Kobus Moolman’s Light and After is his fifth collection of poetry. Lyrically evocative and engaging, this collection reintroduces readers familiar with Moolman’s poetry to his confident lines, unique images, memorable language, and impressive narrative voice.  In this collection Moolman uses a mixture of prose poems and short/lyric poems to explore themes that encompass public and private dimensions.

Divided into four sections, the book opens appropriately with “Moving,” a haunting poem that uses a collage of images and an observant narrative voice to unravel the mystery of what appears to be a dream. In this poem we are introduced to a new homeowner’s obsession with his new home and the promise that comes with owning a new home. This observation becomes clear to us as the speaker declares: “It was their new house/With all the lights on /Their shiny, new, empty house / With large rooms/ And that peculiar, slightly sinister, echo that all empty houses have / Houses that have not been domesticated yet” (10).

Cleary, the majority of the poems in Light and After share Moolman’s penchant for sensory images and colorful language. For example, the poem “Old Town” uses concrete images with strong visual effect to hold the reader’s attention:

Sky closed over

grey slate cold stone

brown hills black tar

rock buried beneath

Thin light cold hands

rusted old steel trees

stiff wind small birds

exploding leaves           (22)

Several poems in this collection, including  “Umfolozi,” “False Bay,” “Hunger” “Theft,” “Burial,” “Boy,” “That Day” and “Winter Dawn,” reveal the author’s reflections on ecological, social, political, and cultural issues relating to present day South Africa. The third section of the book, which is titled “Anatomy,” presents images that easily remind us of someone with disability.  For example, the poem “The Foot (the other one)” reads “The other foot is stupid. / And small. /And not worth talking about”(51). This brief description is insightful and makes a reader think that if the poem directly addresses the condition of a person with disability, then it clearly shares with us the disappointment the person feels about his/her body part.

Overall, Light and After shares with readers the mind of a sensitive poet. Moolman is very meticulous in his choice of words. “Afterwards,” without a doubt my favorite section of the book, sums up my conclusion of this collection of poetry by Kobus Moolman: brilliant!

Reviewer Bio: Dike Okoro is a poet, short story writer, photographer, biographer, essayist and critic. He is the editor of Speaking for the Generations: Contemporary Short Stories from Africa (Trenton: AWP, 2010).

The story by the 2011 Caine Prize recipient, NoViolet Bulawayo, is powerfully evocative of a time and place in Zimbabwe’s history. Her unique use of language and imagery produces a story of a people buckling under economic hardship and political repression. She achieves all this on Main Street- ‘Adjusting her faded black push –up bra so she hold everything together, the police, the expectations, the boiling cars, the broken dreams, the falling dollar, the billions of worthless money, the queues- Jesus- Jesus-Jesus the queues.’

‘Lose Myself’, by Nigerian writer Peter Umez is a tale of love, commitment, temptation, and dilemma. The author does a fine job of creating a protagonist battling for principle over passion. Chukwudi finds himself breaking a vow of fidelity to his wife, a vow taken in order to prove that contrary to what she believes he was not a philanderer, like other men. In the aftermath, the predictable guilt and self loathing ensue.

Emmanuel Sigauke’s story is set in a village in Zimbabwe, where a young man who is convalescing from a mysterious illness is visited by a snake. He suddenly remembers, with the help of his brother’s wife, a prophecy that was made concerning snakes sent by witches intent on his destruction. The snakes portend evil and doom and Sigauke weaves traditional Shona mythology with modern beliefs embodied in the young man, and the result is an interesting story in which at times, the line between myth and reality is blurred.

‘Diner Ten’ is a stand-out story about a community of cockroaches whose lives begin and end in what they call diner ten. The story follows middle aged Radic through his regimented days as part of the community of roaches. Their lives are dominated by the necessity to avoid deadly encounters with human beings. Radic has become bored with his predictable and mechanical existence and he spends time pondering the nature of human beings and whether they see roaches the way his kind view them. He ponders too the meaning of his own existence and whether it is on any intrinsic value, given the fact that danger is always lurking close by and death as close as his own exoskeleton. The story is reminiscent of the 2007 Pixar animated movie Ratatouille directed by Brad bird and like the movie Ivor Hartman’s story is very entertaining and in parts, thought provoking.

Mbonisi P. Ncube’s story telling prowess is on full display in his heart rending story ‘Chanting Shadows’. Zimbabwe’s Land Reform program acquires a human face in this story and the complexity of the issue is not lost in the telling of this riveting tale. The character Mzala Joe is a, loyal, courageous friend who fights to the death for what he believes in, all the while under the watchful eye of young Jonasi. Both Mzala Joe and Jonasi are farm hands on a farm that is invaded by war veterans. The white farmer who owns farm is killed at the farmhouse and the laborers in the field come face to face with the war veterans in a corn field.

The hilariously funny story of a couple’s quest for water is set in housing complex in Accra, Ghana. Isaac Nequaaye’s descriptions of the thoughts and emotions that trying to get water evoke in both the husband and wife are vivid their detail and amusing in their accuracy. The frustration of this couple is palpable as they wait for their supplier to deliver the long promised water. Each is seething with anger at not being able to partake of the normal daily ablutions that require water, and each is holding the other responsible for their predicament.

This collection of stories is wonderful representation of talent from the African continent. Each of the fifteen writers tells their story with great skill, passion and convincing dialogue. Each story has its own distinct flavor. Each story will leave the reader changed. This, after all, is the effect of all great stories.

African Roar 2011 is available through the Kindle platform worldwide for nearly every eReader.

Writing Free
Edited by Irene Staunton

“In this fifth anthology of Zimbabwean short stories from Weaver Press, fifteen writers respond to the topic of ‘writing free’, and offer their thoughts about how and why they wrote as they did. The stories reflect a wide variety of freedoms: from tyranny, from hunger, from abuse, from the shackles of tradition, and even from the traditional constraints of narrative convention.But there are cautionary tales, too. Political change may be liberating for the adults who suffered for it, but will their children share in the euphoria of new-found freedom? Will a departure from domestic poverty to the calm waters of the diaspora deliver all that was hoped for it? Is the grass always greener beyond the fence of a stifling marriage?
Zimbabwe has had more than its share of social and material deprivation in recent years, and people’s responses have taken many forms. Writing Free offers an engaging and kaleidoscopic sample of these, and in doing so gives an intimate portrait of a country in transition.”

