Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Writing Language, Culture and Development, Africa Vs Asia, Index Page


Writing Language, Culture, and Development:
Africa Vs Asia
Volume 1


Edited by:
Tendai Rinos Mwanaka
Upal Deb
Wanjohi wa Makokha


Mwanaka Media and Publishing Pvt Ltd,
Chitungwiza Zimbabwe
*
Creativity, Wisdom and Beauty








Publisher:
Mmap
Mwanaka Media and Publishing Pvt Ltd
24 Svosve Road, Zengeza 1
Chitungwiza Zimbabwe
mwanaka@yahoo.com
https//mwanakamediaandpublishing.weebly.com


Distributed in and outside N. America by African Books Collective
orders@africanbookscollective.com
www.africanbookscollective.com

ISBN: 978-0-7974-8493-1
EAN: 9780797484931

© Tendai Rinos Mwanaka 2018

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying and recording, or be stored in any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher


DISCLAIMER
All views expressed in this publication are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Mmap.



Contents
Notes on contibutors.........................................................................x-ix
Introduction.......................................................................................xx-xxiii
Nonfictions...........................................................................................1-26

INTRODUCTION TO INTERNATIONAL STUDIES (RELATIONS)IN WEST AFRICA UP TO 1500: CHINESE, EUROPEAN AND ARAB CONNECTIONS: Lemuel Ekedegwa Odeh (Nigeria)
RHINO-CIDE: Jill Hedgecock (USA)

Fictions...................................................................................................27-83

A DARK ENERGY, Chapter 11, a novel extract: Tendai Rinos Mwanaka (Zimbabwe)
Prologue: Servants of the Rice, A novel extract: Audrey McCombs (USA):
Okwu n’eso Akuko: Odibo Osikapa: Audrey McCombs (translation into Igbo by Gabriel Egboluche)
His eyes were blue: Ian Broinowski (Australia)
Idonsashudi: Ian Broinowski (translation into Hausa by Abdulrahman.S. Waziri and Mustapha Tanko)
PRESSURE POINT: Lee Ray Khan (Nepal)
दबाबपोष्ट: Lee Ray Khan(translation into Nepelese by Lee Ray Khan)
Reminiscences: Mona Lisa Jena (India)
SCARLET: Ayo Oyeku (Nigeria)

Poetry...................................................................................................84-247

人生之: Changming Yuan (China/Canada)
Water of Life: Changming Yuan (translation from Chinese by Changming Yuan)
思想猎人: Changming Yuan (China/Canada)
Thought Hunting: Changming Yuan (translation from Chinese by Changming Yuan)
追求: Changming Yuan (China/Canada)
Pursuing: Changming Yuan (translation from Chinese by Changming Yuan)
图腾柱: Tao Zhijian  (China/Canada)
The Totem Pole: Tao Zhijian (ttranslation from Chinese by Tao Zhijian)
白金城市: Hongri Yuan (China)
Platinum City: Hongri Yuan (Translation from Chinese by Manu Mangattu)
There Were Moments: Emily Achieng’ (Kenya/South Korea)
그랬던 적이 있었다.: Emily Achieng’ (translation into Korean by이의영):
Былимоменты: Emily Achieng’ (translation into Russian by Aizhan)
Uncertainty: Emily Achieng’ (Kenya/South Korea)
Languages: Emily Achieng’ (Kenya/South Korea)
DISPATCH FROM HORIZON: Wanjohi wa Makokha (Kenya)
DAUGHTER OF THE LAUNDRESS: Wanjohi wa Makokha (Kenya)
OF HOMELAND AMIDST BEYOND: Wanjohi wa Makokha (Kenya)
a solitary maiden stands: Archie Swanson (South Africa)
孤高の少女が立つ: Archie Swanson (translation into Japanese by Fumio Ueno)
ombak indah rain: Archie Swanson (South Africa)
ombak indah rain: Archie Swanson (translation into Japanese by Fumio Ueno)
Gwalior: Amitabh Mitra (South Africa)
Gwalior: Amitabh Mitra (translation into Japanese by Fumio Ueno)
Jacob in Hebron: Christina A Lee (Australia/Italy)
Yakobo wekuHeberoni: Christina A. Lee (translation into Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
strange heights: Christina A Lee (Australia/Italy)
Makomo emashiripiti: Christina A Lee (translation into Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
African Heirloom: Lind Grant-Oyeye (Nigeria/Canada)
Afrika Chishongedzo: Lind Grant-Oyeye (translation into Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
Mourning: Lind Grant-Oyeye (Nigeria/Canada)
Good bye Manaima: Lind Grant-Oyeye (Nigeria/Canada)
Wako wekutumbura: Gumisai Nyoni (Zimbabwe)
For yours that you gave birth to: Gumisai Nyoni (translation from Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
Sevai  Muto: Gumisai Nyoni (Zimbabwe)
Have its soup: Gumisai Nyoni (translation from Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
Dundundu Nhando: Gumisai Nyoni (Zimbabwe)
Fake Pride: Gumisai Nyoni (translation from Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
The precision of MEASUREMENT!: Poornima Laxmeshwar (India)
OMIA Kpakpa: Poornima Laxmeshwar (translation into Idoma by Lemuel Ekedegwa Odeh)
Tales of tequila: Poornima Laxmeshwar (India)
lab rats: Rohith (India)
makonzo emumba mesayenze: Rohith (translation into Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
Hospital: Rohith (India)
Where I come from...who I am....: Smeetha Bhoumik (India)
Kwandakabva.... zvandiri....: Smeetha Bhoumik (translation into Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
What I See: Smeetha Bhoumik (India)
How I Wonder!: Smeetha Bhoumik (India)
ONE WORLD: Eniola Olaosebikan (Nigeria)
Motherland chant: Eniola Olaosebikan (Nigeria)
أنشودة الوطن: Eniola Olaosebikan (translation into Arabic by Fethi Sassi)
For colored only?: Eniola Olaosebikan (Nigeria)
للمتلوّنين فقط ؟: Eniola Olaosebikan (translation into Arabic by Fethi Sassi)
Roots: Vinita Agrawal (India)
Midzi yedzinza: Vinita Agrawal (translation into Shona by Tendai Rinos Mwanaka)
Black Waters: Vinita Agrawal (India)
Writers Without Borders: Vinita Agrawal (India)
With This Pen: Edward Dzonze (Zimbabwe)
بهذا القلم : Edward Dzonze (translation into Arabic by Fethi Sassi)
Poetry Cookies: Nalini Priyadarshni (India)
Kashata za Ushairi: Nalini Priyadarshi (translation into Kiswahili by Wanjohi wa Makokha)
Love We Deserve: Nalini Priyadarshni (India)
Penzi Tustahililo: Nalini Praiyadarshni (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
Half Kiss: Nalini Priyadarshni (India)
Nusu Busu: Nalini Priyadarshni (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
OPELE: NURENI Ibrahim (Nigeria)
الخرز : NURENI Ibrahim (translation into Arabic by Fethi Sassi)
Portrait of the poet as young woman: Chandramohan S (India)
Picha Ya Malenga Kama Mwanamwali: Chandramohan S (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A BLACK BURKINI: Chandramohan S (India)
NJIA KUMI NA TATU ZA KUTAZAMA BURKINI NYEUSI: Chandramohan S (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
Beef poem: Chandramohan S (India)
Shairi Nyama: Chandramohan S (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
ROBERT MUGABE STREET: Phumulani Chipandambira (Zimbabwe):
Ulayi U Robert Mugabe: Phumulani Chipandambiri  (translation into Idoma by Lemuel Ekedegwa Odeh)
DAMBUDZO MARECHERA: Phumulani Chipandambira (Zimbabwe):
DAMBUDZO MARECHERA: Phumulani Chipandambiri  (translation from into Idoma by Lemuel Ekedegwa Odeh)
A WRITER’S PEN: Kariuki wa Nyamu (Kenya)
AL{ALAMIN  MARUBUCI: Kariuki wa Nyamu (translation into Hausa by Abdulrahman.S. Waziri and Mustapha Tanko)
If I may inquire…: Kariuki wa Nyamu (Kenya)
IN DA ZAN TAMBAYA: Kariuki wa Nyamu (translation into Hausa by Abdulrahman.S. Waziri and Mustapha Tanko)
Okot p’Bitek: Kariuki wa Nyamu (Kenya)
Okot p’ Bitek: Kariuki wa Nyamu (translation into Hausa by Abdulrahman.S. Waziri and Mustapha Tanko)
Knowledge: Rochelle Potkar (India)
Maarifa: Rochelle Potkar (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
Syllabus: Rochelle Potkar (India)
Silabasi: Rochelle Potkar (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
Art of critiquing: Rochelle Potkar (India)
Sanaa ya uchambuzi: Rochelle Potkar (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu, Kenya)
BURRIED SECRECT: Juma Brenda (Kenya)
Sumasɛm: Juma Brenda (translation into Akan Twi by Adjei Agyei Baah)
A Dirge for the Delta: Stephen Temitope David (Nigeria/South Africa)
BenabɔNwom MaDɛlta: Stephen Temitope David (translation into Akan Twi by Adjei Agyei Baah)
A Song for Independence: Stephen Temitope David (Nigeria/South Africa)
FaahodieNwom: Stephen Temitope (translation into Akan Twi by Adjei Agyei Baah)
Silent Gods (For the kidnapped schoolgirls): Stephen Temitope David (Nigeria/South Africa)
AbosomMmum: Stephen Temitope David (translation into Akan Twi by Adjei Agyei Baah
The Shape of the Heart: Ryan Thorpe (China)
Umbo la Roho: Ryan Thorpe (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
Walking to Work in Shanghai: Ryan Thorpe (China)
Kutembea hadi Kazini Jijini Shanghai: Ryan Thorpe (translation into Kiswahili by Kariuki wa Nyamu)
Untitled: Daniel Ari (USA)
Untitled: Daniel Ari (translation into Japanese by Fumio Ueno)
Benjamina Tree: Shannon Hopkins (South Africa)
Benjamina Tree: Shannon Hopkins (translation into Japanese by Fumio Ueno)
Freedom?: Shannon Hopkins (South Africa)
We are here: Shannon Hopkins (South Africa)
Hair things: Tralone Lindiwe Khoza (South Africa)
God I want to go to Ghana: Tralone Lindiwe Khoza (South Africa)

