Blast From The Past: A Poem In A Popular Literary Journal (Staffrider Vol.9 No.1 1990, Ravan Press)

Yesterday I found out that Staffrider, a very popular literary journal that I contributed to in the 90s is now part of a digital library called Aluka. 

According to their web site, "Aluka is an international, collaborative initiative building an online digital library of scholarly resources from and about Africa. ‘Aluka’, is derived from a Zulu word meaning ‘to weave’, reflecting our commitment to connect resources and scholars from around the world."

I think I'm honoured that something that I wrote is in an academic archive like that.

The Staffrider edition that I contributed to is Staffrider Vol.9 No.1 1990. It was published by the now-defunct Ravan Press. I was 23 years old then.

I think I contributed to one or two more editions, but after so many years, my mind is hazy on that. I didn't keep the clips, unfortunately.

I tried to download a PDF of the journal, just so I could reread my poem, but one needs to be logged onto the library's private network to gain access.

The library is available to educational institutions and non-profits, among others, and I don't really qualify.

But I'm going to email them to find out if they could, maybe, email me a PDF of that particular issue.

It would be nice to see the work I did half my lifetime ago.

Meet Efemena Agadama

Playwright and poet Efemena Agadama left this message on my Facebook page, after we connected:

No matter how laudable our words might be
No matter how evergreen our vegetation of words might seem
There are some paths too noble to paint with words
And there are people too amazing to honour with words
...you are one of such paths
...you are one of such people
Thanks for being a literary light

Beautiful, hey? And such an honour to be regarded like that! Sooo..... I thought I’d introduce him to you guys. He’s a regular contributor the Amnesty International blog. He has also written guest posts for a number of pubs including Little London Observationists.

He wants to “meet” other South African writers. So please guys, introduce yourselves if you’re a writer? My impression was that he likes to talk about books, so I think those of you who occasionally talk about books and writing on your own blogs will be happy to introduce to share some online conversations.

Ending The Routine

I tend to consider myself as a seriously bad poet, as most of my writings are usually a way offload during an emotional moment, rather than true art or craft. And I hardly ever respect any rules for the form.But every so often I find that I have something to say and a poem is the only way to say it. Today is one of those days.
.......................................................
Ending the routine
By Damaria Senne

Some days I think he will kill her
As I listen to him he hit her.
The sound of her screams shattering the night
Drowning out the talking heads on TV.

They shout, scream
Things crash on the wall
And sometimes she runs outside
Throw his clothes in the street
I hate you! she says

Don’t worry about it
It’s all part of their routine
Another neighbour says
As he joins me in the passage of our joint flats

Some days I want to slap her silly
Yes, the irony of that haunts me
But there are times when
He tries to walk away from an argument
And she follows him
Screeching after him: you're useless! you're not a real man
And he drags her back to their flat
Hits her until I do call the police.

It's all part of their routine, the officer says
They've responded to many calls about their fight
And nothing comes of it, he says.


What kind of routine is it
That inflicts pain on people?
I want it to stop
Yet, I’m afraid that one day
They will deviate from their routine
He'll hit her harder than usual
She'll hit her head on a table on her way down
And snap, her neck breaks
Or, she'll decide to fight back
Take a knife and stab him
Killing him.

A Productive Morning

Feeling a bit more energetic today. Started the day early, updating web sites and initiating discussions on forums. Reader responses to my question on whether you would want to know if your partner was cheating on you was very interesting, in that, most people on the forums where I posted the question, including FB, foscussed on the potential for disillusionment and pain. It was only later that Gaynor Paynter mentioned the fact that actually, none of us have the luxury of not wanting to know, because of HIV. If you don't know he/she is cheating, you won't think about using a condom, and heaven knows who else the other partner is seeing:-)

Also check out Richard de Nooy's profile on the Read SA micro site. Richard is rather funny, so please take a moment to enjoy him as he tells you about himself, and his book. As I said in my last post, the idea is to introduce you to South African authors you may not know, and their works. You might discover a new author to fall in love with.

