Hut

When my vagina was wet and slippery,
When it drowned your enormous penis like a ship sinking in an ocean,
When it stretched and swallowed all of you,
Did you not complain that I am large and wide?
Did you not suspect me of sleeping with other men behind your back?

When my vagina oozed with thick fluids,
When it beamed and radiated with abundant life and thick undergrowth,
Did you not complain that I am too soggy and bushy?
Look at you now,limping like a pig with abdominal pain,
Look at your raptured penile hole,
Why can’t it stand tall like a soldier and face the fight?
Did you not challenge me to a battle of the underwear?

Let your limping soldier stand up and feast on my roasted vagina,
For two hours I spread my legs over a blazing fire and the smoke sipped in,
The sweet-smelling smoke dried the walls of my vagina and tightened the muscles!
The smoke from ”tuguru” tree did the magic,
Now my thighs are warm and my vaginal hole is so tiny like that of a virgin!
The heat melted the tough hairs and now I am smooth like the buttocks of a three-day old baby,
Wipe your tears and prove your manhood tonight!

Republished from fb.com/notes/ordinary-mind/

Poetry contest - Nation 7

Writers in Kenya are not paid very well. Poets especially aren’t paid very well. It therefore is a kick in the shin for a newspaper to go ahead and ask poets to pay for their poems to appear in the newspaper. The said callout was by the Nation newspaper. The advert read:

“Send a 50 word love poem to valentines@ke.nationmedia.com and stand a chance to win a valentine to remember!! Once the email has been received, you will receive a reference number that allows you to pay Ksh 1000 for your poem to appear on 14th February 2014 in the Friday Nation. The winning poem will be picked by the editor . No correspondence will be entered into thereafter.”

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The directive that Kenyan TV stations should screen 60% local content is a good one. The increase of local content is a welcome change. One look at our local TV stations and you quickly realize that it isn’t as local. There is an array of telenovelas and Western African content on offer both during the day and night. The local shows are limited and to be honest, a lot of the local content on some of these TV stations is in the form of news. Enter news bulletins that run for two hours and other news shows during prime time slots.

The debate on increasing local content on our televisions is not a new one. Citizen has managed to score well in that making it the most watched station in the country. K24 and KBC are not doing too badly either. The promotion of local content is a plus, however it has a drawback. Filmmakers that have tried to pitch to Citizen are usually met with the, ”That isn’t the kind of content our viewers want to watch.” Business wise it makes sense. If the viewers want shows like Papa Shirandula, that’s what you give them. So if you’re looking to pitch something a bit ‘upmarket’, Citizen will not take it. KTN are trying lately with an increase in their local programming. NTV in my opinion, are lagging behind.

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The Etisalat Prize for Literature is a pan-African literary prize that celebrates first time writers of published books of fiction. To cater to unpublished African writers, the Etisalat Prize has a flash fiction category.

Winners of the flash fiction category will receive:

Winning Author

  • £1000 cash prize
  • Smart Tablet Device
  • Published E-book promoted online and via SMS

Runners Up (2)

  • £500 cash prize (each)
  • Smart Tablet Device

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I love to write and have been doing it for a long time now.   Along the way I have learned, mostly through mistakes, a few things that I want to list here below with the hope they will be of use to African writers who are just starting out.  As with all advice, some of it will be useful and some of it will not.

The Writing Process

  1.  Read and then read some more.  Reading is the apprenticeship that enlarges your creative muscle. Reading is the theory, and writing the practice.
  2.  Have no aesthetic hierarchies.  By this I mean, sometimes the story line that comes to you will require the form of realist fiction, at other times it might lead you to popular genres.
  3.  No one writes a perfect first draft.  And if it appears to happen, it is because the story or poem has been rewritten several times in the writer’s imagination.
  4. Go through multiple drafts before you give your novel to your first reader –their criticism will be more useful then because it will deal with issues such as character development, or the structure of the novel, instead of being bogged down in sentence syntax. Continue reading

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The StoryMoja Hay Festival was founded in 2008 in collaboration with the Hay Festival UK. It is a four day celebration of our stories and culture through storytelling, books, live discussion forums, workshops and music. This year marks the 5th annual event and will be held at The Nairobi National Musuem from 19th September to 22nd September. The theme is ‘Imagine The World: Waza Dunia’.

The festival is a 4 day celebration of our stories, our contemporary culture through story telling books, live performance and music. It will bring together novelists, poets, storytellers and other literary minds for a chance to explore and promote the reading culture in Kenya. This year will feature various guest who will seek to share their experiences. Teju Cole, Paula Kahumbu and Clifton Gachagua are among expected guests.

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Gakunju Kaigwa

Art is an unusual career path even today in Nairobi. How did you consider and become an artist?

I don’t recall any soul searching involved in my decision to pursue art, rather I remember already being set on the path, being in second year of fine art at KU (Kenyatta University) and realising this is what I wanted to do. Art never occured to me as a calling, there was no longing or hunger for it, it chose me in a way.

How did you land on Fine art and eventually sculpture?

I had three choices and I remember filling in Architecture as a second choice. It is said that architecture is the mother of all the arts. who knows? I find architecture to be something like functional sculpture. In university doing Fine Art, you had to pick between areas of art, one in 2d and another in 3d, ceramics never appealed to me much so I ended up choosing sculpture instead.

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When I returned to Lagos, Kafiyah, who knew how stressed I was over the wedding, insisted that we needed a movie night. On our way to Silverbird Cinemas, she said we had to make a quick stop at her house. I had no idea that she had other plans.

“Surprise!”

Startled, I took a step back from the doorway. Kafiyah laughed as she gently pushed me into the room. Eniayo and a beaming Ekanem were among the small group of women. Balloons with wedding bells and streamers were everywhere. Eniayo handed me a sash with “Mrs. Nwosu” printed on it to wear over my clothes. Kafiyah had organized a surprise wedding shower.

Ekanem and I flew into each other’s arms. I had not seen her since her own wedding. She was glowing. Continue reading

On February 15th at 7:30pm, The Nest will host “An Evening with Staceyann Chin” – a book-reading and poetry performance at the Southern Sun Mayfair Hotel.

A proud Jamaican national, Staceyann’s voice was featured on “The Oprah Show,” where she spoke candidly about her experiences of growing up on the island and the dire consequences of her coming out there. Through her work she seeks to question the oppression and the limitations of identity, race, class, sexuality and belonging. In addition to performing in and co-writing the Def Poetry Jam on Broadway, Chin’s work has been published in the New York Times, the Washington Post and the Guardian. Continue reading

I grew up knowing sex was a bad thing. I was born 9 months after my mother was raped. She was only 16 and her mother had forced her to keep the baby.  My mother never let me forget this fact. Every day, she would remind me that men were beasts, that my birth had sealed her fate and ruined her life.

Filled with shame and guilt, I was a shy girl. I avoided all men, even my teachers. High school was not easy for me. My mother took it upon herself to take me to school and pick me up so she could make sure no boys talked to me. I was living in a prison. Continue reading