Like jazz music, I believe that poetry as an art form has been grossly misunderstood – over rated even. People who do not appreciate poetry usually find most poets and poems elitist, pretentious and annoying. I must confess that I hail from a fairly strong literature background – I have always loved reading and writing; although poetry is the one aspect of literature I grew to initially hate. I only started to develop a meaningful appreciation for the art form much later in life, after high school, when I started to discover on my own, modern-day poets and poems as opposed to the norm at school, where poetry is rammed down students’ throats like some kind of religious canon. “William Shakespeare is the most famous English poet and playwright of all time. He died some four centuries ago, but he still lives through his words. So you must read Shakespeare.” Such kind of stuff. That is how most poetry lovers and even poets are introduced to poetry through the formal education system. I find formal poetry to be unbearably stiff, only comparable to reading the lyrics to a song without ever listening to the song. Some things just get lost along the way – nuance, depth, texture, tone, complexity …, name it. The other major put-off with academic-style poetry is the insistence on aesthetic aspects like poetic form and scheme. Why should I be concerned so much about form and meter as opposed to the message embodied in the poem? So basically, one could fulfill all the form and schematic requirements that qualify one’s poem as a sonnet, ballad, dramatic, narrative or lyric poem, without necessarily writing an interesting poem. The case for poetry in Rwanda Traditional Rwandan poetry is refreshingly different, in that the focus in less on form but the subject in the poem. But local practitioners face one major challenge; having to communicate to a multi-lingual crowd. Hence the typical poetry events in town will have entries in three different categories; Kinyarwanda, English, and French poems. But this has also been a blessing in disguise, considering that Rwanda is a unilingual country. The net effect is that, today, as has been the case over the years, some of the biggest names in Rwandan poetry still happen to be those that deliver their poems in their native language. This is very important in the preservation of Kinyarwanda as a language, since poets are the essential custodians of language. Otherwise, the continued intermarriage of Kinyarwanda with elements of other languages would have posed a serious threat of gross dilution to the language. But even a poem in Kinyarwanda still comes with its own woes; “Some traditional words have been lost. If I start to speak according to the very modern language which is newer, the older generation will dismiss me as not worthy of the title of poet. They will complain that he is joking because he is using poor language. But if I use standard language, my generation will lose track because their language has been mixed with others,” explains Bahati Innocent, who, at 23, is one of the youngest crop of Rwandan poets. In neighbouring countries like Uganda and Kenya, for instance, where a multiplicity of languages are spoken, the official language – English – becomes the natural point of convergence for the respective country’s’ poets. In most of these countries, young people especially do not even know that poetry can be written and performed in their native tongue. Rwanda can’t afford this luxury for the obvious reason that Kinyarwanda remains the only language that unifies the whole nation, making other languages like English and French to play peripheral roles. For many Rwandans, poetry is one of those rare avenues through which they get to vent their grief and anger at past tragedy, especially the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi. Poetry, therefore, also becomes an avenue through which people try to understand the politics of the day, by linking present to past. It is through a past poetry slam competition, for instance, that I learnt of the tragedy of Gaudiose Mukandahinyuka, a woman who lost all her family and relations in the Genocide. Imagine being in this world without a single blood relation! In the end she decided to get married as the only way to maintain her blood line. Away from preserving the memory of the Genocide, traditional Rwandan poetry also helps celebrate and showcase the country’s rich cultural norms and traditions. This is why many local poets usually turn up for their performances dressed in traditional attire. Some will even go ahead and carry along other cultural regalia like animal hides, spears, and traditional music instruments like the Inanga and umuduli, which are a staple at local poetry events. In a way, the Rwandan poetry scene perfectly echoes the words of Irina Bokova, the director general of the United Nations Educational and Scientific Organisation (UNESCO) on the occasion of the World Poetry Day in March last year. “By giving form and words to that which has none – such as the unfathomable beauty that surrounds us, the immense suffering and misery of the world – poetry contributes to the expansion of our common humanity, helping to increase its strength, solidarity and self-awareness,” Bokova said. Nizigama Ella Carmene, a student at Wellspring Academy has a powerful and moving poem, My Melanin is Beautiful, a tribute to her black skin. Does her melanin offend you? Does it darken your sight? Her melanin is the darkness that shines brighter than gold in a room full of light It’s even brighter at night But you don’t see that You don’t allow yourself to see that but you see even if you stomp on her skin, you will not dim her light …” she starts her poetic assault, continuing; Her complexion is not just a reflection, it is the root of self The mother of all self, and with her passive aggression, her melanin showers you with affection regardless of your suppression towards her community. Just like most of the other poets who can afford it, she recently shot a video clip to the poem, which is usually played on projector screen as she performs. If anything, a video clip makes a poem more complete than just a stage performance. In it, she is able to cleverly squeeze in other aspects of Rwandan culture to bring the poem home. We can see traditional Rwandan dances, the smiles and joy on the faces of ordinary Rwandans, the beautiful and hilly landscapes … Other poems carry less weighty and more personal themes; At a poetry slam dubbed “Kigali Vibrates with Poetry” in February, youthful Hakeem Nzeyimana took the day with his masterful performance of Priceless Treasure, a poem about his young family (wife and daughter) that was also present at the event. More than anything, such poems help break the ice caused by negative stereotypes about poetry as some pretentious philosophical pursuit. Poetry is about the life around us, about our own lives, about what illuminates us and what makes us sad. At the lastest such poetry slam at the Impact Hub in Kigali last weekend, another such poet emerged by the names of Patrick Mazimpaka, a student at University of Rwanda’s College of Education. Mazimpaka’s poem Gacupa (bottle) tackles the subject of alcoholism, and he assumes the persona of the village drunk, sauntering onto stage with a beer bottle tightly clutched in his left fist, before proceeding to extol the virtues of alcohol. Gratien Kashori, another poet, materialised on stage menacingly wielding a machete, and spotting a partially bandaged face. Everyone initially thought it was a poem about the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi but it wasn’t. Kashori’s poem was instead about someone who is fighting for women’s rights in Africa. I refuse, that you are violated, I refuse, that you are a victim of violence I will fight for your rights, woman of Africa …
