DISCOURSE WITH OKWIRI ODUOR

A while back, I was among those selected from across Africa to participate in a writing contest organised by Center for African Cultural Excellence(CACE) under the moniker: WRITIVISM. For somebody with a hundred or so badly written teenage poems lying forgotten in diaries and collecting dust and numerous futile childish attempts at writing short stories long before I knew what exactly it was I was doing, I suddenly found myself exactly where I needed to be. There would be no more fumbling around in the dark as I tried to perfect my craft; no more ruthless self-critiquing which is the worst kind. We are naturally more unforgiving of our own shortcomings than we are of others.

I was assigned a Mentor along with a bunch of other aspiring writers from all across Africa. Our Mentor was the famous Kenyan writer, OKWIRI ODUOR fresh from winning the Short Story Day Africa Prize for her story, My Father’s Head. She was also nominated for the Caine Prize for African writing.

Naturally I wanted to check out Okwiri’s work so as to better understand her thought-process and perhaps emulate her style. Little did I know that it was easier said than done. I would categorise My Father’s Head as African Spiritualism though a fellow Mentee, Amy Heydenrych termed it as Magical Realism which isn’t far off the mark.

The descriptions and imagery were so vivid especially for one who has experienced African etiquette and all its gory details first hand.

“…and the old people gave him the smiles they had been practicing, smiles that melted like ghee, that oozed through the corners of their lips and dribbled onto their laps long after the thing that was being smiled about went rancid in the air.”

This is what Okwiri had to say about her what inspires her writing style:  

“I like to read writing from the world's people of colour. I find they have a way of interpreting the world in a manner that is familiar to me, and I find their literature rich. The words sing to me, and the colours, they swirl
before my eyes.
When I was younger, I heard many stories told. Things happened to people that people around me knew and loved. Spirits visited. Djinnis lived in back yards. Women gave birth to bars of soap. This sort of world fascinates me.
 I imagine it is different from fantasy-- it is an actual reality to some people out there. It is an alternate reality. Some people call it magic(al) realism. All I know is that the world is a wonderful, mysterious place.
 Reality is very relative. I like to explore this in my fiction.”

They say that nothing invigorates creative juices more than the success of others. Suddenly I was supercharged with urge to write and write and write until whatever it is that has always driven me to bleed onto paper is finally sated.

I got to understand Okwiri’s writing process is. In her own words:

“Deadlines help me find some clarity about projects that are close
 to my heart. It works in a peculiar way. For example, I have a certain
 looming deadline for a short story, and all of a sudden, I cannot bear to be torn from my work. One sure-fire way of knowing I am procrastinating something is when I am working furiously at my novel, which at that particular moment is exactly the thing I should not be working on.”

I, on the other hand tend to start my projects with time to spare. This allows me the freedom to fine-tune whatever it is I am writing before the deadline or abandon one project and start a new one from scratch if I have to.

Okwiri chose a laidback approach when Mentoring us. By us, I mean Amy Heydenrych who I named earlier on who is from South Africa, Sharon Shipa who hails from Botswana, Okwudili Nebeolisa from Nigeria and I, representing Uganda. We used Gmail inbox as a hangout and shared personal perspectives, writing processes, inspiration and the like. Okwiri’s advice and critique of our stories was invaluable. I suddenly saw what I wrote in different light and was able to see and rectify my numerous shortcomings.

I can’t speak for my fellow Mentees but for me, Writivism has exposed me to a literary world that had hitherto only been lurking on my blindside. I got to have a dialogue with a great African writer, got to make writer friends who share my love for the written word, I got to be part of an African Renaissance of sorts and I have to say, I am really proud for once to be part of the crowd.  

 

Paraa Safari Lodge, Part II: Paradise in the Wild

Paraa Safari Lodge is located within the vicinity of Murchison Falls National Park. Against the backdrop of untainted African wild, the beasts roam free, confident of their place in the savanna grasslands that strech as far as the eye can see.

My first sighting was a Jackson's Hartebeest, a deer-like animal with a strange head that eerily resembles a grasshopper's
Our guide informed us that the hartebeest is known for it's forgetfulness (Much like a grasshopper) It could spy a lion stalking it and then forgets all about it a few seconds later. Next time it remembers is when lion teeth have gone for the jugular and by then it's too late.