On September 24, ‘amaBooks is launching “Where to Now?”, a collection of short stories. The book is scheduled to be published next year by Partheon in the UK. Here is a description of the book: “Within the pages of the book you will meet the prostitute who gets the better of her brothers when they try to marry her off, the wife who is absolved of the charge of adultery, the hero who drowns in a bowser of cheap beer and the poetry slammer who does not get to perform his final poem. And many more.”
This book introduces many new writers, some of whom are very promising; we also have the more famous names in there like NoViolet Bulawayo, Novuyo Rosa Tshuma, and others. A book worth reading over and over again.

In this interview, I chat with Na’ima B. Robert, author of the new novel ‘Far from Home’, which I just finished reading. It is a novel about growing up, family, Zimbabwean colonial and post colonial history which chronicles the pains of land dispossession and loss of home.Some of the central issues of the novels are captured in the following description, given at the author website:

“Katie and Tariro are two girls linked by a terrible secret, grappling with the complexities of adolescence, family and a painful colonial legacy as their lives play out against the tragic history of the land in Zimbabwe….Atmospheric, gripping and epic in scope, Far from Home brings the turbulent history of Zimbabwe to vivid, tangible life, challenging the reader to see it with new eyes.”

The Interview

Emmanuel Sigauke: First, congratulations on the publication of ‘Far from Home’. What prompted you to tackle the controversial (and topical) land issue in Zimbabwe in this novel about family and growing up?

Na’ima Robert: For some time, I had been angered by what I considered biased reporting of the land reform programme by the BBC. There was no mention of the history of land ownership in Zimbabwe, a crucial factor that has influenced politics in that region since the late 1800s. I wanted to highlight that history in a way that would cast a slightly different, more nuanced light on the recent reforms and the continuing debate in the region. I can’t write unless I feel strongly about a particular issue – and this issue spoke to me on many different levels: as someone who grew up in Zimbabwe, as an African and as a minority writer trying to contribute something new to the literary landscape.

ES: What influenced you to depict the lives or struggles of two girls growing up in different circumstances, Katie and Tariro? What was the purpose of portraying these two stories side by side?

NR: I really wanted to highlight the parallels in the two girls’ circumstances and play with the imagery of black and white, past and present. I wanted to make the link between the incidents that got so much media attention a few years ago and what took place decades ago, and on a much wider scale.
I would never have written Katie’s story on its own as that is a story that has now been told many, many times. But I did consider concentrating on Tariro’s and going into even more detail about her experiences up to 1980. In the end, I decided to keep that for a future novel.

ES: You are right; it seems that most memoirs coming out of Zimbabwe have represented Katie’s perspective and not Tariro’s. In other words, there are many memoirs by white Zimbabweans published in the Western world, than there are those by black Zimbabweans. What could be contributing to this discrepancy?

NR: I think the political situation in Zimbabwe is an extremely emotive one and that much of the Western media has picked sides in the debate over land. Obviously, what happens in Zimabwe – whether we rise or fall – will affect other countries in the region that are wrestling with their own land ownership issues. So the media’s focus has been on portraying the land reform programme as a failure, on Zimbabwe as a failed state, Mugabe as an evil dictator, the MDC as the saviours, the caricatures continue. The truth is a lot more complex than that – just read Ian Scoones’ work! In terms of literature, we have seen a number of black Zimbabwean writers gain recognition in the last few years, which is fantastic. However, I have not come across any literature, published in the west, that goes against the accepted version of Zimbabwe’s recent history. Perhaps there is a fear that western audiences will not respond well to such an approach or that it will be difficult to secure a publishing deal with anything that seems to contradict the received wisdom about our political situation. In terms of importance, I think it is absolutely crucial for a variety of voices to be heard, both for the benefit of those who are interested in our country and its history and for us to be able to better understand our country and what has shaped it, what is continuing to shape it. We may not agree with each other’s views, but they are our views and experiences nonetheless – the culture of the dominant narrative devalues and marginalises others’ experiences. In the case of Zimbabwe, there are differences along racial, cultural, social and political lines – if we are to survive as a pluralistic, tolerant nation, we must be able to weave a coherent national narrative, a common ground, a shared history, in light of these differences.

ES: What challenges did you experience in depicting the lives of these two different girls? Which one was easier to write about?

NR: Once I had done the necessary research, Tariro’s story just flowed. She grew on me as a character, almost instantly. For some reason, I felt a strong connection with her, with her lifestyle and her hopes and dreams. She was a wonderful character to write. I got her.

Katie, on the other hand, was a challenge. I think that this is mainly due to the fact that I grew up with an antipathy towards ‘Rhodies’ and it was very difficult for me to get past that and do justice to her story. I believe I did manage to, in the end. Having said that, there were many aspects of her life and family that I found more relatable because I didn’t grow up in a traditional Shona family – her feelings towards her father and mother are, for me, closer to what I know than Tariro’s, for example. But once I got into Katie’s character, it became easier to tell her side of the story. One of my early critics said that she felt that I found my voice through Katie but I’m not sure whether that is true. I think different readers will respond to the characters in different ways, depending on their own backgrounds, their own values and whichever one ‘speaks’ to them.

ES: For me, Tariro’s world was more familiar, relatable. It represented the rural landscape I grew up in, punctuated with its massive baobab trees, its happy moments and little dramas. Reading the Tariro story then, I was happy to encounter the familiar, and appreciated the research you did to render the enthnographic details realistically. One question I have though is that didn’t this section feel a bit romanticized for you, idealistic in places? Or was your intention to give the kind of life lived by Tariro’s people a little more dignity?

NR: You’ve definitely picked up on something there: I believe that, as a writer, you are responsible for how your material is presented as different forms of presentation will elicit different responses in the reader. Through the use of tone, language, imagery, we writers have the power to influence the reader and persuade him or her to see things the way we want them to. It could just be the difference between saying ‘Nhamo roared like a wounded lion’ or ‘Nhamo roared like a savage beast.’ The two have different connotations. Unfortunately, growing up in a post-colonial society has made me sensitive to how we as Africans are portrayed, both historically and in the present day, and so this will affect my own word use, or even characterisation. Some may argue that this is self-censorship but I believe that I have a responsibility as a writer not to further an agenda I don’t subscribe to, to take ownership of the messages in my books.

ES: You used the Shona proverb ‘Mwana washe muranda kumwe’ (A prince is a slave when from his kingdom) as an epigraph of the novel. Can you explain it in the context of the events in ‘Far from Home’?

