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POET LAUREATE INTERVIEW WITH DAMILOLA OJIKUTU

The poet laureate is easily one of our biggest events as a community. Just as the Nobel Prize is bestowed on an individual who has done exceptionally well in a particular field, with the poet laureate, we seek to honour and crown an outstanding creative every year.

We make sure that our themes border on heavy African narratives. For last year, we had “sankofa yenkyi”, a Ghanaian word from the Akan tribe that means “it is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten.”

african futurism

Call For Submissions: Africanfuturism!

 

Nnedi Okorafor defines Africanfuturism as “a sub-category of science fiction that is similar to ‘Afrofuturism’ but more deeply rooted in African culture, history, mythology, and point-of-view as it then branches into the Black diaspora, and it does not privilege or center the West.” 

Here at TVO TRIBE,

We believe Africanfuturism transcends science fiction. We want interested writers, poets, scribblers, and artists to explore what Africanfuturism specifically means to them. Do you think Africa is evolving or not? What are your projections for Africa? We want you to create timeless pieces by making a blend of African culture, history, myths, and literature. 

In the month of May,

TVO tribe will be talking about Africanfuturism. We will attempt to explore all of its mysterious depths and lay bare its many hidden layers. You are an important part of this discussion, and so we urge you to join us.

Dissect this theme with us.

Write your opinions laden with facts about Africanfuturism, express yourself artistically by making submissions relating to the theme. Write to us aesthetics, contents, and everything that lies in between. TVO TRIBE is a safe space and we are open to everyone. We accept articles, poems, personal accounts, stories, creative nonfiction, and photos that relate to the theme.

We want to read your fears, the things that please you, your beautiful writings, the ones that are stuck in your throat like a fishbone. Show us the pieces you think are deviants and the ones that conform to rules. Send us everything you have!

We encourage you to be as expressive as possible, stylistically pleasing while creating aesthetic pieces as your submission. Please check our submission guidelines for further details.

Submit to: contributions@tvotribe.com

Deadline: 1st May, 2021

For more info, please visit: www.tvotribe.com/contributions

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SIX Poems for every Black Woman on Women’s Day

We compiled six beautiful poetry pieces to share with your African Prima-Donna and to make sure you let them know how much you love them.

www.tvotribe.com

Black Woman by Leopold Sedhar Senghor

Naked woman, black woman

Clothed with your colour which is life,
with your form which is beauty!

In your shadow I have grown up; the
gentleness of your hands was laid over my eyes.

And now, high up on the sun-baked
pass, at the heart of summer, at the heart of noon,
I come upon you, my Promised Land,
And your beauty strikes me to the heart
like the flash of an eagle.

Naked woman, dark woman

Firm-fleshed ripe fruit, sombre raptures
of black wine, mouth making lyrical my mouth
Savannah stretching to clear horizons,
savannah shuddering beneath the East Wind’s
eager caresses

Carved tom-tom, taut tom-tom, muttering
under the Conqueror’s fingers

Your solemn contralto voice is the
spiritual song of the Beloved.

Naked woman, dark woman

Oil that no breath ruffles, calm oil on the
athlete’s flanks, on the flanks of the Princes of Mali
Gazelle limbed in Paradise, pearls are stars on the
night of your skin

Delights of the mind, the glinting of red
gold against your watered skin

Under the shadow of your hair, my care
is lightened by the neighbouring suns of your eyes.

Naked woman, black woman,
I sing your beauty that passes, the form
that I fix in the Eternal,

Before jealous fate turn you to ashes to
feed the roots of life.

I am a Black Woman by Mari Evans

I am a black woman
the music of my song
some sweet arpeggio of tears
is written in a minor key
and I
can be heard humming in the night
Can be heard
humming
in the night

I saw my mate leap screaming to the sea
and I/with these hands/cupped the lifebreath
from my issue in the canebrake
I lost Nat’s swinging body in a rain of tears
and heard my son scream all the way from Anzio
for Peace he never knew….I
learned Da Nang and Pork Chop Hill
in anguish
Now my nostrils know the gas
and these trigger tire/d fingers
seek the softness in my warrior’s beard

I am a black woman
tall as a cypress
strong
beyond all definition still
defying place
and time
and circumstance
assailed
impervious
indestructible
Look
on me and be
renewed.

To a Dark Girl by Gwendolyn B. Bennett

I love you for your brownness
And the rounded darkness of your breast
I love you for the breaking sadness in your voice
And shadows where your wayward eye-lids rest.

Something of old forgotten queens
Lurks in the lithe abandon of your walk
And something of the shackled slave
Sobs in the rhythm of your talk

Oh, little brown girl, born for sorrow’s mate
Keep all you have of queenliness
Forgetting that you were once were slave
And let your full lips laugh at Fate!

My Black Triangle by Grace Nichols

My black triangle
sandwiched between the geography of my thighs

Is a Bermuda
of tiny atoms
forever seizing
and releasing
the world

My black triangle
is so rich
that it flows over
on to the dry crotch
of the world

My black triangle
is black light
sitting on the threshold
of the world

Overlooking deep-pink
probabilities

and though
it spares a thought
for history
my black triangle
has spread beyond his story
beyond the dry fears of parch-ri-archy

spreading and growing
trusting and flowering
my black triangle
carries the seal of approval
of my deepest self

To Black Women by Gwendolyn Brooks

Sisters,
where there is cold silence
no hallelujahs, no hurrahs at all, no handshakes,
no neon red or blue, no smiling faces
prevail.
Prevail across the editors of the world
who are obsessed, self-honeying and self-crowned
in the seduced arena.

