Zakiyyah Dzukogi: What is the process of writing a poem like for you? Is it a lot of hard work or easy?
Amrah Aliyu: I appear to like I got it all figured out with the happy exterior and the very expressive side but the truth is I am a very shy person and hardly speak about my fears… every time I stand to speak, it is to suppress that shy self…
So the process of writing a poem for me is like living the truth or living through experiences, most times it is getting to write all that stuff that I can’t talk about, or what I see that is shocking/ traumatizing … It is like switching off the light to write down my vulnerabilities when no one is watching. When I read aloud and shed a tear, it’s ready to be devoured.
Zakiyyah Dzukogi: Please describe your sense of identity in this or any possible world in imagery or metaphor.
Amrah Aliyu: I am the mirror with a crack, the tears of an indigo laughter
Zakiyyah Dzukogi: If any of your poems could literarily save a person’s life, which poem would it be and can you describe the person whose life you think it would have saved?
Amrah Aliyu: I have a couple of poems that yearn to save someone. Because of my love for activism, I have grown to be passionate about issues that affect women/ girls and the well-being of our society in general so I exhume a ray of hope.
I will share two poems closest to my heart with you ;
YOU SHALL RISE AGAIN; was inspired by the woman who I watched glow and dim; my grandmother, she raised me and so even before this poem I tried to heal her with prayers, I wrote a few lines a day before she died. I was on my way to school at the time for a test when I began to scribble in the handout I was supposed to be studying. I finished writing it in my head two days after she died. Then I was still in denial. See she did rise. It reads;
YOU SHALL RISE AGAIN
Sweet was dawn When your smile
Was golden wine
I will write vour name On the walls of the sky So when it rains
I’ll soak my body In your warmth You are rain Falling for dreams For greens
I will sneak into dusk
And chant you a verse
I will sneak into the tomb
Into its depths
And chant you a verse
Even if my voice gets sore
I shall chant
I shall hold you close
Kiss your feet
And caress your frail hands
I shall chant the sleeping sun a verse Until it rises again
The Girl Next Door was inspired by a revolution of this underage girl next door waiting in line to be married off to an old man.
It reads:
THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
She is oiled mahogany or the shade of almond just before it is touched.
Crispy.
An ocean of wonder, her eyes
soften in between wet morning rays. Something lights a rare jewel you adore.
At noon, words
move around; cloaks have a need Time spent on stage dancing.
A pair of pains, a face
for the night; her shoes
are hers alone.
Hush my body, she
cries. The time
her henna and lock
her in a speechless room. Scream; scream so loud
until they know you
are not just a pretty face.
Both The Girl Next Door and You Shall Rise Again are part of my collection of poems titled Breasts are names of flowers.
Zakiyyah Dzukogi: What does Africa mean to you, as potential or reality?
Amrah Aliyu: Africa means hustle, revolution, and hope to me for I have learned over time that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and that hard work pays so I try to write about hope for the country and all the things I hope to see soon.
Zakiyyah Dzukogi: Could you share with us one poem you’ve been most impressed or fascinated by? Tell us why and share your favourite lines from it.
Amrah Aliyu: A poem I have been most fascinated about is a poem I recently read from the young AFRICAN poets anthology: The fire that has dreamed of titled When it Comes to Men by Titilope Odeyinka. I find the piece relatable because it is oftentimes the reality of women and reading this poem felt like women are beginning to speak about what they see or experience.
It reads:
i.
My aunt’s waist beads make sake see sounds as she walks, swaying her hips You can hear them if you are next to her.
She says they give her power over men
Power to make the neighbour’s husband hers
Till she burns her name into his memory only releasing him when she is sure every part of him smells like her
ii.
My grandma says all men are the same.
She says this while stirring the pot and kisses her teeth; “They are all shit and want your loving and babying Why waste all your energy
on a man, if he doesn’t have any money?
Poor men don’t deserve to be loved.”
She kisses her teeth again
iii.
Mother swears the only way to keep a man is to serve him. “Make him the god you can see If your husband says go, who are you to say come?”
And even after kneeling and grovelling,
he might leave you one day, take all his money with him
to a woman with bigger titties and a smaller waist
And even after that child, you must pray
Like she does on her knees every night for my father
to come back to his family.
Sometimes, the words become rocks in her throat and she breaks into a sea midsentence.
AMRAH ALIYU is the author of Breasts are names of flowers and a women and girl’s rights advocate. She has ample experience in the implementation of media advocacy.
She is passionate about leveraging social media, creative writing, and community outreach to create a safe environment for the vulnerable in her community.
For the past years, her activism has focused on creating realistic awareness around gender inclusivity and gender-based violence.
She is the Executive Director of Salma Attah Foundation for Women & Girls Support; a non-profit organisation designed to make women and girls develop skill sets that will guarantee positive impacts in their lives. She is formerly a welfare officer of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) Niger State chapter. Her works have been published in both local and international creative writing channels.
When Amrah is not doing activism, writing, or media work, she could be found trying out some new adventures.
Her works can be found via the following:
Salmah Attah For Women And Girls Suport , Linkedin , Facebook , Instagram & Twitter
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