NR: One of the recurring themes of the book and, indeed, our history as Zimbabweans, black and white, is the loss that is incurred when one’s home is taken away or left behind. The loss of security, of identity, is often more painful than the loss of the physical home itself, property etc. Both Tariro and Katie feel this sense of loss acutely and it reminds me of the white Zimbabweans who fled the country at independence and settled in the UK and Australia – they were known as ‘When-wes’, as in, ‘When we were in Zimbabwe, we had a maid, a cook, a tennis court etc…’ because their standard of living, their prospects, their sense of self all suffered as a result of that move. Similarly, many black Zimbabweans have to counter racism and unemployment when they go to work abroad – the indignity of being treated like an immigrant scrounger, like someone with no history, with nothing to offer, is a heavy price to pay for living and working ‘far from home’. Petina Gappah’s short story, ‘My cousin-sister Rambanai’ reminds me of this proverb too. We have all heard the stories of Zimbabweans leaving the country to go to the UK to wipe old people’s bottoms – that is a real-life illustration of this proverb. More worryingly, we are encountering these threats and indignities ever closer to our borders as the latest xenophobic attacks in South Africa illustrate.

ES: The novel makes great use of historical facts. How much research did you do for this novel? How far back did you go in your historical inquiries?

NR: I was able to pull on a lot of different sources for the book: my own memories, what I had learned in history lessons at school, speaking to people, reading novels, reading academic papers. It was important for me to anchor the story in a historical period and, for that, you need to get to know the period intimately. That proved quite a challenge as I didn’t have access to a library full of books – and online resources were thin on the ground, particularly regarding the more personal details. That was where novels and memoirs helped: I read Chenjerai Hove, Shimmer Chinodya, Tsitsi Dangarembwa, Alexandra Fuller and Doris Lessing. I also had a handbook of Shona traditions and found a delightful research paper (dating back decades!) on Shona proverbs and idioms. I really enjoyed that foray into Shona culture, something I never had the chance to do while I lived in Zimbabwe.
The hardest part to research was the era of ‘freedom ploughing’ – I couldn’t find any secondary sources for it whatsoever! I was limited to YouTube when it came to video so I had to be content with watching snippets of Neria and BBC documentaries.

ES: Once you had done adequate research for your novel, how often did you find yourself departing from the factual to the imaginative? Was there a time when once the story took off, you didn’t have to keep returning to the researched material?

NR: Once I had done my initial research, it was the personal relationships that moved the story. Reading this interview might give the impression that the book is a tract about land ownership but I think you will agree that it is a very personal story about families caught up in the throes of political turbulence and how that affects them individually. Those personal relationships, particularly the romance between Tariro and Nhamo and the relationship Tariro has with her mother, were where I felt free to imagine and craft a story that was moving and heartfelt. I cried while writing certain parts of Tariro’s story – while writing the words! Ufunge! That has never happened to me!

ES: This is always my favourite question: Are you an African writer? What does it mean to be an African (or any other) writer?

NR: I’d be happy to be considered an ‘African writer’, merely because so many writers I admire are themselves African writers. But to adopt that label would be somewhat disingenuous. Like most people, my identity, both as an individual and as an artist, is more complex than that. If I claim the title of ‘African writer’, I must then also be a ‘Muslim writer’, a ‘black writer’, a ‘multicultural writer’ because all of these identities have informed my work thus far. And that is the essence of the label, isn’t it? That the consciousness that informs the book has been shaped by that particular experience. And since ‘Far from Home’ is totally inspired by my roots in Zimbabwe, by my experience and consciousness as an African, for this book at least, I am proud to be called an ‘African writer’!

ES: So does the label depend on context? Are there ever benefits in being labelled this or that writer? Or is a writer just a writer not matter what labels the readers will have for her? I ask this because, as you know, it’s been a hot issue in Africa, writers seemingly rejecting the African writer label, or accepting it in, as Ikhide Ikheloa—an Nigerian critic—has pointed out, convenient circumstances, such as African writer conferences and residences.

NR: Well, as someone who started out as a ‘Muslim writer’ and is now flirting with the ‘African writer’ label, I think that what happens is that, after achieving a measure of success amongst your peers (be they African, Muslim, Arab or whatever), you start to feel like a big fish in a small pond. You may want to spread your wings, or target a new readership or simply prove (to yourself and others) that you can make it in the big pond. And then, if you are recognised by the fish in the bigger pond (the West, the mainstream, whatever you want to call it), you are then keen not be pigeon-holed and labelled as ‘that fish from that pond’ because you are trying to grow past that. If I think about it, to be labelled or call yourself an ‘African writer’ means that your ‘Africanness’ informs your work in some way – whether it is your choice of stories, your language, your characters or your consciousness. And I mean this in an authentic African sense, not a clichéd version of Africa held by outsiders or foreign ‘experts’. Incidentally, I love the way Chimamanda Adichie describes this in her Ted Talk, ‘The Danger of the Single Story’. Now, can a black African writer of romance stories set in New York with an all-American, all-white cast be considered an ‘African writer’? Probably not, I’d say – but the question is not whether you are ‘African enough’, it is whether you writing is good enough, at the end of the day.

ES: What is the significance of your title, “Far from Home”?

NR: So many things! There is nostalgia there, a palpable yearning for what was and what perhaps can never be again, on the part of the characters, for me personally and, I suspect, many Zimbabweans who may read the book, especially those in the diaspora. And of course, it relates to the theme of the novel: what home means to different people, whether a home can be regained once it is lost, how one goes about finding a new home, be it in the Tribal Trust Lands or in a London tower block.

ES: A lot of those in the diaspora become permanent residents or citizens of their host countries; can they achieve a state of being “near home” in this regard? Isn’t an interesting feature of our new global order the ability to transform our views on home, place, belonging? Or are we, as long as we are away from the old home, always far from home?

NR: Well, as someone whose parents settled ‘far from home’ due to apartheid laws against mixed marriages, who moved to the UK to study, became a Muslim, married a London-bred Ghanain and currently reside in Egypt, the whole issue of ‘home’ is an emotive one for me. I do long for simpler times when you were born into a culture and grew up in, married and raised your children pretty much in that culture – just for the certainty, the continuity, the sense of rootedness. However, this is no longer a feasible reality so I have set my sights on making my home wherever my family is and wherever we feel a connection and a sense of belonging. That will probably mean that I will call about 4 countries ‘home’ but I’m hoping that will only enrich me and my children – and provide more fodder for writing and probably some more labels along the way.

