Saturday, 7 March 2015

"Idioms of Hope" - Review of Tijan M. Sallah's Harrow: London Poems of Convalescence in Re-Markings (India)




            “Idioms of Hope”:

Tijan M. Sallah’s Harrow Poems


Nibir K. Ghosh

Harrow: London Poems of Convalescence by Tijan M. Sallah, the celebrity Gambian poet and icon of contemporary African writings, is a unique departure from the usual socio-political and cultural concerns that he addresses in his earlier works. The poetic terrain in this slender volume, comprising eighteen poems and a “Foreword,” is neither Africa nor America (where Sallah currently lives and works) but a hospital in Harrow, London where, nursing his wounds, he sets out to explore the veritable landscape of the soul crowded with myriad impressions that range from the immediate to the timeless, from the explicitly particular to the inherently universal. The volume is dedicated to Chinua Achebe and Nadine Gordimer, whom Sallah refers to as “two dear friends; two great African heroes.” Sallah mentions in his “Foreword” to the collection how the poems were the outcome of a near-fatal accident, “the child of a harrowing experience in London,” that he had on the night of October 12, 2000: “The poems in this volume were inspired by that tragic episode…They were written in Harrow while convalescing from the accident. Every day, I wrote one poem and read it when the Ward family came. It became a liberating ritual, a catharsis” (10). 

On that fateful October night, narrates Sallah in his “Foreword,” when he walked out of Sheraton Heathrow Hotel to get “a quick dinner” he was caught in unawares when a speeding “saloon car” hit him with tremendous force resulting in extensive fractures on his left femur along with bruises and lacerations. He was rushed to the Middlesex University Hospital in Hounslow, London where he underwent surgery and was then transferred for recovery to The Clementine Churchill Hospital in Harrow (8-9).

The prosaic rendering of the episode that one finds in his “Foreword” is described in great detail in one of the longish poem titled “I Must Not Look Down” where he reflects on his near-brush with death: “For a moment, I thought, as I flew in the air,/ That death has suddenly beckoned me to final rest./ But, thank Great Kindness, I was half-spared./ I now have to reflect and anticipate the best” (25). As he lay in the surgical ward “like a wounded animal,/ Awaiting surgery in painful delirium” he hoped to be rescued from the “pandemonium” of anxiety, pain and anguish by the benevolent “Great Kindness” (27). Even a cursory glance at this poem reveals Sallah’s intrinsic ability to transform graphic prosaic details into exquisite lyrics suffused with rhyme and music.

As a survivor, Sallah finds it comforting to reflect and meditate on the significance of eternal spiritual values that we often tend to lose sight of in our perpetual race for materialistic pursuits, “the world is too much with us” syndrome that William Wordsworth had popularized in his own time. In the poem “Near-Death Experience” Sallah records: “Near-death experience can be religious/ It turned my eyes to the obvious/…./ That mindless seeking of silver and fortune/ Can lead to a spiritual misfortune/ “It seems moderating the passions is the key,/…./ When we are soaked in world-lust, engulfed in the tempting sea/ We should pray daily and be mindful./ If nothing, to our own soul-yearnings be careful” (35).

This mindfulness for spiritual and human values gives Sallah various perspectives to view the trauma of the accident. On the one hand he observes, “Unable to stand on my feet,/ I swallowed the throes of defeat./ …/ Dependency is the child of paralysis;/ I have come to this after much analysis” (“Unable to Stand,”44), while on the other he is quite reluctant to “sue” the driver of the car that hit him. He is quite forthright in stating in “Some Friends Say”: “Some friends say I should sue the driver,/ But I do not want to create a paradise for lawyers./ I do not want to be in their garrulous game./ I do not want to trundle to the courts for fame” (29). Rather than think of penalizing the driver in any way, he allows his humaneness to come to the fore by appreciating the driver’s gesture of heeding to his own conscience and stopping “to cover me with his jacket” (“I Must Not Look Down” 25) instead of running away from the scene of the accident.

