused businesses, I’d be frugal not to share how I’ve been blessed. I don’t mean the kind of blessing that undermines others’ challenges, or undermines others’ struggles and honest hard work. I mean the blessing that keeps on appearing, as a reminder that God is actually in my life.
It’s been a life of hills and valleys, the past 44 years; but during the lockdown, I had to kick the consistent roller-coaster of highs and endless lows, in the groin. I had had enough. Just as one challenge was closed, another fifteen would reappear, and some so subtle, like a dormant volcano, erupting in the most unusual of places, disrupting my short-lived bliss.
I need to follow my gut; always. This could be the prompting of the Holy Spirit, God’s leading, but ALWAYS. Whenever I haven’t, it’s been disastrous.
God, first thing when I wake up; no matter the deadlines.
Small things like someone arriving late for a meeting continuously; I should never ever work with them, since they have no respect for time, or work ethic.
If someone shares my ideas on social media; with no explanation from where it originated, it reflects a level of narcissism and lack of originality that should be avoided like a plague.
If someone keeps complaining about others; both online and offline, then they’ll complain, whine and gossip about me too.
If someone uses Christianity to perpetuate misogyny and sexual abuse, then I need to flee, and warn all the people within a 1,000 mile radius.
Don’t chase people. Don’t put them on a pedestal Challenge them. If you place someone on a pedestal and show them you’re in constant awe, they will hardly respect you and only see you as a fan.
Being in lockdown has given me significant time to reflect, and introspection is something I never shy from. I have diaries full of my thoughts and lessons learned, in quiet moments.
The spread in The Full Monitor, Saturday 15 August 2020, is part of the story, and part of the promise from God. He and I spent copious amounts of time talking, or maybe I did more of the talking. He knows I need this, and more. I know it’s time for change. I’m enjoying the process.
Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva, Director of the Babishai Niwe Poetry Foundation, will be delivering a creative writing and storytelling webinar, for young writers.
ADIPO SIDANG FROM KENYA; AUTHOR, POET,
PLAYWRIGHT, AND MORE
First, really
excited about making it to the long-list. I’m an award-winning author, poet,
playwright, culture exponent and governance consultant. I’ve got two books to
my name – a collection of poems titled Parliament of Owls published by Native
Intelligence under the Contact Zone Series with Goethe Institut (2016), and the
2017 Burt Award winning novella “A Boy Named Koko” published by Longhorn Publishers
(2017).
I write for fun,
for money, but I also write to cause fury and make us angry with ourselves and
the world around us, so that we can change it. Writing is my form of advocacy. I
tend to see myself as a gadfly that goads the steed of society out of slumber (to
quote Socrates). I think that’s what every artist should consider themselves to
be, or should at least strive to become.
Why
were you inclined to submit for the #Babishai2020 haiku award?
I love haikus – the form, the invisible force that lingers on
despite the brevity of haikus. It’s a way of saying poetry can be short and
sweet without necessarily being caged in rhyme.
What was your process in
writing this particular haiku below?
ringed with its papers
and tracked like jailbird on bail
the immigrant lands...
I don’t really think about this poetry like that; but I can say my
process was chaos, anarchy, mental stampede, ideas colliding, moments of
silence, questioning, doubts, literary pangs of pain, and the birth of a 5-7-5
haiku; all in under 3 minutes. I remember writing the third line first and the
poem fell in place, in reverse. The poem was triggered by the arrival of a
migratory Osprey bird in Kenya that flew over 6,000 kilometers from Finland. The
interesting thing is that it had a reference ring on its leg; and it got me
thinking about the fate of migratory birds, and that of immigrants, what
freedom to them looks beyond the borders that chain them, and the illusion of
freedom. The bird died a few days later.
In your opinion, what is
the future of African haiku?
Well, hard to tell but it definitely looks promising;
poetry in general is increasingly becoming more appreciated in Africa and the
world. For a long time, poetry has been confined to the lowest rung of the
literary ladder. It’s changing – shrubs are becoming trees, and trees – a
forest; and haikus are somewhere in this fecund literary forest.
How are we able to share
about this haiku experience, with Kenya, and the world?
