Examining Reader-Favorites: "Through the Eyes of the Guinean"

This is the third in a series of blog posts focused on examining reader-favorite poems from A Poet Speaks of Empire. In this particular post, I'll look at "Through the Eyes of the Guinean." I'll interpret the poem and tell the story that inspired it. This poem deals with the experience of Guinean immigrants whose goal is Europe. The poem concerns the prospect of immigrating to Spain for a Guinean, from French-speaking Guinea, among the most indigent nations in West Africa.

THROUGH THE EYES OF THE GUINEAN

Spain is Africa’s gateway to Europe,

as seen through the eyes of the Guinean.

The unknown road to markets contemplated

and forever imagined. What particular

reality lies on the nation’s shores:

soft sand, white like dust, or, black sand,

coarse with rocks?

Promises of opportunity and new beginnings

make bearable the unknown. The particulars

of a new voyage are footnotes to a grinding

thesis. Rebirth is a luxury afforded to the

daring. Leaving for foreign shores, a detail,

heavy with new meaning –

a family who is never forgotten.

Here I attempt to depict Spain as a "gateway" to "unknown roads" - to "opportunity", "new beginnings" and possibly even "rebirth". Clearly, "the Guinean" sees moving to Spain as the bridge to prosperity, but he/she has reservations about "the unknown". He/she is guided by the compass of making a better future for his/her family.

The story behind this particular poem begins with a friend of mine, whom I met while I was studying abroad in Spain at the turn of the millennium, Samba. He was one of many West Africans who I met while in Spain. Their stories were similar. Each of them arrived in Spain with high hopes--those of going to school or landing a decent job in order to earn money to send back to their families. Saving enough meant sending their mothers to Mecca or building homes for their loved-ones. And they did. As I would come to learn, the obstacles many of them had to overcome to travel to Europe were quite surprising and quite humbling.

My friend, Samba, had a wide network of Guinean friends who would come together in Madrid for meals and to support each other's endeavors. They came from all walks of life and had diverse stories to tell. They often spoke in their native dialect, Fula, among each other, but, occasionally, in my presence, they spoke Spanish, so that I could understand and participate in conversations.

I learned a lot from this group and have many other stories to tell about them. The thought of my time with them warms my heart. Their hospitality and generosity remain with me.

If you haven't already, pick up a copy of A Poet Speaks of Empire to learn more about what this network of individuals meant to me. You'll meet Samba, for the first time, in the introduction to the book.

Pulling Back the Veil on "Transformation"

This blog post is the second part in a series examining reader-favorite poems from A Poet Speaks of Empire. This post will pull back the veil on the poem "Transformation". What follows is just that poem:

TRANSFORMATION

Bare feet on red clay earth

dance the rhythms of the

falling rain – drums pulsing –

the sound of existential angst.

Hands clap the vibration into

splendid song until dusk;

voices rise in exultation

praising another transformation –

man to blackbird –

man to dust.

The inspiration for this poem comes from an experience that I had with a friend of mine, one of the people to whom I have dedicated this book, Tatchöl. He works as a teacher of African drum and dance at Yale University. On the last Sunday of each month, he holds a healing drum circle for people who attend his drum and dance classes. As I recall, these healing circles were therapeutic. I have heard it said that, in certain places in Africa, people "dance their prayers". As I would learn later, this is precisely what his healing drum circles were all about.

Four or five years ago, around late summer/early fall, Tatchöl's uncle passed away in Guinea. Tatchöl called a special drum circle to help he and his family heal from the loss and raise money for the funeral. The drum circle was very emotional and, the dancing and drumming, quite beautiful and passionate.

In speaking with Tatchöl later, I learned that the Baga people of Guinea believe that when a person dies, his/her spirit is not laid to rest, but rather, transforms into another living thing--be it a bird or other creature. The dancing, drumming, and singing paid homage to his uncle's life and celebrated his transformation to a new life form. Although this idea does not fit with the beliefs my family holds, I could appreciate the beauty and sentiment behind the idea.

So, the images from this poem, "Transformation," come from these ideas and these memories. I took a bit of license and imagined what the healing drum circle may have looked like in Guinea--a celebration in bare feet on the red clay, inside a village on a rainy day--drums, claps and voices rising afternoon into night. Check out the following video to get a sense of the way this scene may have looked:
                                                                                                                                                                                       http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cZV-Bja3Hc

The image of the transformation - "man to blackbird" - belongs to an image in my own memory, however. Several years ago, I attended a family funeral and crossed paths with a family member whom I had never met before. Let's call her Victoria. During a brief conversation, she shared her own insights about life, death, and ancestors. Despite being a devout Christian, she expressed an idea which made a tremendous impression on my memory.