I'm planning to spend the rest of the morning/day writing copy for a newsletter. And when I'm done, hopefully I'll still have some brain cells left over to write some fiction. Meanwhile, let me introduce you to Baby's rhyming poetry:-)

If a birdie in the sky
Makes a poopy in your eye
Don’t be sad, don’t cry
Just be glad that elephants don’t fly

...................................................................

There was once a spook
Who was hung on a hook
On a tree by the brook.
Cos he took the mayor’s wife’s doek
While she sat reading a book
And threw it in the brook
Cos he thought it was a hoot.

...........................................................

Ode To Seriously Bad Poetry

For the past couple of days, Baby has been reciting some very bad poetry for me. What she does is she latches on onto a word, and creates sentences around it. The one rule is that the sentences have to rhyme. And in case you're wondering, she knows it's bad. The worse it sounds, the better she likes it. She's even talking about uploading Dak Skroef as a ringtone on her cellphone, just so she can watch people's incredulous faces when they hear it. I have to admit she's right; the poetry is so bad it's fascinating.

On the work front, Louis Greenberg's profile is up on the Read SA web site. Louis recently edited a compilation of fabulous and fresh South African writing called Home Away. The collection is made up of 24 stories over 24 hours, and is called Home Away. It will be published by Zebra Press in April 2010. And I have a poll on the OneLove web site asking you if you'd want to know if your partner was cheating on you. That is, assuming, you have a fabulous relationship, and you don't know that he's getting extra helpings somewhere else.

A Day Full Of Poetry

The day evolved into a long moment full of poetry. I expected the Eisteddford thing. The event was held at St Benedict's Catholic School For Boys. Baby's school did very well thanks.They earned their diploma, I thought. But then I'm biased.

Through the event Baby discovered Kenn Nesbitt's poetry, and she's in love. So she spent most of the evening yesterday reading a selection of his poems for me, making him my new favourite children's poet. His poetry is simple, fun and funny with some unexpected twists.

So if you have kids/nephews/nieces and want to include a book in your Christmas gift pack, check out Poetry4kids and order one of Nesbitt's books. There's still time for them to ship to South Africa, I think. Or you could check if Exclusive Books orders his books?

On the local front ( and for parents), I also found out that Barb, a blogging buddy who co-owns Earthbabies, is also a pretty good poet. I thoroughly enjoyed her poem entitled "Someday I will live with my kids."

Here's a sample:

When I’m an old lady, I’ll live with each kid,
And bring so much happiness…just as they did.
I want to pay back all the joy they’ve provided.
Returning each deed! Oh, they’ll be so excited!
(When I’m an old lady and live with my kids)

Read the full poem

A Taste Of "Urban Soul Poetry Sessions"

This performance was at the first ever Urban Soul Poetry Slam held at the Ster Kinekor, Maponya Mall in Soweto.

No I wasn't there!

And doing a poetry session just about intimidates me speechless. But I can appreciate an interesting session when I see one.



This is also a shout-out to my friend Ramon Thomas. Last we spoke, you mentioned wanting to check out urban poetry slams?

For more information about upcoming sessions, check out the Urban Poetry Soul Sessions on Facebook.

The next one happens this Wednesday at the Blues Room in Sandton.

And for those who write poetry that is softer, more romantic, please note that the OneLove Poetry Competition is ongoing. So please keep writing and sending us your poems.

We have begun to showcase some of the entries on the front page of the web site. Howevever, we will notify you you directly when you your poem is going online.

Thank you very much for participating.

Looking for a poem: At the supermarket

I’m looking for a poem titled ‘At the Supermarket.” Not sure who the author is.

Baby needs it for a school project; she’s taking part a poetry recitation competition [Eisteadford] and part of the learning is for her to learn to research techniques by finding a copy of the poem herself.