The BN experience? It’s been great. Well, I’ve never
been long-listed for writing a three line 17 syllable poem; if it happens –
like in this case, it means there is some truth that won’t go away, that makes
a reader question or wonder. Besides that, being long listed alongside other
poets means there is something that is both common to us and to the literary
community. I cherish this experience because you hardly come by it; I mean
poetry awards in this part of the world are few, not to mention poetry awards
for haikus.
….
I am Andrew Herbert Omuna, a teacher by profession. My passion about arts has been evolving with changing times or state of mind at the time. I love film, writing, art and travelling. One of my poems; Ode to the yellow party, was published in the Best New African Poets 2016 anthology. I write most of the time when I feel there is some idea that sparks my desire to put something down on paper. And although these don’t come that often, when one comes, even the other ideas that have been kept in the back do come up during this creative moment. I also write as a way of speaking my mind on paper, given that most of the time is spent on observing what is around me. These moments help me create some path for hopefully publishing a collection one day.
My inclination to submit to the #Babishai2020 haiku award wasn’t abrupt. I had one time applied with a full poem, although it didn’t make it anywhere that time. When this opportunity availed itself again, I thought it better to try out with the haiku. I had never written any haiku before, but with the basics of a 5-7-5 format, I decided to take on the challenge. And because I first saw the call for submission on the night of 31st Dec 2019 – 1st Jan 2020, I knew I had to try something new and make this a year for writing more often, and if possible, compete.
After seeing the call for submission for the haiku, it was then about doing some research into what made a piece be called a haiku. Although there are regular and irregular forms of haikus, I stuck to the regular form of 5-7-5. On the days I saw the call (night of New Year 2019-2020) and when I wrote the haikus (night of 1st March 2020), it was about what I loved most and what I was going through at the moment. I was doing the night shift on those days and yet I also loved my sleep. This was the first haiku I actually wrote that night. It had to be something about sleep and the many pieces of advice I had heard about too much sleep. With the idea sorted, the rest was about making choice of words fit within the 5-7-5 format.
the morning rain falls
endlessly hugging thy sleep
frozen ideas die
by Andrew Omuna
The African haiku, as is with many other forms and genres of writing, might get swallowed up by the generalization of academic theories often formed for other kinds of “reading.” If the future for the African haiku is to blossom, I would like to see content revolving around our community. Relatability is very important. Although the origin might not be African, the uniqueness of our experiences, adaptability to the form, having more calls for haikus, could help create a role within the vast free form of poetry generally known by the greater African population.
I would think of creating an awareness drive with other poets, performers and writers, to challenge themselves by creating haikus as part of their works. Since majority of creative writers are more familiar with free verse poetry, getting into this space will create an extra experience of brief poetic forms. Publication of these haikus, whether in paper print or online would help push this experience to a global milestone. Lastly, since the haikus are brief, the chances of them accompanying other forms of media is great. Art pieces, outdoor displays, creative art classes can all lend a hand in pushing this experience to more people in Uganda and around the world.
.....
I am a medical doctor, a husband and a father amongst other things. I write long-form and short-form poems (haiku) and some of my haiku can be found in journals such as on Frogpond, Chrysanthemum, The Mamba, Creatrix, Acorn, and Haiku Presence. Also, I was shortlisted for this award in 2017 Haiku Awards and have some works in Africa Meets Vienna Afriku Anthologies. I nurture a dream to prescribe my poems as pills and this influences my writing. Beyond this influence, I write mainly because writing is a gateway to all the identities I have become. I am a man and in addition to how I have described myself earlier, I am a Muslim, an African, and many other subtle identities that must find balance within the package I consider as myself. As you can perceive, I am trying to simplify myself, thus it can be said that I am a complex man who writes to simplify himself.
Why were you inclined to submit for the #Babishai2020 haiku award?
I was inclined to submit for this award because I was certain that it would be competitive. For the past few years, Babishai has been a platform that has greatly contributed to showcasing the talents of African poets, especially in the Haiku genre and I am proud to be associated with this progress.