The waterbuck is another deer-like animal we saw. The ones I saw were hornless and furry and frankly looked delish! Our guide told me to save my breathe. and saliva. The waterbuck he said when panicked does something to its flesh. The meat is totally unappealing, I heard and for that reason, they tend not to be targeted by predators.

Corne Schalkwyk of Marasa Africa that runs Paraa Safari Lodge described the unique species of giraffe at Murchison Falls National Park as 'White Socks'. The Rothchild's Giraffe's spots unlike other giraffes' stop at the knees and below is pure white. Watching them is an experience that words can't fully describe. They are graceful but awkward, tall but down-to-earth,  Spotted but hard to find, endangered but here for now. I fell in love with these gentle beauties and their heavily lashed eyes as they fed on tall acacia trees. My mind screamed ENCORE.

Being my first time to see a live Hippopotamus, the first thing that came to mind was, "Hungry Hungry Hippo!" I half-expected them to get in line and sing me that beloved nursery rhyme. They grunt like bad-tempered old men and blow out  air like whales. I was told by my guide that their sweat and milk is pink which is a weird thing. I loved to watch them in the shallow banks of the Nile river going about their domestic affairs without a fuss. I was a bit terrified though- their reputation of capsizing boats precedes them. As Paraa and Chobe Safari Lodges are built quite close to the Nile, the Hippos were easy to spot and added to the magical aura of the place. I loved watching them.

During our boat-ride, I saw these spectacular erosion-made river banks that are an attraction in itself. Considering the current water level of the Nile, what kept nagging me at the back of my mind was: Was the Nile at one time that deep? Wow! A keen eye would notice tiny holes at some point: These are bird nests if I can call them that. I was in la-la land at this point.

Along these banks, my guide informed us that the legendary American author, Ernest Hemingway crashed his plane not once but twice and lived to talk about it. That was one bit of history I had no idea about, wikipedia simply says it happened somewhere in Africa. Now I knew that it happened at Murchison Falls National Park in Uganda.



I saw lots of other animals but not being a seasoned tourist, I only had my cellphone with which I took the pictures I had. The beauty of this place still oozes through and I have to say, I feel more in touch with my roots and can't wait for another opportunity to present itself. I felt I belonged for once in my life. It was a life-changing experience. My journey didn't end there though. More to come...

Newsroom

There was a time I used to wonder how the New Vision Newsroom would look like; was there really space big enough to house household names like Timothy Bukumunhe, Keturah Kamugasa, Jamesa Wagwau, Mildred Apenyo, Lilian Barenzi, Esther Namugoji, Ernest Bazanye among others all under one roof? That is like saying Michelangelo, da Vinci and Raphael could have sat at the same table to break bread at some point in their lives. Scandalous to even think about.

Seems I was right. I didn’t see Bukumunhe or Barenzi or Bazanye although I had the pleasure of shaking the strong manly hand of Jamesa Wangwau and I wasn’t disappointed. He fills up the room with his presence and his signature laugh is a thunderclap. He is taller and larger than I figured him to be.  I found that I couldn’t take my eyes off his signature sideburns.

Esther Namugoji is as sweet and humorous as I imagined her to be.  She took us round the New Vision Newsroom and introduced us (Freelance Writing students sponsored by Centre for African Cultural Excellence) to the Editors and journalists who break sweat everyday over the successful publication of issue after issue of New Vision that legitimises your office space.

The atmosphere, much to my surprise was rather laid-back and hip---not with all the graffiti adorning the walls. The entire newsroom ran smoothly like a well-oiled machine. I suppose that would have been the image I would have had of how a Newsroom would have looked like, had I any idea how one would look like. I drunk in the atmosphere with hungry eyes and it tasted good. 
 

Between July and August 2013, CACE held a six-week freelance writing course at Makerere University. As part of the project, the select ten students (I inclusive) toured the New Vision Newsroom so as to see first-hand, the process involved in the publication of news material. We also got a chance to be introduced to Editors and Journalists with whom we could build a rapport to further our freelance writing careers. All in all, one has to say that this was a very successful endeavour.