Dearest Reader, So… I did a thing. After last year, I had to face the fact that I wasn’t really writing anymore, not in the way I used to. I was letting fear get in the way: fear that I wasn’t good enough, that the next thing I wrote had to be serious, had to be big— like a novel or my PhD monograph. Meanwhile, I was sitting on years of poems. Real feelings. Real moments. Just… sitting there. Then I travelled to the U.S., and blogged HERE about how that trip brought back a lot. It reminded me of all the dreams I had as a kid, before the burnout, before the pressure to be brilliant all the time. I met people living their dreams—big or small, loud or quiet—but trying to live fully. That experience made me realise I was playing small. And for what? So this year, I decided: I’m doing something for me. I’m checking one thing off my childhood dream list. I took the poetry I’ve been writing since I was 26, enlisted some incredible friends to help with the shortlisting, hired an editor, and worked with a project manager… and I made a book. I self-published a poetry collection. It’s called “O Jewa Ke Eng?” which means “what’s eating you up inside?”. The title comes from a tweet that went viral while I was doing my PhD in South Africa, and it inspired one of the poems in the book. Because that question, when asked honestly, can unlock so much. It really is about holding space for what we usually keep inside. And because I’m me, a teacher through and through, I couldn’t help making it interactive. I wanted this to be something you feel with me. So, the book invites you to colour how each poem made you feel using the emotion wheel. Then there’s a colour-by-number piece at the end that becomes your emotional summary. And yes, there are blank pages for you to talk back. Write. Doodle. Cry if you need to. This book is ours now. If you made it to the launch back in March, thank you from the bottom of my heart. The love in that room? Overwhelming. But if you couldn’t make it, I’ve got you. Below is the full video of the launch, so you can experience a bit of what we shared that day. Watch it. Feel it. Tell me what moved you. Oh, and there’s a surprise within (I’m officially a songwriter lol!) Let’s talk in the comments. P.S. You can get a copy of the book on Amazon (UK, U.S., EU) or via JollyLife Bookstore in Cameroon.
5 Love Poems From Me to You
As the people all over the world muse on love (genuine of commercialized fluff) on this Valentine’s Day, permit me share with you some of my favorite original poems relating to L.O.V.E. On Self-love Ode to We This is for my sisters, whose thighs touch. Whose arms hang like armpit drapes and whose stomachs bulge… It is okay not to be O.K Okay is never enough anyway, They always want more. So lift your arms and wave them ‘round Cross your feet and pout your lips Swing your hips to your own beat And repeat: I love me On Considering Love Kintsugi I thought of you when I learned of Kintsugi; read about that Japanese art of recovering broken things with preciousness, renewing the life of fallen pieces and restoring their worth two, four…a thousand fold. I thought of you, lover-to-be, as a Kintsugi artist. A master craftsman, able to see possibilities in fragmented parts, worn and not quite whole, still useful. See, I have shards of glass placed at the top of the walls surrounding this heart like those my grandfather cemented atop the fence around our family home-To keep thieves out, to slice careless hands who come to prey… But an artist takes care, a potter’s hand is patient. So I can see you pick up these shards nimbly, one after the next, appreciating the story of each fall, respecting the painful tale of each break.I can picture you pouring precious metal- emotions rare- unto sharpened edges piecing together what some would see as mistakes to create a testimony. I thought of you when I learned of Kintsugi, and I thought of I.I thought of us all, reflections of this philosophy; believers in broken things, people who would pour gold in cracks. Card carrying members of ‘Hopefuls Anonymous’Lovers; Kintsugi artists. On Discovering Love The Heartbreak 39 days ago at 7:47pm. Your words, uncomfortably shared, speared the familiar sinking feeling of heartbreak within me I find it hard to describe this feeling. Heartbreak resulting from unrequited love is unique you see. Not quite pain, more like an ebbing ache of inadequacy. Your heart twisting as if trying to find balance or return shamefully to the cage of your ribs it should have never left. Your windpipes forcing air out as though practiced in a Lamaze class. Keep going. Don’t cry. Just breathe. I wonder at the break. Why do I feel