Plays...................................................................................................248-271

Lonely Bites: Albert Jamae (Australia)
Cizo Daya tilo: Albert Jamae (translation into Hausa by Abdulrahman.S. Waziri and Mustapha Tanko)
THE CHILD NO ONE LOVES (a playlet): Solomon C.A. Awuzie (Nigeria):




About editors

Tendai Rinos Mwanaka is a publisher, editor, mentor, writer, visual artist and musical artist with close to 20 books published which include among others, Zimbolicious Poetry Anthologies (Anthology series of Zimbabwean poets), Playing To Love’s Gallery (poetry book), Keys in the River (short stories novel), Voices from Exile (poetry book), Counting The Stars (poetry book), and many more here: http://www.africanbookscollective.com/authors-editors/tendai-rinos-mwanaka. He writes in English and Shona. His work has appeared in over 400 journals and anthologies from over 27 countries. Work has been translated into Spanish, French and German.

Wanjohi wa Makokha (b.1979), is the sobriquet of Kenyan public intellectual JKS Makokha who is based at the Department of Literature and Institute of African Studies in Kenyatta University. Born in 1979 in Nairobi, raised in Eldoret and Bungoma, the poet has been shaped by various aspects of Kenyan cultures and environments. He obtained his elementary and secondary education from Muslim, Christian and Public schools. He holds tertiary papers from Kenyatta University, University of Leipzig and Free University of Berlin. This cross-cultural educational experience influences his vision and craft as an artist.  The experience is sharpened by his private and public life that have seen him travel widely across Somalia, Uganda, Kenya, Zanzibar, Tanganyika, South Africa and Western Europe. He is the co-editor of several volumes of essays in literary criticism and theory such as: Reading Contemporary African Literatures: Critical Perspectives (Amsterdam/New York, 2013); Border-Crossings: Narrative and Demarcation in Postcolonial Literatures (Heidelberg, 2012); Style in African Literatures (Amsterdam, 2012), and East African Literatures (Berlin, 2011) among others.  His poetry has been published in the Atonal Poetry Review, African Writing, The Journal of New Poetry, Postcolonial Text, Stylus Poetry Journal and Kwani? 7. Nest of Stones: Kenyan Narratives in Verse published by Langaa in 2010 is his debut book of verse. It revolves around the Kenya Election Crisis 2007-2008 and carries a foreword by the respected Kenyan poetess and scholar, Professor Micere Mugo.

