For some reason, my then-class mistress singled me out of the kids to run her errands, having me go to the post office whenever she had a letter to post, this was often a weekly or every fourth night. These letters, I went to the post office for were the foundation of my creative writing path. I didn’t know this simple errand would be an adaptation that would follow me into adulthood and later become an integral part of my life.
So when in the psych ward in 2016, words leaked out of me like pus, I did not worry about the boundary of this or that. Cows and pigeons filled the room from the fields of childhood. I let the sun be a coin, did not resist seeing the moon’s arc as a shiny scar in the night sky.
Through poetry, I was able to express the inexpressible, to give voice to the emotions that threatened to consume me. I wrote about love, loss, longing, hope and the universal human experiences that connect us all.
I’ve carried that mindset in every piece I write, I never use my phone to write. Instead I lock myself away with my laptop that only has Microsoft word paired with a thought-racing mind. Most times before I write a good poem I’m very hungry, I probably wouldn’t have eaten the whole day. Me being uncomfortable pushes my brain to lock in, not get distracted and finish the work so I can be comfortable again.
Since I was born, daddy bought us books. He was a writer himself, writing stories in notebooks that ended up in corners of the house, unpublished. Had my father been born in more recent times, he’d be a great writer, I think.
Although a chapbook of very short poems (which seems like the poets’ attempt to test the water of critical reception), part of the aesthetic appeal of the collection is the poets’ use of language.
I was becoming so good, too good that I could write someone’s destiny. So when my muse became tired of my poetic praises and my love, I lost all purpose. Soon I became an empty quill. Speechless. I reduced myself to a spectator, attending poetry events and festivals in Kano, Abuja, Kaduna or wherever I could, and from afar I’d cheer online performers in Orange Poetry, Hilltop or Alitfest, while I go snap, snap, snap, or fire emoji, fire emoji.
While growing as a little girl, I found pleasure in looking at the sky.
Renowned author, Aminatta Forna, once said, “If you want to know a country, read its writers.” Perusing Christopher Okigbo’s literary works would teach you of Biafra—a mirage of a country.
Under the aegis of PIN ARTHUB, Nigeria's leading spoken word poet, Sage Hassan is set to lead a team of A-list performance/spoken word poets to the 26th edition of Lagos Book and Art Festival (LABAF). In the team are the foremost Comrade Poet and curator of Aj House of Poetry in Lagos, Dagga Tolar, award winning storyteller and poet Toby Abiodun, artist/performance poet, Evelyn D'Poet, winner of several performance and spoken word poetry contests, Kemi Bakare (aka Kemistree), Adigun Olushola (Solaspeaks) and renowned performance/spoken word poets, Bold Seth, Tirwister Tiwistar, Solutionist Clementina and Jacob Sukpa respectively.