She recalled a photograph of my father, my brother and me taken in Virginia standing on land which has belonged to our family since the times of slavery. Many generations of men in our family made their living fishing and crabbing on the water surrounding this land. Victoria suggested that the blackbirds on the water in the background of this photograph were ancestors returned to protect us. This is the genesis of a related poem from my first book, Contemplating Eve. In this poem, quoted below, I see the "black sink and swim birds" as ancestors "in the shadows". This image has followed me into A Poet Speaks of Empire.

I heard my spirit's echo
on the water

Echoing

generations of toil
on the water
without a single regret

black sink and swim birds
on the water
in the shadows of great men

To think, these highly evolved birds were returned ancestors, like angels, looking over us, protecting us, on the water, under the water and in the sky. What a powerful metaphor!

More to come...

Pulling Back the Veil on "Makola Market"

So, by now, perhaps, you have read A Poet Speaks of Empire and you are curious about the meaning of a particular poem or where inspiration for a poem came from. You may not have purchased a book yet, but posts like this one may tempt you. Over the next few weeks, I will fill you in on the story behind some of my readers' favorite poems. Pour a cup of tea or a glass of fine wine. I plan to pull back the veil on a few of the poems from A Poet Speaks of Empire—one at a time, week by week.

“Makola Market” was a reader favorite. Read it again or, here, for the very first time:

From the pit of the market –

a vantage point for barter and

trade – the echo of bold women

offering their wares for smooth

coins and crumbling bills.

Commerce is happening in Makola

Market on a vast lot – a plaza boasting

of tomatoes, peppers, gari

and rice. Long wished for fabrics – print

and embroidered – Kente cloth  is sold

to the highest bidder.

“This one is called, Your Heart’s Desire,”

says the market woman. How easy is her

gaze and how pleasing her plea.

Supply meets demand, here, at a price

that shifts with the ways of the wind.

Generations of women – farmers’ wives and

farmers, tailors’ wives and tailors – lay

claim to their wealth, measured in bills and

political power. A market woman’s vote

is more than marginal and

her words of praise or ridicule echo

around the market. Those who want

power swoon the market women,

whose pockets are filled with commerce.

My story begins with a confession: while I did visit Makola Market, located in Ghana’s capital, Accra, among the largest and most well-known open air markets in Ghana, this poem truly begins with my experience in a large open air market in Kumasi, Ghana, the seat of power for the Ashanti people.

I was introduced to the market by a co-worker’s brother, Kwame, who was kind enough to visit the market with me and to teach me about the market’s most popular items, vegetables, gari, etc., as well as the rituals and taboos of behavior in the market. During our visit, he got distracted and disappeared for about a half-hour. I was left to sit in the center of the market, knowing only a few words of Twi. This dilemma provided me with the opportunity to observe life in the market.

“From the pit of the market,” I watched women and men bargain for goods. I saw children dawdle by their mothers' sides.  I witnessed commerce and trade on its grandest platform with women as the chief beneficiaries.

Eventually, I got up the courage to bargain with a woman for some kente cloth in a pattern that I had never seen. (Kente cloth is a textile typically worn for special occasions and, centuries ago, only by royalty. See the photo posted here.) The market woman indicated that this pattern was truly unique and was called “Your Heart’s Desire”. She was shrewd and drove a tough bargain—needless to say.

By the time that Kwame found his way back to me, I had let go of a few cedi, but my wardrobe had grown so much richer.

I know from my studies of political science in the classroom that market women, such as those found in Kumasi or Accra, are among the nation’s most powerful entrepreneurs – well-organized and sometimes unionized. They are and have been so powerful that in the late 1970s, Makola Market was razed by President Jerry Rawlings, determined to reign in these entrepreneurs' power.

Today, markets like those found in Accra and Kumasi thrive and form essential elements of the informal economy in Ghana. View the video below to get a sense of life inside Makola Market:

                                     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BN3SxN9zyE

Labor Day Weekend Memories

What a wonderful Labor Day celebration I had this weekend! There was good food, good company and good fun at both an intimate party of 20 on Saturday and at a larger, more boisterous celebration of roughly 50 on Sunday. I have a number of great stories to relate surrounding my books!

