I attended the Kistrech International Poetry Festival in Kisii, Kenya in 2014, at the invitation Dr, Christopher Okemwa whom I had met four years earlier at the XX International Poetry Festival of Medellin, Colombia. He inspired by the international gathering of poets, and their presentations to packed venues decided to take the plunge and start a festival of his own.
Taking part in the Kistrech International Poetry Festival was an unforgettable experience. I had not been back to Africa since 1990 when I left Liberia in the midst of a civil war. It was not West Africa, but Kenya felt like a grandma giving me a big warm hug after not seeing me for a long time. There is an anthology that includes the poems of the participants that we took away as souvenirs.
I have written about this wonderful event, shared with poets from different parts of the world, in two blogs. See links.
I have been repeatedly invited back to the festival but have been unable to attend due to personal reasons. But my relationship with the Festival and its organizer, Dr, Christopher Okemwa, did not end there. He has invited me to contribute to several anthologies, the first inspired by Coronavirus Pandemic.
The anthology is titled, Musings During the time of the Pandemic: A World Anthology of Poems on Covid 2020 and includes three of my poems.
Killing Covid-19
They tried raw rum, pure vodka,
drank Lysol, guzzled bitter chloroquine,
injected disinfectants and
bleaches of different sorts,
recommended by many
and a self-proclaimed king of cures.
It was a battle they lost, a battle won by Covid-19.
They had sacrificed their lives to unproven remedies.
Our unseen specter of death smirked in pleasure.
It’s silent laughter loud as tears of the broken,
loud as the wailing of the living at lives stolen.
Still undefeated, the specter marches on,
and we continue the hunt
in labs and backyards growing healing bushes.
The sly one’s out to find fame,
reap riches on the back of the dying
and peddling cures, too,
in the guise of killing Covid-19.
Home Is Not Always A Haven
Death has arrived invisibly cloaked.
We are ordered by authority
to hide indoors and safeguard our health
from an enemy we cannot see.
Home is our haven.
We cannot meet and embrace,
but we converse via phones and messaging apps,
see and hear those placed high in our hearts.
We binge on our favorite TV shows.
From a safe place, we order what we desire.
Packages and shopping can be delivered
by the masked not out to rob us.
The wealthy in every country,
could jet off to a private island,
drive to a secluded farm,
a country house behind high gates
to live in leisurely isolation.
But not everyone was given time
to put brakes on their livelihoods,
pack pantries, seek masks and sanitizers.
Human life is not deemed sacred in every land.
People caught off guard by Covid-19 proclamations
are belittled, beaten back with whips,
tear gas, bullets, and ordered to their homes.
Home is not always a haven,
it is a jam-packed room, a park bench,
a small space on the sidewalk,
a carton box under a bridge,
a place of diseases and viruses.
Staying
Alive 2020
We wear masks that fog our glasses,
block our breathing,
hold back the droplets
of our coughs, and sneezes.
We’re cautioned against hugging those we love
so we don’t pass on invisible death
that clings to our palms, puckered lips,
our reaching fingertips.
We sanitize our hands
when entering and departing buildings
so death doesn’t cross the finish line
the same time as we do.
We skirt passers-by on the street
and try to be discreet in our dodging
‘cause death is attached to everything.
Staying alive has become our goal,
the mantra dancing in our head
and we walk to the Bee-Gees* beat,
‘cause to stay alive, we have to put
the wings of heaven on our feet.*
* The Bee Gees were an Australian pop music group formed in 1958.
* “Got the wings of heaven on my shoes,” Line from the
Bee-Gee’s lyrics, “Staying Alive.”
The
anthology after that was titled, I Can’t Breathe, An Anthology of Poetic
Justice, 2021
It includes the following poems: "Hunted" and "Another One Bites the Dust."
Hunted
He banged on the door,
flew inside looking back
as though death snapped at his heels.
We watched his chest heave,
watched him try to catch his breath.
Fear occupied his eyes,
pumped in his ribcage.
We waited for him to arrive at calm
in his safe space—home with
father, mother, sisters,
a black family in a European country.
And then he spat out the horror—
Neo-Nazis had chased him tonight
in the city center.
He, a teenager, was hunted down by those
who wished to rid their land
of all things foreign.
A news caption had lit up in his head
as he fled, put long legs in front of the other—
Neo-Nazis Beat African Doctor to Death,
tells him to go back to the jungle.
