Quote of the WEEK - NY(Edition)

New Year's eve is like every other night; there is no pause in the march of the universe, no breathless moment of silence among created things that the passage of another twelve months may be noted; and yet no man has quite the same thoughts this evening that come with the coming of darkness on other nights.

- Hamilton Wright Mabie

The Last Booty Call on Earth

Tonight, (after talking to a former crush whose interests lie more strongly in the parts below my neck than those above it) I was inspired to write a poem. It's a pretty somber piece that doesn't end as I would end it in my life today, but I needed to get it off my chest for one last time. It's sort of a last hoorah for the woman in me who once thought that a drunk text at 2a or a random booty call was an appropriate proxy for love.

That woman has long since fallen by the wayside, but she will be buried for good in 2009. AMEN!

So, Au-Revoir to the 2009 Booty Call! Mr. Late-Night-Text, please delete my number. Unlike the girl in the poem below, I am not afraid to reject your calls:-)

Enjoy and Stay Safe this NYE!

The Last Booty Call on Earth
BY Susan Baba

He only calls when he is drunk these days.
It is only when the bottle leaves him stumbling
that he craves the strong anchor of my arms
Yearns for the solid ground,
soft blanket of my ever-abiding love for him.

Even when he cannot remember his name
or even his own address,
my number clings to his mind –
distant but clear

He remembers that I am good
and honest
and waiting
With eyes that never ask why,
hands that can carry all that he wish he were but cannot be,
a head that will stand tall,
lips that will not quiver,
a mouth that will never open up
and ask him to stay for breakfast.
A tongue,
Oh, that silent tongue -
the one that promises not to betray the heart
that's breaking just a few inches below.

This wretched body -
always open and accepting
These horrid hands -
forever waiting and forgiving.

Despite my best attempts,
I will always
answer
the phone.

Hickory Dickory Dock/ We elected a guy named Barack

I'm oh-so-late on this, but I found the video of Elizabeth Alexander talking poetry on the Colbert Report and had to re-post it here. Colbert opened by asking Alexander to explain poetry, specifically the "difference between a metaphor and a lie." LOL!! Alexander kept her cool, though, and answered his redic questions like a pro. The best was Colbert's suggestion for an alternative to the "Praise Song" poem that Alexander wrote and read for Obama's Inaguration...

"Hickory Dickory Dock
We elected a guy named Barack"

Such ignorance. Such hilarity. Loved it!

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Elizabeth Alexander
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Economy

Read a bit of the poem below -

Praise Song for the Day
BY Elizabeth Alexander

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other’s
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

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I ::HEART:: Africa AND #Work/Life Crossover

I'm very corporate. As much as I deny it, my 9-5 seeps into my normal life on the daily. So, in proper corporate drone fashion, I have decided to write a "recap" of our African Poets Week:-)

Its been a bit of a challenge to find new and interesting poems to share with you all, but it's been a fantastic adventure. I've learned so much about the diversity of African poetry and have fallen even more in love with my beloved Motherland. It's been real, but like all good things, this must come to an end. Maybe this can become an annual project?? We'll see. Anyway...thanks so much for humoring me on this trip through the famous and obscure poetry of Momma Africa:-) I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have!

In case you missed these awesome works, here are the highlights. If you read something you like, be sure to pass it on. Poetry is meant to be shared.

Day 1
Nigerian Poet Bassey Ikpi
Sometimes silence is the loudest kind of noise

Like sometimes it was best when
Girls were girls and boys were boys.
Like back when freeze tag was a mating dance.
Like back when "Do Over" meant you got another chance.
Like back when anxiety was worrying if Wonder Woman would make it out alive.
Like back when freedom was sliding backwards on a slide.

Day 2
Cameroonean and Senegalese Poet David Diop
Africa

Africa, tell me Africa
Is this your back that is bent
This back that breaks under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying no to the whip under the midday sun.

Day 3
Nigerian Poet Chinua Achebe
knowing robs us

knowing robs us of wonder.
Had it not ripped apart
the fearful robes of primordial Night
to steal the force that crafted horns
on doghead and sowed insurrection
overnight in the homely beak
of a hen; had reason not given us
assurance that day will daily break
and the sun's array return to disarm
night's fantastic figurations--

Day 4
South African Poet Ewok
That's Joberg

a call to all colors like spiritual acrylics
paints a picture of possibility
for all the world watchers to see
to see how forgiveness arouses a peoples pride

Day 5
From a Movie about Africa:-)
Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

Day 6
Sudanese Poet Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi
Dream

Poetry - may you be a green body.
May you be a language
in which I wander
with my wings and my self.

Day 7
Ghanaian Poet Kofi Anyidoho
My Song

Some had some splendid things
What was mine?
I sing. They laugh.
Still I sell My Song
for those with ears to buy
My cloth is torn, I know
But I shall learn to wear it well

From Page to Stage AND Day 7 of APW

Ghanaian poet Kofi Anyidoho once told the Michigan State University Press that "poetry is no longer a textual art bound to the written/printed page. It is fully liberated from the distancing effect of print technology."


The profile goes on to say that -

His direct involvement with the production of poetry as 'full drama' began when the Ghana National Commission on Children, chaired by the well-known dramatist Efua Sutherland, invited me to plan and direct an appropriate literary- dramatic program for children from selected schools in Accra as part of a flag-raising ceremony at the O.A.U Monument in 1984 to mark O.A.U. Day in the Ghanaian capital. From then on, Anyidoho has gone on to produce and perfect a performance mode that is returning written African poetry to its dramatic oral roots.

Anyidoho belongs to the lot of prestigious African writers that includes such heavy hitters as Chinua Achebe and Wole Soyinka. But, it is his roots in the Ewe oral poetry tradition that allows him to take the literary art one step further. Anyidoho ability's to fully embrace the fluidity and expressiveness of performance poetry makes him the epitome of THE EVOLUTION OF PAPER:-)

That is why he is the seventh and final poet in our African Poets Week series.

I looked hard for a video to post, but alas...there were none. The below poem was the result of some hard core digging on the net and is a piece about the great divide that lies between the haves and the have-nots. It reminded me that we might not all have material wealth to give, but we all have something to offer.