Upal Deb is an Indian scholar and writer




Notes on Contributors

Emily Achieng’ is from Nairobi, Kenya. She loves the stars, and better yet, looks at them more than most people do.
Vinita Agrawal, Author of three books of poetry, Vinita is a Mumbai based, award winning poet and writer. She is Editor Womaninc.com, an online platform that addresses gender issues. Recipient of the Gayatri GaMarsh Memorial Award for Literary Excellence, USA, 2015, her poems have appeared in Asiancha, Constellations, The Fox Chase Review, Pea River Journal, Open Road Review, Stockholm Literary Review, Poetry Pacific, Mithila Review and other journals. She was nominated for the Best of the Net Awards in 2011. She was awarded first prize in the Wordweavers Contest 2014, commendation prize in the All India Poetry Competition 2014 and won the 2014 Hour of Writes Contest thrice. Her poems have found a place in several anthologies. She contributes a monthly column on Asian Poets on the literary blog of the Hamline university, Saint Paul, USA. She has read at SAARC events, at the U.S. Consulate, at Delhi Poetree and at Cappucino Readings, Mumbai. She was featured in the transatlantic poetry broadcast. She can be reached at https://www.pw.org/content/vinita_agrawal and at www.vinitawords.com
Daniel Ari writes, publishes, performs and teaches poetry. This has grown out of his lifelong sense of play and wonder in relation to language and its deep, mysterious origins.
Solomon C. A. Awuzie is Solomon Awuzie’s writing name. Solomon Awuzie obtained his B.A. degree from the Imo State University Owerri, his M.A. degree from the University of Ibadan and his PhD degree from the University of Port Harcourt. He is the author of The Last Revolution, and The Born Again Devil. In 2005, his short story, “Your Epistle”, won the ANA-IMO / YOUNG WRITERS CLUB prize for literature and in 2015 his children fiction, Oluyemi and the School Fee, came second at the ANA-IMO state literary competition.  He teaches Literature at the Department of English, Edo University Iyamho.
Adjei Agyei-Baah is a language lecturer at the University of Ghana School of Distance Education, Kumasi Campus and author of two haiku books: AFRIKU (Red Moon Press, 2016) and Ghana 21 Haiku (Mamba Africa Press, 2017) and winner of several international awards. He is the co-founder of Africa Haiku Network (AHN) and as well doubles as the co-editor of Mamba Journal, Africa's first international haiku journal, and champions “Afriku”, a nativized and avant-garde form of the Japanese haiku poetry in Africa and other places of the world.
Smeetha Bhoumik is an artist and a poet, working with traditional and new media, bringing the two together in interesting outcomes. Her main theme of work is the Universe Series, depicting the mysterious universe’s star-forming regions, supernovae, galaxies, constellations and magic. She believes that we are all made of star dust and this oneness inspires her. Her work has shown in ten solo and more than forty group shows in India and abroad; and she is represented by the Global Art Agency. Her poetry speaks softly for the vulnerable. She is an alumnus of IIT Kharagpur, and Founder of Women Empowered-India (WE).
Ian Broinowski, PhD, MEd, BA(Soc Wk), BEc, Dip Teach, worked as an advanced skills teacher in children's services at TAFE Tasmania in Hobart, Australia for many years. Ian has a background in Economics, Social Work and Education. He has taught in a wide range of subjects in aged care, disability services, children’s services, community and youth work. Ian’s publications include Child Care Social Policy and Economics, (1994) Creative Childcare Practice: Program design in early childhood, (2002) and Managing Children’s Services 2004 as well as a range of professional journal articles.
Chandramohan S is an Indian English Dalit poet and literary critic based in Trivandrum, Kerala. He is part of P.K. Rosi foundation, a cultural collective (named after the legendary, pioneering Dalit actress) that seeks to de-marginalise Dalit-Bahujans. His first collection of poems titled Warscape Verses was published in May 2014. His second collection of poems is titled Letters to Namdeo Dhasal is forthcoming and few of his poems have been used at many protest sites. He has been anthologized in LAND: an anthology of Indo-Australian poetry (Edited by Rob Harle) and 40 poets under 40 (Edited by Nabina Das and Semeen Ali). He was instrumental in organizing in literary meets of English poets of Kerala for Ayyappa Panicker foundation and for Kritya Poetry festival.
Phumulani Chipandambira is a Zimbabwean freelance writer. He likes reading and writing poetry and short stories. He has been published in various local magazines and newspapers.
Stephen Temitope David is a Ph.D candidate in Stellenbosch University, South Africa. He is a performance poet who relies on African griot tradition for muse. He is a Nigerian.
Edward X. Dzonze’s poetry seeks to capture the African panorama with minimal prejudice. His hand cannot be mistaken; it is famed for its pan-African eloquence and the profundity thereof- Born on the 4th of June 1989 in Mutoko, where he did his primary education. Edward X. Dzonze is a Zimbabwean born writer. He attended Mufakose 1 High School in Harare. Dzonze, a.k.a NRS( Nameles Radio Station) in the Spoken word circles, has published two poetry collections to date; Many Truths Told at Once (Royalty Publishing USA, 2015) and Wisdom Speaks (Royalty Publishing USA,2016) .He also co-edited the Zimbolicious poetry anthology (Royalty Publishing USA, 2016). His other poetry has also been featured in; World Peace poetry anthology (India, 2013), We are One (Diaspora Publishers, UK, 2014), Best New African Poets 2015 Anthology , Best New African Poets 2016 Anthology and Zimbolicious poetry anthology respectively. Dzonze a.k.a NRS is a full time writer. He lives in Harare's high density Surbub of Budiriro with his wife and two children.
Yugo Gabriel Egboluche is a graduate of Geography from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. He writes from Anambra State, Nigeria where he works as a Development Practitioner. Together with poetry, he does fiction, non-fiction, screenwriting and copywriting. His works have been published in the Kalahari Review, Praxis Magazine Online, Words, Rhyme & Rhythm and his stories translated into film. His short stories have been published in Experimental Writing, Volume 1, Africa vs Latin American anthology and other webzines. He has also co-authored and edited more than two community development texts and guidebooks.
Jill Hedgecock has a Master’s Degree in Environmental Management. She is a freelance writer who became aware about the devastating impact of poaching on rhino populations during a visit to South Africa. Jill is working on a novel to illuminate the complex causes of rhino poaching. Her article on the plight of the rhino appeared in May 2016 (http://www.diablogazette.com/issues/may-diablo-gazette/) and she gave a talk on this subject in June 2016 to the Mount Diablo Audubon Society. She is an active-status member of the Mount Diablo Branch of the California Writer’s Club where she serves as their program chairperson.
Shannon Hopkins: is a writer living in Ballito on the KwaZulu-Natal North Coast of South Africa. She holds a BA degree in Fine Art and an Honours in English, and is currently studying for her Masters in English Literature at the University of KwaZulu-Natal, Durban. She has been published in a number of literary journals and anthologies. Hopkins is fascinated with writing as a means of creating understanding between different cultures and as a platform to explore, capture and remember issues of the times as well as that of personal experience.
NURENI Ibrahim is an award-winning poet based in Lagos, Nigeria. He has published poems both in local and international magazines/journals. His poem “Half of a Human Species” featured in Best New African Poets 2016 Anthology. He is one of the Joint Winners at the 2016 Calabar Poetry Festival Prize. He renders poetry both in verse and in performance. His poems “The Rhythm of Epiphany” and “Song of Violence” were dramatized at the Celebration of Black History Month, Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria and Purple Awareness Programme respectively. He is also a fanatic lover of Haiku.
Albert Jamae has been writing since 1998 in areas of stage, screen, and radio. His credits include a comedy webseries, a few short films, over a dozen plays for kids and adults, three full length school musicals and a series of online e-books comprising of around two hundred short scripts for actors and drama teachers. He’s won awards for two of his one act plays and three national awards for writing radio commercials. He’s currently developing a comedy TV series and writing his first teenage fiction novel.
Mona Lisa Jena was born in Odisha in 1964. She is the author of many books in various genres, including two collections of short stories, three books of poems and several volumes of translations. She has to her credit three collections of poems in Odia; Nisarga Dhwani and Ai Sabu Dhruba Muhurta and Nakshtra Devi. She has also written a novel Nargis in Odia. Her short stories are collected in Indramalatira Shoka and Nilamadhabi. Nargis is her latest novel. Ms Jena also wrote a biography of the noted Odia poet Ramakanta Rath besides translating and editing Dasuram’s Script, a collection of contemporary Odia stories published by Harper Collins.She also translated Pratibha Ray's novel as Citadel of love for Rupa in 2015
Juma Brenda, is a Kenyan and a graduate of Theatre Arts and Film Technology from Kenyatta University and currently pursuing an MA in Film and Theatre Arts at Kenyatta University. She is a versatile artist -a published poet Best “New” African Poet 2016 Anthology; a stage and screenwriter, Filmmaker, Actress and a makeup artist. She derives her passion and creativity from any form of art, be it literary, performing or visual arts. Her works revolve around social, political and economic commentaries.
Lee Ray Khan spent her girlhood in Australia but then travelled extensively in Europe and India.  She now lives in a small village in Nepal.  From time to time she sends out, without comment, stories by email.
Miss Tralone Lindiwe Khoza has a BA Communications degree from the University of Johannesburg (RAU) and a Post graduate Diploma in Marketing. She is a Marketing Specialist by profession, but writing is her first love. Her writing includes writing entertainment pieces for All4Women, MUMSRU a UK online magazine for single mothers, as well as the South Australian Fashion Magazine. Locally she writers for various online blogs and also writes regularly for Biz community on Marketing related articles. One of her poems, Black Eagles has recently being published in the Best New African Poets 2016 Anthology. She hopes to follow in the footsteps of many writers such as the late Dr. Maya Angelou.
Christina A Lee is originally from Melbourne, Australia. She is a part-time poet and art student who lives and works in Italy.
Poornima Laxmeshwar resides in the garden city Bangalore and works as a content writer for a living. Her poems have appeared in Cold Noon, Vayavya, MuseIndia, Writers Asylum, The Aerogram, Stockholm Literary Review, Northeast Review, Brown Critique, Cafe Dissensus amongst many others. Her haiku have found space in several magazines.
Manu Mangattu is Assistant Professor, Department of English, St George College, Aruvithura, India, more check his website www.mutemelodist.com
Audrey McCombs is currently a PhD student in theoretical ecology, earned her MFA in creative writing and environment. She served as the Creative Director for Flyway: Journal of Writing and Environment and her creative work has been published in The Missing Slate, Sequestrum, The Mountain, Pithead Chapel, Earthspeak Magazine, Pay Attention: a River of Stones, and Beaches and Parks from Monterey to Ventura. She dreams of a three-year vow of silence, and a house empty of everything but blank walls upon which she may, finally, write down the code that animates our brute substance.
South African poet, Amitabh Mitra belongs to the city of Gwalior. An Orthopaedic Surgeon and an Emergency Medicine Expert in the black township of Mdantsane, Eastern Cape, he fuses his memories, the mind and lives in various planes.
Kariuki wa Nyamu is a passionate Kenyan poet, script writer, editor, translator, literary critic and educator. He obtained an Honours BA Education (Literature and English) from Makerere University, Uganda. His poetry won the National Book Trust of Uganda (NABOTU) Literary Awards 2007 and Makerere University Creative Writing Competition 2010.  He is published in A Thousand Voices Rising, Boda Boda Anthem and Other Poems, Best “New” African Poets 2015 Anthology, Experimental Writing: Africa Vs Latin America Anthology, Volume 1, Best “New” African Poets 2016 Anthology, among others. He is presently pursuing a Master of Arts in Literature at Kenyatta University, Kenya.
Gumisai Nyoni was born in 1982, he went to Marowa Primary School, Nkululeko High School and Loreto High School.  He completed BA Hons in Theatre Arts at University of Zimbabwe and a Post Graduate Diploma in Media Studies at UZ, again. He works as Chief Sub-Editor at Harare News.
Lemuel E. Odeh is a graduate of the Lagos State University Ojo- Lagos in B.A. History and International Studies, an M.sc International Relations and Strategic Studies and a Ph.D. in History from the Benue State University Makurdi. His area of research is Diplomatic History & International Economic Relations. He is currently a lecturer in the Department of History & International Studies, University of Ilorin, Nigeria. Dr Odeh has published extensively in the areas of economic history and international relations.
Eniola Olaosebikan is an active writer and a public speaker who currently shuffles between United Kingdom, United States and her home country Nigeria. She holds a master degree in International Business Management and asides writing and speaking, she works with specific organizations around the world to enable them realize their corporate goals.
Ayo Oyeku continues to fan the embers of his creative prowess, with over a decade contribution in the world of prose and poetry. His works have appeared in journals, publications and anthologies across the globe, including, Illuminations (Celestial Arts, 2006); Fingernails across the Chalkboard (Third World Press, 2007); Miracle Literary Magazine (Miracle e-zinr, Issue 2, 2012); Stand Our Ground (Freedomseed Press, 2013); The Sky is Our Earth (Sankofa, 2015). According to Sources (Writers Project of Ghana, 2015),VINYL, Kalahari Review, AFREADA, Brittle Paper, Ebedi Review 2, and EXPERIMENTAL WRITING: Volume 1, Africa vs Latin America Anthology. His heart-rending and inspiring debut novel, Tears of the Lonely, won the 2015 Ezenwa Ohaeta Award for Young Nigerian Novelists. And he was also shortlisted for the 2016 Golden Baobab Prize for Early Chapters. Currently, he is finishing up on his second novel.
Lind Grant-Oyeye is a widely published writer of African descent.
Rochelle Potkar is Author of 'The Arithmetic of Breasts and other stories', 'Four Degrees of Separation’, and 'Paper Asylum', Rochelle Potkar is alumna of Iowa’s International Writing Program (2015) and Charles Wallace Writer’s fellowship, Stirling (2017). She is the winner of the 2016 Open Road Review story contest for The leaves of the deodar. Her story Chit Mahal (The Enclave) appears in The Best of Asian Short Stories.  Her poems Cellular: P.O.W. and Ground up were shortlisted for awards. Her poem 'The girl from Lal Bazaar' was shortlisted for the Gregory O' Donoghue International Poetry Prize, 2018. She is editor of the Goan-Irish anthology, Goa: a garland of poems, with Gabriel Rosenstock, and co-founder of the Arcs-of-the-Circle artists’ residency program, Mumbai. https://rochellepotkar.com.
Nalini Priyadarshni is the author of Doppelganger in My House and co author of Lines Across Oceans.  Her poems have appeared in numerous literary journals, podcasts and international anthologies including Mad Swirl, Camel Saloon, Dukool, In-flight Magazine, Poetry Breakfast, The Riveter Review, The Open Road Review, Your One Phone Call, In Between Hangovers, Asian Signature and Yellow Chair Review. Her poems and views on poetry and life have been featured on AIR (All India Radio) and FM radio. Her forthcoming publications include Silver Apples.
Rohith is a Medico from Government Medical College on Tirupati. He grew up in Anantapur. His poetry was published in various magazines like The Sunflower Collective, Cafe Dissensus, Kritya, Raiot, The Brown Critique.
Archie Swanson is a 61 year old Cape Town poet and surfer. His poems have been published in numerous anthologies and posted on a number of blogs. In 2016 three of his poems were translated into Spanish by Martín López-Vega, and published in the Spanish National newspaper, El Mundo. A poem also appears in Experimental writing: Africa vs. Latin America, Volume 1.
Dr. Ryan Thorpe teaches creative writing and literature at the University of Michigan-Shanghai Jiao Tong University Joint Institute. He is the fiction and poetry editor of The Shanghai Literary Review and manages a public workshop for anyone interested in creative writing. He writes columns for The Global Times, has published in numerous literary journals, and is currently working on a creative writing textbook. More information on his work can be found at www.rythorpe.com
Yuan Changming, nine-time Pushcart and one-time Best of Net nominee, published monographs on translation before moving out of China. With a Canadian PhD in English, Yuan currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver; credits include Best of Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, New Coin, Rowayat, Threepenny Review and 1309 others across 39 countries.
Hongri Yuan, born in China in 1962, is a poet and philosopher interested particularly in creation. Representative works include Platinum City, The City of Gold, Golden Paradise, Gold Sun and Golden Giant. His poetry has been published in the UK, USA ,India ,New Zealand, Canada and Nigeria.
Tao Zhijian is a translator and scholar, with a doctorate from McGill and a membership with the Chinese Writers Association in Quebec, Canada. He has taught at several universities and worked also in the hydroelectric and hydrological fields. His published works include monograph Drawing the Dragon: Western European Reinvention of China, translations of the scholarly work Bibliography Complex, and art album Chung Siu Yau Series: the Golden Age, both from Chinese to English. Under his name are also four poetry collections in translation, entitled respectively The Fortuities of a Shoe, A Line at Dawn, On the Shore Beyond, and Upon the Flower, totalling some 320 poems. He has also published numerous critical essays, prose writings and poems, in both the English and Chinese languages, in scholarly journals, newspapers and literary magazines in China, Europe, the US as well as in Canada. Zhijian is presently engaged, as a translator, in the project of creating Chinese-English editions of two of the most authoritative and popular Chinese language dictionaries, a project jointly undertaken by the Commercial Press and Oxford U press.









