05 Jun The Iowa Writers Program
Recently, the Dadaab Theater Project participated in a masterclass taught by poets Major Jackson and Jenny Browne during the Iowa Writers Program mission to Dadaab. Ojullu Opiew Ochan, member of the Dadaab Theater Project, shared his work with the poets and during the engagement wrote a few new poems that he would like to share to the world.
Iowa Writers Workshop
Yesterday I was a tortoise
That lay in the sun on the bank
Of placid waters lake.
Today I get small wings like
A tiny butterfly getting on the branches
Of flowers with very different colours.
Tomorrow I will be green and beautiful
Like paradise with all types of creatures.
I will grow up and become older and older
And then I die.
Who will be called Ojullu again?
You can’t count it
The sun will rise and set
The dust will come and let the dawn come to
The morning
There is no scent of the morning
Today is like yesterday
No one should give us the opportunity to tie a
Tie like those who tie a tie
No happy giggling of children and laughter of mother
There is no game the fish and rivers No dance
Only dark memories of violence that come in our mind.
Its all grief and suffering, mourning and pain
Our hope and future has already died
The vulture has snatched away our hope
The nest of faith has torn apart
Here we are, moving from place to place
No place to lay our head, no rest, no place to call
Our home.
Our beautiful land has turned to a rough land of draught
No permanent place.
You can’t count our destruction on fingers.
We are lost and lost
All you can see is a plopping tear on people’s chests
Weariness and sorrow line our faces
Our dreams have come to nothing
When shall our land regain its soul?
When will we play in Gilo river?
You can’t count our destruction on your fingers.
Healing Comes After Great Pain
Dark clouds can gather and form a rains
Night will come and let the soft wind blow through the
Twig leaves of trees, form a dew on the grass
The sun will shine in the morning and melt the dew
On the grass
I cannot point the color of rainbows, one by one
The row of the Gazelle standing outside the village
Gaze at the dogs who are laying around the fire
It is pain in my mind, pain in my heart, pain in my
Soul
I remember thinking that even though my body was
Going to be full of scars and my leg broken from being
Beaten up by my enemy.
I will still rise up and fight for what I believe in without
Any offence
I don’t know what my future could be
So I seek to be able to enter into the world of the
Poor and live with the mystery of suffering.
I saw that I had to enter into my own experience
Of pain and face up to it. I allow myself to be changed by it.
I saw that healing comes after great pain
I felt worried about those who are sick, the pain in their
Face, all depression of the hurt inside.
It was only when I escaped from my country that
I began to feel their condition, through what had
Happened to me in my country.
Guest of Iowa
How do I start?
The sunbird set on the branch
Of a tree sucking the nectar from flowers.
When queen bee left the waxcomb
to collect the nectar and
carried it on her back legs.
It is the sweet day in my life.
The marking day of my future.
The image of my beautiful mother.
I saw the sweat coming out through
The holes of my hairs cascaded down
On my lap.
This day has reminded me about that day
I killed the Gazelle
The honourable guests of Iowa.
Not guests only, but poets
Not poets only, but professionals,
Not professionals only, but my furtherance,
Not furtherance only, But refulgent of
My future.
I saw them smile at me with
Their glistening heart
I heard them saying my name
I hear it from their mouth
I saw their happiness on their face
Saying “yes you are”, “you did it”
“it is your turn”.
I haven’t seen a professor in my life
Before. I keep asking myself many
Questions about a professor.
What kind of person he or she is?
But today all my questions have
Been answered. I saw them
I know them now! We exchange
With them
Guests of Iowa
This will be the great day in my life
The backbones of poets
The author of the world poetry
Yes they are
The breathtaking words they said
That kept me fidgeting
I was pent-up to speak
How do I start?
Longing
I long for all dark clouds of smoke that accumulate and gather against us. And the all their weapons that forge a metal shield to scatter and turn into rains will cascade on bare land making a seed of grass to sprout and produce beautiful flowers of all kinds and let the whole world say “wow” to open their mouth together say “yes to peace!” “no to war!”
By: Ojullu Opiew Ochan
Ehtiopian National
Under refuge here in Kenya at Dadaab