Enjoy!! and check out this link for more Ghanaian poetry

My Song
BY Kofi Anyidoho

Here
on
this
Public
Square
I
Stand

I sell My Song for those with ears to buy
It is to a tree that a bull is tied
You do not bypass the palm’s branches
to tap its wine

The things I have to say

I say them now
I shall stand aside
from those who care
to clear their throat and
dress their shame in lies

When you meet a poorly-dressed neighbour
at a great durbar
you do not spit on the ground
and roll your eyes to the skies

The umbrella I bought
You stole from my rooms at dawn
Now I walk in the early morning rain

You point at me to our young maidens
And they join you in laughter

Think
My People
Think
Think well before you laugh at those who walk in the rain.

The gifts that bestows at birth
Some had some splendid things
What was mine?
I sing. They laugh.
Still I sell My Song
for those with ears to buy

My cloth is torn, I know
But I shall learn to wear it well

My voice is hoarse, I know
But I shall learn to wear it well.

The Greatest Find of the Week!

Ah Google. Its a wonder what typing in "famous" "poet" "sudan" can get you. After trying, without success, to generically search for famous African poets, I got smart(er) and decided to begin searching individual countries. What I found, ladies and gents, was the greatest poetry find of the week!! Allow me to introduce ****DRUM ROLL*** Sudanese poet Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi. Haven't heard of him...? Slackers! JK. I hadn't heard of him before today, when i stumbled upon a Guardian article featuring him, but now I'm hooked.

According to the article -
"Al-Raddi has been publishing poetry since he was 15, when his poem The Wind was published in the literary journal Al-Sahwa. Born in 1969, he grew up in Omdurman, Khartoum, where he still lives. According to Ismail his "exceptional talent" was recognized in his early days at school, and he even owes the name Al-Raddi to the famous Arabic poet Ali-Shreif Al-Raddi."

Since these early days, Al-Raddi has published four collections of poetry and has been published in numerous literary magazines. He was also chosen among only a handful of poets to perform at the first World Poets' Tour in 2005 and the second, in 2008. In addition to his poetry-related accolades, Al-Raddi is also the cultural editor of Al-Sudani newspaper in Sudan.

Needless to say, he's a rocking poet and quite worthy of his place as the Sixth Poet in our African Poets Week.

I am a huge fan of poems that write about poetry, so I just had to post the beautiful piece below. If you're hungry for more, though, check out Al-Raddi's profile on PoetryTranslation.org

Dream
BY Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi

Poetry - may you be a green body.
May you be a language
in which I wander
with my wings and my self.
Be the inspiration of my tongue,
so that I may pasture
the tribes of my voice - though they are silent.

Sleepless
and alone, I see
you will not be
a green body.
You were neither
a good master, to be bought,
nor the muse.
My longed for delirium, my memory.

Invictus for the Rest of Us

Happy Christmas Eve friends!! I just finished watching the new movie Invictus and wow. I loved it!! I'm usually not a fan of sports films, but this was so much more. It was a great historical account of the first few months of Mandela's presidency and his work to heal the still raw wounds of apartheid South Africa. In honor of this awesome movie, I've decided to post the poem that inspired the title in this Fifth installment of African Poets Week.

According to the all knowing Wikipedia -
The title comes from the fact that Mandela had the poem written on a scrap of paper on his prison cell while he was incarcerated. In the movie, Mandela gives the "Invictus" poem to Springbok captain, Francois Pienaar, before the start of the Rugby World Cup. In reality, Mandela actually provided Pienaar with an extract from Theodore Roosevelt's "The Man in the Arena" speech from 1910.

Enjoy!! and be sure to check out the film! You wont regret it:-)

Invictus
BY William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Quote of the WEEK,

"Cows are born with ears; later they grow horns."
- Sudanese Proverb

So Far. But So Much Farther to Go

I decided to go back to the continent for the Fourth installment of our African Poets Week feature. Today, I want to celebrate rapper, poet, and spoken word artist Ian Gregory Robinson. He goes by the stage name of Ewok hails from beautiful South Africa. According to the Poetry Africa 2009 Festival website, Ewok has "spat Shakespeare for school kids, slammed poetry for students, kicked lyrics for teachers, performed for politicians and poor people, jammed with jazz bands, traveled to other lands with nothing but a pen and pad and a can in his hands, and when he's alone he generally talks to his damn self." He is also a two-time Poetry Africa SlamJam champion and a top-five placer at the World Slampionship in Rotterdam in 2005. What's not to love?!?!

I found this video of him performing his poem "That's Joburg" at this year's poesiefestival in Berlin, organized by Literaturwerkstatt .


In this piece, Ewok draws on the history and present day realities of Johannesburg to paint a picture of how far we still have to go in the fight for equality. It's pretty gritty and raw, but has a hip-hop type of rhythm that really keeps you on your toes. This is a long one, but very worth it. Be sure to listen carefully.

Enjoy!

I've included a bit of text below.

That's Joberg
BY Ewok

"Backs cracking for a few rands
lacking the privilege of a future plan
with this day to day
pay to pay
way to stay significant
continue feeding the system
while locked deep inside it
people will never settle
while they keep the labor migrant


back back and forth and forth
and back back and forth and forth
that's Joberg

1996
110 years
decades of dedicated struggling
nation bombing to nation building
hatred calming
raising children
stand together
one hope
one home
every poem
every speech
every song
every lyric
a call to all colors like spiritual acrylics
paints a picture of possibility
for all the world watchers to see
to see how forgiveness arouses a peoples pride"

knowing robs us...maybe not

If you want to know African writing, then you must know Chinua Achebe. He is probably one of the most well known Nigerian authors living today and actually paved the way from hundreds and thousands of African children who preferred the pen over the stethoscope. Thanks to him, we could point to an example of a Nigerian who was doing what he loved and making money, in something other than the ever-stable medical profession. If you have immigrant parents, you know what I mean:-)

Fortunately for me, my parents were lovers of literature and used to rave about Achebe's novel Things Fall Apart when I was young. It wasn't until I took an African literature course in college, though, that I began to fully appreciate his vast contributions for myself. In addition to his over 25 novels, essays, and children books, Achebe is also a prolific poet. The poem I've included below is from the 1998 book Another Africa, which featured poems and essays by Achebe and photographs by the famous Robert Lyons.