INTRODUCTION

TALKING IN FORKED TONGUES:
Envoicing an Afro-Asiatic Literary Volume

Translation studies continue to gain ground in academic circles especially in the fields of Linguistics, and Literary Studies. This is true of African and Asian academies as it is with the knowledge communities of the rest of the world. The focus on this matter has been almost always with questions of power and language in the vortex of decolonization schools of thought. (See Batchelor, 2014). Indeed, the prominent Kenyan writer and champion of postcolonial languages and their inalienable rights, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, continues to remind us the importance of creating dialogues between languages of the Global South (See Ngugi, 2015, 1986). His works have been translated into tens of languages further underlining the importance of translation studies especially within the larger frame of postcolonial studies. A recent project by young Kenyan writers translated his recent-most short story entitled, “The Upright Revolution: Or Why Humans Walk Upright”, into over fifty diverse languages from across Africa in their Jalada Africa: Translation Issue Volume 1(2016). The story was first written in Gikuyu under the title, “Ituĩka Rĩa Mũrũngarũ: Kana Kĩrĩa Gĩtũmaga Andũ Mathiĩ Marũngiĩ.”
It is clear that the intellectual curiosity around in literature of postcolonial societies cuts across generations and regions. It crosses oceans whether it is the Kala Pani or others. It is an important landmark in postcolonial studies indeed. Going against the mainstream translational tendencies of working with European versus African languages only, it breaks and provides a fertile ground for academic inquiry and literary experimentation. Following in such footprints of new thinking in translation approaches to literary rapprochement, our new volume salutes Evan Mwangi’s, recent offering, Translation in African Contexts: Postcolonial Texts, Queer Sexuality and Cosmopolitan Fluency (2017). Mwangi highlights the nature and notion of translation as an epistemological framework of handling thematics of literatures from the Global South even further.
The exciting Kenyan experiences and epistemic impulses of Ngugi, Jalada Africa and Mwangi are not unique. However, they capture transnational and interdisciplinary anxieties of inter-regional cultural awakenings and awarenesses with synechdochical clarity. One that merges intercultural discourses and transcultural expressions forged  towards a common humanistic agenda and in support of other cogent reflections on global literary translations in Africa and beyond (See:Bandia, 2015; Adejunmobi, 2014; Batchelor, 2014; Inggs and Meintjes, 2009 among others). It is out of this broadening of horizons of aesthetic, philological and cosmopolitan thought that we evolved this inter-continental project.
This new volume on Translation and Literatures at the nexus of unfolding interlocutions between Africa and Asia has been mooted in the philological spirit of glocalisation captured above. The incipital scholarly essay in Writing Language, Culture and Development, Africa Vs Asia, Volume 1, by Lemuel Odeh, we are taught there is strong and validated evidence that Asia and Africa have had close relationships for centuries since the classical period. Of course it is a well-documented fact that modern man originated in Africa with Asia being a focal dispersal point to the rest of the world. Close sharing of ideas and culture between people of these regions exists since time immemorial. This can be deciphered and umbricated from the family stories of Audrey McCombs, Ayo Oyeku and Mona Lisa Jena, that delve into traditional African and Asian family settings and their breakdown with encroachment from various facets, forces and fulcra of unfolding modernities. The syncretic and synchronic cross-fertilization of discourses, discomforts and dynamics at the nexus of the locutions and interlocutions between the two continents is well documented and known. From ancient Religion to mercantilian subjugation, from modern slavery to merchant sojourns, from adventure-instigated flights of reality or fantasy to culinary delights, texts both oral and written abound that highlight the umbilical tie between the two regions. Verses with anchorage in this complex epistemic and gnoseological vista are exemplified by the ancestral modes of aesthetics captured by the sublime art of Smeetha Bhoumik, Vinita Agrawal, and Nureni Ibrahim. Coins own two sides.
The contra-perspective on the otherwise symbiotic nexus between the two regions is saliently raised by the vices transacted across the Indian Ocean, which, like a hip joint, merges Asia and Africa. Take the case of Rhino poaching addressed by Jill Hedgecock in this collection. Her work explores the devastating poaching of the African rhino, which is fueled by the illegal Asian trade of rare horns and their usage in traditional medicine theatres. It is these interrelationships among many complex others in this book that vindicates this anthology as an open arena of discourse and thought.
Note-worthy is that this new anthology is a continuing series of cross-continental, literary anthologies, with the first one already out in print as, Experimental Wring, African Vs Latin America, Volume 1 (2017). Several others are under preparation. Collectively, these anthologies, hopefully, will instigate renewed anti-hermetic energies across the World academia to share ideas across continents in a dialogic mode of cogitation inspired by inter- and trans- disciplinary paradigms of Gnosis that transcend the postcolonial. Ours is a focused agenda that deliberately offers platforms for artistic and philosophical confrontation of the latent and salient limits of our globalized arena and era through the spoken and written word of aesthetic worth.
Writing Language, Culture and Development focuses on issues to do with practical translation and its action on contemporary literary texts of Asia and Africa as well as the dialogic and aesthetic possibilities between them. From this standpoint we engaged major languages of the region both creatively and critically under the auspices of Translation Studies, a fast growing humanistic field in the Global South. In this volume one finds artistic and philosophical work in Chinese, Japanese, Nepalese, Arabic, Russian, Korean, Kiswahili, Shona, Hausa, Idoma, Igbo, Akan Twi, and of course, English, the global lingua franca of our time. In this respect, this tome is a globophone celebration of languages as intangible assets of our shared human heritage. As noted already the other aspect about this anthology is culture, and as we noted in the call for work, this is another area where these congenital regions have excelled and exported such excellences to the rest of the world. Here is the edited call we sent out as an invitation to submissions to this exciting anthology.


