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