If you don't know, friends, please get hip:-) Enjoy this third installment of African Poets Week and click here to read more from Another Africa.

Knowing Robs Us
BY Chinua Achebe

Knowing robs us of wonder.
Had it not ripped apart
the fearful robes of primordial Night
to steal the force that crafted horns
on doghead and sowed insurrection
overnight in the homely beak
of a hen; had reason not given us
assurance that day will daily break
and the sun's array return to disarm
night's fantastic figurations--
each daybreak
would be garlanded at the city gate
and escorted with royal drums
to a stupendous festival
of an amazed world.

One day
after the passage of a dark April storm
ecstatic birds followed its furrows
sowing songs of daybreak though the time
was now past noon, their sparkling
notes sprouting green incantations
everywhere to free the world
from harmattan death.

But for me
the celebration is make-believe;
the clamorous change of season
will darken the hills of Nsukka
for an hour or two when it comes;
no hurricane will hit my sky--
and no song of deliverance.

© 1998 Chinua Achebe. All rights reserved

My Mother - The Poetess

Have you ever had one of those moments when you realize that your parents are actually people? Actually kind of cool? That they can like things that are interesting and know things that you don't, but would like to know?

I had one of these moments the other day when I was raving to my mother about this African author I met and how impressed I was that such great work was coming from people who looked like me. I was going on and on and ON...when she said, in an ultra cool voice, "We've been moving the world with our writing forever." She then proceeded to recite...from memory...David Diop's famous "Africa my Africa" poem. My jaw was on the floor. No lie. Who knew that my mom was such a poetess...that she could appreciate such beauty...that we were so similar in such an important way. It was as if Diop walked into that room that night, transcending time and space, just to unite my mother and me. It was beautiful to be able to share and learn.

Anyway...continuing with African Poets Week, Here's Diop's famous work below. There's also a mini-bio from Poets.org below.

Africa
BY David Diop

Africa my Africa
Africa of proud warriors in ancestral savannahs
Africa of whom my grandmother sings
On the banks of the distant river
I have never known you
But your blood flows in my veins
Your beautiful black blood that irrigates the fields
The blood of your sweat
The sweat of your work
The work of your slavery
The slavery of your children.

Africa, tell me Africa
Is this your back that is bent
This back that breaks under the weight of humiliation
This back trembling with red scars
And saying no to the whip under the midday sun.

But a grave voice answers me
Impetuous child that tree, young and strong
That tree over there
Splendidly alone amidst white and faded flowers
That is your Africa springing up anew
Springing up patiently, obstinately
Whose fruit bit by bit acquires
The bitter taste of liberty.

Mini Bio:-) (courtesy of Poets.org)
David Mandessi Diop was born in Bordeaux, France, on July 9, 1927, to a Cameroonean mother and a Sengalese father. Although he grew up in France and lived most of his life there, Diop spent significant time living and teaching in Africa, which helped reinforce his opposition to European society. Consequently, many of his poems discuss his empathy with Africa and the movement for independence from French Colonialists.

The Last Time I Said "Do Over"

I'm BACK!! I've been traveling and such and I'm finally back and ready to share some great poetry with you.

During my most recent trip to the NYC, I met an awesome Nigerian author who's working on a coming of age story about a little boy growing up in a Nigerian boarding school. I was so so honored to get to hear bits from his unpublished manuscript...and so inspired that I'm featuring nothing but African poetry for the next week or so...at least until I get it all out of my system:-) I will beg and plead for this anonymous author to send through some stuff for me to post, but until then, check out the piece below by Bassey Ikpi.
I've already featured her work a few times on this site and I can't think of a better way to kick off my very own African Poets Week.

This piece is no exception. Honestly, I watched the vid a few times because it was so my elementary school life. Like....I haven't heard the word "Do Over" since 1995. LOL. I'm a nerd, but Bassey is, quite simply...amazing. I found the words on the Turning word into Verb blog and decided to include them below...for those of you who prefer to read.

Enjoy!!



Sometimes silence is the loudest kind of noise
BY Bassey Ikpi

Like sometimes it was best when
Girls were girls and boys were boys.
Like back when freeze tag was a mating dance.
Like back when "Do Over" meant you got another chance.
Like back when anxiety was worrying if Wonder Woman would make it out alive.
Like back when freedom was sliding backwards on a slide.
Like back when success was jumping off a swing and
Landing on your feet, then
Doing it all over again.
Like new shoes made you run faster.
Like getting Ms. Gross again for math was a disaster.
Like failure was a word we hadn't even learned to spell yet.
Like promises were sealed and kept with pinky bets.
Like a challenge was a double dare.
Like ugly was a cock-eyed stare.

And you liked it...
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Happy International Human Rights Day AND Morgan Freeman

You should know by now that I have some severely left-leaning tendencies. So, of course I would have to remind you that today is International Human Rights Day!! Yay! For those who haven't heard of this day, I've included a quick blurb below...but, it's more or less the Superbowl for part-time activists like myself:-)

If you're looking for a way to celebrate this 61st birthday of the United Nations' Universal Declaration of Human Rights, you should check out the new Clint Eastwood film Invictus. The biographical film on the life of Nelson Mandela is set to hit theatres tomorrow and stars the oh-so-bad-ass Morgan Freeman as Mr. Mandela. According to IMDB, the film is a "look at life for Nelson Mandela after the fall of apartheid in South Africa during his first term as president when campaigned to host the 1995 Rugby World Cup event as an opportunity to unite his countrymen."

Check out the Invictus trailer below and remember...human rights are not just the responsibility of the UN and organizations like Amnesty International. We must all work to uphold the rights of each individual and speak out for those who cannot.

What's IHR Day?
from the United Nations

The promotion and protection of human rights has been a major preoccupation for the United Nations since 1945, when the Organization's founding nations resolved that the horrors of The Second World War should never be allowed to recur.

Respect for human rights and human dignity "is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world", the General Assembly declared three years later in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. In 1950, all States and interested organizations were invited by the General Assembly to observe 10 December as Human Rights Day (resolution 423(V)).