WRITING ON LANGUAGE, CULTURE AND DEVELOPMENT: AFRICA Vs ASIA (VOLUME 1)

Africa and Asia contain over 77% of the world’s population and over60 percent of the world’s languages and cultures. The two epic continents have lately witnessed leaps in development despite endemic, systemic and epidemic problems of multidimensional manifestation. As we march into the21st century and beyond, thetwo continents will most probably shape the direction the world would take as can already be seen with the mutative influence that Asia has on the world’s economy now and especially on Africa and it’s facets of existential and practical thought. So we believe these three aspects, namely, language, culture and development form a formidable forum for fostering interaction and interlocution between the continents under the South-South paradigm of recent globalization thought.
Subsequently, we are looking for imaginative writing that addresses or raises these issuescompetently using any genre of literary expression. Send us your best literary fictions, non-fictions, plays, poetry, mixed genres etc… in these languages: English, languages of the Indian Subcontinent (Hindi, Bengali, Assamese, Malayalam etc.), Kiswahili, Japanese, Korean, Thai and Chinese. Submissions in any other languages from these two continents other than the ones named are welcome. English being the global lingua franca, we welcome translations in this language together with texts submitted in languages of Africa and Asia. Send work in only one genre of your choice. Poetry (3 poems per poet, preferably short poems but we are still open for long poems)Prose, plays and mixed genres (One piece per writer, of not more than 5000 words)
We are going to have every entry we select translated into another language among those languages we are focusing on, i.e., English, Chinese, Kiswahili and Indian languages, but we are also open to any writing in any indigenous language from these two continents, but these as we have noted, must be accompanied with a translation into English. We will decide after selection and translations whether we will publish a single multi-languages volume or several volumes.
Work must be sent in only one attached document, also include your contact details in this document, i.e., Postal address, Tel no, Email address and a bio note of not more than 100 words.

This project will be edited and translated by the following writers and thinkers:
Tendai R Mwanaka
Wanjohi wa Makokha
Upal Deb

Please send and copy your entries to all the editors:
 Tendai R. Mwanaka at mwanaka13@gmail.com, Wanjohi wa Makokha at makokha.justus@ku.ac.ke , Upal Deb at upal.deb@gmail.com,

Closing date for entries is 30 April 2017

NB: Please adhere to the submission guidelines and exercise strict intellectual and artistic integrity.

Indeed, we received a lot of entries from the two conntinents and their polyglossic denizens. We are thankful to all those who submitted to our call, and grateful to those we selected. In terms of content and composition, this volume, Writing Language, Culture and Development has 2 essays, 6 stories, 63 poems, 2 plays, and 50 translations into 13 languages from affected critics and multicultural poets who reside, inter alia, in: South Africa, Japan, Vietnam, Nepal, China, Korea, Rusia, Tunisia, Nigeria, India, USA, Canada, Australia, Italy, Zimbabwe, Ghana, Kenya, and the UK, who are connected to these two continents, Asia and Africa.
Nurturing South-South interactions and interlocutions, spiritually is an open ended discourse and praxis. We envision this ground-breaking idea as testament to future cooperations between the two continents. We believe Africa and Asia can use their competencies, i.e., human capital, culture, and langauges, histories, and deconstructionist agendas, to create developmental competences and this book highlights and explore a number of pathways that creatives of the two lands can explore and exploit as they march into a future of Weltliteratur. The cast and nature of the book and its content is a product of thought, imagination and environment. We invite you to it’s offerings that individually, and collectively, accentuate our allied artistic commitment to the Humanities as an arena of thought on identities, languages, cultures, histories and epistemologies of postcolonial posture. Aluta continua.

Tendai Rinos Mwanaka
Wanjohi wa Makokha
Upal Deb
2018








References
Adejunmobi, Moradewun. “Translation and Postcolonial Identity: African Writing and European Languages.” The Translator. 2014. Pp. 163-81.
Bandia, Paul F., “Introduction: Orality and Translation.” Translation Studies. 2015. Pp. 125-27.
Batchelor, Kathryn. “Postcolonial Issues in Translation: The African Context.” In Sanda Bermann and Catherine Porter, Eds. A Companion to Translation Studies. Wiley-Blackwell: New York, 2014. Pp. 246-58.
Inggs, Judith & Libby Meintjes. (Eds.) Translation Studies in Africa. New York: Continuum, 2009.
Mwangi, Evan Maina. Translation in African Contexts: Postcolonial Texts, Queer Sexulity, and Cosmopolitan Fluency. Kent: Kent State University Press, 2017.
Wa Thiong’o, Ngugi. Decolonising the Mind: Politics of Language in African Literature.  London: James Currey, 1986.
______. In The House of the Translator: A Memoir. New York: Anchor, 2015.
_______. “The Upright Revolution or Why Humans Walk Upright.”. in Jalada Africa: Translation Issue Volume 1. Nairobi: Jalada Africa. 2016.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Translations into Japanese and Hausa

(untitled)
By Daniel Ari

Add salt to water and stir, no
add oil to water and agitate with a nuclear-powered blender until:
they agree with each other
they are homogeneous molecularly
they do not separate on salads, on issues or on cross-town busses

Add salt and stir. Add ash and stir. Add a tiny bit of poison.
Poison never hurt anybody. Trace amounts. Balance the accounts.

Zoom in on the thought behind
the decision to purchase a nuclear-powered blender.

水に塩を入れて混ぜる。いいえ、
水に油を入れて、原子力ミキサーでかき混ぜる。分量は…
お互いが納得できるまで。
分子的に同質になるまで。
サラダの中で、問題の上で、町を走るバスの中で、ばらばらでなくなるまで。
塩を入れて混ぜる。灰を加えて混ぜる。ほんの少し毒を入れて。
毒は決して誰も傷つけない。ほんの少し。分量を調節して。

原子力ミキサーを買おうと決めるときの思いに深く焦点をあてて。
Translation by Fumio Ueno

Okot p’Bitek
By Kariuki wa Nyamu

Okot p’Bitek
one of Africa’s most revered literary man
heroic Acoli mouthpiece
devoted defender of African languages and culture
meticulous don of Literature
whose charisma still live
you’ll forever remain outstanding
for outstanding is you!

Okot p’Bitek
ever jolly father
skilled Cranes footballer
excellent choirmaster
passionate peace maker
resolute combatant for equity
ingenious diplomat
You, who ignited song tradition in Eastern Africa
Today, I want to let you know
that the ideals you stood for
as you penned Song of Lawino,
Song of Ocol,
Song of Malaya,
Song of a Prisoner,
and Horn of my love,
have emancipated Mother Africa.

Okot p’Bitek
You, whose assertive ideologies
stand solid to date
gallant political activist
visionary and zealous critic and author
ray of audacity, honour and conviction
mast of inspiration and selflessness
Okot p’Bitek
we’ll emulate your majestic legacy
Time without end

Okot p’Bitek
Africa’s foremost literary icon and philosopher
Your footprints are all over earth
For sure, you’re larger than life
foresighted crusader of human rights
from vile jaws of oppressors
You’re simply out of ordinary
for posterity knows you
for weaving Africa’s literary basket
and world over shall without end revere you
here on earth
and in sky-land!

Okot p’ Bitek
Daga Kariuki wa Nyamu.

Okot p’ Bitek
Daga cikin ]an afirika masanin ilimi
Jarumtakar  Acoli abin sauraro
Wanda ya du}ufa don kare harsunar afirika da al’adu
Mai kulawa da adabi
Wanda kimarsa bata jirkita ba
Ka gawurta har abada
Kai ne gawurtacce.!