She has already done regular searches on Google, Yahoo and DMoz, but the poem didn't come up.

That's when I came in, and when I couldn't find it, I emailed a couple of people involved in literature to ask them. Just to cover my bases, I'm also posting my request on my blogs. I’d be very grateful if you forwarded info about the poem if you know of it.

I’ve also asked Baby to ask her teacher for more detailed information regarding the poem, to help refine her search.

17 July update: Finally found the poem. It's AT THE SUPERMARKET, by H. ORAM, and published by METHWEN CHILDRENS BOOKS. Not sure what year.

I wish they wouldn't do it
(Is what she says first)
Drumming her fingers on the packet of
Healthy Life Cereal
As we stand in the queue
Waiting to go through

It's putting temptation right in our path
(Is what she says second)
As the lady at the till can't find the price
of green bananas
And we're stuck in the queue
Waiting to go through

I've a good mind to speak to the manager
(Is what she says third)
As Em lies on the floor kicking and crying
Me want Me Want
To the tut tuts of the queue
Waiting to go through

Oh all right then, just today
(Is what she says last)
And as we help ourselves to the Chews-Me Bars
I can't help thinking what a very good thing
They put the sweets by the queue
Where sooner or later Mum'll give in

Contribution to the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence

A couple of months ago I posted a poem that represents a small part of what children in abusive homes go through.

As this is the final day of the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence, I decided to highlight the poem here; do my bit to raise awareness on the issue.

My hope is that people will remain aware of the plight of families trapped in violent relationships all year round, and not only during the annual campaign. I also hope that in time, the portion of the poem below, will no longer apply as children increasingly speak out.

I don’t tell her
that I fear my turn will come again
He will slap, hit and kick
Shout and swear at me
And all will be invisible
Deaf and blind to my pleas

Read the full poem, titled "Deaf and Blind."

I've also decided to post another poem, titled "The Morning After."

Here's a snippet:

A pretty picture they paint
I can almost forget
The sound of his fist on her face
Her body crashing on the cupboard
With a thud.

A quiet spring Saturday

After the past couple of weeks of hectic travelling, it's a relief to spent a quiet Saturday at home, with nothing planned.

I spent most of the day catching up with errands including emails. Baby made potato chips and warmed up chicken for lunch.

She insists it’s time she learnt to go beyond making a green salad or sandwich for a meal. I had to promise not to interfere, especially when she carved out large chunks out of potatoes and called it peeling:-).

Baby also decided to clean the house, moving beds and side tables and sweeping underneath. She also changed the table cloths, rearranged my shoes and books etc. I have a daily helper and the house looked fine, but Baby insisted she had to do it.

She also practiced her reading of The Band, a poem by C.J. Dennis. She's part of a group performing the poem at a cultural event this coming Tuesday.

I also did some writing, mostly for the Lieurance-King Article Challenge. I now have 18 articles live, and submitted 5 more at Ezine Articles. The aim of the challenge is to publish 30 articles in article directories by the end of September, so you can drive traffic to your web site or blog.

I’m driving most of the traffic to ITWeb, but traffic is also picking up on this blog. I recently learnt that the benefits of article marketing are mostly realised once you have over 200 articles out in directories, available to publishers to use at will. In total I have 38 articles at Ezine Articles, so I still have a long way to go.

Some poetry success

Baby was reading through my online stories the other day when she saw the poem “Across the Sea.”

She loved it.

I mean, she really, really loved it. She even started singing the words to some tune going thru her head. She asked to take the poem to school to use in her class’ upcoming musical to be produced in September.

The poem resonated with Baby’s teacher, who sent a message saying she has a friend living overseas and can she please use my poem to send a message to her friend. Not sure if they’ll eventually decide to use it in the musical, but I’m happy it resonated with them.

More good news is that the poem I submitted to Word Salad was published in the Summer 2007 edition. Read it here.

I initially submitted it to another pub, but they rejected it with a note saying the biginning worked, but the rest was mundane. So I cut it, and I cut...

