"Meet the Author" at Barnes & Noble - Nov. 22

Last Friday, I was invited to take part in "Discovery Friday" at the Barnes & Noble in Danbury, CT. The "Meet the Author" event for local authors was one of many activities and fun planned to kick off book sales for the holiday season. This was a wonderful opportunity to introduce myself to the Danbury community. I had warm and wonderful conversations with a number of fascinating individuals at the bookstore.

I was fortunate to connect with a woman who was immediately taken with my second book, A Dawn Run Hot with Morning. She found that it might make a great gift for a friend of hers who enjoyed poetry and art. I signed the book to her friend and hope that she enjoys her reading. I signed A Poet Speaks of Empire for her, too, and mentioned that it was inspired by my work in Ghana several years ago. A family member of hers also traveled to Africa and, like me, it changed the way she looked at poverty on the continent.

I also spoke with a young woman who was in high school. We agreed that we greatly enjoyed writing and started writing poetry and short stories at a young age. I admitted to writing my first short story at 7 and she mentioned that she started writing many years ago, as well. She also noted that she helped edit her co-op's literary magazine, something I did in high school, too. It is always great to meet young writers and to encourage them to pursue their passions!

I talked briefly with a man who said that he always wanted to be a writer. I noted to him that, these days, it is far easier to publish than it was just ten years ago. With the rise of print on demand publishing, just about anyone with a creative eye can publish a book.

When I noted that I was published independently, he seemed surprised. Eventually, I gave him a business card and he noted that he'd check out my work online. If I had the chance to continue the conversation further, what I would say to him is that he would be shocked by the quality of writing and overall quality of books coming from independently published writers.

I have had the privilege to read a number of books of fiction and poetry through a group on Facebook called "Review Seekers" in which authors offer their books for free in return for an honest review of their book. The amount of untapped talent out there is remarkable!

I've heard that your chances of being published by a traditional publisher are equivalent to that of being struck by lightning. With this in mind, it is imaginable that many major publishing houses' "slush piles" are filled with talent. What may be in question is how easy or difficult it is for a book to easily find a market and become a bestseller.

Finally, I ran into a man who, like me, studied English in college and lamented the day when poets wrote accessibly. He remembered a day when Allen Ginsberg, a beat poet from the 1950s and 1960s, came to speak to a group in his writing program and how enjoyable reading poetry was back in the day. I agreed. Many people don't enjoy reading poetry that obscures understanding. I aim for accessibility in my work, almost above all.

In sum, last Friday was a lot of fun. It's great doing events like this one. I look forward to doing more events like these in the future!

Examining Reader-Favorite Poems: "A Poet Speaks of Empire"

This is the fourth in a series of blog posts intended to examine reader-favorite poems from A Poet Speaks of Empire. This week I'll look at the opening poem from the book, entitled, "A Poet Speaks of Empire". This poem is key to the premise of the book. An understanding of the book, A Poet Speaks of Empire, pivots on insight into this poem.

The poem touches upon centuries of struggle faced by many nations in sub-Saharan Africa since the dawn of the trans-Atlantic and trans-Saharan slave trades, through the troubled period since independence from colonialists, up until this new era in the continent's history. Here's the poem:  

A POET SPEAKS OF EMPIRE

From the depths of a frightening bottom

arises the promise of heights only imagined

by history. Mansa Musa[1] could not

dream of the hopes for tomorrow.

From the horrors of a beleaguered past

besmeared with the sale of an aging dynasty

and its people,[2] rises a cypress.[3]

Now compelled by the grip of an ancient

longing, a rising bourgeoisie breathes free.

New and constant inhalations catch the

scent of a budding era, fresh on the heels

of broken beginnings.

Arise, oh great continent, arise!

A new age beckons your voice,

your voyage.

Arise village, arise nation, arise continent!

Children seek their inheritance. A

grand past makes this generation

eager for a magnificent future, bearing

fruit to feed a multitude:

electrifying shanty grids,

irrigating drought-wrought farms,

transporting goods and services,

delivering to markets beyond the

horizon.