Okot p Betek
Shugaba na }warai
Mai hali na }warai
Jarumin mawa}a
Mai }awa da alamar ‘yanci
Mai nazari da jajircewa da nagarta
Wanda babu ruwanshi da wakilcin }asa
Wanda ya ri}e al’adun wa}ar gabashin afirika.
Yau ina son ku sani
Wannan ra’a yi da kake kai
Kamar yanda ka aje wakar Lawino
Wa}ar Ocol
Wa}ar Malaya
Wakar Bursuna
Da }ahon }aunata.
Ya samar da ‘yancin Uwar afirika

Okot p Bitek
Kai, wa suke da masaniya
Su jajirce zuwa yau
Jami’in siyasar a}ida
Mai hangen nesa da himman wallafa littafi
Maras tsoro darajarsa ta tabbata
Ya yi tsaye da bu}atuwar al’umma

Okot p’ bitek
Za mu yi adalci, don }awata dukiyarka
Ba da kurewar lakaci ba

Okot p Bitek
Mafi yawan adabin afirika da falsafa
Sa}onka yaw a]e duniya
Tabbas ka yi fice a rayuwa
Hangen nesa da harha]a kindi na ‘yancin ‘yan adam.
Daga }kunci da }untatawa
Ka fito cikin sauki yadda aka saba
Al’umma masu zuwa su sanka
Don kyautata adabin afirika
Haka duniya ba za ta }ure maka ba
Ciki nan duniya
Da sararin samaniya.!
Translated by A.S Waziri



Wednesday, July 26, 2017

There were moments by Emily Achieng'

There Were Moments
By Emily Achieng'

There were moments
when a laughter meant happiness

There were moments
when calm meant peaceful

There were moments
when a smile meant satisfaction

There were moments.



그랬던 적이 있었다.

웃음이 행복을 의미하는 순간이 있었다

고요가 평화로움을 의미하는 순간이 있었다

미소가 만족을 의미하는 순간이 있었다

그랬던 적이 있었다.
(Translated by 이의영)


Были моменты
Были моменты когда смех значило счастье.
Были моменты когда спокойствие означало мир.
Были моменты когда улыбка означало удовлетворение.
Были и такие моменты.
(Translated to Russian by Aizhan)

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

The precision of MEASUREMENT by Poornima Laxmeshwar

The precision of MEASUREMENT!
By Poornima Laxmeshwar

I understood how good you were
When you divided our short meeting
Into perfect QUARTERS
You were so aware of every hour that we spent –
Smoke, drinks, love-making and poetry - a quarter for each.
Like you could divide the day into perfection
And slot them out like waves ready to soar exactly after the other
You know when I fell in love with you –
Not in that instance when your crude hands
Held the joint for me
Or not when you scrambled the eggs with such focus that it seemed as tough as art –
But in that moment when you picked your favourite book of Kolatkar and recited Pi-dog,
I knew it had to be you
You breathed proportions.
Breaking up came easily to you
And you divided me precariously
Maybe you were getting too high, of late
Your hands were shivering
You didn't realise it then but you cut a piece of yourself and gave away a chunk of your heart
That I carry in the darkness of my womb
Where you find me
Is where you will find your missing self

OMIA Kpakpa
Poornima Laxmeshwar taa



Nje igbegenp alphilea
Eko naje Obataha ka 190 kpii
Ko ega ENE yili a
Aje Ejeji awa n'alg ge ba
Ge gw'utaba, eje, y'ih9tu mla ypi k'ichi
Olebeka ale echi ko dill a
*■ ~
Ogbia Openyl ne ge beche Ogbogba ga ye a
Aje eko num je ihotu kwuo an
Owe eko n'abo ogwuda kwu o bi akwutd gam
Mani eko na yoi wia aigwu mla ogbeyi gpgn
Amani eko na yoi je pkpa kolatkar yq\ je pi-dog
Nje ka awo ne
Owu ofu kwuo we alewa
Oko ike le ono tuon
\ * J I
Ake lum ko bobi
f S
Ikohi igbihi ajea a-gbo je nwune
Abo kwuo gboo fie egbulu
Aje eko Oman, aman ale iyo k'epa ke
Kwu einehi k'otu kwuo gam ne yo ipu aje
dobu k'ipu kwum
Ega na mum a
Abo na ge m'iyo ne yoi bi a du a.

 Translated into Idoma language by Dr Lemuel Ekedegwa Odeh

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Final list

Contents
Nonfictions

Lemuel Ekedegwa Odeh (Nigeria): INTRODUCTION TO INTERNATIONAL STUDIES (RELATIONS)IN WEST AFRICA UP TO 1500: CHINESE, EUROPEAN AND ARAB CONNECTIONS
Jill Hedgecock (USA): RHINO-CIDE

Fictions

Tendai Rinos Mwanaka (Zimbabwe): Novel extract from A DARK ENERGY, Chapter 11
Audrey McCombs (USA): Prologue: Servants of the Rice, A novel extract
Ian Broinowski (Australia): His eyes were blue
Lee Ray Khan (Nepal): PRESSURE POINT
Mona Lisa Jena (India): Reminiscences
Ayo Oyeku (Nigeria): SCARLET

Poetry

Changming Yuan (China/Canada):人生之水
Changming Yuan (China/Canada):思想猎人
Changming Yuan (China/Canada):追求
Tao Zhijian  (China/Canada): 图腾柱
Emily Achieng’ (Kenya/South Korea):There Were Moments
Emily Achieng’ (Kenya/South Korea):Uncertainty
Emily Achieng’ (Kenya/South Korea):Languages
Wanjohi wa Makokha (Kenya): DISPATCH FROM HORIZON
Wanjohi wa Makokha (Kenya): DAUGHTER OF THE LAUNDRESS
Wanjohi wa Makokha (Kenya): OF HOMELAND AMIDST BEYOND
Archie Swanson (South Africa): a solitary maiden stands
Archie Swanson (South Africa): ombak indah rain
Amitabh Mitra (South Africa):Gwalior
Christina A Lee (Australia/Italy): Jacob in Hebron
Christina A Lee (Australia/Italy): strange heights
Lind Grant-Oyeye (Nigeria/Canada): African Heirloom
Lind Grant-Oyeye (Nigeria/Canada): Mourning
Lind Grant-Oyeye (Nigeria/Canada): Good bye Manaima
Gumisai Nyoni (Zimbabwe): Wako wekutumbura
Gumisai Nyoni (Zimbabwe): Sevai  Muto
Gumisai Nyoni (Zimbabwe): Dundundu Nhando
Poornima Laxmeshwar (India): The precision of MEASUREMENT!
Poornima Laxmeshwar (India): Tales of tequila
Rohith (india): lab rats
Rohith (india): Hospital
Smeetha Bhoumik (India): Where I come from...who I am....
Smeetha Bhoumik (India): What I See
Smeetha Bhoumik (India): How I Wonder!
Eniola Olaosebikan (Nigeria): ONE WORLD
Eniola Olaosebikan (Nigeria): Motherland chant
Eniola Olaosebikan (Nigeria): For colored only?
Vinita Agrawal (India): Roots
Vinita Agrawal (India): Black Waters
Vinita Agrawal (India): Writers Without Borders
Edward Dzonze (Zimbabwe): With This Pen
Nalini Priyadarshni (India): Poetry Cookies
Nalini Priyadarshni (India):  Love We Deserve
Nalini Priyadarshni (India): Half Kiss
NURENI Ibrahim (Nigeria): OPELE
Chandramohan S (India): Portrait of the poet as young woman
Chandramohan S (India): THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A BLACK BURKINI
Chandramohan S (India): Beef poem
Phumulani Chipandambira (Zimbabwe): ROBERT MUGABE STREET
Phumulani Chipandambira (Zimbabwe): DAMBUDZO MARECHERA
Kariuki wa Nyamu (Kenya): A WRITER’S PEN
Kariuki wa Nyamu (Kenya): If I may inquire…
Kariuki wa Nyamu (Kenya): Okot p’Bitek
Rochelle Potkar (India): Knowledge
Rochelle Potkar (India): Syllabus
Rochelle Potkar (India): Art of critiquing
Juma Brenda (Kenya): BURRIED SECRECT
Stephen Temitope David (Nigeria/SouthAfrica): A Dirge for the Delta
 Stephen Temitope David (Nigeria/SouthAfrica): A Song for Independence
Stephen Temitope David (Nigeria/SouthAfrica): Silent Gods (For the kidnapped schoolgirls)
Ryan Thorpe (China): The Shape of the Heart
Ryan Thorpe (China): Walking to Work in Shanghai
Daniel Ari (USA): untitled
Shannon Hopkins (South Africa): Benjamina Tree
 Shannon Hopkins (South Africa): Freedom?
Shannon Hopkins (South Africa): We are here
Tralone Lindiwe Khoza (South Africa): Hair things
 Tralone Lindiwe Khoza (South Africa): God I want to go to Ghana

Plays

Albert Jamae (Australia): Lonely Bites.
Solomon C.A. Awuzie (Nigeria): THE CHILD NO ONE LOVES (a playlet)

Friday, May 12, 2017

Extract from A DARK ENERGY

This is my entry into the anthology Language, Culture and Development, Africa Vs Asia Volume 1, that we are currently editing. It is an extract from my novel A DARK ENERGY I started writing 23 years ago. I now want to publish it. WARNING!! You may need a dictionary by your side.