I have also found that longing for the past, for the ‘original’ home, is often best cured by actually going back there: you will either love it and resolve to return, permanently, as soon as is feasible, or you will find that you have both grown and changed in ways you could not have imagined and that, really, you now have your feet in two homes. And then you just have to work that however you can.

ES: A very important question a reader may ask after reading ‘Far from Home’ is: To whom does land in Zimbabwe belong? And as far as land is concerned, what does ownership mean?

NR: We could ask that question about every country that has ever been colonised: who owns the land that the Native Americans once called their own, or the Maori, or the Aborigines? One of the reasons I wrote the book was to encourage people to ask that self-same question. In the case of Zimbabwe, the received wisdom in the West is that the land belonged to the ‘legal owners’, the commercial farmers. The idea that that ownership should be called into question has not been fully explored. I hope that readers will ask themselves that question and reach their own conclusions after reading the book and seeking information from more sources. Your comment about the Bantu not being the original inhabitants of the land only makes the issue more

ES: The Tariro section of the novel shows a deeper connection with nature, a more organic kind of relationship in which the humans’ lives are part of the environment. Even Tariro herself is described as the “baobab’s daughter.” Was this a statement on how the relationship with the land is conceived in the different phases and experiences depicted in the novel?

NR: Even I was taken aback by how different the two girls’ voices were. On a cultural level, an emotional level, even a linguistic level, these two 14 year olds are totally different. Tariro is, as you say, quite literally, the ‘baobab’s daughter’ and I think her section exhibits the organic, almost spiritual connection with the land that was at the heart of her society. That connection is palpably different to the relationship the commercial farmer has to the land. Katie loves the land too, but it is not a fundamental part of who she is. She does not work it with her own hands, doesn’t grow the food that she eats, and she leaves it to go to boarding school. There is a barrier there, a physical disconnection. The land is special to her for what it represents: her family home, security, memories, rather than because it has intrinsic worth.

ES: To the Zimbabweans (both white and black), covered in your novel, reconciliation, or a clear sense of forgiveness or togetherness seems only possible when the principal characters meet in the UK, far away from home. Is this displacement, or alienation from home the only hope for redemption for the characters? What is the special message in this way of resolving the story?
The novel ends on a note of optimism, the possibility of rebuilding Zimbabwe with open hearts and cooperation, “willing hands”. How long do you think such dreams of rebuilding will be realized?

NR: In order for Katie to truly hear Tariro and appreciate her story, she had to grow as a character, as an individual. She could not have done that had she remained in Zimbabwe, sharing her parents’ paradigm. Her growth was crucial and, really, she had to be broken before she could be fixed again, just as Tawona says at the end of the novel. Tariro too has no knowledge of her own strength until she loses everything and has to fight to make her way to the other side of her pain, anger and humiliation.

Indeed, many of us who leave our homelands find that we achieve a greater sense of clarity about who we are – and who we are not – when we step out of that context. Of course, this clarity comes at a great price but, sometimes, that price is a necessary downpayment on a stronger, clearer sense of identity.
In the final analysis, great change does not come without pain, without loss and, unfortunately, the post-independence land situation in Zimbabwe was untenable. It was unjust to the vast majority, to the landless poor. Their issues had to be addressed. Obviously, a combination of factors led them to being addressed in a way that almost brought the country to its knees but, if we look at history, we see that this is part of a historical pattern. Bastille Day in France is, after all, a celebration of a royal massacre. I do not say this to minimise in any way the suffering of the Zimbabwean people but we may find that, with the passage of time, with a more honest discourse, the story of Zimbabwe will not be viewed as the great African tragedy, but as a process, as a journey, one that will, I hope, see us living the dream that Tawona articulates: that we join hands as Zimbabweans, regardless of race, ethnicity or creed, to rebuild our country in an even better, more just image than before. ‘Pie in the sky!’, my father said, but I am an eternal optimist so I had to hold to that hope at the end of the book. Tawona’s vision is an articulation of my own.

ES: Most of the white Zimbabweans in the novel never really consider themselves Zimbabwean. How has such a choice contributed to the chaotic land reform and politics in the country?

NR: When I was doing my research for Katie’s side of the story, I came across an interesting and very apt description of two types of white Zimbabweans: Rhodies and Zimbos. According to this description, Rhodies are white Zimbabweans who either consider themselves still Rhodesian or think of pre-independence as the country’s golden era and never embraced Zimbabwe, as a country, as a culture. When Katie describes her world, it is a world totally divorced from the world of other non-white Zimbabweans, as you will find in many white Zimbabwean memoirs. My introduction to this world was through Alexandra Fuller’s breathtakingly honest memoir, ‘Don’t let’s go to the dogs tonight’. If anyone wants to know the Rhodie mentality laid bare, in its rawest form, they need to read that book.

On the other hand, there is Uncle James – he is a Zimbo. According to the article I mentioned previously, a Zimbo is a white person who embraces the concept of a post-independence Zimbabwe. A Zimbo is usually comfortable with all sorts of people; race is not an issue. He or she will integrate, maybe speak Shona or Ndebele, maybe have a relationship with a black Zimbabwean – but the key difference here is a sense of belonging and respect for the country and its people.

The Zimbabwe I grew up in was still divided along colour lines and I think that this was largely due to the legacy of colonialism and racism that many Zimbabweans would not or could not free themselves from. This meant that there was a very ‘us against them’ mentality when the land issue came to a head. It was easy to paint the picture of the whites as ‘settlers’ because they lived very much as they had done before independence, apart from the rest of the population.

ES: In your dialogue, you embrace the use of Shona, for which you provide translations in parenthesis. Why did you choose not to offer only the translated versions of the dialogue; or, why did you just not leave the Shona untranslated, and maybe provided hints to the reader to figure the meaning out of the context? Is thi an audience issue, or is it a way of capturing the flavour of the original language, while offering a translation?

NR: The use of Shona was crucial to Tariro’s section as distinct from Katie’s English narrative. In addition, Tariro and her family would have all spoken Shona anyway and I always like for readers to get a feel for the language of the narrator and its rhythms. On the other hand, I expected that a lot of non-Zimbabweans would read the book and I was wary of the language being a stumbling block for them. Oh, and my editor insisted on the translations in parentheses.

ES: What other works have you written, and what are you working on currently? Which works has satisfied you the most?

