#BABISHAINIWE #WORLDPOETRYDAY EXPERIENCE, WRITTEN BY ROXANNA KAZIBWE

#babishainiwe experience in Kabale, #worldpoetryday
On Sunday 15th March,  Babishai Niwe Poetry Foundation team leader Beverley, together with Kidron and I made a trip to Kabale in preparation for the Language day event and World Poetry day celebrations that were to take place at the Kabale University on Monday 16th March.
It was my first ever trip to Kabale and boy was I psyched. I’d been told of its winding steep roads; its cold weather and the abundance of Irish potatoes. I was looking forward to having my own experience of these. Beverley had also told me of a similar University outreach that they had done in Kibaale at African Rural University and the delight of sharing poetry and language with young minds pulled at me.
I must say I was pleasantly surprised by the spirit of the students at the Kabale University. Our contact was the Dean of the Institute of Languages, Lillian Tindyebwa (a warm, humble lady with great talent who I discovered she is the author of Recipe for Disaster, a book I read as a child). Anyway Lillian introduced us to the students who were already waiting in the tents on the school ground. The students had a profound respect for one another, cheering each other on as they made presentations in different styles and languages; songs in Runyakitara, rapping in Swahili, spoken word in French, poems in English, recitals in Rukonjo and Rukiga. I was so impressed by their confidence in expressing themselves and the way diversity in language was embraced and even welcomed.
During our break away sessions, I had a group of 31 students and we kicked off our session with a get-to-know game called the Cold wind blows. This game involves opening up about yourself and finding others who are like you. There were some articulate, eager to speak individuals (one of the outspoken people in my group was also standing for guild president at the University) and some reserved people who needed cajoling to speak. After we had loosened up we shared about writing and where we get our inspiration. This was just before I asked them to break into groups, come up with a group name and in seven minutes compose a chant, poem or song from what they had observed/experienced that day.
After the performances, I ended our session with an exhortation to them to write and write some more as it is one of the best ways to influence the world and leave a legacy.
For me, it was all a breath of fresh air; the students’ confidence yet absence of airs, the people we met during our tour- Pam, a painter in her fifties who has life and laughter springing out of her she looks thirty, Eric, a rasta in his twenties who has the knowledge of a sixty year old professor and the kindness of one’s kinsman, Mama Francis the quiet lady with a small restaurant that offers a good service, Iga Zinunula, the entrepreneur/poet/farmer who is generous and wise. And lastly but definitely not least, the lake; Lake Bunyonyi, beautiful,calm, serene.
I look forward to more poetry initiatives with the BN Poetry Foundation and I’m extremely grateful for the opportunity.


Written by Roxanna Kazibwe.
Note: World Poetry Day is globally celebrated on 21st March every year and the BN Team will be organizing poetry excursions all over the continent, to celebrate World Poetry Day.

Virtual Poetry Seminars, Summer Edition, May to July 2013

The University of Iowa's International Writing Program has two poetry online sessions running for seven weeks. The first course i for strong and emerging poets while the Advanced class is for published poets. This is great, it's free and all you have to do is submit a resume, statement of purpose abd writing sample of 5 poems. Send these to iwpapplications@gmail.com. It is about opening doors to invisible people. Deadline to submit is 8 May and it is definitely worth it. According to the website at http://iwp.uiowa.edu/calendar/2013-05-08/applications-due-for-virtual-poetry-seminars-advanced-poetry-seminar-poetry-mast, there will be open discussions with the classics, the old and more modern and contemporary poets. International applicants are encouraged. you just need a reliable internet connection and headset. For the Masterclass, there will be radical ways of revising poems, don't we all need this? The course instructor is Micah Bateman who is a graduate of the Iowa Writers' program and Nick Twemlow is the instructor for the Master class. enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sumbit your poetry to Wasafiri