Extract from A DARK ENERY
Chapter 11
           
           

They arrived at the graveplace at about three, at three, the self dispossessed hour. At three o’clock, they visited the lost hour, that hour that undresses self into itself. They were still some voices rising up, some people were singing, some people were speaking, trying to shape reality into ideas, trying to transform the world of words and songs into the reality that faced them. He knew that in this quite place songs will always be sung, voices will always be heard.
             The leaves on the vibrant fig tree expressed a surest green. On this Fig tree, to the left of the graveyard, the brain-fever bird was doing twelve-ton scales on its own electronic harmonium. Its songs felt like they were meant for this youthful cadaver that they were now circling. They were a line of shrouded faces circling her, no mist of breathe, every face at the grave place was staring askance at her face, in its intense rehearsal of its own doubt. Some were even afraid that her immortalness would reach out and uncoil around them.
             The big green meat flies were also making songs of their own with their engine voices as they hissed around this mangled body. Sometimes those meat flies were also circling, haphazardly, this young cadaver. They rocked themselves and the land rocked them, thus they rocked the land, and the songs were slower. The blackness in Don’s heart was dripping on a soundless keyboard, creating a harmonium he could only feel but never heard. His brain's lymphatic nodes were bubbling to this piano's keys, dripping clenching ivory whips.
             The air around the graveyard was dark even if it was still late afternoon of a summer day, beaten too thick and it had the smell and feel of something being pressed through Don’s nostrils and throat forcefully. The feelings inside him were haunting the skin of light, clear and real.
             As he made his way in the circled queue of those seeing Lillian's face for the last time, circling her casket and, having a last glimpse of her, he was thinking of what he would experience when his eyes see her face again. He knew he had already entered the world of what-ifs, and the in-betweens.
             Is she still alive, serving time? And, he was also thinking.          
            Will I say a special prayer?
             He tried to break-free mentally. He told himself he had to face her with absence of doubt.  And then, he saw her face which he knew was detached from the rest of the body but had been set in such a way as to make it appear whole, as if a string of some sort had been used to connect those discarded parts. He was amazed by how she did it, creating such perfect wholeness within her decapitated body as if she still was a whole umber shell. Her eyes seemed open and her eyes, now dark, fear unaware, backlit with hope for him, surveyed him with years she wanted for herself. He did not want to think that she had raged and raged as they were slicing her head. Raging against the dying of her light!
            "What if she could still feel the pain....?" He didn't want to think that he had always been a soldier of misfortune, that every life and every death is really nonnegotiable. He really wanted something. He wanted to have something that he could hold, that he could own to himself.
            Yet, his mind confronting this actuality met its own match. There was nothing to really grasp there, that there was nothing perhaps beyond hearing and seeing or even the omission of these things. Is she in the half way house of words, songs, thoughts? There is none to ask. Yet he couldn't stop his mind from returning back to her reflection skewed in scarlet blood, her neck cut by a knife like a chicken, blood spotting her lemon green dress, her creamy white shoes, her sage green handbag.
            Because he circled her casket like everyone else was doing that doesn't mean that he knew what he was doing.
            When they finished goodbyes, and when he had swallowed his quite goodbyes in his heart they sang songs for her again. He sang along to the sounds that still lied deep within him, to the sounds that he knew would never restrict him again. Some people sang songs to console themselves. He sang the same songs to control. Some people sang songs to release, to please, too intense and strange to add to his discomfort. He just sang along to these stone-skipping songs, defeating his hallucinations. His face would jerk into life, here and there, when an untuned note echoed off their creaky notes. The breezy wind was lifting those hymns to lurch and swoop all over the grave place.
              Tiny tufts of invalid clouds left over by those small clicks of rain that had shivered on their way to the graveyards were like the minister who seemed so lonely- so far away- as they were both ministering an unheard sermon. The minister was not speaking from the heart about mend and glory but was using a scripted speech that had nothing to do with Lillian. The late afternoon twilight exposed the sky's godless blue, such blue was shouting in the skies.
             The breezy wind was playing with the dropped decaying leaves of the fig tree's disrobing like a child playing alone. Every restless leaf was a restless soul, hustled and bustled in the wind and, the wind was scattering slowly the leaves around and about to the westerly direction. Scattering the smell of death around the grave place since this westerly breezy wind was scented sickly sweet with the miasma of Lillian and her grave tidings.
             The five or so crows, on top of the nearby shrub of pucker trees to the east taunted and squawked their own supposed twenty-one gun salute. Their sharp notes surfed the wind. They had a feel for rhythm and an ear for sound repetition. One of the crows flew away as if something out there called it. Its shadow staining sunbright heads below with something darker, a smell of something primal, something naked, raw…, a wail of unbelieving loss. Don kept following its flight in the skies. It kept calling out and the other four crows followed through. He didn't know where they were herding towards, maybe there were herding to another grave place; to do another of their gun salutes. When he had lost those crows into the expanding skies, he looked down from the sky. The grave men were now lowering Lillian into the grave.

