The Winner is Susan Piwang with The Music Man

The Music Man An old man sits by the street corner Cradling an old guitar in his weathered hands. His calloused fingertips skim over the strings His leathery palms cup its wooden base. Between the two, man and instrument I cannot tell which one is older. His eyes are closed in reflection His guitar is silent in anticipation Meanwhile, the world waits in silence Birds soar in the sky The leaves whisper in the wind And the people keep rushing by. And then he plays. His fingers race over the frets The guitar vibrates rebelliously He hums It thrums Between the two I cannot tell Which one is in charge of the music. The music! It stops the pulsation of my heart It burns the deepest corners of my soul It breaks the barriers within And shatters the silence without Earth is trapped in a sphere of symphonies Life is paused in a glass of rhapsody All is well within that moment of eternity While he plays. His voice is deep and rich His tune is strong and thick His heart is bleeding through the notes His life is breaking amidst the tones And I am pulled along Breaking and bleeding with his song. And then he stops. The spell is undone. All is as it was. Nothing outside the ordinary And once again he is an old man Seated by the corner Cradling a guitar (Which one, I wonder, is older?) His eyes are closed in reflection His guitar is silent in satisfaction The birds still soar in the sky Silence hushes the rustling leaves And the people keep rushing by. THE MUSIC MAN! WINNER OF THE FOURTH BN POETRY AWARD, 2012. This poem, The Music Man, was written by Susan Piwang and emerged first in the fourth BN Poetry Award. The judges agreed that it was strong, beautiful, transporting readers to a new place. Susan Piwang wins 500 USD, a fully paid trip to the Literary Storymoja Hay Festival in Nairobi in September 2012, an autographed copy of Half of a Yellow Sun, by award-winning author, Chimamanda Adichie and an autographed copy of Eliyeena’s Sorbonne-a novel infused with poetry, by Hannah Saint C.A Nanyanzi. The award was proudly sponsored by Stichting Doen. June 29 2012 www.bnpoetryaward.co.ug

COUNTING DOWN TO 4TH BN POETRY AWARD WINNER

This is it! We are counting down One two three days to go and we will find out who the winner of the 4th BN Poetry Award is. The theme this year was Music and from close to 100 submissions, the judges played their part. One of the judges, Mildred Barya is a poet with three published collections. Men Love Chocolates but they don’t say, her first , the next is Life After the Tsunami and her third is Give me Room to Move my Feet.Mildred is also a recent graduate of Creative Writing from Syracuse university, NY. Mildred Barya. The second judge, Apuuuli Mugasa is the President of the Literary Association of Uganda and is judging for the third year now. He said that the theme, Music is more poet-friendly. Many thanks for all their hard work. Apuuli Mugasa in center. Photo courtesy of Eduavella Edwin.

Where is Africa's Great novel?

Seriously? Is this even a question? hmmm.

International Public Dialogue on Writing and Publishing Organised by African Writers Trust in partnership with DOEN Foundation and British Council the event will bring together publishers, writers, literary activists, students, teachers and book lovers from Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda and the United Kingdom. The discussion will focus on the broad theme: Where is the Great African Novel? The debate will further examine some of the contemporary literary trends in writing today and new perspectives on publishing. It will address questions about the future of African writing, the role of literary prizes for African writers, the changing patterns in international publishing and what books the west wants and expects from African writers. Chaired by Deputy Editor of the international literary magazine Granta (UK) and Deputy Editor Chair of the Caine Prize Council, Ellah Allfrey, the panel will comprise some of Uganda’s leading writers Doreen Baingana and Prof. Timothy Wangusa, and editor and writer Billy Kahora from Kenya. This is a free event. Venue: Fairway Hotel, Kampala Date: 31st May, 2012 Time: 5-7pm For further information contact Goretti Kyomuhendo Director African Writers Trust Tel. +256(0) 783 170 137 Email: gorettikyomuhendo@yahoo.co.uk gorettik@hotmail.com Website: www.africanwriterstrust.org

Poem in honour of Ms. Cox , long serving Gayaza High School H.M

For Miss Cox; Following the breadcrumbs of your loyalty (read by Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva: Gayaza 1991 - 1994)

We followed the breadcrumbs of your loyalty, from England Where stories of your generous heart filled the empty baskets Being held by girls, all the way to Uganda. We followed your breadcrumbs when we lost our way, wandering Into traps laid by the enemies of education. We held onto your wisdom When we almost drowned in the hypocrisy of humanity. You gave us a song when singing was all we had left. You showed us how to run when our feet were dressed in pain. You led us to believe when faith was never the same. Frail yet strong our hope became truth, Now we are women. Now we can say, Thank you Asante Afoyo. Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva Read during the funeral service of Ms. Cox at Namirembe Cathedral Kampala, Uganda, May 2012

My poem for Jajja Daddy (Prof. Senteza Kajubi)

Prof. Kajubi with his sister-in-law, Jajja Julie, Bev and Zion with Emma standing.December 2011 For Jajja Daddy They say educationists never die because that is what you were to many. I say, Jajjas never die because that is what you were to me. They say death has robbed this nation of a great man. I say, death has given me the strength to live like you did. They say you left a big gap in their hearts. I say, my heart has been filled with the need to go on. (c) Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

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.

when poetry 'kicks' you in the butt

Poetry has done nothing but make me broke. Since I am not Jesus, I expected something more than just an eternal reward of fulfillment and joy. I gave up everything 3 years ago to become a poet and help other poets get there too and what has happened? I am penniless.

Looking for answers...

I gave up good jobs, offers were thrown at me and I said no for the sake of a higher calling of poetry. Like the 12 Apostles, there are few of us in Uganda who have done this and we are all broke. Well, at least they have other jobs but me, I fundraise to people who say they appreciate art but they will not turn their wallets inside out for the cause.

I know, like KJ Kennedy said, in The Writers’ Handbook that it is not worth thirsting for poetic fame and John Keats also mentioned that the true gift is when you write without expecting a reward but since I am not Jesus, I need something more than that eternal gratification.
At this point, I have written the first page of my reflective journal of my Masters’. I needed to get that initial fright out of the way. I decided that since I am the Creator of the poetry, then I am also the Conqueror. Having read some past portfolios and essays from Lancaster University like Bill Greenwell’s and Geraldine’s journals, the best way t get it done is to write. We all want to write the first draft of a line in its most brilliant form but this hardly the case, it’s all about drafting and redrafting. Oh, and we also need to read as well. I think poets are the most resistant to learning and reading.
Sara Maitland says, “But writers need to read not just – not just to understand genre and form or to develop narrative strategies but in order to enrich their language and extend their knowledge and sensibility.”
So, during this phase when poetry is kicking me where it hurts most, I am reading and reading hard. The avant-garde poets, some of Africa’s most celebrated poets, I am reading about poetry and writing , interviews, articles and essays and it is all coming together now. As a starting writer, I felt poof, who needs to read poetry, it is all about my feelings and no one can or should write about how I feel but of course it is much more I have passed the stage of a first date to a settled down relationship with poetry, the point of marriage when I want a divorce, and then I remember why I feel in love and realize it’s worth sticking to.
This week Graham Mort is in Kampala doing a series of workshops and also conducting interviews to identify reasons why Ugandan books are not on the syllabus. I wish him the best because Uganda, while very receptive is also very slow in giving answers and solutions and then acting upon them because it is the same problem Graham found when he was here in 2001.
That is one of the reasons why I feel poetry is just kicking me in the butt. I don’t want a Nobel prize but I want to know it is not a fruitless journey. I may now have to go the way of those that play it ‘safe’ and apply for a job. Dear Poetry, I hope you’re listening.