I submitted two articles to Ezine Articles this weekend. Broke through the 1000 hits barrier, with the 18 live stories and the submitted stories published 83 times.

A toast to an old friend: Posted 2 poems & 3 articles

I revised the poem “Youth” and posted it on my free story blog.

I also posted a new poem titled “Across the sea.” It was originally inspired by a close friend of mine – Susan Davies – who immigrated to Australia.

She left South Africa over a decade ago, but the friendship stayed the same. Every time we speak on the phone, the words flow so smoothly it’s like we never stopped seeing each other.

We met in the early 90s, introduced by a literary agent we shared at the time. Susan is fond of saying introducing us is the only thing the agent managed to do for us. Both of us managed to independently land writing projects, even published books, but without the agent’s help.

I also posted 3 articles on Ezine Articles. The experiment trudging along, but no visible increase in traffic yet. Two of the articles I posted are not in my usual style – they are more “how to” rather than IT trend pieces, but I’m trying to see what kind of articles and subject matter (within the scope of what I do) attract the most attention.

Two heads are better than one

WRITING NEWS: TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE

I met with a former colleague to discuss the possibility of collaborating. She’s a business journalist too – we used to collaborate rather nicely when we were in the same newsroom.

The collaboration is not really about introducing new themes, projects etc – which she and I don’t have time or inclination to do. It’s about doing exactly what I’ve been doing creatively and on this blog, only it will be done better.

Essentially, we are going to weave together legends, folktales and contemporary stories emerging out of Phokeng (where I come from), with my friend bringing a fresh eye to what I’ve done and/have in mind.

As she was explaining her ideas to me, all I could say was “why didn’t I think of that?’ because it all fit so well.

It will be a while before we can give more input on this blog about what we’re doing, but let’s just say she has helped me get excited all over again about telling the African/South Africa/Phokeng story.

CAFE DULCE IS A WRITER FRIENDLY PLACE

Speaking of inspiration, I’d also like to mention that Café Dulce at Eastgate rocks. The place provided my friend and I excellent service, and the bottomless drinks kept us awake, creative and well-watered.

If you’re looking for a place to brainstorm ideas /write, you might want to try them–the company has franchises in South Africa, as well as Botswana and the Middle East.

The company also does book reviews on their web site, so if you have a book coming out, find out what it takes to be reviewed.

I’m certainly planning to go back there the next time I want to write in a coffee shop / meet friends for a brainstorming session.

SUBMISSIONS THIS WEEKEND

I finished and emailed my submission to Stories Across Africa as planned.

They don’t have a limit to the number of entries one can make, so I will send another submission before the deadline (end of July).

Also submitted one of my old poems to The Scruffy Dog Review and received an autoresponse message that they respond within four weeks of receipt of a submission.

Again, not holding my breath for acceptance, but the poem is better off out there being considered for publication than gathering dust in my computer files.

Also wrote a proposal for my possible book review project and sent it to 5 major publishers and one smaller one. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull the project off, or if the publishers will dismiss me as a joker looking for free books. LOL!

But I live in hope.

Stories Across Africa and POWA women’s writing competition

In addition to the Easter shopping/visiting/eating madness, I did some edits on a children’s story which I plan to rewrite in Setswana to submit to Stories Across Africa, a project of the African Academy of Languages, the official language agency of the African Union.

The project, aims to:

* develop and support the use of African languages in print;
* support mother tongue based bilingual education in Africa;
* stimulate and support the African publishing industry and African literary and visual artists to create and foster the use of children's literature;
* begin to create a common store of written children's literature for African children;
* support possibilities for reading for enjoyment as part of literacy learning and development

Staaf, in collaboration with a local publisher from each of Southern, West, Central, East and North Africa, is publishing three anthologies of writing for children:
* Early Childhood (0-8),
* Middle Childhood (9-12) and
* Teenagers (13+)

Writers are invited to submit stories and poems in any African language (with a summary or translation in English, French or Portuguese) or any of the AU official languages.