It has been a
hard trudge, with fainting, bandaging and death.
There have been startling confrontations.
There have been tramplings. Tramplings
of monarchs and of other men.

But there remain large countries in your eyes.
Shrewd sun.

The civil balance.
The listening secrets.
And you create and train your flowers still.

Black Woman by Georgia Douglas Johnson

Don’t knock at my door, little child,
     I cannot let you in,
You know not what a world this is
     Of cruelty and sin.
Wait in the still eternity
     Until I come to you,
The world is cruel, cruel, child,
     I cannot let you in!

Don’t knock at my heart, little one,
     I cannot bear the pain
Of turning deaf-ear to your call
     Time and time again!
You do not know the monster men
     Inhabiting the earth,
Be still, be still, my precious child,
     I must not give you birth!

© by owners. Republished by TVOTRIBE for educational purposes.

We hope you had a nice, heart-warming read!

If you’re new to us, welcome Home.



gerontocracy in africa

Sugar Cubes

SUGAR CUBES           || Ibiteye Overcomer

Ballot boxes are metaphors for sugar cubes:

Dazzling, inviting, brides of anthills.

Glazed cartons holding frail fragments

of truth, justice, sweetness, of anthills.

Brazen walls of power that makes their builders vulnerable,

or is it the builders that make themselves vulnerable?

Could it be that between the petulant layers of history

and the creamy strands of change,

brittleness is being used as cement?

Ballot boxes are metaphors for sugar cubes:

Bright, luminous,

dissolving on the tongues of thugs and grey-haired godfathers.

Dissolving into nothingness.

This land swallows colors and spits out shadows.

Feeble legs walk on corridors of power with

walking sticks,

while youthful lips are forced to mold into silence

and writhe beneath the whispers of fear.

Threnodies of the sixties on replay,

withered policies of the seventies on display,

masses left to do nothing but pray.

Yet, every morning, I stand by my window and watch

as the sun rises,

as it ignites hope in me.

A hope that one day, we’ll rise in our youthful agility,

flex our fingers

and rip out the brittleness in our sugar cubes,

that we’ll repair the creaky staircases of power

and climb up to leadership,

that doggedly, without compromise,

we’ll chase the anthills away.

BIO

Ibiteye Overcomer is a twenty-year-old Nigerian. She is an avid reader and a poet who uses poetry as a means to express her views and thoughts about pressing matters with ease. You will find her on Instagram @bimolaovercomer.

Read also: 4 African Authors You Didn’t Know Were Imprisoned For Activism

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February: The Realization of Sankofa

For us on the tribe, February means more than a month to love and live. It means restoring family by taking time to revisit the past season and create measures to choose the best way forward.
This month the tribe team will take a step back to focus on in-house activities. We would need your help to make this season work.

What you can expect from us

• Usual but not so consistent content delivery.

• Beautifully crafted articles as usual.

• Reengineering and replanning strategic points in the tribe.

• Recruitment of new team members

• Opportunity for monthly themed contributions.

What you shouldn’t expect from us.


Our community managers; they will be taking some time to rest.
Editing space; we are working on building ourselves to be better.
Community engagement; this will now be moderated by tribesmen.
Featured posts by tribesmen will be taking a break.

While we are away, we will connect our present to our past to foresee our future.
We hope to rest well enough to give you our best.

Why Literary Organisations Ask For Previously Unpublished Entries


A number of people still view publications from the stand point of what it was some years back when the only thing considered as published are those ones put down in black and white as hard copies. This would still remain the truth in the absence of evolving technology.
The evolution of technology has undeniably changed the face of everything we do as humans. Over time, technology has become the measure of value for our thoughts, actions, decisions and even our ability to be creative as writers.
Publication is a noun derived from the Latin word “publicare” which means to make something public. Vocabulary.com defines a publication as something made to communicate with the public. This explains that works posted on a website, blog, social media page, an open e-literary journal or any other media, which is accessible by the public, is a published work.
It is no news that most literary organizations clamor for unpublished entries when they call for submissions. Most people wonder why this is now a governing principle in the literary world.

Read also: How To Win A Literary Competition

Why Do Literary Organisations Call For Unpublished Entries

Imagine a situation where your aunt promised to get you a pair of shoes. I’m sure you will be excited. Now, imagine her giving you the same shoe your cousin wears or the exact shoe you got two months ago. That will definitely be way lower than what you expected. Just like you, organizations need spanking new, unconventional, exclusive, and original entries.

An unpublished entry is a test of creativity. Literary organizations believe that you as a creative should be able to prove and defend your creativity at any given time.

The need to stay away from copyright infringement is one major reason why any literary organization will insist on having a piece that has never been published.

Nobody goes after what he already has, we only go after things that aren’t within our reach. A reader who has read your already published entry will not be enthusiastic about seeing the same thing on another space. Literary organizations believes readers are hungry men and they want to feed their hunger with something unusual every time readers turn to them for milk.

Thanks for reading through!