Rise to the moment ancient griot,[4]

storied marabout,[5] revolutionary

warrior, rich farmer! Bring your alms,

your drums, your ghosts and your songs;

the children of today must carry on

traditions older than time, ripe as the sea.

The reference to Mansa Musa is important here. In the 13th century, long before the international slave trade, ancient Mali was renowned as a world cultural and financial center. Timbuktu was an undeniable force in the trade of salt, silk and local slaves at the height of empire.   

During a period of decline, beginning in the 17th century, African slave traders began selling Africans (who were already slaves or prisoners of war) to the Portuguese, the British, the Spanish, the Americans and others. The business was extremely lucrative and many African ethnic groups benefited enormously from the trade. 

The sale of slaves was not exclusive to the West; Arabs also had a need for free labor. It is estimated that 30 million people (many of whom perished) were exported across the Atlantic, the Sahara, the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean into ports across the world. 

From a strictly economic standpoint, this was a huge blow to human resources and human capital in sub-Saharan Africa. Imagine, such an enormous number of strong, young Africans, in the prime of their lives, being sold at auction to the highest bidder. Although many ethnic groups benefited financially, the long-term impact on local economies was marked and lasted for generations. To some historians, the enormous export of human capital, in small part, explains centuries of poor economic performance in sub-Saharan Africa. Populations are just being restored today, which may be an element in explaining recent economic gains.

The major question which the poem cited above and the book, in general, address is the question of empire. History has witnessed the rise and fall of empire since the beginning of time. With at least five of the world's fastest growing economies now in sub-Saharan Africa, supported by new trade and investment from emerging market countries in the global South, including Brazil, India and China, the continent's rise to power, economically and otherwise seems highly probable. The economic crisis of 2008 was a watershed moment in economic history for the West. However, it revealed the prowess of emerging market economies across the global South. Many of these nations remained little affected by the crisis and were even witness to growth. Time will tell if the developing world will continue to emerge and if empire will shift to the global South.

---

[1] Ancient Malian king, 1280 – 1337 AD

[2] Slaves and prisoners of war in ancient Mali were sold off into the trans-Atlantic slave trade and the trans-Saharan slave trade in an effort to raise funds for the failing empire

[3] Species of tree native to southern Africa

[4] West African storyteller who maintains the tradition of oral history

[5] A saint in Muslim Africa believed to have supernatural powers

Book Event with The Links

Last weekend, I attended Founder's Day, sponsored by The Links in Stamford, Connecticut. It was a special event that celebrated the 1946 founding of the organization. Approximately 70 Links members from around the state were in attendance. I served as a vendor, offering my books to those interested. I had a table with all four of my books, business cards, a poster from my original book launch and a notebook where I collected email addresses to announce future books. I showed up prepared to harness the best that The Links had to offer.

The most popular book proved to be The Lily & The Aster. It sat front and center on the table, along with A Poet Speaks of Empire. My pitch was that The Lily & The Aster was a book for book lovers who did not necessarily love poetry--that the poetry, haiku, was simple and made for easy and pleasurable reading.

A Poet Speaks of Empire, my latest book, was also very popular. I believe that what customers found intriguing was the subject matter--the rise of sub-Saharan Africa. The idea was new to some and not so new to others.

During the event, I was seated next to a vendor, let's call her Elizabeth (not her real name), who was selling her own line of cosmetics. Elizabeth's table was very busy with women looking to buy the latest shade of lip color or a hydrating face mask. I was fortunate to catch a spillover of customers from her table.

During a lull in customers, she picked up my latest book and began to read the poem, "Mandela's Resurrection". She noted that she is a member of South Africa's African National Congress and that, since 1995, she traveled to the country six or more times per year for work or to visit friends. What followed was a very interesting conversation about the new South Africa. 

She noted that a new generation of children in South Africa, born since Mandela's release from prison in the early 1990s, did not appreciate the history or efforts put forth to bring about this new era of growth and opportunity. To these children, apartheid is a part of the distant past. The poem that she read was a springboard for great conversation. This is the best I can hope for all of my books, those already written and those to come.

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...