it? When did you matter? I am reminded: It was Tuesday, I was sick and you came. I looked horrible but it didn’t matter, your eyes smiled in a way that made me feel beautiful. You stayed, made me laugh and left me feeling better than the treatment I’d been taking for days It was 6th of June, I think, you shared a post that literally took my breath away, something I couldn’t believe you’d get. And yet you did. You got it and you defended it when the trolls came It was the evening I left our meeting late and worry remained in your eyes as I took a cab. You took the taxi drivers details. Chatting with me all through till I arrived to be sure I didn’t fall asleep therein and get carted away… It was that dinner we shared, you remember the night you took me out for my favorite meal? Two phone addicts somehow able to not think of our phones for hours. It’s been the never-ending conversation we have. Free flowing, humorous, unrestricted, digressing and yet still mutually understood. Able to go dormant yet reawakening within days with the same feel. The familiarity it bred It was me struggling to contort this large body to somehow lay my head on your shoulder in the taxi ride home. It was in my trusting you enough to drink in your presence. Comfortable enough to hold your hand and cross the road… I see now that it was a million little things. You may have come to me by chance but you did not come all at once. You are the dripping rooftop that slowly made the whole house damp. Weathering defenses, surprising us both. And this is how I got a heartbreak never knowing there was a love Lessons in Love Learning i. They teach you to forgive your enemies but rarely do they share how you’ll need to forgive your loves.We all forget, you see, that we lift our loves on a pedestal, we raise them up like the moon does the tide of our feelings. We make them gods because they make us feel more human, more magical, loved.We raise them up involuntary and without consent. We raise them up until they fall. Humans after all. ii.So today I will forgive you for not being all I dreamed you would be. I will forgive you for inspiring me to fly when you had no wings. No wings for you, no wings for me. I will forgive you for the rides of all-night talks and ecstatic daydreams you fueled, without telling me the petrol tank was uncertain, we were just kicking it. I will forgive you because you made no promise. I forgive you because you too are broken and should not have been put in a place to fix my own cracks. I will forgive you because I am learning the ways of love. iii.Now please forgive me for the selfish love I bore and thrust on you, a crown you did not ask for. The love that demanded more of you, than you were ready to give. Forgive me the luxury of rose-colored glasses that saw your promise but not your flaws. Not the vacuum you harbored still. Forgive me the good things I hoped and dreamed. Because I have learned even good things are burdensome. I have learned hope is heavy a thing around your neck weighing you down and adorning you brightly at the same time. Forgive me because I am still learning to love like God. On Recovering
April 2018’s Missing Post II: Doing away with Stereotypes One initiative at a Time
There’s a lot to rant about when it comes to Cameroon. Increasingly heavy militarization and other government mishandling of the problems in the Anglophone regions, the fight against Boko Haram in the North and developmental problems from bad roads to corrupt institutions plaguing all ends of the nation. Perhaps because there is so much to rant about, we as Cameroonians tend to see mostly the negatives and own them, while rarely appreciating the positive. How often do you hear someone muttering “C’est Cameroun” with disgusted resignation? Or if we do notice something positive we remark on it as though it were ‘nothing much’. Shortly after I set up Better Breed Cameroon, I decided that I will try to ‘light candles’ as often as I curse the darkness. I have often failed to achieve that parity, but fortunately, no one gave me the sole task of being a superhero. And even more, fortunately, there are many more like me, many other young people seeking to help make some positive change in their own way and for that I’m grateful Recently, one of those negatives we had owned as Cameroonians- the stereotype that “Cameroonian’s don’t read”- is being taken head on by several youth-led initiatives which prove Cameroonian do love/appreciate the beauty of words. Both the writing and reading of it. So without further ado, let me introduce you to just a handful of names/initiative titles to drop the next time someone presumes to tell you “Cameroonian’s don’t read. Bakwa Magazine’s 100 Days of Cameroonian Literature For 100 days, renowned literary magazine Bakwa Mag put a spotlight on Cameroonian literature, showcasing books by Cameroonian authors of all genres and both national languages. This social media campaign ran with the hashtag #100DaysofCameroonianLiterature between December 2017 and March 2018. The campaigned was widely followed particularly on Twitter with several statements of appreciation to Bakwa for their introducing people to books and authors they’d either forgotten or never heard of before. In the words of Bakwa editor Dzekashu Macviban “We did this both to showcase the diversity of Cameroonian writing as well as debunk the notion that there isn’t enough writing from Cameroon”. Well, Bakwa definitely proved people wrong. IYA Restaurants Griot Nights IYA Restaurant has established itself as a culinary and cultural delight located in Buea, Cameroon. Along with a magnificent menu, the restaurant offers events to bring the ‘Bougie’ of Buea out. One of those events it has highly encouraged is regular spoken word poetry events. Every last Saturday of the month, a crowd made mostly of University of Buea students with guests like Olga from Yaoundé and more come out to share their love for spoken word. One way IYA stands out is by actually training the poets a few days prior to the event to ascertain that their performances are of good quality and they show progress from practice. As a result of this, you might meet the same faces, but you’d likely be surprised by the stark difference in content and delivery. Attendance is usually ticketed using Eventbrite and the room is packed! Sometimes the evening’s have a theme and at other times it’s up to your whim. Either way, it is easy to see that IYA started something which rekindled the beauty of storytelling in poetry from among youth in the area. Mito Mito Mito Mito, a weekly Open Mic event equally originated in Buea likewise offers new encouragement to word lovers in Cameroon and offers to make poetry cool again. The events held regularly as of 7 pm on Mondays and mixed spoken word with Comedy, Karaoke, and Live Music. From Buea, Mito Mito has spread to Douala and the team behind it offering poetry performances on demand. For those of us who grew up at a time when poetry reciting in Cameroon consisted of rote memorization of some very tired lines teachers helped one with, this new wave of spoken word and the new generation vulnerable and bold enough to share art, what they read and write is utterly refreshing. And of course, stereotype defying. Black Swagger Poetry Events Let’s not focus solely on Buea though. Spoken word events like the BLACK SWAGGER POETRY SLAMs (BSPS) are hosted in Bamenda as well. Black Swagger poetry slams offer space for creatives based in the capital of the Northwest region and alternative evening entertainment encouraging wordsmiths and lovers of words alike to come out and share. The team ‘posits that Blackness is not an occasion for crying but a strong clarion call to stand up, stand out and be proud of who we are’ they try to discover unsung talents and help young people work on themselves by finding their own gift of words. Words that define them and define their stance on issues of change. Given the regularity of the events, one can confidently assert that there are enough word lovers; writers, thinkers, and listeners in Bamenda as well. A big shout out to the team behind the scenes making these events still possible despite the increasing militarization of the area. With events like this, they’re ensuring young people have a different outlet to vent. Better Breed Cameroon’s Reading Caravan More recently, I was privileged to be part of a team running an inaugural reading caravan project that aimed at inspiring reading culture in young Cameroonians- particular primary school pupils. The reading caravan began on the 23rd of February 2018 and closed on the 23rd of April 2018. This initiative lasted three-months and had over 20 volunteers read in eleven schools across towns in five regions of the country; Centre, Far North, Littoral, North-West and South-West regions. Over a hundred books were given out and the kids loved it! Eager to not only be read to but to read for themselves. Olivia Mukam Wandji volunteer reading at Tassah College, Yaounde I was particularly amazed at the support the caravan project received and is still receiving. The number of people who wrote offering to take time out to offer to read at
Change of Reaction- Flash Fiction by Monique Kwachou