What was your process in writing this particular haiku below?
bitter kola
grandpa breaks into
a new tale
As simple as this haiku looks, it packs a punch. I started writing it in my mind, drawing from the sights of what I see the African society becoming. The elders in African culture are considered wise men and the tales they tell are known to guide/admonish the youngsters about the moral codes as well as the needs of the African society. The process of writing this haiku evolved just as the reality of the evolving cultures around me. So, what came to me first was a common retort I use when I am slightly surprised and unprepared for something and I simply utter; snap. Next, I asked myself what snaps? The first picture that came to my head was the error message you get when you can’t access a webpage. I played around this idea and this launched my mind to search for deeper meanings from exploring my thoughts and my experience and I think I came up with my first draft when I had a cough/cold and recalled how orogbo (bitter-kola) was considered a good remedy for it and how it snaps into two when you break it. This moment was the key element in writing this haiku as it juxtaposed all my memories/experience relating to the key elements of the haiku, so I took out my phone and typed my thoughts in the Notes app.
Once the draft was written, I revisited it every night; I do this usually with all the other poems in my notes app and review and amend them accordingly. Once I made a mental note that the poem has reached the state of perfection of what I needed it to express, about metamorphosis, I just knew I would be submitting the poem for the Babishaiku Haiku awards. I finished writing the poem perhaps six months before the call for submission for the Babashaiku awards. To describe the process in one word, I would say it was empirical.
In your opinion, what is the future of African haiku?
Permit me to unsheathe a philosophical response to this question;
When is a door not a door?
The answer to this riddle and the riddle itself is how I see the future of African Haiku. While some may consider growth as linear, I tend to see it as cyclical. What is clear is that what many perceive to be walls or barriers to their growth are actually doors. Once an African poet realizes this, the door is no longer a door and the influx of talents into what is behind the door (the future) is an exciting adventure that promises if not guarantees excellence. In other words, the future of African Haiku depends on those who realize the potential use of Haiku, the brevity it offers, the emotion it packs and moment in time it captures as a form of portal into a multiverse that documents and celebrates the African tradition and its people in a form that is elegant and reminiscent of the hopes of our forefathers.
How are we able to share about this haiku experience, with Nigeria, and the world?
The easiest way to share this experience is to gift it. The foundation has done well by positioning itself as a platform that identifies talents and sharing this haiku experience can be done through haiku workshops and also by supporting/creating journals where Nigerians and the world at large can explore this unique art. There still a long way to go but it is very exciting and creating a viable network of artisans and administrators for this purpose will surely reap immense benefits. We need to design and enrich a museum where these works can be appreciated.
Justice Joseph Prah, is the name I am known by friends and all. I was born on September 2, 1985 and hail from the South-western part of Ghana, Volta Region, specifically Hohoe. I am an educator, who has since 2005 been teaching African and Western Literature in high school. In 2015, I joined African Haiku Network and become a haiku essayist and critic. I have the penchant for researching about other poets in general and lurching into the void to find their disclosed and undisclosed motivations as well as other reflective reasons.
To me, writing literary or any scholarly material is much like time-travelling into the future to successfully connect with our up and waiting generation while adding your creative mileage to the present achievements chalked by writers. The subject matters we explore subtly today are just not in themselves mere fictionalization of 21st century problems, but throve of information waiting to be accessed by tomorrow’s writers. Look at the tedious duty of the archaeologists and Egyptologists today; what do they do in their quest to reconstruct thousands of indigenous history lost to time and age? They invest billions of dollars year in year out to dig, scratch and surf through tough rocks and drought-ridden territories. They have got one self-tasked assignment; that is, the search for yesterday’s lost literary materials and information! Just like the hieroglyphics, some of us are also quite pleasured to leave traces of our existence here and forever. I equally write to concretely define my environment, its re-occurring problems and beautiful stories worth appreciating especially in academic circles or discourse.
Why were you inclined to submit for the Babishai 2020 haiku award?
I should say in a matter-of-fact tone that I personally did see entering this year’s haiku contest as an inclination to keep exploring my artistic skills in practicing the haiku art. This has been the moving strength behind all contests I participated in even outside Africa. This year’s contest is yet another evidence in itself haiku is no longer a bona fide “poetriculture” of Japanese alone. The evidence is further clear! Look at how haiku poets have in recent year doubled-up all over African continent.