The collection takes one through numerous instances that highlight how the human body and mind in torment and agony can draw strength and sustenance from small mercies and endearing human gestures. In “Here I Lie Now” Sallah is quick to appreciate how the love of the friends who come to visit him in the hospital with “warmth in their faces” takes away his mind from the “Dickensian hell I have been in” (13). Even when the Nurse attending on him jokingly says that his funny gait suggests that he must have “stayed at the pub long last night,” he doesn’t feel embittered or sour: “All I know is the nurse jokes with a certain passion;/ I can only think of it as compassion” (“The Nurse Says” 19).

In the poem “Tribute to the Body-Carpenter” he is visibly aware that his “mortal furniture is broken” and that “My body is no better than a broken furniture/ Wobbly it is, and its music squeaks./ Looking like some animated painful picture,/ I move slowly making sure nothing breaks” (16). Yet he feels impelled to acknowledge his debt to the attending surgeon whom he refers to as the “carpenter of scars,/ Who joins muscles and bones with herbs and bark” (17). He reiterates the esteem he shows for the “Body Carpenter” (the doctor) in another poem entitled “Next to God, the Doctor” where he says: “When in pain, next to God, is the doctor…./ The doctor’s words ring true like God’s trombones…./ And the prescriptions must be held with the sacredness of treasure” (20). While dwelling on the healing touch that a doctor imparts through his skills, the poet is reminded of Epicurus, the Greek philosopher, who saw pain and pleasure as “Two sovereign principles” that “Nature bestowed on humanity” (20).

In his famous essay, “The Convalescent,” Charles Lamb had remarked in good humor about the predicament of the convalescent: “…what else is it but a magnificent dream for a man to lie a-bed, and draw day-light curtains about him; and, shutting out the sun, to induce a total oblivion of all the works which are going on under it?” Unlike Lamb, Sallah in Harrow Poems shows his marked preference for allowing his roving mind and sensitive soul to move from wallowing in self-pity in the depressing confines of a hospital ward to encompass “all the works that are going on under” the Sun. In “The Nights Can Be Long” Sallah writes: “I feel tonight like a throbbing newborn,/ But with a history; so without the garment of innocence./ I am conscious of the past, but helplessly forlorn;/ Waiting for time to unfold to morning in patience” (14).

While poems like “Mad Cow” and “The African Penguins” show the poet’s awareness of contemporary events, poems such as “The Maid that Brings” and “A Lesson of History” reveal the poet’s desire to see the present in relation to the past, especially in the context of the English Empire. Harrow, which figures in the title of the present collection, is also the location of “Harrow School,/ Where children of the British elite/ Get groomed for the high seat” (38). In the present time many Asian children are also on the school’s role in keeping with the idea of “The new rainbow-Britain drawn from the global sphere” (“The Maid that Brings” 38). In an ironical tone Sallah remarks: “Britain is really a great place,/ Open to all the world’s cultures and races,/ Wedded by this English, this maxim-tongue,/ That flows like water, and to all belongs” (38). The content of the poem helps one recall postcolonial discourses that can be found in texts like The Empire Writes Back.

The tenor and tone of “A Lesson of History” is no less pungent. Here the poet juxtaposes “England invaded by the magic/ Of aboriginal histories, a rich panache of lore, craft and lyric” with the hard fact that “Empires also smell of aboriginal/ skeletons” (42). Lying on the hospital bed, the poet muses: “I lie down here in this land of Empire./ After it has retreated, reflected, retired./ I am reminded of Hindustan and Bantustans./ Of English incursions into indigenous lands” (43). The poem ends on an ominous note imbued with a prophetic warning: “I am reminded of suppressed histories, buried tongues./…./ England will become the world it vanquished./ Convergence is the future of the invader and the anguished” (43).