I had several very interesting discussions around my books with some of the kind ladies who sat with me around the lunch table on Saturday. Once I mentioned that I am a poet, the questions came at me quickly and furiously: "How long have you been writing?";"Would you mind reading a poem for us this afternoon?";"What do your parents think about you being a poet?"; "Who are some of the great, young African American poets of today?"

I noted to them that I had been seriously writing poetry since high school, where I was published not only in my high school's literary magazine, but in an established Spanish-language literary journal for a poem I wrote in Spanish, called "Oda al Girasol." (My high school Spanish teacher submitted this poem to the journal which, subsequently, published the work.)

When asked if I would read a poem from one of my books, I agreed, but in the end, due to conversation and other activities, I ran out of time. If I'd had the time, I would have read "Mama/Abuela," a favorite poem from my first book Contemplating Eve: The Collected Works.(Click here to read the poem. Scroll down to the third poem in this lengthy blog.)

The third question was a loaded one. I mentioned that, while I greatly enjoy being a poet, I have a master's degree in Economics and considerable experience abroad. I have a career to fall back on, which comforts my parents!

I greatly appreciated the final question. The woman who asked about young African American poets noted that she missed the fiery but eloquent social and political commentary of poets like Amiri Baraka and Nikki Giovanni from the Black Arts Movement of the 1960s and 1970s. I highly recommended that she purchase my latest book, A Poet Speaks of Empire, because of its commentary on contemporary Africa. I also noted that Nikky Finney and Kwame Dawes are my favorite poets of African descent but poets like Natasha Trethaway (now the US poet laureate), Cornelius Eddy,  Shara McCallum, Major Jackson and January Gill O'Neil (all of whom are of African descent) are also doing some awesome work.

Perhaps the most memorable conversation I had was with the gentleman in this photograph and his wife. He asked me about my experiences in Ghana, while he discussed his experiences growing up in Guyana. I had run out of copies of A Poet Speaks of Empire but, as I indicated to his wife, he might appreciate The Lily & The Aster. In it is a travel essay concerning my trip to Africa and the poetry, being mainly haiku, is something anyone can appreciate because it is simple and straightforward.

Perhaps the greatest compliment came at Sunday's party. I was speaking to a couple and introduced two of my most recent works. After perusing The Lily & The Aster, the man said "This is really great! The idea that you're a writer is truly commendable. I have always wanted to be a writer." I think that there are a lot of people out there who want to write. With publishing becoming more accessible, the possibilities are endless. Cheers to all of the aspiring writers out there!

Summer Hiatus

What a whirlwind this summer has been! I'm currently in Madison, WI. This is such a pleasant get-away and easy space for reading and writing poetry. Here's a photo of my grandfather's house where much of my work takes place.


I just picked up Nikky Finney's Head Off & Split and Kwame Dawes' Duppy Conqueror at a cozy, little indie bookstore in downtown Madison called "A Room of One's Own" (after a book by Virginia Woolf.) I've looked to Finney and Dawes for inspiration in writing my fifth book of poetry, due out in the spring of next year.

Believe it or not, in this brief two and a half week stay in Madison, I finished writing my fifth book. This next work will concern one theme, namely, love. As you may know, this is a topic I have turned to in many of my early books and one that has been a favorite for many readers. I am currently considering two different titles. I will chose either Love Emphatically  or We Gather in the Name of Love.  The book will concern not only romantic love but love of family and friends. This was a wonderful book to write. And I have quite enjoyed my stay here in Madison. My time has been quite fruitful!

While I have been here, I also managed to get "A Room of One's Own" to put my poetry books on their shelves! So, if you find yourself in downtown Madison, within the next six months, do not hesitate to stop by this quaint little bookstore and pick up your copy of my latest book or some of the earlier titles, if you have not yet done so.

While I have been here, there has been little time to spare, between arts festivals, restaurant week, visiting friends and family, and writing. I also had the opportunity to visit an exhibit called "30 Americans" at the Milwaukee Art Museum. This special exhibit, now at the Museum until early-September, showcases the artwork of the most influential African American contemporary artists from across the country over the course of a forty-year period (Basquiat included). For details on who else was featured, visit www.mam.org.