Maximum words per submission with respect to length:

ECD: 800 words
Middle: 1200 words
Teen: 2000 words

Deadline is the 30 July 2007 and email submissions are welcomed.

Wish me luck, and send your own entries to Carole Bloch. Email: carole dot bloch at uct dot ac dot za (I’ve written it out so spam trawlers can’t access the address)

POWA Women’s Writing Competition

I also wrote and submitted a poem to the People Opposed Against Women Abuse (POWA) Writing Competition. The theme for the 2007 competition is “Murmurs of the girl in me.”

The organizers say:

“Whatever age she is, when a girl experiences or is witness to an act of violence, something always remains inside and throws her world into disarray.

The moment after an act of abuse is possibly the most emotionally displacing for anyone who survives it. The outside world appears to the same, yet the intensity of that moment rattles the world inside and reshapes it, sparking a range of murmurs spoken in the survivor’s heart.”

Deadline for submissions is 12 noon, 12 September 2007, so there’s still a lot of time for people to enter.

For more information on the competition, go to www.powa.org.za

I also wrote and posted another poem on domestic violence, titled “Deaf and Blind” on my blog for free online stories.

I hope it prompts everyone who reads it to do something, however little it may be, to help women and children who are abused.

Storytellers Festival: A blog promotion experiment

I hardly do anything to promote this blog, mostly because I’m still a bit skeptical of some of the promotion efforts I’ve observed online.

It seems to be a very time-consuming effort, what with visiting other bloggers and commenting on their posts, joining forums, writing articles to submit for publication and directing traffic to the blog and all that social marketing happy stuff. And I’m not quite sure what the returns for me would be, as I don’t really have a product visitors could immediately buy.

In any case, my thinking is that any extra writing time I have would be better spent actually writing something for possible publication, not reading blogs. (But yes, there are a few I visit regularly, mostly because I learn a thing or two from them or enjoy the commentary)

Nonetheless, this weekend I came across what they call blog festivals – essentially, the festival host sends out a regular post highlighting a number of themed posts from other bloggers.

So I submitted a number of posts for three festivals - storytellers festival, writerly types and authors, readers and writers festivals.

Thankfully, it was not a lot of work, as they accept previously published blog posts. We’ll see what returns come out this experiment.

If you’re interested in joining a festival related to your subject matter, go to http://blogcarnival.com/bc/

Youth

In general I see myself as a seriously bad poet. Have no idea what the rules are, and don't particularly care to learn. But occassionally I am inspired to write poetry; For me it's about self expression I guess.

So here's some stuff mouldering in my folders. There's lots where that came from...No, I wasn't threatening you:-)

.........................................

Youth


Youth is
A smooth, unlined face
No anti-ageing cream required.
A slim and supple body
No creaking bones and aching limbs.
Youth is
A chest full of treasures.

Youth is
Clothes chosen for cool factor
Not to hide bulges and sagging skin.
Love, life and career
A future full of promise
Youth is
A box full of shining treasures.

Youth is
The beginning of career success
Be anything, do anything
Work hard, play harder
Spend moolah as fast as you make it.
Youth is
The 3 Cs: Cash, car and a cellphone.

Youth is
Falling in love
In lust at the drop of a hat
Enjoying every heartbreaking moment
No calluses on the heart yet
Youth is
Not being ready to meet your soul mate yet.

Youth is
A trunk full of possibilities
Treasures and dross
To be cleaned and shined
Their real value yet to be discovered
Youth is
Assuming you’ll live long enough
To unwrap the hidden gifts in the trunk.

Cell C to launch annual “Take a girl child to work” day

Cell C is launching its 5th annual “Take a Girl Child To Work” campaign on the 20 March. The campaign aims to deepen the thinking on the many roles a girl has in society. The campaign also aims to enhance teh girl child's self-esteem, inspire and motivate her to reach her full potential by exposing her diverse careers and positive role models.

