It has been said that Kenyans have a poor reading culture, but with the writing and open mic sessions explosion Tony Mochama believes change is coming
‘We are the hollow men, the stuffed men, leaning together.
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when we whisper together, are quiet and meaningless...’
The above piece by the great Nobel laureate poet, T.S. Eliot, could have been describing Kenya’s literary scene in the late 1990s, when the British Council (under George Muruli) was the only venue open to local poets and writers.
KU’s Caroline Nderitu, Moses Man, poet-architect Alf Omenya, Caroline Mbuthia, KJ (John Kiarie) and myself would perform to about a dozen folk — most of them theatre types who had turned up for the tea and samosa.
Fast-forward 12 years later, and the poetry open mics, and writers who have come out of the closet, are as common as oxygen.
From the jungle park poetry of Namatsia Lukoye, to Annabelle O’s, to Sitawa Smalls to Oliver Mathenge’s ‘Bar Stool’ at Giggles that has attracted the support of NIC bank, nice.
In fact, on Tuesday, Bonita Belle, who MCees the original Kwani open mic event at Club Soundd sounded off on Facebook: "I wish I could fast-forward to Kwani Open Mic to-nite! Until then, I have to go thru six crew members, 1 boss, 1 client, 1 housemate and her Indian landlady, a cast of three, and a quack cook with a fake*** accent. Kwani rocks!"
On the writing scene, Storymoja, the new kid on the publishing block, is doing a lot. On top of locking horns with our non-reading culture through initiatives like A Reading Nation (where they are trying to break the Guinness record for mass reading from a text, hopefully, a Muthoni Garland story), Doreen Baingana and her people like young Lee la Poeta have a great website that carries contemporary youthful creative tales.
Sure, Ed Baru’s story could do with far less scenery intensity, and Susan Munywoki’s Cold Feet on a Sunny Day use fewer flashbacks — but this Storymoja web-tales are a good start for young writers.
Not to mention their annual Hay festival in Nairobi, the last one held in white tents in October, at the Railway grounds.
Poetry, prose and pictures featuring post-1978 artists were also published by Kwani?, now in its sixth magazine edition in December — dealing with the ‘inter-generational gap in writing’ as UoN lecturer Dr Tom Odhiambo calls it. But is there really such a gap, in this new decade?
In December, during the Kwani Lit-Fest, literary editors like Billy Kahora brought together older writers like Ngugi wa Thiongo, Majorie MacOludhe and Micere Mugo to "tell us what happened".
The ironic proposition of these literary and literal flashbacks was too much to bear for one local writer, who no doubt inspired by beer, roared: "This is all rather boring." But, perhaps, the edifice of a generational bridge was being built at the Eric Wainaina-Sheba Hirst Kifaru venue, that sunny December day last year.
Kwani? Founder Binyavanga Wainaina cleaves to Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Chimamanda Adichie to Chinua Achebe, and the wheels of writing roll on.
The question of the ‘Outside on the Inside’ writers cropped up in a virtual Storymoja discussion. Says Ndinda: "Someone outside a setting is able to mirror it in writing. However, research is needed. If you write about dogs, you must have an idea of how dogs live — you must bark for some time."
She blossoms, who does sound like a ‘nom de guerre’ for erotic literature, sprouted: "Great writers write what they know. And to know best, you must be. So, yeah, someday you might be able to write about Moi Avenue @t midnite. But first, you have to ‘get’ the culture, get it?"
Ngwatilo Mawiyoo |
Potash, a local writer, alongside guys like Oti Gomba of Kibera’s Maasai Mbili area, and film-maker Sam Hopkins, are exploring the aesthetic of the mtaa urban narrative through new lingo like ‘Bonga Kimya’ (Conversations in Silence) says Potash: "If like they say, the Bible and the rosary built Rome, then here at home, we will use Nairobi stories to build new media. This is literary alchemy!"
Potash, the alchemist! Ironic, for a dude who got the sobriquet (Potash) for mixing something with potassium in the school lab; and almost blew up experimental mice.
Professor Wambui Mwangi is another fabulous literary alchemist on the 2011 scene. Last year she get poets together with photographs to create a ‘Koroga’ that really rogad (enchanted) at the Goethe.
And talking of the Goethe, guys there like the hospitable Eliphas Nyamogo are at the forefront of the renaissance, giving a chance every last Saturday of the month to AMKA, the women writers.
One of the participants, Riva Jalipa, a petite lass from Manila, says, "Literature in Kenya is being pushed to define itself, to stand against the literary giants elsewhere. And so it is an auspicious time for new and established writers to experiment with form, function and content; it is a fun period (2011) to be excited about."
Good German Tilo of the UoN thinks the linguistics he teaches "brings all structures of language together, and language in literature is like light in life; what makes stories shine."
Popular lecturer and his compatriot, George, in Kenyatta University — mother of the Arts — has made literature there so popular students like Zippy Murugi now invite zealous PEN poets like treasurer Khainga O. to their Saturday literary gatherings.
Khainga O recently represented PEN in Cairo. Local president Philo Ikonya is in Norway, Secretary Kingwa Kamencu in Oxford — and Omtata in Mombasa (although he’d gone there to cause ‘matata’ on another matter, to do with drugs).
Veteran thespian and director Keith Pearson, who has a show on soon (My Moving Home) says: "In 2001, folk were just starting to tell Kenyan stories. I’m not excited about ‘our stories’ any more. What we want in 2011 is for the stories to be told, to see the technical virtuosity therein, the quality of the drama..."
A memory of the Summer Literary Seminars in St Petersburg, Russia, occurs. Being in the back of a cab on a bright summer’s day in July, saying goodbye to the city.
The statues of the politicians (Lenin) and the military (General Kutzenov) line the streets — but the streets are named after writers (Dostoyevsky), as are cafes (Anna Akhmatova), gardens (Pushkin), libraries (Mayakovsky) and museum-houses (Vladimir Nabokov).
Kenya’s one bust of the late Wahome Mutahi is at the Kenya National Theatre, just above the table he liked to drink at.
Maybe someday, the city in the sun will realise its immortality is in the arts. After all, no-one is ever remembered for having their buns warm the back-seat of a State-owned luxury vehicle.