            He thought he hadn't seen well, then he looked again. Yes, they were lowering Lillian's casket down into the grave. When he saw her being lowered down into the grave that's when he really started to think that all along that he hadn't been dreaming. It really was happening. He had lost her to the dust just like he had lost his parents twenty four years before. When his parents died, he didn't know what to do. He was a child, he supposed, he couldn't have done anything, really. He hadn't cried when his foster parent had died in his last year at the University. He just didn't have tears for him! He wasn't going to cry now. He might have turned out a weeping male wreck if he started on it. To be private in a public place was rare self possession, he psyched himself.
              He had also been given to think that it was better to harden into granite than to soften into powder but he wished for the ground on which he stood to just open up. And let him inside it and then cover him from this loss.
              Someone outside the grave lifted up a stone whilst someone inside the grave signalled, caught the stone and lowered it into the grave to layer it on top of the casket of Lillian, to protect her from the soil, from instant decay. Lillian's casket was deeper inside a smaller grave hole inside the bigger grave hole, so this stone was layered on the ledge that separated these two parts of the grave, and then the soil would come on top of this layer of stones. The stone spawned silence as the children and women started to leave this grave place. Leaving the men to burry Lillian! Don could not only know those boulders of stones as stones, he also could tell them as sadness.
             He wished the grave they had lowered Lillian into could have demanded for him, by refusing to be filled up by the soil. He could have entered it, happily. No! The grave started to play hide and seek with him only that he never found out anything from it. The grave started laughing deviously at him as they were filling it up with the dark grey clay soils by lengthening.
              Even when they were filling it up, it lengthened, lengthened by the spirit puddles of those damp cloths of rain that had drizzled on their way to the graveyards, over an hour before. The grave continued lengthening; lengthened by the spirits that had been hidden by the Priest's ecclesiastical pomp and the singer's circumstantial songs. The grave's laughter lengthened, all around this grave place and, it lengthened from the people's muted groans, their silent cries and even by the silence now at this grave place. It didn't even stop laughing, lengthening in laughter, as the noise of the soil, as it was hitting the bottom of her grave and the grave-men's silent talk and signals. The grave kept lengthening; it lengthened, as the heaviness of the earth in mid-summer, thick as cake. And the wind kicked up, swirling brute facts back and forth across this grave place.
            The grave started making fun at him. He felt it starting to mock him. It started challenging him.
             It said, and it's only him who heard it.
            "I have triumphed over you man by taking Lillian away from you and leaving you with nothing, what do you really have now?" In another moment it said, nonchalantly.
            "There is no need for me to hurry up my closure, stupid; did you think you deserved anything, really, fool!" It said to him that it was now like the trees around this grave place. It was here to live forever. That even at that, trees were exceptional people, not like humans, not like him. They lose their leaves without such a fuss, they stay at the same place all their lives, do not ask for anything. Any favours, and never bothered anyone. They just accepted what was there for the taking.
            "But the sun isn't waiting for you, fool." Then it cackled in laughter as the evening started hugging the trees by staring out between the shivers of leaves. The long lines of images haunting the late afternoon hours, and the afternoon hours were now a glimmering filament waving at the sun. The tall sprawling Mopani trees, the three poplar trees hunched like three old men and the hulk of the baobab tree some distances from the grave place, to the western side, started to yield a schema: consuming a role, in dancing with the fading daylight, he realised that he could never really cover the grave's challenging laughter and stare.
              When he realised the grave they had lowered Lillian into could never convince him that she was really dead he left this grave place, all alone, for the small forest nearby. He knew that deep down his heart he had not encased Lillian in the soils. She hadn't crumbled into dust, that he still hadn't buried her. He had refused to bury her by leaving this grave-place for the forest. It was all a lie; there had been no corpse but two dissected parts that seemed like were of Lillian. There had been no coffin, not even a grave that he could see. His million whys had no goodbyes, no answers? They hadn't been any farewell. They had been no song, no sermon, no flower, and no departing hour under the Mubvaropa tree. To which he could even add his own unshed tears, corroding the bottoms of his eye sockets with their want to be let out. He couldn't let them out, even though they were killing him, destroying his eyesight.
             The Lillian that he loved was still touching his shoulder like the westerly wind, so there was no need to cry for her, when she was still that alive in the wind. She was still calling his name. They were still expecting their first son together. Lillian was still dreaming with him even as he was traversing this small forest. He still felt the laughter of his first son echoing in the voices in his heart. He refused to accept he had attended a funeral. He could never end this chapter.
            I know I have to rehearse at forgetting so as to let her go!
            He walked and walked until he was lost in this small forest. Thinking he should retrace his footsteps, but he hadn't left any footmarks to follow back out of this forest, so he started wondering up and down the dales of this forest and gaze about, unseeing; plodding the little ways off the old logging road, runaway thoughts blaring in his head like a stuck car horn. These unleashed thoughts were cropping powerlessly over the treed forest.
             In the seeded speckle of light the night was glowing with pinpricks of misunderstanding, the lightness of the dark pressed him against the land so he couldn't really fly with the wind. Marram grass was whispering, calling him with a discourse of the saints. He was seeing this grass flattening in loops like two dogs running fast. One shrill note set black crowned night herons loose from the Mango trees, a murder of wings silencing the amassing whispering sounds of Marram grass. The only other sound he heard was that of the dried listless leaves, alive to every stirring of the wind; the wind garlanding wordlessness around his throat. It was only the wind that he could measure himself by.
            By the time he found his way through all the countrified roads of this small forest, to the graveplace again, it was dark. It wasn't that dark, though, because the sky had three moons. One was a dark halo, the halo that was inside him. The other one was the colour of milk, a creamy milky colour. The third one was orangey-red, a thirsty orangey-red, but all the three moons were shinning a faint trail of light as the moons were moving with him, even as he was plodding the forest. Sometimes the moons were a black halo, sometimes milky, sometimes orangey-red, sometimes so small and, he was trying to catch up with those three moons; grim, ungraceful, gargantuan things.
              When he returned back to the graveplace he knew he had returned for a certain purpose. He hadn't really been lost all the time he was plodding in the small forest. he had been on his way to this graveplace. The forest acted as a place one could go to be alone but that it had also become a place he had gone to be alone in a certain way. Something was reinforced when he was in that forest. he had become like Orpheus who risked going into the underworld to retrieve the woman he loved. Though he still didn't know the answers he had gone to forest to figure out; for the answers he knew were not the answers. He had eaten through the answers already. He should have gone there to learn the questions. Now he had returned back to the graveplace to do exactly that.
              Turning back to this grave place was now the most interesting thing he had ever done in his life. He would now face the grave with a sure truth. The truth was; he was imagining lifting her back out of this page of the earth that had encased her. It was ridiculous to still be thinking Lillian could be negotiated for over and through the soil, yet it’s exactly what he had returned back to do.
            The late evening birds, sorrowful birds, woefully sad singers, had retreated into the night's receding darkness. They had given up on him with their commentary and chatter, slapping time, a staccato riff on a darkening sky beat. Listening intently to their voices he heard dissonance, of a doubtful drummer. It didn't help him some because it couldn't shift the effect of this undesirable that was inside him into indecipherable.
              Two Owls entered the proceedings, an orchestra apologising for not sensing death all along, hanging their thoughts on the moon's nook. In their music they created a bluesy note, a darker bluesy note expanding, deepening the other evening birds’ song- the owls’ thudding hoot of angry blood demanding for vengeance, rumbling, "It never rains for you", "what are you going to do," "it never rains for you," "blood for blood," "it never rains for you," "what are going to do?".  The music was there in the songs but the words were lost to the wind, except for the rhythms. "It never rains for you", "what are you going to do," "it never rains for you," "blood for …."
              He came to the lower side of Lillian's grave and sat down by his haunches. The night had made nest in hallow of her grave and her killed scent had been killed by the miasmas of the packed grave. The hallow curve of the grave was speechless. He touched the soil of Lillian's grave with his two hands in order to really be sure that the grave was really there. The mound was there. He remembered it had been a monumental effort that had rolled that grave up. Her grave was now a blonde expanse pock-marked with giblets like hail on the landscape. This fresh mound was casting eerie shadows pockmarked by the shadows of the halo moon. It was obvious that she had left the land blank and that, she had scribed on it.
              Don didn't want to think that someday a tree would grow on top of Lillian's grave or something else like weeds or roses, perhaps. These- feeding on her love; getting all the nourishment from Lillian's body that was now being denied to him.
             I must create ancient Mexican premature and miscarried bebes into clay look-alikes using Lillian's grave soils for ritual returning, he thought. Ceramic and ash Lillians to hold in his hands, not to bury in the graves as had happened to Lillian. Or he could have buried her with a small painted alabaster stature like the ancient Egyptians did. In fact he could have created two of these and, he would have kept one for himself. This ushtabi would help her doing work in the afterlife, so also for him in this life. They would have a lot of time together, he thought. Now he was alone. He knew I would be alone for the rest of his life, maybe he would be buried with a mouse as ancient bachelors were buried with in Zimbabwe, for accompaniment in afterlife. His own body was a warehouse of pain. He wished the tears could be made to flow from his eyes to make a sea so that this grave could be touched and be swept away from existence by the tears.
            He couldn't help asking his wife and child where they were now. "Where are your skulls, what is my sin?" He groaned the question without real words coming out.
            And Lillian seemed to shine through the grave like a brilliant wreckage of his broken dreams. Smiling at him, the planet whose gravity he now orbited, tugging at his shores, telling him that.
            "Life doesn't owe its serenity to such impatience. You are broken, Don; you have to go for repairs, home." These tread tides of sentences nearly drawn in words that even ancestors couldn't speak. Telling him that the pain's real home was not to be there with her but to be with the living; he had to let her go so that she could find rest where she was. He accepted her admonishments and advice. He left for the sanctuary of the living. He returned home with the gun that he had been carrying on him for days. He hadn't buried the gun with Lillian. This gun was more than an ushtabi, a mouse, or an ash Lillian for Don. It represented the hunger and hurt that stayed inside him. He will never give it back.
             His face was etched with a new darkness. He was so exhausted. He had been buried with someone. The sky above was painted a purplish night blue. As he left the grave place the insane light of those moth-eaten half moons were throwing shadows on the grave, bleaching the grave, leaving it ancient, softer, flatter, bluing in the dusk. A general purpling was on the western skies as the fading amber light of the moons send him homebound. It was still on the twenty sixth, late evening; that those moons were now sending him homebound.

Monday, March 13, 2017

CALL FOR WORK

WRITING ON LANGUAGE, CULTURE AND DEVELOPMENT, VOLUME 1, AFRICA Vs ASIA
The two continents Africa and Asia contains over 77% of the world’s population, at least over 80 percent of the world’s languages and cultures, and both have lately witnessed leaps in development despite recurring political problems, and as we march in the 21st and beyond, these two continents will decide the direction the world would take as can already be seen with the influence that Asia has on the world’s economy now and Africa on the arts. So we believe these three aspects, language, culture and development intertwines these two massive continents and thus we are looking for writing that delves or tackles these issues in any genre. Send us your best literary fictions, non-fictions, plays, poetry, mixed genres etc… in these languages: English, Indian languages (Hindi, Bengali, Assamese, Malayalam etc), Kiswahili, and Chinese, plus any other languages from these two continents but these other languages entry must be accompanied with a translation into English. Send work in only one genre of your choice!
Poetry (3 poems per poet, preferably short poems but we are still open for long poems)
Prose, plays and mixed genres (I piece per writer, of not more than 5000 words)
We are going to have every entry we select translated into another language among those languages we are focusing on, i.e., English, Chinese, Kiswahili and Indian languages , but we are also open to any writing in any indigenous language from these two continents, but these as we have noted, must be accompanied with a translation into English. We will decide after selection and translations whether we will publish a single multi-languages volume or several volumes.
Work must be sent in only one attached document, also include your contact details in this document, i.e., Postal address, Tel no, Email address and a bio note of not more than 100 words.
This project will be edited and translated by
Tendai R Mwanaka
Dr Wanjohi Wa Makhoka
Upal Deb
Dr  Tao Zhijian

Please sent and copy your entries to all the editors, Tendai R. Mwanaka at mwanaka13@gmail.com, Wanjohi wa Makhoka  at makokha.justus@ku.ac.ke , Upal Deb at upal.deb@gmail.com , Tao Zhijian at taozhijian@gmail.com
Closing date for entries is 30 April 2017
We will not be offering contributors free copies, neither royalties but contributors will benefit immensely through promotion and translations of their work into new markets
Please adhere to the submission guidelines, failure of which we will discard your entries without reading them.