Another poem in the collection that needs to be mentioned specifically is “God Save Us.” Here Sallah describes how he awoke one night terrified by a raging storm “That roared all night like a hungry lion, scaring us from sleep” (22). He saw the storm as Nature’s revenge on man for mindlessly playing with the environment for material gains, violating thereby what Rousseau called the “Social Contract.” Aware of the implication of “global warming” he pleads with God thus: “God, save humanity from mindless terror on nature,/ Else, we are doomed to suffer its revenge and torture” (23). It is significant that a convalescent struggling to come to terms with his own pain and agony does not withhold himself from thinking of pressing environmental issues that threaten mankind.

Taken together, these beautiful lyrics can veritably be seen as the dispersed meditations of a sensitive soul in search of panaceas to assuage individual suffering as well as collective misery. If these “idioms of hope” could be for Tijan M. Sallah “a liberating ritual, a catharsis,” there is reason enough to believe that readers will find in this superb collection the urge and the inspiration to create what W.H. Auden outlined in the concluding stanza of his poem, “In Memory of W.B. Yeats”: 
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.


REFERENCE

Harrow: London Poems of Convalescence by Tijan M. Sallah. Leicester: Global hands Publishing, 2014. 56 pp. $ 14.99.

Re-Markings Vol. 14 No.1 March 2015. pp.102-106.

www.re-markings.com
 
- Nibir K. Ghosh
Chief Editor, Re-Markings



Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Sharing Tijan M. Sallah's Response

 
*"Remarkably thorough, sophisticated, and precise. This collection will be useful to readers starting with those who have a general interest in the subject to serious scholars ... this book will serve as a defining text for many years to come given its pivotal position in the history of Gambian writing and to the quality of these essays that bring into bold relied the excellence of Sallah's writing."- Re-Markings, Vol 13 No.3, September 2014

* Cambria Press,  Amherst, New York.


Dear Professor Ghosh,

Thanks a lot for sending me the September 2014 issue of Re-Markings, which has Priscilla Ramsey’s review of Wumi’s book of critical perspectives on my writings.  I am delighted to see the review so positive and I immediately shared it with Cambria Press, the publisher of the book.  They liked the review so much that they decided to upload it in their section of reviews for their books. I am sharing that below, where as you can see “Re-Markings” is featured. I thought you might like to know about this featuring of Re-Markings on the publisher’s website.  By the way,  I also liked the overall issue.



With warm regards,

Tijan

 

P.S.:  My new book of poems, Harrow: London Poems of Convalescence, will be released next January and I will send you a copy.  Maybe someone in India can review it for Re-Markings.

(Tijan M. Sallah is the celebrated Gambian poet associated with the World Bank and is based in the US). 


**Excerpts from Tijan M. Sallah's interview published in the September 2013 issue of Re-Markings:


‘finding beauty in our midst’:

Conversation with Tijan M. Sallah

Nibir K. Ghosh
 
Ghosh: From the diasporic angle, what is your take on the idea of “imaginary homelands”?
 
Sallah: Well, the twentieth and twenty-first century would be the era of “imaginary homelands.”  Many of us live in societies overseas different from where we have our cultural roots. Globalization and the internet have created a flat world where we can communicate and keep in touch instantaneously with our loved ones in our “imaginary homelands.”  Our roots will continue to endure and be relevant to us so long as we remain in touch. The diaspora will continue to be a source of support through re-investments and through lobbying in the northern citadels of power for societies where we have our roots. For us in voluntary or involuntary exile, the uprooted, we will face challenges in our receiving societies where we will have to adapt, but also in culturally giving what is valuable from our roots to our uprooted posterity.

Ghosh: Since you have had an Indian connection, what message would you like to give to young upcoming writers in India?

Sallah: India is on the rise and has much to offer to the world. Young upcoming Indian writers must capture the rich experiences of the current moment of India's interphase with globalization to tell the story of the poor, the disenfranchised, the marginalized, the socially excluded because of, for example, caste, to those fortunate Indians and the world at large ...

The task of the young Indian writer must be that of a chameleon revolutionary, to change colors with the environment in order to see and tell the stories of the true lives of Indians – all for the betterment of India and the world.
 