Submitting poetry to Wasafiri • There is no limit to the number of poems that you can submit to Wasafiri, although all submissions must be previously unpublished. • Work should be submitted as a Word document or equivalent (no pdfs please, and do not paste your poems into the body of an email). • Please use one page per poem • Your name should not appear anywhere on the manuscript. Instead, please include your name and contact details in a covering letter/email. Please be aware that we receive a large number of poetry submissions, therefore the consideration process can take up to six months. All submissions can be emailed to wasafiri@open.ac.uk and marked for the attention of the Editor. Or addressed directly to: Susheila Nasta Editor Wasafiri The Open University in London 1-11 Hawley Crescent London NW1 8NP UK

For Sarah Baartman-poem by Serubiri Moses

For Sarah Baartman By Serubiri Moses I have come to take you home where the ancient mountains shout your name. I have made your bed at the foot of the hill, your blankets are covered in buchu and mint, the proteas stand in yellow and white – Diane Ferrus I am coming back home. Sheets of volcanic rock lean over me like tree branches, Shielding my mouth from glaring sun, soothing my feet like a babe in bosom, I am home on these black rocks that bear markings of my forefathers, on which earth they planted trees and manicured lawns, where zebras melt into the zen-like quietness of the landscape in deep grayish browns. I am home trekking the valley with my goats, sheep and cattle. Sarah, our black bodies have left the museums now. My black body has found its silence here among the crater lakes. I return from the place where black bodies are fetishized like fertility dolls, soiled with white semen, and white curses to those to whom Black Beauty must be tamed and groomed. Sarah, I am home in Naivasha on the volcanic bench, where vapor rises from the hot tarmac like morning fog in the rain. Sarah, I am home where The road is a long tongue that drinks up the rain with a terrible thirst.

Susan Piwang shares her story at Storymoja Hay Fest in Nairobi

The Storymoja Hay festival, as I understood it, is a celebration of literary work in Africa. Storymoja collaborates with Hay Festival, a group that runs literary festivals worldwide. It is a chance to have new, young writers meet famous authors and learn more about writing; to discover the mystery of literature (which, if you are already an author, isn’t a mystery at all), and in general a great big jamboree that revolves around books. After attending it, you should walk away thinking, ‘ah, how proud I am to be literate!’ And I did.

Poetry Masterclass with Lemn Sissay I attended under the Beverley Nambozo Poetry Foundation. As winner of the fourth poetry contest I was awarded a full-expense paid trip to Nairobi to attend the festival. The most significant change I experienced is of course actually winning the prize. I have been used to getting compliments on my work which made me think that in the very least my writing was ‘okay’. But winning this competition was a leap away from the mediocre state of average. I had thought I’d have a chance at second, or third. First place was a daring dream that I honestly thought would remain a dream. Winning the prize was overwhelming; it was a blatant declaration; a foghorn blaring in my ears and shaking my settled brain: YOUR WORK IS NUMBER ONE MATERIAL! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!! Don’t worry about any brain damage. If anything, my brain is working better than ever. I think it had been still for too long and was on the verge of stagnancy; I needed the shake up. Winning the prize opened the door to a hall of a million more doors, all holding many opportunities behind them. I have never attended anything like the Storymoja festival until now. I never even thought there could be those many people willing to do so much for the love of reading—in one country, I mean. It was a change to be a part of such a wonderful group and not to be looking on from the outside. To know that I wasn’t there because someone-or-other pulled some strings (not that I have ever gotten anywhere that way), but on my own merit, with my own work, because of my writing. My work is no longer the profound sentiments I scribble down in secret and recite to an audience of one—me. I was listened to, appreciated and congratulated. Yes, at eighteen, I made my mark.

Susan Piwang at the Poetry gala The whole experience was encouraging as well. Being in the middle of all those great literary minds was a motivation. The energy of the entire event commanded my slowing molecules into movement and I highly doubt they will ever stop again. I have become a literary perpetual motion machine! Need I say more? The Beverley Nambozo Poetry Award is a voice for the mute, a stage for the timid and a chance for those with none (I know that’s so cliché, but it’s still very true). I’m just glad it happened to exist at the same time I did and that I could be part of it.