I was quite impressed by the scale and scope of the exhibit. Every media and genre was represented. The works included in the exhibit varied from inspiring to disturbing. Some examined history, while others celebrated the strides made over the generations. The exhibit was exhaustive but kept me wanting to see more. It was altogether time well-spent.

This final picture was taken just three weeks ago at a family event in Plymouth Meeting, PA. I arrived with a table full of books and managed to sell a few to family and friends. As potential customers glanced at the books at my table, I received many words of encouragement, "Keep writing!" they said.

July was a busy month for me and for my poetry. I hope to return to writing weekly blog posts sometime this fall. Stay tuned!

A Review of NoViolet Bulawayo's We Need New Names

What follows is a lengthy piece, but one which is well worth your time. It is a review of Caine Prize for African Writing winner, Zimbabwean author, NoViolet Bulawayo's new book, We Need New Names. The review's author, Ikhide R. Ikheloa, provides excerpts from the book, as well links to relevant blogs, essays and other material which enhance our idea of just what this new book is all about. In what he calls "some of the best poetry prose [he has] read in his life", he finds one of the most "contemporary pieces of literature that [he has] read in a long time" -- a book which fits into our texting, tweeting, Facebook culture. Bulawayo does not hold back in depicting the daily challenges of children growing up in poverty in contemporary Africa. As Ikheloa points out, "The words seep into your bones and slap you awake." The book does not dissolve into what some books about Africa do, namely "poverty porn," but rather presents a startling and complex portrait of modern life in Africa. Here's a review of NoViolet Bulawayo's new book:

http://xokigbo.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/for-noviolet-bulawayo-we-need-new-names/

On Kwame Dawes: His Work and Aesthetic

Kwame Dawes is a Ghana-born, Jamaican-American poet and professor whose work has won him countless awards, including an Emmy for his amazing work on the website, "Live Hope Love" (http://www.livehopelove.com/#/home/) a beautiful and interactive collection of poems, music, photography and video, dealing with people living with HIV in Jamaica. More about that site later.

In my latest book, A Poet Speaks of Empire, I praise Dawes' ability to "write a growing torrent of a poem" which "inspires wisdom and a knowing only he knows." Dawes has the remarkable ability to breathe life into ordinary words and to inspire reflection with each evocative lyric. Even in his prose, his language is so very precise and thoughtful. This much is evident in books, Bob Marley: Lyrical Genius and poetic works like Midland. 
  
I chose to highlight Dawes in my book, not only because he was born in Ghana and seems to have retained an inspiring sensibility and respect for where he comes from, but because of his determination to preserve a perspective on Jamaica which is altogether unique and somehow fragile. In the halls of academia, Dawes is one of the few who respect reggae as an aesthetic that needs to be examined and understood. In many ways, I understand why he writes and is so prolific. He seems to aim to write the books that he wishes to read himself and finds far too few of in the halls of libraries and bookstores. 

I wrote A Poet Speaks of Empire for just this reason. I have been unable to find many books that reflect on the current political and economic developments in the whole of Africa in recent years. No doubt, current events are being written about. In the years since independence, there have been a plethora of African authors writing about the promises and the challenges faced in the immediate post-colonial era. International publication of such authors seems to have waned in recent years. I have had difficulty identifying more contemporary authors who speak of the hopes and concerns I touch upon in my latest book.

Kwame Dawes has a new book out entitled, Duppy Conqueror, after a title of a song by Bob Marley. I have not read the book yet, but based on the reviews I have read, Dawes continues his commitment to promoting a pan-African awareness.


"Live Hope Love" (http://www.livehopelove.com/#/home/) is a stunning example of Kwame Dawes' work and commitment to issues facing the African diaspora. On the site, rich poems accompany gritty photography which present the face of HIV in Jamaica in recent years. The poetry that you will find on this site documents the courage and challenges that many Jamaicans deal with in the face of this epidemic. Check out the site and do not miss poems like triumphant "Nichol," who cries, "Man must live/ Man must live." Dawes notes that in all Nichol's smiles and in the persistence of his will, he "is the posture of survival."

In my work, I owe a debt of gratitude to poets and authors like Kwame Dawes, who have blazed a path for authors documenting and reflecting on the experiences of people in the vast African diaspora.

It only seems appropriate to cite the words of Franz Fanon, a thinker on the frontier of the Negritude movement: “Our history takes place in obscurity and the sun I carry with me must lighten every corner.”