Saturday, 4 October 2014

Response of Sharan Kumar Limbale, The Icon of Dalit Experience






“My Words are my Weapons”

Conversation with Sharan Kumar Limbale

Nibir K. Ghosh & Sunita Rani
Re-Markings Vol 13 No.3 September 2014, pp. 7-18 
(Excerpts from the interview available in www-remarings.com)  
 
Dear Dr. Ghosh,



Thank you for sending me a copy of the September 2014 issue of Re-Markings carrying our long conversations at Hyderabad. 

On reading the interview, I immediately found myself in a reflective mode. The range and variety of the conversation is simply overwhelming. I strongly feel it is the best conversation I have ever had so far, for it brings to the fore the whole gamut of my experience both as writer and activist. The incisive and insightful questions covering events and issues from the African American diaspora to the interiority of my experience as a progressive Dalit writer prompted me to give my very best. 

I am grateful to you and Sunita ji for taking deep interest in my life and work. Many of the issues and concerns you have raised certainly call for further discussion and debate. I shall deem it a pleasure to have such conversations with you in the immediate future.



With thanks and good wishes for the continuing success of your commendable journal, Re-Markings,



                                                                     - Sharan Kumar Limbale


Monday, 22 September 2014

Don’t cry because it came to an end, smile because it happened - Marquez:






Remembering Gabriel Garcia Marquez
One day in Barcelona, my wife and I were asleep and the doorbell rings. I open the door and a man says to me, “I came to fix the ironing cord.” My wife, from the bed, says, “We don't have anything wrong with the iron here.” The man asks, “Is this apartment two?” “No,” I say, “upstairs.” Later, my wife went to the iron and plugged it in and it burned up. This was a reversal. The man came before we knew it had to be fixed. This type of thing happens all the time. My wife has already forgotten it.  – Gabriel Garcia Marquez (The Atlantic, April 17, 2014).

Though the Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges is usually credited to be the first successful author to use the genre of “magical realism” effectively, it was largely Gabriel Garcia Marquez who demonstrated with remarkable ease the art of integrating elements of fantasy into realistic settings of day-to-day events through his monumental works, One Hundred Years of Solitude and Love in the Time of Cholera. Comprehending the simple fact that “What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it,” Marquez set the scene for a whole new generation of writers like Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, Ben Okri, Louis de Bernieres, Toni Morrison and many others to understand and portray real experiences through perspectives created by magical elements in varying cultures and climes. The best tribute that one can think of in honour of Marquez can be summed up in his own words: “Don’t cry because it came to an end, smile because it happened.” 
- Nibir K. Ghosh, Editorial, Re-Markings Vol 13 No.3, September 2014
 


 "A bird sings because it has a song": Remembering Maya Angelou
  

When great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. 
Spaces fill/ with a kind of
soothing electric vibration. 
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
 We can be. Be and be
 better. For they existed.
- Maya Angelou, “When Great Trees Fall”
      
To those of us who are familiar with the power and the glory of African American writings, the name of Maya Angelou needs no introduction. With the publication of her acclaimed memoir I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings in 1967, she decisively expanded the range and vision of what was hitherto considered the prerogative of the male triangle of influence – Richard Wright, Ralph Ellison and James Baldwin. She dedicated this famous autobiography to her son, Guy Johnson and “all the strong/ black birds of promise/ who defy the odds and gods/ and sing their song.” Inspired by the impact the book created during the peak of the Civil Rights Movement in America, the legendary James Baldwin wrote, “I have no words for this achievement, but I know that not since the days of my childhood, when the people in books were more real than the people one saw every day, have I found myself so moved.” On the death of Maya Angelou, Barack Obama hailed the “Global Renaissance Woman” as “one of the brightest lights of our time – a brilliant writer, a fierce friend and a truly phenomenal woman.” Undeterred by the experiences of racial brutality, Angelou created beautiful lyrics embodying her unshakable faith in eternal human values as is evident from her own words: "A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song." As a poet-activist she affirmed that her mission in life was not merely to survive, but to thrive with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style." 
 - Nibir K. Ghosh, Editorial, Re-Markings Vol 13 No.3, September 2014

Thursday, 20 March 2014

The Emperor of Wit, Humour and Laughter is Dead. Long Live the Emperor!