The Day marks the anniversary of the Assembly's adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948. Over the years, a whole network of human rights instruments and mechanisms has been developed to ensure the p

rimacy of human rights and to confront human rights violations wherever they occur.

The Pen Truly is Mightier - Amnesty Global Write-a-thon

So, I have to make a plug for one of my fav human rights associations ever - Amnesty International. I first got hip to this great organization in the den of liberal thought and social deviance otherwise known as undergrad, and have been hooked ever since:-) Amnesty is organizing a Global Write-a-thon to raise awareness of human rights violations and pressure governments to release imprisoned human rights defenders across the globe. I've already signed up to write a few letters and you should too. The campaign starts tomorrow and runs through the 13th. Lots of time to write lots of letters to (passively) fight the powers that be.

Still not convinced? Check out what Amnesty has to say about the campaign below. "The pen truly is mightier than the sword!!"

Why Get Involved?
This global action marking International Human Rights Day on December 10 brings people together just about anywhere – in classrooms, churches, workplaces, homes, and more – to make a difference in the lives of prisoners of conscience, human rights defenders, victims of torture and other individuals at risk.

Using the proven power of writing letters, they will pressure authorities to release those who have been unjustly imprisoned and to stop the torture and abuse of others.

The pen truly is mightier than the sword. Millions of Amnesty International members around the world have taken up the pen to bring freedom and hope to prisoners of conscience, human rights defenders, victims of torture and other individuals at risk since 1961. They've acted on the words of imprisoned Nobel Peace Prize laureate Aung San Suu Kyi, who asked the world: "Please use your freedom to promote ours."

You can promote freedom and human rights by joining Amnesty International's annual Global Write-a-thon, a worldwide action marking International Human Rights Day on December 10. People around the world will gather in classrooms, churches, workplaces and homes to take action on behalf of prisoners of conscience, human rights defenders, victims of torture and other individuals at risk. Using the proven power of the pen, they will pressure authorities to release those who have been unjustly imprisoned and to stop the torture and abuse of others.
How to Get Involved:

It's easy! Follow these simple steps:
1. Sign up today! Then SPREAD the word and encourage your friends and family to register for the Write-a-thon by texting or emailing them the registration link: www.amnestyusa.org/writeathon Bookmark and Share
2. Get your resources in early November: Learn how to hold a successful write-a-thon and download case summaries, sample letters and other promotional materials for your event. If you would like hard copies of these items, please feel free to email us at writeathon@aiusa.org
3. WRITE and MAIL your letters from December 5-13!
(Feel free to start earlier than that and go through December.)
4. REPORT back to us letting us know how many letters you sent. Do this by filling out the on-line evaluation form or sending us an email at org@writeathon.aiusa.

Promoting human rights is serious business, but it can also be fun. Make the Global Write-a-thon a part of your holiday celebrations this year and show your support for human rights.

Quote of the WEEK,

Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe Me."

Look what happens with
A love like that,
It lights the Whole Sky.

- Hafiz

Listen Up!! The "Oldies" Have Something to Say

I know you’ve heard the “uphill both ways in the freezing snow with no shoes on” stories more times than you can count, but please put that angst aside for just one day. There’s more to our parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles than all that. At least that’s what NPR’s Story Corps is saying. I guess you never know until you ask, right? In celebration of today's National Day of Listening, NPR is encouraging people across the country to grab their tape recorders, ask some tough questions of their loved ones, and listen to the answers. Easy enough.

Pass on the Black Friday craziness and spend some time with the "oldies but goodies" in your family. This is the second year that they’re doing this and I think it will bring a lot of families closer together (or at least help us understand where we inherited our crazy neuroses from). Either way, there’s nothing like communication to show us that we’re a lot more similar than we want to think.

I’m planning on grilling my mom today (check out the two of us below). I plan to ask all the tough questions. Like...ALL the tough questions – Stay tuned:-)



Not totally sold, check out the USA Today article. If the media's covering it, it must be legit!!

National Day of Listening promotes oral history
BY Travis Loller, Associated Press Writer

NASHVILLE — A national oral history project is trying to start a new tradition for Black Friday. Instead of hunting for bargains, StoryCorps suggests families sit down together and talk about their lives on a National Day of Listening.

Amanda Rigell, a 30-year-old middle school teacher from Johnson City, Tenn., interviewed her grandmother, who was 89 at the time, for the first National Day of Listening last year.

"She was reluctant at first," Rigell said. "She doesn't really talk about herself." But then she talked for more than two and a half hours.

"She talked about her early education. She went to a tiny little school, I think there was only one other person there for a while. And she talked about drinking fresh milk from a cow. I guess that shouldn't have surprised me, but it did," Rigell said.

StoryCorps is a nonprofit project that seeks to preserve the stories of ordinary people. Rigell first learned about it when she heard some of those stories broadcast on public radio during her morning commute. She had already interviewed two people at StoryCorps recording booths when she and her father decided to interview her grandmother at home.

"I'm really glad we did it last year because her health has been declining," she said. "There was a while last month when she couldn't speak."

Rigell said her grandmother, who lives in Campbell County near the Kentucky border, was around for all the "big events" of her childhood. Some of her fondest memories of her grandmother involve home cooked meals and "amazing" buttermilk biscuits. But there were a lot of things Rigell didn't know about her.

Rigell recorded the interview on her computer and plans to give copies as Christmas presents.

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Quote of the WEEK,

There is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, Letters and Social Aims

A Slice of Humble Pie with my Turkey

Hello lovelies

After wiping away the stray bits of cranberry sauce and finally prying myself away from the desserts, I have finally emerged from my turkey-day food coma with a poem on my lips:-) This entire day of thanks has made me realize that I don't thank the big guy upstairs enough. In fact, I rarely give Him much attention when life is peachy. It's like I only come crying at his proverbial doorstep when its all crashing down around me...I guess, despite how far faith has brought me, I am still a work in progress. Let's remember to be thankful everyday...not just when the calendars and grocery stores command us to be.

Hope you all had a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving. Happy Black-Friday!