Witnesses recalled
the gorilla sounds they made
as they crushed the doctor’s bones.
Another One Bites the Dust
No more a rookie cop,
he does not want to wait long
to fulfill his bucket list—
to shoot
a human target,
preferably black,
‘cause growing up
he was told
their lives didn’t matter.
They don’t need to be running,
or doing anything.
Just putting their hands
in their pocket
is a probable cause.
It will take more
than one bullet
to take them down.
So the no-more rookie-cop
aims his gun at a black man
and fires,
not counting the shots.
And finally, the newest anthology, Kenya Through A
Foreign Lens; A Collection of Poems, Vol 1, 2022 is out this week. It is a
smaller collection and features poems written by poets who attended the Kistrech
event from 2013 to 2019: Althea Romeo-Mark (Switzerland), Professor Arif
Khudairi (Egypt), Dr. Diti Ronen (Israel), Daniel H. Dugas (Canada), Godspower
Oboido (Nigeria), Hilde Susan Jaegtnes (Norway), Joanna Lundberg (Finland),
Katharina Koppe (Germany), Lauri GarcÃa Dueñas (Mexico), Valerie Leblanc
(Canada), Libor Martinek (Czech Republic), and Dr. Molly Joseph (India).
My poem in this anthology is called “Back in Your Arms Again.”
Back in Your Arms
Again
(tribute to Kisi villagers)
Every day you walk in dirt and dust, live on the land,
live in the warmth of earth’s bosom,
smell daily her dewy breath as you dig into her
fertile sod.
You share the joys of earth’s giving.
They are the fruit of the seed, the fruit of the roots
you planted.
They are placed before us, strangers on your soil.
You give us all you have—plump, roasted, sweet
potatoes,
bananas, long, fat, and short, succulent sugarcane
stalks
and cups of millet porridge.
You dance and sing for us. The joy you spread
is measured by the bounce in our walk,
the loudness of our laughter.
What we take with us is more than postcard memories.
Another life can be lived if we allow ourselves to
take part in it.
We must become like a snake, shed our skin.
© Althea Romeo-Mark
Born in Antigua, West Indies, Althea Romeo-Mark is an educator and writer who grew up in St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands. She has lived and taught in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, USA, Liberia (1976-1990), London, England (1990-1991), and Switzerland since 1991. Althea Romeo Mark is the author of two full-length poetry collections, The Nakedness of New, If Only the Dust Would Settle, (English-German), three chapbooks, Beyond Dreams: The Ritual Dancer (chapbook), Two Faces, Two Phases (chapbook), and Palaver (chapbook) and a poetry collaboration, Shu-Shu Moko Jumbi: The Silent Dancing Spirit.
This anthology includes poems by Althea Romeo-Mark and prose and poetry from participants in a Black Writers’ workshop conducted at Kent State University. Some recent publications include: Short Story,”Easter Sunday,” published The Sunday Observer, Jamaica, 24.04 2022, www.jamaicaobserver.com;Poems, “She,” and “ Scalded Dreams” published in Shakti: The Feminine Principle, Energy & Lifeforce, an international anthology of poetry, KKPC Publishing, India, 2022; Short story “Wimmelskafts’ Hill,” published in Bookends, The Daily Observer, Jamaica, 30.01.22, www.jamaicaobserver.com; Three poems, “Dopo Di Te..” ( After you..), “Un Pinguini Si Congeda,” (A Pinguin Takes Its Leave,” and “L’Ultima Traversata,”(The Final Crossing) published in Antologia di Poesia, Contemporanea Internazionale, Universalia, Trento, Italy, 2021;Three poems, “Carrying the Spirit of a Siafu,” “Nyam,” and “The Endless Tugging,” published in Letters from the Self to the World, Abrazos, DoveTales 10th Anniversary anthology, A Writing for Peace Publication, 2021
I marvel at and I am amazed by what you are able to do with words, fellow-poet, Althea Romeo-Mark. Are these not words that are available to everybody, that are in everybody's possession? How therefore in your possession, words become as charged as they are? Reading through your so-amazingly-well-crafted poems above, the metaphor that arose is that their lines are like root crop: sweet potatoes, yams, cascara, etc., bursting from the soil, ready for harvesting. Yes, your words nourish similarly. Thank you for the meals that your poems provide. With them to read, I know plenty; no need to hunger at all.
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