NR: After writing several multicultural children’s books, I wrote a book about my journey to Islam and the (true) lives of Muslim women in the west (‘From my sisters’ lips’). Next up was my first novel for teens, about a Somali girl who has to come to terms with big changes when her father comes to live with them after being missing in Somalia (‘From Somalia, with love’). Then my next teen novel was entitled ‘Boy vs. Girl’ and looks at the pressures facing a twin brother and sister of Pakistani origin, including family expectations, religion, culture, gangs, illicit romances and Mini Cooper-driving niqabi (woman who wears the veil).
In addition to cooking up ideas for a follow-up to Far from Home, I am currently working on a novel about a young African-Caribbean couple from opposite sides of the tracks – a bit like a black Westside Story with a conscious urban edge to it. It is due for release in Black History Month (UK) 2012 – so maybe this time I will be billed as a ‘Black British writer’  I know it’s cheeky but when you are as multicultural as I am, you become accustomed to wearing different hats – simply because is not enough.

About Na’ima

Na’ima B Robert is a published author and magazine publisher. Her books include the popular ‘From my sisters’ lips’, and teen novels, ‘From Somalia, with love’ and ‘Boy vs. Girl’. She is founder and Editor-in-Chief of SISTERS, a magazine for Muslim women. Na’ima has also been published in The Times, The Observer and The Muslim Weekly as well as several online publications.

Na’ima defines herself as ‘Muslim, Black, mixed-race, Southern African, Western, revert and woman all in one’. Descended from Scottish Highlanders on her father’s side and the Zulu people on her mother’s side, she was born in Leeds and grew up in Zimbabwe. She went on to gain a first-class degree from the University of London and began writing when her first child was a toddler. Na’ima has written several award-winning children’s books. Her frank and honest autobiographical celebration her adopted Muslim faith, ‘From my sisters’ lips’ was published by Transworld Publishers to much acclaim. Na’ima then published two teen novels, ‘From Somalia, with love’ and ‘Boy vs. Girl’ with Frances Lincoln. Her third novel, ‘Far from home’ is a crossover YA/adult novel, set in Zimbabwe.

Beatrice Lamwaka was recently shortlisted for the 2011 Caine Prize for African Writing. She was born in Gulu in northern Uganda, and now lives in Kampala, Uganda, where she works as a journalist and is currently studying Human Rights at Makarere University. She is working on a story collection called The Garden of Mushrooms.

Let me start by congratulating you for your story being featured on Stories on Stage, and for being on the shortlist for the 2011 Caine Prize. How do you feel about this recognition of your work?

Many thanks Emmanuel. I am just a girl from Alokolum, Gulu happy to know that my voice can be heard in places that I may never reach. I am excited that my voice keeps traveling further and further away from home. My writing performed to an audience that appreciates African literature gives me the confidence to keep writing because this is beyond what I had dreamt of as a writer. I hope that more of my work will travel further and further.

Your short stories have been anthologized in different publications, such as Speaking for the Generations (USA), and New Writing from Africa 2009, selected by J.M. Coetzee. Your shortlisted story is also appearing in To See the Mountain and Other Stories compiled by The Caine Prize for African Writing 2011. These publications show a significant contribution to African literature, and to writing in general. Do you believe your work is contributing to something larger than you had anticipated? What effect has the publication of your work in these important anthologies had on your writing career?

However hard I try to stretch my mind, I could never imagine that this year my short story would be performed in Sacramento or be shortlisted for the Caine Prize. The publications give me the confidence that I can make a contribution in Ugandan (African) literature.

In the Stories on Stage series, the stories are read by professional actors. What do you think is the importance of a process like this to the writer? Have you ever read your stories in front of an audience?

It brings to life what I have created and it sort of makes me feel like a god…creating something which is real. I am happy to know that my story lives without me. And that is what I want from my work. Yes, I have read my work to an audience before: Le Chateau de Lavigny in Switzerland; Nairobi, Kenya; and around Uganda.

Tell us a little about yourself as a writer. When did you start believing you were a writer? Who were your influences?

I have always wanted to write, but I seriously started to believe that I could contribute greatly to Ugandan literature around mid 2008 when I tuned myself to write, write, and look for opportunities to get my stories published, and that is why I am in different anthologies in various countries. I went ahead and founded a book club that focuses on contemporary African writers, which also gave birth to the writing club. Most of the stories that I sent out have been read by the club. I read a lot of contemporary African writers like Brian Chikwava, Chimamanda Adichie, Segun Afolabi, and Goretti Kyomuhendo and they motivate me to write.

In what ways has your background as a journalist helped or hindered your creative writing?

My background as a journalist diversifies and amplifies the issues that I strongly feel that I should write about. If I can’t voice a story as a creative work then I write articles.

Most of your stories deal with war. Why this preoccupation with war? What other issues have you explored, or wish to explore, in your writing?

I grew up in northern Uganda, which was savaged by two decades of armed conflict. This has greatly impacted my life and it is one that issues I find myself ‘easily’ writing about. My home became an IDP camp and it is one of the issues that crop up unconsciously or consciously in my writing because every time I go home it is a different experience. I have written about HIV/AIDS, university experiences, etc.

What inspired the story selected for Stories on Stage, “The Queen of Tobacco?”

I eavesdropped on a story as someone narrated it to a friend, about a woman who went out in the middle of the night to get cigarette from whoever was smoking. As soon as I heard the story, I knew that I had to write it, although I didn’t write the story right away but it played in my mind so many times and when I sat down to write it. In one sitting the story had come to life, and then I emailed it Thomas J. Hubschman, editor at Gowanus Books, who accepted it for publication in summer of 2002. It is one of my favorite stories. This was my second story to get published and the first to get published outside of Uganda.

What is the state of creative writing in Uganda? What direction is African literature in general taking?

Many Ugandans are writing, although most of the publishers focus on textbooks, so that many writers are getting published outside of the country, hence robbing the people of the chance to read such work. The establishment of writers associations like FEMRITE, Uganda Women Writers Association, and Kwani (Kenya) are encouraging young, vibrant writers who are exploding into the writing arena.

What do you think of the readership of African literature?

In Africa, many people enjoy reading what they relate with. And there is a big thirst for African literature outside of Africa, and this is a huge compensation for the high percentage of those that do not read in Africa.

In what ways has the internet affected African writing?
Internet has opened doors to the world that were otherwise closed to most writers. Our work can reach further than we anticipated.

What other words would you want to share with the lively audience of Sacramento’s Stories on Stage?
Thank you very much for listening to my story. There are a lot more stories where “Queen of Tobacco” came from. I hope that you will enjoy my story.