Paula Biraaro's story at Storymoja Hay Fest 2012

13th to 16th September 2012 found me in the city of Nairobi attending the StoryMoja Hay Festival held in the fabulous setting of the National Museum. My participation in such a great event resulted from being a second winner of the Fourth Beverley Nambozo Poetry Award 2012 under the theme Music with my poem entitled ‘Nyamwezi’. I attended this event with Ms. Beverley Nambozo and Ms. Susan Piwang (winner of the award) and our trip was proudly sponsored by Stichting Doen. The journey to leading this festival is still kind of surreal to me. As I sat en route to Nairobi, I had series of flash backs. I remembered lying on my bed at 10 pm tapping my laptop keys as my mind juiced words that would eventually be the poem ‘Nyamwezi’. I remembered getting the invitation for the award dinner, hearing my name being announced as a second winner and my unexpected scream of joy that tore out of my mouth. I remembered thinking ‘How can this be? ‘Who am I to win this?’ and ‘Am I a really a poet?’ Such questions darted across my mind as I read my poem to the audience. Not only had my work been commended and recognized, I had won USD$300, five autographed books authored by great African women writers and the icing on the cake was a fully sponsored trip to attend the StoryMoja Festival in Nairobi! From arrival to departure, we hit the ground running for the StoryMoja team had organised an action packed crash course programme. At the festival launch at the Nairobi Museum courtyard I felt a little intimidated as I looked at these ‘strangers’ who seemed to know each other throwing hugs and kisses with shouts of laughter burst from their lips. Upon our introduction my perception slowly changed. These strangers later on became acquaintances, mentors and in some few cases friends. We were all warmly welcomed and Susan and I were congratulated upon our achievement. Sure, I was a novice in their world but I begun to see myself through their eyes, patting myself on my back and thinking ‘Paula, you can do greater things, this is only the beginning!’ I attended master classes under the tutelage of thought provoking award winning novelist Dinaw Mengestu. I got to appreciate the importance of careful scrutiny every sentence and message it conveys when writing a book/short story, communication with the audience, and how individuality and originality makes the difference.

Susan Piwang, Dinaw Mengestu and Paula Biraaro. Photo by BNN The effervescent Lemn Sissay took us through exciting poetry exercises that changed my outlook on power of words, expression and description. I got to rub shoulders and prod some brilliant minds of amazing, famous writers who were surprising humble and willing to share their experiences. Their words of advice centered towards following your dream, persistence, hard work and to keep writing! I was so blessed with their words of advice and encouragement which I treasure and heed to date. The true test in this whole experience was when I had to present my poem before an audience as a guest panelist at the poetry gala. This was a totally different league! Imagine sitting on the same panel with renowned poets, some internationally acclaimed, sharing your experience and presenting your poem. A concoction of feelings of excitement, fear, determination flooded my mind as I sought to achieve this feat. Thankfully, everything went smoothly, I didn’t choke and it was turning point on how I regarded my talent and I vowed to exploit it to its full potential. The last event climaxing the festival was the play written, directed and acted by the Sitawa Namwalie. It was enlightening to see her vivid poetry through performance which helped send her message home. I am grateful to BN Poetry for the horse kick to using my gift and I can proudly say that I am no longer a ‘closet poet’. Danke Schon to Stichting Doen for their financial support and I salute Beverley and Susan for being entertaining company! I had a blast! My prayer is for Uganda to plan and organize for such an event in Kampala. There is a saying that your life can change in a moment. Mine changed in those captivating three days. Thank you.

Poets from Eastern Africa-send us your poems

The Beverley Nambozo Poetry Foundation is compiling poems from poets of East Africa for an anthology which will come out in 2013. This has been possible with the generous contribution of Prince Claus Fund. We kindly request you to send up to a maximum of three original poems in English or in a local language with the English translation, from which one or two will be selected. The winners of the BN Poetry Award from 2009 to 2012, will have their winning poems published and they may submit another for consideration if they so please.