When I Pray
BY Susan Baba

Only when I'm hungry
only when
enough
is not really enough
you see, only when I'm hurting
only when the world crushes all of my dreams
only then do I look for you
wait on answers before I move
seek you
like those books say I should

hands clutching tightly
as it all just slips by
it's at those times I need you
and want you by my side

but when its -
sun
joy
laughter
and parties to go to
warm smells of delicious
and music to dance to
people to kiss
lovers to hold on to
endless
endless
endless

another year set aside for singing
when its -
arms flung open wide for loving
when dreams are all revealed to me
and destinies all fulfilled through me
when I have
enough
more than enough even

plenty of all the right things
none of all the wrong things
when it's all here
like I'd hoped for
I forget that you're still in it

and you,
in silence
or in thunder, if needed
jealous lover, you call me back
reminding me that you've never left my side

For those Who Love Talib

Love his rap? well, you'll be happy to know that he can carry his own on the spoken word stage too! Really nice piece about religion.

I Like You Like Frat Boys and Pirates Like Booty!!

You know I couldn't go more than a few days without a love poem:-)

Mike McGee's Like is another one of those oldie but goodies that really embody the slam movement. Engaging, well-delivered and, with the exception of the Muppets fisting line, very thoughtful. Yeah. He actually said "Like Muppets like fisting." LOL. That line still makes me blush, even after hearing it so many times. Good stuff, though. An all around fabulous piece.

For you know who:-)

"I like you a whole bunch of a lot.
you're a pocket full of awesome.
I like you similar to the way that frat boys and pirates like booty."

::Hilarity::

New to Me: Oscar Wilde Poem

By now, you should know of my all around love for all things scandalous in the poetry world. So, it should come as no surprise that Oscar Wilde is one of my favorite authors of all time. Disciplined artist/ socialite/ political scapegoat. Sentenced to 2 years of hard labor after being accused of "homosexual acts" by his lovers father. Tragic death. ::sigh::

Mr. Wilde's life itself was a work of art.

My favorite line in this poem is "and ruin draws the curtains of my bed." Even in such sadness and despair, he took a moment to capture it with beautiful language. I probably would have just said, "Man, this sucks." :-)

If you want to read more of his stuff and learn about his life, read De Profundis. It's an absolutely gorgeous and delicate glimpse into heartache...if there is such a thing.

Enjoy!

My Voice
BY Oscar Wilde

Within this restless, hurried, modern world
We took our hearts' full pleasure - You and I,
And now the white sails of our ship are furled,
And spent the lading of our argosy.

Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,
For very weeping is my gladness fled,
Sorrow has paled my young mouth's vermilion,
And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.

But all this crowded life has been to thee
No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell
Of viols, or the music of the sea
That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell.

Quote of the WEEK

If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.
- Aboriginal activist, Lila Watson

Unfriend Beats out Sexting...and the Demise of the English Language

Before I start, I must say, I am not a language snob. Yes, I love fine language and thoughtful poetry, but I can throw out the slang as well as anyone else. There is a place for causal conversation and there are words that are useful in casual settings.

But to elevate those words to rock star status by naming them the top words of 2009? Shameful. That's exactly what the Oxford American Dictionary did this year with their list of top words. These included the words un-friend, sexting, hashtag, and intexticated. What the heck is intexticated? I have never heard anyone say that stupid, made up word...in life! And, last year's list wasn't any better. The top word of 2008 was....wait for it...“Hypermiling.” It's when you try to maximize your gas mileage. I mean, it's a useful word, but the top word of the year?

I
think
not.

What is HAPPENING to the English language?

All I know is that if I start to see these words cropping up on standardized tests and junk, I'm going to scream...for real!

::sigh::

Check out the Reuters piece below on the demise of the English language...I mean the top words of 2009.

Enjoy!

"Unfriend" named word of 2009
BY Belinda Goldsmith, Editing by Miral Fahmy

NEW YORK (Reuters Life!) – "Unfriend" has been named the word of the year by the New Oxford American Dictionary, chosen from a list of finalists with a tech-savvy bent.

Unfriend was defined as a verb that means to remove someone as a "friend" on a social networking site such as Facebook.

"It has both currency and potential longevity," said Christine Lindberg, senior lexicographer for Oxford's U.S. dictionary program, in a statement.

"In the online social networking context, its meaning is understood, so its adoption as a modern verb form makes this an interesting choice for Word of the Year."

Other words deemed finalists for 2009 by the dictionary's publisher, Britain's Oxford University Press, came from other technological trends, the economy, and political and current affairs.

In technology, there was "hashtag," which is the hash sign added to a word or phrase that lets Twitter users search for tweets similarly tagged; "intexticated" for when people are distracted by texting while driving, and "sexting," which is the sending of sexually explicit SMSes and pictures by cellphone.

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Confession Time

Ok friends...I must confess that, despite all of my excitement about NaNoWriMo, I just couldn't do it this year. If I had been writing diligently, like over achievers all over the world, I would have 25,000 words down by now. I would be half way to my very first novel. But, I chose to spend all of my free time prowling Facebook and reading other people's words (almost done with Unaccustomed Earth). Oops.

So, yeah. I was technically out of the race before it even got started, but I still get the most fabulous pep emails from the NaNoWriMo staff. Yay!! Decided to share one from the first week with you all today. This pep email literally made my day:-) Witty, informative, and motivational. What more could a gal ask for!!!?

In case I'm ever brave enough to actually attempt a novel, there are some great nuggets of awesome in this letter to keep my chugging through. If any of you out there actually took the challenge to heart and are not total and compete slackers like me, happy writing:-)

Enjoy!

Dear NaNoWriMo-ers,

I'm not even the tortoise of writing. I'm the slug. And you are more than hares, you're cheetahs — writing at seventy miles an hour. I have to fictionalize even to talk to you.

So it's October 31st. I’m back from trick or treating in a robot costume, worn to honor Isaac Asimov, who wrote or edited more than 500 books in his lifetime. After removing my tin head mask and my metallic gloves, I pig out on candy corn and think about today's accomplishments.