Originally published by Stories on Stage Sacramento

Stories on Stage, which operates from mid-town Sacramento, continues to grow. Running every last Friday of the month, the series has featured writers from across the US and is preparing to feature African writers in June. The idea is brilliant: the stories are read by professional actors, and the events are well-attended.

On Friday, May 27th, Stories on Stage will present an evening of (very) short fiction, featuring the winners of Sacramento News & Review’s 2010 Flash Fiction Contest (these writers had a stingy 150 words to work with). Kent Gray will read Paul Mann’s”79 Miles,” Cynthia Mitchell Speakman will read Peg Alford Pursell’s “Guardian,” Ashley Lucas will read Jenni Wiltz’ “Letters,” Bonnie Antonini will read Peg Alford Pursell’s “This Guy,” and Pam Metzger will read William Doonan’s “Lady Anaconda.”

Sacramento Poetry Center
1719 25th Street (Between Q & R)
Donation: $5
Performance begins at 7:30PM. Doors open at 7PM

Peg Alford Pursell’s fiction has received The S.C. State Fiction Award and been a short-list finalist for the Flannery O’Connor Short Fiction Award. She founded and curates Why There Are Words, a monthly literary reading series in Sausalito, and is fiction editor at Prick of the Spindle. She teaches fiction writing at the College of Marin, Book Passage, and in private workshops. She is currently at work on a novel. Please visit her website and blog to keep up with her news. http://www.pegalfordpursell.com

William Doonan is a writer and professor of anthropology and archaeology in Sacramento, CA, where he lives with his wife Carmen, and his sons Will and Huey. Doonan is the author of two mystery novels; Grave Passage and Mediterranean Grave, which recount the exploits of octogenarian cruise ship detective Henry Grave. For more information about Doonan and his writing, please visit www.williamdoonan.com. William’s “Lady Anaconda” won first prize.

Jenni Wiltz’s short stories have appeared in The Portland Review and The Copperfield Review. She graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the University of California at Davis with degrees in English and history; she’s currently studying for a Master’s in English at Sacramento State University. Jenni lives in Folsom, California and blogs about her writing experiences at http://jenniwiltz.tumblr.com/. Jenni’s “Letters” won second prize.

Paul Mann grew up around the beaches of the Gulf Coast in Sarasota, Florida. It is a region he often visits through his writing. His stories and photos have been published in Susurrus, Sacramento News & Review, The Farallon Review and Sunken Lines. When not hunched over his keyboard, he enjoys spending time at home in California with his attorney wife, his smart and beautiful daughter, and his loyal canine companion Bode. Visit Paul’s website here. Paul’s “79 Miles” won third prize.

Bonnie Antonini returned to acting six years ago after taking a long hiatus to raise her children. She hit the ground running and has been in 20 stage plays, numerous commercials, TV shows, and industrials. She also is a poet and has had three of her poems published in the Sacramento News and Review. Her most recent role was in The Mystery Spot, where she played poet Sylvia Plath. Bonnie will read Peg Alford Pursell’s “This Guy.”

Cynthia Mitchell Speakman has been performing on Sacramento stages since 1994 when she joined Ed Claudio’s Actor’s Workshop. She performs with Story Voices, four spoken word artists that perform for benefits across the country, inspiring people to take on their lives with passion. Her son keeps her thinking young and she thanks him for being an inspiration to her. Cynthia will read Peg Alford Pursell’s “Guardian.”

Kent Gray is a man of many interests. He returned to Sacramento after attending law school in Des Moines. Kent has been in the theatre for 20 years. He holds a master’s degree from Humboldt State University and has appeared in numerous productions including playing Bo Decker in Bus Stop and Horatio in Hamlet. His directing credits include An Act of the Imagination and No Exit. In addition, Kent spent 10 years as a radio announcer working in the Midwest and California. Kent will read Paul Mann’s “79 Miles.”

Ashley Lucas has been acting for over five years. She has performed with Runaway Stage, Thistledew, and is a regular at the Playwrights Collaborative Workshops. Her other acting ventures include volunteering with the West Sacramento CERT as their Fire Prevention Trailer Instructors. Ashley will read Jenni Wiltz’ “Letters.”

Pamela Metzger was a radio announcer in the Sacramento area for 20 years. She has always enjoyed a good read on road trips, with each passenger giving their interpretation as they read aloud. The second child of 9 brothers and sisters made storytelling a necessary element in her well rounded personality. She resides in Sacramento and is in the Television advertising business. Pam will read William Doonan’s “Lady Anaconda.”

Visit Stories on Stage’s blog for more information about interviews and other events.

The participants, selected from all over the globe will represent countries such Iran, Iraq, Israel, Oman, Yemen, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Pakistan, among others.

Announcing the news of Delta Milayo Ndou’s acceptance to the programme, JB Leedy of the Washington Press Center commended the US Embassy’s Public Affairs Section in Harare for the “great nomination”, adding that nominations for the FPC Blogging for Social and Political Change tour were impressive. “We received 45 nominations for 20 available slots and all were impressive, so you can expect your participant to get a lot out of not only the official program, but networking with fellow global new media leaders on the tour,” stated Leedy.

The bloggers will be expected to do significant blogging both during and after the program, and to provide the FPC with feedback on the nature of those blog posts.
They will also be expected to find creative ways to amplify the USG message on the role of new media in civil society and press freedom when bloggers return home.
Activities during the tour include engagement in the Blogosphere to explore how the U.S Government (USG) advances foreign policy positions on the web by discussing new media strategy with top-level policy advisors, meeting with those implementing the strategy through official USG blogs to find out more about how they choose what to blog about, assess the interests of their target audiences, and gauge their effectiveness in conveying the USG message.

Some of the key discussions and activities will revolve around maintaining and promoting Freedom of Expression on the Internet; attending and taking part in Netroots Nation 2011, one of USA’s most prominent blogger conferences,an annual forum for exchanging ideas and using technology “to influence the public debate, inspire action, and serve as an incubator for progressive ideas that challenge the status quo and ultimately affect change in the public sphere.”

You can read Delta Milayo Ndou’s work on her blog, itsdelta.

Exploring the untold history of Zimbabwe’s land reforms, Far from Home tells the story of Katie and Tariro, two girls linked by a terrible secret, grappling with the complexities of adolescence, family and a painful colonial legacy as their lives play out against the tragic history of the land in Zimbabwe.