What was your process in writing this particular haiku below?
garden opera
in the moon’s spotlight
a frog leads chorus
Well, let us say I am inwardly a conservatist-poet still in tuned with the past-but-not-almost-gone good old days that got wrecked in the daunting task of bringing the swift urbanization into our humble continent by the West. A system neo-cultural theorist brought to Africa and put into force to pillage away the green hills, lakes, rivers and our pleasantly idyllic settings. My search for those out-of-sight nature’s influences over our ordinary life is a sacred duty I still hold very nobly. Every year, when the long-in-coming rains start refilling emptied out ponds, wetlands and guttered rivers, I take a pleasure-stroll around just to record in time exciting sceneries into my journal; great experiences that could possibly inspire most of my haiku including this simple one above. One graceful evening (a.i 21st June 2019), after two successive rounds of downpour, the expected ‘froggy’ choral croak came this thick and awful from a neighbor’s garden ; such a deafening sound! I came out, braved up and tiptoed so close. Truth be told, I have had countless encounters of this moment before, but this was out-rightly fascinating. Just at where the darkness colored the pond, I spotted a meaty but lone frog in the fallen shadow of the moon’s circle, croaking along with others. Bingo! A haiku moment materialized out of something mercurial. But it is the fine- tuning of the recorded experience into the three-minted lines that brings the awe. . Let me pull off the hook loosely and say the poetic arrangement of the clustered moment into the 15 syllabic fragment and phrase-based sentence did come with a slight toughness as I overly kept revising every line to get the haiku come alive for the contest. Currently, the rains are still pattering and tapping and I am still collecting moments for my next ku.
In your opinion, what is the future of African haiku?
This is the most appropriate question of all. Honestly. ‘Afriku” started not too long ago. In fact, many practitioners of the Basho-art would recall gladly the watershed moment is still a new-comer to some African poets including the old. It has not truthfully gone up the waistline measurement literally. We are still making surprising inroads into the art. Presently, only a fraction of us write and capture the moments right and genuinely believe it is contently different from other forms of poems like ballad, sonnet, limerick, satire, ode etc. Let me add, without guilt that writing a wonderful haiku is not that easy like a leisure walk in a park; it is not an imaginative outcome. It is an experiential write-down of a glamorous moment that turns imaginative in John Keats’ ode. The future for African haiku looks bleak unless we adopt ‘poetricultural’ attitude of repeatedly organizing contests like this to wake ourselves up to keep the art alive. I am so disappointed at a University professor (In one of our leading African Universities) who willingly talked an undergraduate out from writing a whole content of his researched paper on the practice of haiku in Africa some years ago. You are utterly surprised right? Well, that’s the kind of fear I have. But I must take off my cap for Professor Wole Soyinka who undoubtedly praised the new haiku practitioners in Africa a year ago.
How are we able to share this haiku experience, with Ghana and the world?
The practice of haiku is highly ubiquitous. When one captures that frozen moment into a three-lined stanza then the whole outcome is no longer a poem but a golden meaning for literary appreciation. Every haiku is expertly written to wake some moments up in us and all the 10 ku selected are not an exception. Rainfall pattern, though slightly variant at all belts of Africa swells up rivers, lakes, puddles as it ushers in frogs that almost look extinct during the dry season. This is a scene everyone from Timbuktu to Zululand is in sync with. Haven’t we all at a point in our growing-up moments enjoyed the discordant “opera’ show of this nocturnal creatures? In one African folktale, the story sits in that the frogs were once rain-makers in the animal kingdom. They croak on unend to charm the rain god. In this haiku how ever, I share with all the power in unification. The dressed up rhythmic sound comes in unison and it expresses a unique theater of people recognizing their togetherness and what it can do for them. As the frogs croak on relentlessly, they consciously inspire humans to take pride in reaching for their collective aspirations, even as different continents, in a pluralistic way. The concepts of individualism, racism and ‘mono-familism’ are unhealthy for the progress of humanity. Again, these amazing creatures exemplify the lingering truth that one cannot easily define what an actual music is. Perhaps, it may be the reason Keats says “heard melodies are sweet, but unheard melodies are the sweetest”
Thank you.
...
ALI ZNAIDI; EXCHANGING SCIENCE FOR ART.