I dug a shallow grave in the backyard and buried my print thesaurus (starting tomorrow, the first word I think of is good enough, even if I use it seven times on every page), dictionary (who cares how ophthalmologist is spelled anyway?), usage books (I can figure out the difference between lie and lay later), encyclopedia, atlas, and my beloved books about writing. I taped blackout curtains over my windows. My techy friend spent hours tinkering with my computer. She's assured me that it will combust if I try to reestablish connections to the internet and email. The single thing I'm keeping is my cell phone in case I start to go into cardiac arrest, but the keys are smeared with battery acid, except the 9, the 1, and send. My family and friends and Meals-on-Wheels have sworn to deliver food to my door, which will be kept closed to protect the world from my intensifying body odor.

Now I tape my list of rules and advice (culled from friends, my mom, the buried writing books, and, mostly, my own hyped-up imagination) to the wall next to my desk.

Now I tape my list of rules and advice (culled from friends, my mom, the buried writing books, and, mostly, my own hyped-up imagination) to the wall next to my desk.

1. Sleep at least once a week.

2. Eat at least once a day, but not constantly. Don't forget the essential fatty acids (Mom).

3. If my fingers freeze from carpal tunnel syndrome, I have ten perfectly good toes, a nose, and quite a few teeth.

4. When I'm not happy with how things are going, turn off the screen and keep typing. Don't turn it back on until the crisis is over.

5. Don't check my word count more often than every fifteen minutes.

6. Dream sequences can eat up a lot of pages, and they shouldn't be logical.

7. Short words count just as much as long ones.

8. The perfect is the enemy of the fast. The good is the enemy of the fast. The halfway decent is the enemy of the fast.

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Text for Taylor

For those of you who prefer reading over listening, here's the text of yesterday's Taylor Mail piece. Literally, there are too many gems in here! Read carefully and enjoy!

:-)

How to Write a Political Poem
BY Taylor Mali

However it begins, it's gotta be loud
and then it's gotta get a little bit louder.
Because this is how you write a political poem
and how you deliver it with power.

Mix current events with platitudes of empowerment.
Wrap up in rhyme or rhyme it up in rap until it sounds true.

Glare until it sinks in.

Because somewhere in Florida, votes are still being counted.
I said somewhere in Florida, votes are still being counted!

See, that's the Hook, and you gotta' have a Hook.
More than the look, it's the hook that is the most important part.
The hook has to hit and the hook's gotta fit.
Hook's gotta hit hard in the heart.

Because somewhere in Florida, votes are still being counted.

And Dick Cheney is peeing all over himself in spasmodic delight.
Make fun of politicians, it's easy, especially with Republicans
like Rudy Giuliani, Colin Powell, and . . . Al Gore.
Create fatuous juxtapositions of personalities and political philosophies
as if communism were the opposite of democracy,
as if we needed Darth Vader, not Ralph Nader.

More

How to Write a Political Poem - Oldie But Goodie

Taylor Mali has so many great poems, but this is my absolute favorite.

It's one of those "funny because it's true" pieces that truthfully and comedically tells it like it really is. It seems like there's almost an un-spoken formula on how to write and speak a political poem that performance poets learn at birth. I know that I've committed my fair share of the things he describes in this piece...especially the last bit. Ouch! Guilty as charged:-)

Because all you have to do to end a political poem is
close your eyes,
lower your voice, and end by saying:

the same line three times,
the same line three times,
the same line three times.

hilarity!!

Quote of the WEEK

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler."

- Henry David Thoreau

You're Not a Real Poet...Are You?

There is a local poetry night that I absolutely love going to. It's inspiring to be around so many artistic and creative minds all at once. Sometimes, I even feel inspired to read some of my own work. A few weeks ago, after I had read a few new pieces, a young lady came up to me and said, "I really like your style. You're not a real performer. You're a poet." Her words struck me in the oddest way as I tried to determine if it was a disguised insult or a genuine compliment. I opted for the latter and smiled.

But, it got me thinking...what does it mean to be a "performance poet?" And what would our poetry greats think of all this? What would Langston Hughes think of the slam culture? What would Shakespeare or Robert Frost or E. E. Cummings think of the spoken word movement? These folks were poets in the most honorable and pure form. Yes, they sometimes read their work aloud, but their words stood alone on the page, unembellished by stage or intonation (except maybe Shakespeare and his plays). They focused on sentence structure and punctuation. They released anthologies and poetry books instead of performance cds, because they let the reader take from their words what they wanted.

This is not to bash performance poets. In fact, I love seeing people totally light the stage on fire with their words. I envy them for their skill and courage. But, for those of us who "only speak because the written word has all but gone out of style," it's an honor to be counted in the group of writers who wrote words that were fit to read - not just fit to speak.

Long story short, this inspired a poem about poetry...

Enjoy:-)

A Difference in Style
BY Susan Baba

I am not a spoken word artist
I am a poet
My words do not sit on display like plastic fruit
They are meant to be ingested
To roll around in your mouth until you’ve sucked all of the juice from them
To make you feel something in your stomach
Sometimes unsettling
But something
To shake through you
To rumble through you
until they're done

My words come to you naked
Peering from behind the ripped out pages
and scribbled out lines of my poetry notebook
With nothing to clothe them at all

I am not a spoken word artist
I am a poet
I am of the tribe of soothsayers
A dying line of women who can read a single book more than once
whose bookshelves and libraries are filled with
underlines
and highlighter marks
and smiley faces
beside words that have moved them
The weird chick who dares to laugh
or tear up
as she turns the pages of a well worn book
Only to watch the words she once fell in love with
unfold before her again

I am not a spoken word artist
I only speak because the written word has all but gone out of style
because you can only hear me if my words sound like hip-hop
or have a rhythm that makes you want to tap your feet
You can only feel me when the drama of my delivery
catches you by surprise
and snatches the chair right from under you
But I am not a spoken word artist
I stand before you
with nothing to guard my words but this small page

My Girrrrrl Michelle Rocks Out on the Street

When I watched Sesame Street as a kid, I couldn't have imagined ever seeing a Black president much less seeing our Black first lady on the freaking show!!

As if I needed another reason to love the Obamas, our beautiful first lady rocked it out on yesterday's Sesame Street and helped the show celebrate their 40th year!! ::sigh:: so many childhood memories.