14-year-old Tariro is a daughter of the soil: she loves the land, the baobab tree she was born beneath, her family – and brave, handsome Nhamo. She couldn’t be happier. But then the white settlers arrive, and everything changes – suddenly, violently – robbing Tariro of all that she loves.

Forty years later, 14-year-old Katie adores her doting father, her exclusive boarding school, and her farm with its baobab tree in rural Zimbabwe. Life is great. Until the land acquisition programme forces the family off the land and to cold, rainy London.

Atmospheric and epic in scope, Far from Home brings the turbulent history of Zimbabwe to vivid, tangible life, challenging the reader to view it with new eyes.

Na’ima B Robert, born Thando Nomhle McLaren, is descended from Scottish Highlanders on her father’s side and the Zulu people on her mother’s side. She was brought up in Harare, Zimbabwe, and graduated from the University of London. Her books include the popular ‘From my sisters’ lips’, and teen novels, ‘From Somalia, with love’ and ‘Boy vs. Girl’. Na’ima has also been published in The Times, The Observer and The Muslim Weekly as well as several online publications, including AfricaBe.com. She is married to a Ghanaian and has four children.

Prince Mensah: Considering the present shape of African writing, what visible steps are being taken to use the Internet as a medium of communication? Are those steps enough? What impact does all this have on indigenous readers who might or might not have access to the Internet?

Michelle Labossiere Brandt: The Internet is turning out to be a fantastic gift to the African writer, and an immediate way to publicize one’s creativity. It is the diving board, a place to launch and in doing so extends out to those readers who don’t have access to the Internet!

Let me use my own community as an example. Our goal as an organization (RIFE & RIFG) was twofold: bring poets from Africa and Canada together to publish an anthology to raise money for a project in Ghana, and educate the average Edmontonian poet and reader as to the incredible pool of African writers/poets. We have achieved those goals and it all started through the long arm of the Internet, one of our main sources being OGOV. Since that time a number of local non-African poets have now become interested in African literature/poetry. Some of these local poets don’t have access to the Internet but they are avid readers, and come out to poetry readings.

The long arm of the Internet is a bridge for global writers to share their talent and inspire one another and thereby perhaps impact the world at large in a positive and creative manner.

Emmanuel Sigauke: Most writers have websites, blogs, Twitter, and Facebook accounts, and they use these as tools to publicize their works, to create a platform. These are effective tools of communication, but as there is too much of a wide choice of information online, what’s needed is a more effective channeling of the information to make sure that it reaches as many people as possible. In other words, there should be networking, targeted linking of the media that the writers use.

While the Internet is helping develop the literature in urban Africa and in the Diaspora, there is still a wide gap in communication with the majority of African readers. Many people in African countries have no access to the Internet, so whatever programs are represented online should be replicated on the ground in different communities and especially at the grassroots level. Writers should also be involved in outreach programs that promote reading and writing in Africa.

Nii Ayikwei Parkes: The state of African writing is a big question. I’d say it’s abuzz with possibilities and disjointed (which is not necessarily a bad thing), meaning that the next few years will tell us what is really happening.

Steps being taken – as Michelle has shown, and Emmanuel has touched on – are as diverse as the forms and stages of writing themselves. I was recently contacted by a Ghanaian poet who sent me links to tracks from a forthcoming CD online to listen to. That triggered two thoughts – one, we use technology very quickly and effectively (I live in the UK and wouldn’t have thought of getting cross-continental feedback) and two, the Internet means that the distance between the practising writers and aspiring writers is very small – there is a lot of promise in that if we (the practising writers) stay accessible.

As for indigenous readers, this can only be better for them, because they barely had access to work when there was no Internet anyway so there is no way technology can impoverish them, it can only enrich their experience – even if it starts with something as simple as quotes in text messages.

Martin Egblewogbe: As a result of low Internet penetration in Africa, I strongly suspect that most users of literary websites dedicated to African writing tend to live in the diaspora, and may have a readership that is mainly non-African. In this regard, unless the target audience of a Ghanaian writer is global or non-African, there is a fundamental disconnect when the work is published online; this is the disconnect of speaking without the possibility of being heard. To most people on the continent, the publication simply doesn’t exist. Therefore, the impact in terms of widespread acknowledgement is naturally constricted (to an extent, this is also quite true of many hard publications).

It is quite clear that our social reflex has not yet quite adjusted to the Internet, especially when it comes to publishing literary works: we can see potential, we know it can be used for something, but we are not very sure what, or how it will be achieved. We may yet be surprised.

At this present time, the use of the Internet as a medium for publication has both detrimental and positive effects, both on the writer and the art, the extent of which depends on the fronts listed earlier. I will probably expand on this as the discussion progresses.

Ivor Hartmann: From my own interaction as, and with other African writers, I’d say we’re on the cusp of a never before seen explosion of African literature. This is not without its pitfalls: anyone can now self-publish, but this does not mean that what is self-published will be good. I say it often but it still holds true: writers have to have good editors. We still need gatekeepers, as not everyone who thinks they are a great writer (and we all think that of course), is necessarily so. But (and its a big “but”), there is plenty of room for mediocre writers too, and market forces.

In Africa (and Diaspora) we writers have the tendency to want to be the next Soyinka, Marechera, etc. In other words, to excel strictly in ‘literary’ writing. Who can blame us? They are Africa’s literary heroes whom we of course aspire to. This however leaves a wide open gap in all the other genres that needs to be filled, and is currently filled with imported writing. It is this gap that I’d like to see filled locally.

There is a desperate need for more (affordable) print books on the ground in Africa. We writers may have heartily embraced the online world, but not so much our potential local readers for many reasons (89.1% of Africa does not have online access). There is an ever growing technological divide, and the vast majority of Africa will not have access to the digital literature age that is fast upon us. This means that while African writers do indeed now have access to far more international markets, the same can not be said for local markets where affordable print still rules.

Read the full discussion at One Ghana One Voice.