Happy Valentine’s Day to all followers of my Musings! And *coughs* wishing you a great start to the introspective Lenten period. This month, I’m doing a throwback to last year when a piece of flash fiction I wrote was published by Brittle Paper in an anthology titled Love Stories from Africa. This version of the story has been slightly edited, I hope you enjoy! _________________________________________________________________________________ Change of Reaction by Monique Kwachou You step back, admiring the dinner table now set for two with your best dish set. You move to the room to make sure everything you have bought for the romantic weekend is set. It was in Lower-sixth that you first contemplated what you would do if your husband cheated on you. On that sticky afternoon, your classmate, Bessem, had returned from Commercial Avenue with a Nigerian magazine. Even though she had claimed that she hadn’t seen any American magazine your group usually chipped in to buy and pore over, you and your other friends, Sandra, Laura, and Eposi had suspected that Bessem, being the Nollywood addict she was, had bought the magazine because her favourite Nigerian actresses, Stella Damasus, Genevieve Nnaji and Omotola Jalade were on the cover page, advertising a film, Games Men Play. The magazine wasn’t bad. It was just as glossy as the American ones and contained similar information. There were tips on how to lose weight, which you had all heard Bessem read, even as she paused regularly to take a bite from a loaf of bread dripping with chocolate paste. There were glamorous pictures from celebrity events, an advice column on what to do when your love is not of the same faith as you, a quiz to determine what kind of lover you are, based on your favourite colour, and the vox-pop section which asked women to imagine what they would do if they found out their husband was having an affair. You remember it exactly. After reading the responses featured in the magazine, you had each taken turns. Bessem had sighed, she was from a polygamous home and couldn’t be bothered, she claimed. As long as she was financially comfortable, the man could go and live with his mistress, just as her dad had moved to the house he had rented for his second wife. Eposi rebuked it in the exaggerated way of Pentecostal Christians. “That shall not be my portion oooo! Not all men cheat. I’ll give my man all that he needs, what will he go looking for outside?” You all had laughed, aware of the implausibility of satisfying a man completely even at that age. Laura mentioned ‘facing the homewrecker,’ and Sandra reminded her that it was the husband who had made vows and promises. When Laura had turned on her demanding her response, Sandra had said it would depend on how much she felt betrayed. “But I could actually hurt the man, like pour hot water on his genitals”. You had all burst into fits of laughter, clapping your hands as you imagined it. When it was your turn, you had said you would simply divorce the man. Cheating meant he wanted someone else. Why would you hold on to someone who wanted someone else? If you truly loved him, you would let him go. You were undoubtedly high on Harlequin-type love at that time. Here you are now, on a Friday night, on the eve of Valentine’s Day, waiting for your husband to return from his business trip. You have sent the kids to his mother for the weekend. You have cooked his favorite meals and planned a romantic weekend escapade. You bought him a watch similar to the one he had admired on your boss’ wrist at the office party you both attended just after New Year. You are determined to make it his best Valentine weekend ever. You have planned all this, knowing the trip he is returning from wasn’t quite a business trip. Knowing he is cheating, knowing exactly who he is cheating with- she has flaunted pictures of them both on social media. Those Instagram pictures of “boo” where boos features aren’t fully visible to all. But certainly recognizable to the woman who is married to boo. Who has in turns licked him from top to bottom and wiped him down on his sickbed. You look at yourself in the mirror, assessing the way the lingerie you plan to strip out of for him later looks on you. You avoid looking at your face. Lowering your eyes out of shame and fear that your 37 year-old self will see the reflection of what used to be a self-confident 17 year-old Lower-sixth girl mockingly asking: Is this your reaction? _______________________________________________________________ Enjoyed it? Not so much? Drop a comment and let me know what you think! P.S Make sure to read the other stories from this collection HERE. Two more Cameroonian writers have some flash fiction featured (Howard M-B Maximus and Agogho Franklin).