I took this photo at the Nairobi museum, after realising it was not allowed, but it's cute, right? The theme is open and submissions will be accepted from 1st August 2012 to 20th December 2012 (Deadline has been extended). The copyright of these poems will belong to the poets. At the moment, there are consultations with various publishing houses and once a selection has been made, you will be notified. Payment will be made upon publication. Kindly submit poems to bnpoetryaward@mail.com and copy to nambozo@gmail.com. Send poems as Microsoft word attachments in Times New Roman size 12, include your name, email and phone contacts and nationality. This does not mean that we do not appreciate you for taking part in this process. Poets must be from either Burundi, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Rwanda, Somalia, Tanzania, South Sudan or Uganda. For details on what the BN Poetry Foundation does, visit www.bnpoetryaward.co.ug or you can like us on facebook, Beverley Nambozo Poetry Foundation.

East African Poetry Anthology

Hello, The BN Poetry Foundation is compiling poems from poets of East Africa for an anthology which will come out in 2013. This has been due to the generous contribution of Prince Claus Foundation. We kindly request you to send up to a maximum of three original poems in English or in a local language with the English translation, from which one or two will be selected. The winners of the BN Poetry Award from 2009 to 2012, will have their winning poems published and they may submit another for consideration if they so please.

Bulago Island, Uganda The theme is open and submissions will be accepted from 1st August 2012 to 1st November 2012. The copyright of these poems will belong to the poets. At the moment, there are consultations with various publishing houses and once a selection has been made, you will be notified. Payment will be made once a publishing house has been identified. Kindly submit poems to bnpoetryaward@mail.com, as Microsoft word attachments in Times New Roman size 12, include your name, email and phone contacts and nationality. We will not be able to acknowledge receipt of submission and only those whose poems have been selected will be notified due to the large number of submissions. This does not mean that we do not appreciate you for taking part in this process. Poets must be from either Burundi, Kenya, Rwanda Tanzania, South Sudan or Uganda. For details on what the BN Poetry Foundation does, visit www.bnpoetryaward.co.ug Kind Regards,\ Beverley Nambozo, for BN Poetry Foundation

two fabulous poems, Dickinson and Dylan Thomas

I’m nobody who are you? By Emily Dickinson I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there's a pair of us -don't tell! They'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog!

Do not go gentle into that goodnight by Dylan Thomas Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Remembering Okot p Bitek anthology (Previously published on madandcrazy blogspot)

'Remembering Okot p Bitek' Anthology: Call for Submissions
In celebration of Okot p Bitek’s life and achievements, we are inviting outstanding essays, reviews, scholarly articles, poems, short fiction and interviews directly and indirectly centering on Okot p Bitek's works and life. We are looking at the impact of Okot p Bitek at a personal level, socially, in literature, academically, historically, politically, culturally and how he was influenced in those ways.

This year on 20th, July, 2012 marks thirty years since Okot left us to the land of his ancestors. We are compiling this anthology to be published in July on the said theme of “Remembering Okot p Bitek”.

Word count: 500 - 3000 words (less for poetry where necessary)

Format: An attached Word doc/docx, times new roman, 12 point, double spaced.

Submissions: By email only to: okotpbitek2012@gmail.com
Deadline: April, 1st, 2012


As we continue to work on the project, we will keep in mind that the success of the project will be driven by both the quantity and quality of submissions. Tentatively, the anthology will be published by Kushinda in eBook format and distributed through Amazon’s Kindle format. We hope to publish the anthology in print later.

We will engage professional editors to review the submissions and give thumbs-up for the final selection for publication. As of now, the team putting together this project, in case of any communication, comprises of;

1. David Tumusiime – Lead coordinator and
2. Brian Bwesigye.


All ideas and volunteers are welcome in the spirit of celebrating Okot p Bitek, the man, his life and his work.

Gadaffi's death and Ozymandias, the poem

Ozymandias
by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.