Miriam Shumba’s 2010 Reading List

1. The Shack [book cd] : a novel/ William P. Young
2. The Bishop’s Daughter / Tiffany L. Warren
3. The First Lady [book cd] / by Carl Weber
4. Serena : a novel / Ron Rash
5. The Piano Teacher / Janice Y.K. Lee
6. Finding Nouf [book cd] / Zoë Ferraris
7. The Christmas Sweater [book cd] / Glenn Beck with Kevin Balfe and Jason Wright
8. Esteemable acts : 10 actions for building real self-esteem / Francine Ward
9. Your best birth : know all your options, discover the natural choices, and take back the birth experience / Ricki Lake and Abby Epstein ; foreword by Jacques Moritz.
10. Roses
11. An Elegy for Easterly : Stories / by Petina Gappah.
12. The Boy Next Door : a novel / by Irene Sabatini.
13. Knockout : interviews with doctors who are curing cancer– and how to prevent getting it in the first place / Suzanne Somers
14. The Actor and the Housewife [book cd] : a novel / Shannon Hale
15. Once Upon a Day [book cd]: a novel / Lisa Tucker
16. Roses / Leila Meacham
17. Her mother’s hope / Francine Rivers.
18. Shameless [book cd] / Karen Robards
19. Powder necklace : a novel / Nana Ekua Brew-Hammond
20. Fireworks over Toccoa / Jeffrey Stepakoff.
21. The help [book cd] : a novel/ Kathryn Stockett
22. Strangers at the feast [book cd] : a novel / Jennifer Vanderbes
23. Unaccustomed earth : stories / by Jhumpa Lahiri.

Interview with Miriam Shumba

1. Your reading list consists of both print and audio books. Which medium is provides a more effective reading process for you? Does a read get the same effect from a book when listening to it as when reading it? To what extent are both processes considered reading?

Both mediums are enjoyable. I always have a print book at home and an audio book in the car. For some reason I rarely listen to audio books at home and when I tried I found myself falling asleep. Listening to a book from some exotic location the actors/readers imitate the accents very well and it adds richness to the story. The story interests me more that way. Both processes should be considered reading because at the end I’m satisfied with the story in print and audio. Once in a while it’s nice to have both audio and print so I can reread some parts or see how things are spelt.

2. Do you always read as a writer or a reader? Do you read when you are working on your own writing? Does this slow down or speed up your writing?

I can’t help reading as a writer. It’s enjoyable to look out for fresh ways to describe people, for instance, or to find out how flash backs are used. The way words can transport you to another time in space and wreck havoc with your emotions fascinates me, so my notebooks are always close by. Keeping my “writer’s cap” on doesn’t really slow me down if I am lost in a good story.

3. What is the audience of your novels?

My audience is both male and females who enjoy reading about life and relationships but who also hope to grow and change after reading my books. I see people from 16 years onwards picking up my books and liking the stories.

4. How have your books been accepted in the United States?

From the reviews I’ve received the books have been accepted very well. I’ve attended book clubs where my books were discussed too and that was encouraging. Several people told me that they could identify with the characters even though they are from the US and the characters are from Zimbabwe.

5. Are your books available in Zimbabwe or any African country?

They are available in South Africa and right now I am in the process of making them available in Zimbabwe and Ghana initially then spread to other countries.

6. How do you deal with the issue of translation? In other words, are there cultural concepts that you find difficult to present in English?

Absolutely. I even had to translate the title into English and that proved challenging too. I know that there are so many phrases we say in Shona that get lost when translated into English. What I do is to write some sentences in Shona then add the translation immediately after so the people who speak Shona will really get the nuances and those who don’t understand the language will at least know what was said and not get confused.

7. You read short story collections like An Elegy for Easterly and Uaccustomed Earth? Considering that you are publishing in the novel sub-genre, what do you think of the short stories you read? How well do you appreciate the short story sub-genre?

I find most short stories engrossing. Before publishing my two novels I enjoyed and still enjoy writing short stories. I wrote for Drum Magazine in South Africa and Parade Magazine in Zimbabwe and the issues I had with writing them is the same I have when I read them. The challenge for me is that I get attached to certain characters and feel disappointed when the story has to end. Another thing is that not all the short stories in an anthology are enjoyable, and it takes me a while to get into the next short story after having been so absorbed in the one before. They are entertaining and thought-provoking and they are quick and hit you like a whirlwind with all the senses and emotions packed into a short work. With Jumpa Lihiri I noticed that she did continue one short story and I was so excited to see the characters back again in another short at the end of her collection.

8. You also read one of the contemporary Zimbabwean novels, The Boy Next Door by Irene Sabatini, which has been received well in some circles of the US readership. What’s your opinion of this book?

Irene’s novel is incredible. When I picked it up the cover drew me, which shows the importance of captivating covers. It was set close to the time when I was a teenager and I could relate to her protagonist. It was like taking a literal tour around Zimbabwe because she mentioned almost every place of great significance in Zimbabwe including our mysterious magnificent ruins, The Great Zimbabwe. The love story was breathtaking and handled very well. I thoroughly enjoyed her book and it got me excited about all the other new books coming up from Zimbabwe that I can’t wait to read. It’s great to see the children of Zimbabwe telling their own stories like never before.

9. When writing, do you care about the genre your work will come out in? Does it matter to you whether a work will be received as literary or popular fiction?

It would be great to see my work stand the test of time, and be enjoyed by generations either as popular fiction or literary.

10. In a radio interview, you stated that your current publisher features Christian (or is it spiritual) literature. What are the characteristics of this genre?

From the books I’ve read this genre is about characters that are Christians or become Christians. These are books to inspire you and in a way celebrate the love of Jesus in stories that are entertaining. This genre is so broad and can be divided into romance, science fiction, mystery and so on. I don’t know how I feel about categorizing books that way as it means that certain people will not read great works just because they are under the Christian section. Fiction should just be fiction and not be separated by religion.

11. What do you think of the reception of African literature in the USA? Do think this is the African writer’s time in (1) the USA (2) the World?

Many people who have book clubs in the USA tend to enjoy reading books from around the world and some even introduced me to authors J. Nozipo Maraire who wrote Zenzele, A Letter for My Daughter. In the US the books I hear about tend to focus on controversial and disturbing topics and my worry is that the same themes are marketed. What I’ve seen usually revolves around civil war, or politics. I think most people are interested hearing about Africa’s struggles which are truly there but every country has them but their stories are more varied. I haven’t seen that many novels on regular every day stories of families, romance, and friendships. I think it’s time to show more variety. We have more to offer and want to tell all our stories, not just one story.

12. What is your advice to aspiring writers looking to market their works in the United States?

My advice is to definitely find the publishers who are interested in multicultural books in the US. There are not that many out there but the book that I used to locate my publisher is called Writers Markets and it’s published every year. In there you can search for the agents and publishers who want your genre. The United States has always been a multi cultural and there is room for African writers and those from all around the world as well.