Enjoy the article below from People magazine!

Michelle Obama Helps Sesame Street Mark the Big 4-0
By Stephen M. Silverman

Oscar the Grouch had better behave – and keep his political opinions to himself.

On Tuesday, to mark the 40th anniversary of the groundbreaking children's program Sesame Street, some very special guests pay a visit, including First Lady Michelle Obama. According to previews circulating the Net, she meets Big Bird – who observes that the two of them are tall.

Mrs. Obama also delivers a message that may not entirely sit well with Cookie Monster. Appearing with three kids and the show's fuzzy, red resident Elmo, she encourages them to plant seeds in the ground, water them and then expect them to sprout tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce and carrots.

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The Hardest Part of Breaking Up...Is Getting Back Your Stuff

To steal a line from MTV's fictional boy band 2Ge+her, "The hardest part of breaking up, is getting back your stuff"...and, I would add, your sanity. Breakups are crazy for so many reasons. When they happen, they totally turn your world upside down and leave you with sadness, questions, a meteor-sized hole where your partner used to be. Even if you're the one who ended it, it's most definitely no walk in the park.

If you are lucky enough to survive those first post breakup months, though, you find out that there are some perks to breaking up. For one, you get the freedom to focus on new things that you love (especially the things that your boyfriend or girlfriend hated). It's also fertile ground for a budding poet. My breakup was many months ago, but I've finally gotten enough distance from it to be able to write some pretty introspective pieces about our time together and my thoughts on our breakup. I've included one of these below and will share a few more breakup-related poems throughout the coming weeks. Let me know what you think.

ps...actual names have been replaced with singular pronouns, to protect the innocent (and not so innocent)

Sorry
BY Susan Baba

We communicate in I’m sorrys.
Sorry for taking so long to text you back,
I wasn’t sure how to say it.
Sorry for never calling you back,
I didn’t think you would want to hear my voice.
Even across a crowded club,
My eyes say I’m sorry as I flirt with another.
And as we get a feel for what this “friends” thing is supposed to be,
We’re filled with I’m sorrys
For all that we choose to leave unsaid.
As you might have guessed, we were lovers once
And there is so much to be sorry for
Much too much to be sorry for
But I don’t regret ever loving him.
I don’t.

Introducing my (Other) Cousin Chris

I've been trying to get better acquainted with my classic writers, so I decided to do a bit of digging on Christopher Marlowe this weekend. The only thing I knew about him when I started was that he was a character in "Shakespeare in Love" (lol...I'm sure he would be turning in his grave if he heard that), but after a quick google search, I found loads of gossip on his quite scandalous life. My kind of author:-)

He was born to a well-to-do shoemaker and a clergyman's daughter, yet was almost thrown in jail for religious blasphemy.
He lived a sort of double life - academically exemplary, while all the while acting as a government informant on the sly.
Even the authorship of his plays and poems has been called into question many times, but there are about six or seven plays and countless poems that historians have agreed he penned.

One of his early works Tamburlaine the Great is considered to be the first, popular play to be featured on London's public stage. Marlow was certainly more playwright than poet, but he left the world (well before his time, if you ask me) with the oh-so-famous lines from The Face of Helen -

"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
...And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss."

::SWOON::

According to Theatrehistory.com

"Many details of his life were a source of scandal to some of his contemporaries, and for us are still shrouded in mystery. In May, 1593, a manuscript was discovered in Kyd's possession which he declared to be Marlowe's left' with Kyd in 1591 when he was in the service of a noble lord for whose players Marlowe was writing. The document--merely a copy of part of a theological treatise already published--though unitarian in nature, was atheistic in the eyes of the orthodox. Testimony as to blasphemous conversations on Marlowe's part was also produced. Before the privy council took definite action about the charges, Marlowe was killed. Puritan disapproval of his connection with the stage and of his free-thinking perhaps influenced Meres' statement that he was stabbed "by a bawdy serving-man, a rival of his in his lewd love." Records discovered by Hotson merely show that he was stabbed in a tavern in Deptford by Friser, one of three companions who also were, or had been, in the service of the government."

So, there you are. Not nearly comprehensive, but hopefully enough to wet your whistle:-) Wanna learn more? Wiki!!

Poem Hero And Leander
BY Christopher Marlowe

It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is over-rul’d by fate.
When two are stript long ere the course begin,
We wish that one should lose, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice,
What we behold is censur’d by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight.

Maya on L-O-V-E

We all need a bit of Momma Angelou in our lives:-)

Senses of Insecurity
BY Maya Angelou

I couldn't tell fact from fiction
Or if my dream was true,
The only sure prediction
In this whole world was you.
I'd touched your features inchly,
Heard love and dared the cost.
The scented spiel reeled me unreal
And found my senses lost.

Feeling Sick and Tired

In honor of swine flu season, I'm posting Shihan's "Sick and Tired." We all need a comedic rant poem every once in a while, especially when the cold and flu ickies are going around. This poem made me lol...like...out loud...like for real:-) Loves it!!

The great lines are endless, but I've included a few of my absolute favs below.

I wanna smack people who don't even realize that Egypt is in Africa.
I'm tired of J-Lo having white parents in every movie she's in.
I'm sick of black features being attributed to everyone else except blacks, like having big lips is cool, but only after Angelina Joli had them.
I'm sick of Master P being allowed to speak on behalf of hip hip, when he represents nothing but everything wrong with it.
I'm sick of apathy and American Idol and the whole Survivor phenomenon.
I'm tired of poets doing poems for pu$$y.
I'm sick of Cuba Gooding crying in every movie he's in.

So much truth wrapped in so much funny. Enjoy the vid, good people.

::smooches::

What's Genocide? And Why I Love Poets!

I love poets. That's not a shocker. But there was one poet that originated this obsession - Carlos Andrés Gómez. 2006. ::Sigh:: He was my very first poet crush and was literally the man who opened the floodgates for the many crazy, sexy, cool relationships I've had since then.
This was the poem that did me in:-) Gotta love a man who can still look adorable while talking about neocolonialism and oppression. Not my favorite version of it (its way faster than he has it on the cd and cuts out some pretty epic lines) but you get the point.