Having developed and cultivated a passion for literature, writing, and arts from a young age, I sacrificed medical and scientific studies to get involved in literary studies. I studied English at the university and obtained a Bachelor’s Degree in Anglo-American Studies in 2002. There is nothing here, in Tunisia, concerning creative writing in the English language. Tunisian publishing houses and magazines publish creative writings either in Arabic or in French. By the way, although it is humble, my experience is unique as I am among a couple of names (which are counted on the fingers) who originally write poetry in English in Tunisia. (Writers here write either in Arabic or in French). Besides, I am the only Tunisian, writing in English language and residing in Tunisia, who is widely published in international literary magazines. Thanks to the Internet and small presses, I have the opportunity to be published in more than 350 international magazines since I have been submitting, which is in itself a great accomplishment, especially in my case as a nonnative speaker of English. For instance, my poem “Curvaceous Black Sappho in White Shoes” was published in the Aké Review in 2019 alongside the work of Nobel Prize Laureate for Literature Prof. Wole Soyinka. This is extremely humbling and exciting all at the same time.
Talking about my poems and my use of the English language, Annie Avery editor of Heard Magzine said,
“Tunisian poet Ali Znaidi’s poems rise up like flowers from the challenges he has faced as a writer. Now in full bloom, his work has been published numerous times with a new chapbook forthcoming. His craft is skillful and inventive and I sense a philosopher peeking out from behind his words. He writes in English as if it was his mother tongue, but the mystical voice of his ancestral gift cannot be hidden.”
I always consider poetry as a kind of a panacea. So I write to heal my wounds. Every word in a poem or haiku functions as an aspirin or a pill. I strongly believe in the healing power of the poetic word. Without poetry, I would lose my self-control. Poetry is my presence in this world. The sheer joy of being published has always its own charm. Reaching the reader makes the day of the poet. That’s why procrastination makes me very anxious and perplexed. Without writing, I feel invisible. I also love writing because it changes raw and ordinary language into something sublime. I always strive to do so.
Why were you inclined to submit for the #Babishai2020 haiku award?
I submitted 3 haiku poems for the #Babishai2017 haiku award. As I didn’t make it to the longlist, I wanted to give myself another chance by submitting for the #Babishai2020 haiku award . I also love entering writing competitions especially those of high caliber like yours hoping to reach global readership. Well, here I am on the longlist alongside talented writers. Whether we like it or not winning a prize gives the writer exposure and recognition.
What was your process in writing this particular haiku below?
total blackout…
street lamps glow with
mating fireflies
I have always pondered on dichotomies because of the contradictory human nature and the paradoxes available in the environment. I live in Redeyef; a mining town in the south west of Tunisia where from time to time all lights are turned out or extinguished due to a storm, intense heat, or maintenance. So I always wonder what if there is total blackout. Hence the only solace I could imagine is some mating fireflies bestowing their light upon the dimmed or extinguished street lamps. I wanted to create a seemingly picture of hope—mating fireflies and the promise of light multiplication. I tried to capture that light at the end of the tunnel in a country suffering from agents of darkness.
In your opinion, what is the future of African haiku?
Answering this question about the future of African haiku brings to mind one and only one word, that is promising. With a burgeoning community of such African haiku poets as Adjei Agyei-Baah, Emmanuel Jessie Kalusian, Kariuki wa Nyamu, Anthony Itopa Obaro, Kuadegbeku Pamela, Celestine Nudanu, Blessmond Alebna Ayinbire, Kwaku Feni Adow, and, humbly, myself, just to name a few, the future could only be bright..
How are we able to share about this haiku experience, with Tunisia,
and the world?
Writing haiku is really an enriching experience. But being a poet who writes in another language rather than Arabic or French in Tunisia is very depressing because of lack of support and audience. The funny side is that, for now, I am more known in the world than in my homeland. Anyway, despite health issues, lack of support, and other hurdles, I’m striving to achieve success.
Thank you very much for giving me this opportunity to express myself and for your unflinching zeal in the promotion of haiku in Africa. I am very grateful to the Babishai Poetry Foundation, you (Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva), and the Babishai team for giving African poets and haikuists this opportunity to showcase their work. I also want to congratulate all the longlisted poets and wish them good luck
