Anindita Sengupta

I’ve been thinking about the intense, complex energies of South Africa which were spectacularly on display at the festival. What I found most fascinating about Poetry Africa was the diversity of the types of poetry, which ranged from rap / slam to poetry with music and quieter ‘page’ poetry. It was interesting because the old argument of ‘what is poetry’ starts kicking about in lively fashion in a place where a bunch of poems look totally unlike each other. At one poet’s forum (called an ‘indaba‘), it got a bit heated as seventeen different poets debated definition, purpose and aesthetics with the full knowledge that these debates can never reach any definite conclusion but are important to have in any case. Something new to me — apparently there are some South African poets using their poetry in advertisements and there were some charged debates about the ethics of commercialising poetry with some poets denouncing it and others justifying it with the argument that ‘if we can make money from poetry, why not?’ One rather surprising viewpoint was: ‘We are all selling something anyway — our opinions, our values etc — so why not shares or soap?’ Well, I’d rather be ’selling’ my own opinions than somebody else’s soap. But to each his own?  Of course, I’m also curious to know what the quality of soap-selling poetry would be.

The festival ran for an entire week with poetry readings and performances every evening. These lasted about three hours and attracted substantial crowds which I found amazing considering that here, when we get 50 people for a reading, we are ready to drop to our knees in thanksgiving. Poets performed in English, Afrikaans, Isizulu, French, Portuguese and Turkish. There was a strong element of protest in some of the poetry. Some of us currently writing English poetry in India tend to avoid rousing political statements so it was a shake-up to experience a culture where statements are still common, even expected, in poems. I tend to be wary of agenda-driven poetry, mostly because I think a lot of it is just plain bad. There’s a tendency to fall back on the power of the emotion or situation and not bother with the craft. At the same time, our political beliefs do inform who we are as people, and as a natural outcome, what and how we write. And I did hear some good-brilliant protest poetry. I suppose the question to ask with any poem — political or otherwise — is whether it’s a strong poem as opposed to (merely) being a strong statement. It was wonderful that many of us agreed on some of the things that make a strong poem: complexity of thought, musicality of language, specificity, sensory detail.

At a more personal level, it was fantastic to be among so many poets. The eccentric energies, the insecurities, the plain oddness that often make me worry about being let loose in public seemed to have found their correct roosting place, almost like coming home. Okay, on that dreadfully sentimental note (many of us also agreed that sentiment is to be abhorred in poetry), I will stop and give shout-outs to some of my festival favourites, people whose work I loved. So in no particular order:

Liesl Jobson who is editor of the South Africa section of Poetry International Web. She writes poetry, short stories and flash fiction. Her work is wry and biting, quietly powerful and elegantly crafted. There’s strong imagery and great sonic effects. And she talks about the heavy stuff with subtlety. You can read one of her poems here and here is an extract from the poem ‘Zulu Love Letter’ which is in her latest collection View from an Escalator. It’s a longish poem that talks about motherhood, memory and the threat of loss at a personal level but manages to set this against the larger context of what’s happening in her nation without seeming contrived. I’ve picked my favourite stanza:

Each night counting these glass fragments under my fingernails
I remember Ma’Msomi’s valley where AIDS swallows
children, spits up mounds of rusty earth without headstones
and try to remember that custody battles are not terminal.

Loftus Marais writes in Afrikaans and his debut collection Staan in die algemeen nader aan vensters has picked up a number of awards. His poems sound wonderful when read aloud and I loved the translations I read though I’m sure the originals are better. You can read one of the translations here (though it’s one of his shorter poems). Here’s a youtube recording of a reading and I will post another translation here soon if I can.

Lesego Rampolokeng’s work churns with a furious energy and watching him perform is really an experience. As a person, he’s as frank, no-holds-barred and intense as he is while performing so it’s also quite an experience  to interact with him. Here’s a poem you can read and another, and here is a feature on him.

And Jennifer Ferguson whose voice is electric, and who is also (and as importantly) a fabulous woman. Listen to her here. Or visit her myspace page for most recent stuff.

I’ve moved and almost settled in. In other words, my Internet connection is done but not all the pictures are up and the eager gardener who bounced up to the door to ask for the job, never showed up after that. Oh well.

The good news is that my reading at the Sahitya Akademi Translators’ Meet here in Bangalore went off well — this was a three day thingie that threw poets, short story writers, novelists and translators together. There were readings and discussions and it was fascinating to hear poetry in such a multitude of languages including Sindhi, Assamese, Nepalese and Santhali. I was sort of the lone English representative at one poetry reading session, which was very intimidating because I was surrounded by people who knew more languages than me. But I finally met Tamil poet Salma, which was wonderful. We were both part of the same session and it was nice to hear her read. I can’t understand Tamil but I like its strong rhythmic sounds when someone speaks it well. Salma’s poetry draws power from its brutal honesty, its ability to look tough subjects in the face. One of her poems was called ‘Menopause’, for example, and it talked about the body, unwanted hair and all, with great frankness. Unfortunately, the person who read the English translations of her poems read them in this halting, badly enunciated way so the impact was a bit lost. I wish they would engage good readers / performers for such things instead of handing the mike to the first available person.

The other person I remember is Sindhi poet Vasudev Mohi, who read one Sindhi poem and then a couple of Hindi poems. He did not read any English translations and therefore had the advantage of retaining all the music of the original words. He also read very well, in a clear and emotive manner. Going by audience reaction, this really made a difference. Even the post-lunch snoozers at the back woke up and did the ‘wah-wah’ routine. Which goes to show how important sound and performance are in poetry. Nepali poet Jiwan Namdung was also interesting. I was faintly disappointed with some of the other poetry read — it didn’t sound much like poetry to me, too prosaic or declamatory, not musical enough certainly but also not very impressive in terms of trope or imagery. I don’t know whether this was a problem of bad poetry, poor translation, or both.

I also liked Kannada poet and writer Vaidehi’s speech for a session called ‘my writing, my world’ which was chaired by Shashi Deshpande. (They brought four women writers together and asked each of them to speak about their influences.) Vaidehi talked about a number of things to do with her childhood and what struck me most is what she said about the house in which she grew up — it had room after room in the interiors, away from the sun, all fitted with cribs. These were for the women of the house who were expected to spend most of their lives in this “baby-making factory” (Prasanna’s translation).

Anyway, I don’t have much time for proper settling in because I leave tomorrow for Poetry Africa, an annual poetry festival in Durban. I’ll be wandering Joburg and Soweto and (hopefully) watching lions in Kruger National Park before I hit Durban for a week of readings and poetry meets. Excitement. Most of the other poets are from Africa but Sunil Gangopadhyaya from India will also be there. I’m especially interested to see how they perform their poetry differently from us, given the emphasis on spoken word, slams etc that they tend to have there.

Speaking of poetry slams, Bangalore is having its first one hosted by a group called Bombay Elektrik Projekt  at Bacchus F&B on Sunday, 27 Sep. That’s today. You can register for the event and perform. It starts at 7.30 pm. The Facebook event page is here. I’ll be in the audience.

And listen to Don Paterson read poems from his latest collection Rain.

Blogging will resume some time in October after I’m back. Until then, be good?  Or don’t. It’s more fun that way.