And please don't be fooled by my school-girl-crush description above. This poem is serious!

Enjoy!


"What's genocide?
Maureene's mother gave her skin lightening cream the day before she started the sixth grade.
What's genocide?
She carved straight lines into her beautiful brown thighs so she could remember what it feels like to heal."

What's genocide?
BY Carlos Andrés Gómez

Quote of the WEEK

Let us throw off everything that hinders
and the sin that so easily entangles
and let us run with perseverance the race marked for us
- God (in Hebrews 12.1)

Did you know November was NaNoWriMo?

Yes!! NaNoWriMo:-)

Also known as National Novel Writing Month. This month-long write-a-thon is described on the homepage as a "fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. All you have to do is write a 50,000-word novel from scratch in a month's time." That's ONLY 1,667 words a day! Sounds impossible, but I believe in you!!

The main site has lots of tips on how to get started, how to fight the evil dragons of procrastination, and how to donate to the efforts when you're a poor, struggling artist. You can even buy all kinds of bibliophile swag like the oh-so-adorable "I Eat Novels For Breakfast" shirt. Simply beautiful. They'll be tracking the number of words written all over the world throughout the month, so check out the site to register. Thanks to Ida for getting me hip to this. Happy writing lovelies!!

And just in case you're still wondering why you should hop on the NaNoWriMo band wagon...

Why: The reasons are endless! To actively participate in one of our era's most enchanting art forms! To write without having to obsess over quality. To be able to make obscure references to passages from our novels at parties. To be able to mock real novelists who dawdle on and on, taking far longer than 30 days to produce their work.

When: You can sign up anytime to add your name to the roster and browse the forums. Writing begins November 1. To be added to the official list of winners, you must reach the 50,000-word mark by November 30 at midnight. Once your novel has been verified by our web-based team of robotic word counters, the partying begins.

How: Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Who: You! We can't do this unless we have some other people trying it as well. Let's write laughably awful yet lengthy prose together.

Happy Halloween from the Original Creepster!

I've never been too big into the super scariness of Halloween. I actually remember crying all night on one of the first Halloweens that my family spent in this country. I was staying the night with this sitter that had about 8 of us kids whose parents worked crazy hours, and someone thought it was a good idea to pop in "Nightmare on Elm Street" or something equally ridiculous. As soon as they turned it on, it was over. I more or less lost it...probably more:-) I was so not used to the scary, scary stuff. At school we had learned that Halloween was a day of free candy. Who can find fault with free candy? But scary, crazy men trying to kill people? That was a bit much for my 7 year old mind. And I've honestly never been the same. I used to play along and follow my friends to see the scary movies and do the haunted hay rides and such, but no more. I can't even stomach the thought of scary somethings jumping out of the bushes. Just cant!! So there you are, world - my deepest, darkest secret:-)

But that doesn't mean i can't appreciate a good, creepy poem as much as the next person. Who better to help us celebrate the day of spooks than Mr. Creepster himself - Edgar Allan Poe.

Enjoy and Happy Haunting!

The Haunted Palace
BY Edgar Allan Poe

In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace
Radiant palace reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This all this was in the olden
Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tunëd law,
Bound about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn! for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate !)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh but smile no more.

Kanye West Spits on the Def Poetry Stage

Calm down folks! He didn't literally "spit" on the stage:-) But you can never be too sure with his crazy butt.

I know that Kanye's PR manager has been working over time these days with all of his random antics, but this performance on Def Poetry Jam last year reminds me why I love him. He's just hella scandalous for no reason at all:-) This is probably more speaking words than poetry, but you get the point...you should recognize what song it's from.

"she was supposed to buy your short tyco with your money. she went to the doctor and got lypo with your money!!"

Loves it!

::warning:: bad language alert, so you might wanna turn the volume down.

And tonight, we SLAM!

I'm always raving about how bad A the poetry clubs in NYC are, but we have our own gem here in Cincinnati. If you haven't been, the Midnight Sun Cafe is the longest running open mic night in the city and a fabulous place to check out the movers and the shakers in the local poetry scene. Whether you're an old timer or a budding artist, Elament, the hilarious (and super cute) host creates an environment that is both intimate and entertaining. If you've never experienced it or haven't been back for a while, tonight's the night to check it out!

Every Wednesday at The Greenwich.

The Danger of a SINGLE story - Must Watch TED talk

This video has been making its way around Nigerian circles for a few weeks, so I decided to share it with all of you:-) Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian-born author, gave this speech on the harm that can come when we only hear one-side of the story at the recent TED Conference.

Wonderful speech!! You have to listen to fully get it, but here's an excerpt from the introduction.

"What this demonstrates, I think, is how impressionable and vulnerable we are in the face of a story, particularly as children. Because all I had read were books in which characters were foreign, I had become convinced that books, by their very nature, had to have foreigners in them and had to be about things with which I could not personally identify. Now, things changed when I discovered African books...Because of writers like Chinua Achebe... I went through a mental shift in my perception of literature. I realized that people like me - girls with skin the color of chocolate, whose kinky hair could not form pony tails, could also exist in literature."

Enjoy peeps! This totally opened my mind tonight.

Wanna know more about Chimamanda? Check out her Wiki.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (born September 15, 1977) is an acclaimed Nigerian writer. She comes from Abba in Anambra State, southeast Nigeria. Her family is of Igbo descent.[1]

She was born in the town of Enugu but grew up in the university town of Nsukka in south-eastern Nigeria, where the University of Nigeria is situated. While she was growing up, her father was a professor of statistics at the University, and her mother was also employed there as the university registrar. At the age of 19, she left Nigeria and moved to the United States.

Her first novel, Purple Hibiscus, was published in 2003 and won the Best First Book award in the 2005 Commonwealth Writers' Prize.
Her second novel, Half of a Yellow Sun, named after the flag of the short-lived Biafran nation, is set before and during the Biafran War. It was published by Knopf/Anchor in 2006 and was awarded the 2007 Orange Prize for Fiction.[4]
Her third book is a collection of short stories titled The Thing Around Your Neck and was published in April 2009 by Fourth Estate in the UK and Knopf in the US.