Last year more than 800 South African companies and over 200 000 girls took part in the campaign.

The "good parent" in me says I should take Baby along to work on the day. Her school will be closed for the first term break, so logistically speaking it should be possible. But my work day is so hectic that the idea of having Baby there, needing my attention too, completely boggles my mind.

Yes, I know coming along with me to work would give her a greater appreciation of what I do. She's also very keen to go with me to work one day, and doesn't understand why I am hesitant, especially as she used to accompany me to work sometimes in my previous job.

Girls' night

One of Baby’s close friends is a Junior at Jeppe High School for Girls, so were attended the school concert today from 4 pm until around 9 pm.

At first I thought it was going to be a dud, what with the bad acoustics (because it was held outside in the school garden), the chattering teenagers and parents, who seemed to have something better to do than listening to/watching the performers.

But as the sun set, the crowd grew quieter. The drummers were good, and there were a couple of girls who are so talented I wouldn't be surprised if they grew to become professional musicians.

Then there was the highly talented male fire dancer, probably from Jeppe High School for Boys [ it was a mixed choir] who moved rather impressively to the music. It was nice to relax with a couple of friends in the cool evening air under the stars, while the choir sang and the kids ran about playing and dancing.

After the concert, two of the girls spent the night at my house. It took a while to settle everyone, especially as the girls were overexcited.

They sang along with Baby’s CDs, had a pillow fight, ate a light snack and chattered until they faded..one by one.....

Ode to a train

Visiting my mother is good for my creativity. Somehow it's easy to access memories of a song we used to sing as kids/ stories we used to tell.

Today I remembered the "Ode to a train" while taking a bath:

A millipede
That creature that slides along
Has one eye
An eye as big as a giant’s.
Oh my!
The giant is here
It’s wooshing like the wind.

Choo choo choo choo
Enter here
Choo choo choo choo
Exit here
Choo choo choo choo
Turn here
Choo choo choo choo
Stop here

I’m going to Kgalagadi
Be well when I come back

Original Lyrics

Sebokolodi
Selelemedi
Leitlho ke le lengwe
Leitlho ke la ga dingwe
Ijo nnana ijo
Dingwe ke ke yo
O tla a suma jaka phefo.

Choo choo choo choo
Tsena fa
Choo choo choo choo
Tswaya fa
Choo choo choo choo
Ema fa
Ke ile kwa Bokgalagadi
Ke fitlhele le tsogile sentle.

Some childhood songs

I was reminded of Baby’s infant years at the baby shower on Saturday. We sang a few childhood songs for fun – when we got tired of torturing the almost new mother.

One song resonated with me quite a bit. I first learnt the song at school primary school while we were learning about our bodies.

Batswana mothers also sing the song to put their babies to sleep, and I was no different when Baby was small.

I don’t know how many times a day I sang that song–when she was upset, I sang it over and over until she calmed down and fell asleep.

I think there is an English version, but right now I can’t remember it The goes thus:

Child: Dear grandfather, where are you from today
Grandfather: I come from the hospital at the top of the hill
Child: And what is wrong with you?
Grandfather, (indicating the mentioned body part):
My head, my shoulders, my chest and my waist
My knees and my toes x2

Child: What is wrong with you?
Grandfather, (indicating the mentioned body part):
My head, my shoulders, my chest and my waist
My knees and my toes x2

Another song that I sang many times for Baby to calm her down or put her to sleep was the Setswana version of Three Blind Mice.

Three mice x2
That were blind X2
An old white woman
Chased them in her garden
Cut their tales
With a large knife
Three mice x2
That were blind X2

It is not an accurate reflection of the original nursery rhyme, but it’s close. The original says:

Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run, see how they run,
They all ran after the farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a thing in your life,
As three blind mice?

I’ve always wondered why Batswana substituted the farmer’s wife for an old white woman.