I had the opportunity of meeting Khushwant Singh, the Emperor of Wit, Humour and Laughter at the "Leslie Sawhney Programme of Training in Democracy" at Hotel Clarks Shiraz, Agra in the late '70s. The meeting, though brief, remains deeply entrenched in my memory. 

I have been a great admirer of Khushwant ever since I read his Train to Pakistan in my undergraduate years. The novel, in my opinion, is one of the best to emerge from the sub-continent's traumatic experience of the Partition. Despite the virtual deluge of literary works available on the theme of Partition today, reading Train to Pakistan continues to remain an unforgettable experience. Above all, it brings to the fore Khushwant's masterly art of story-telling. 

I have been an avid reader of his regular weekly column "With Malice towards One and All" as much as I loved his uncharacteristic flamboyant style that set at naught all hypocritical traditions and limitations to create a canon which only he was capable of creating. It was a pleasure to introduce him to my M.A. English students just the other day through the Sahitya Akademi documentary on the life and work of the legend. I narrated a few jokes from his joke books which the students thoroughly enjoyed. Perhaps, somewhere deep down, I had the premonition that the Emperor was getting ready for his final journey. The laughter that we shared still rings loud and clear amid the surrounding gloom of the vacuum created by his departure for the abode of the immortals, as a befitting tribute to the legend who, until his very last, continued to entertain and enlighten one and all with his writings. May his soul rest in peace that passeth understanding. --Nibir K. Ghosh, March 21, 2014.

Khushwant Singh: in his own words...



“In a humourless nation like ours it doesn’t take much wit to be regarded as a humorist. It came as a very pleasant surprise to me to discover that the first item most of my readers read in my columns is the last one which I usually reserve for a humorous anecdote. The conclusion is clear – we may not have much humour in ourselves but we enjoy it coming from others. A god joke is a tonic for appetites jaded by an unending and unsavoury diet of politics, corruption, religious and social problems…



We Indians are singularly humourless people who find it difficult to laugh unless it is prescribed by a doctor and administered as a dose good for our health. Go to any park in any city and you will see middle-aged men and women with long, sad faces looking as if they had just broken away from a funeral procession for a few minutes to rest their feet before rejoining it.

They line up on a lawn like soldiers on drill and await their leader’s command to begin their exercise. He raises one arm; they fall silent. He brings it down with a jerk, they start laughing – hee, hee, hee – haw, haw, haw – and bray like donkeys for full fifteen minutes. Their leader raises his hand again. They fall silent. Put back their long, sad faces, break lines and rejoin the funeral procession.


I am not sure there will be yet another compilation of my jokes. I hope others will take it up after I have been summoned by the Lord to regale Him with the latest jokes doing the rounds in the world He created.” – Khushwant Singh

Sunday, 9 March 2014

From Amritjit Singh

Hi Nibir, 

Thanks and congrats! Good looking volume with many good pieces.  

Please make sure to send two copies to me. 

Best, Amritjit 
 
Dr. Amritjit Singh is Langston Hughes Professor of English at Ohio University, Athens, U.S.A.

Sharing Comments on Mirrors & Lamps

 
From:
Charles Johnson, National Book Award Winner, the first African American writer to win the award after Ralph Ellison.
 
Nibir, this is a beautiful book! I'm really happy to see that it's close to publication, and that so many of my friends and colleagues (and a former student)have work represented on these pages---Richard Hart, Michael Boylan, Amritjit Singh, Kathleen Alcala. Congratulations on another work of international significance!
 
Three Deep Bows to You,
Chuck
 
Dear Nibir, 
Charles Johnson just shared with me the blog announcing your forthcoming book, Mirrors and Lamps: Global Perspectives.  It looks terrific.  I know Chuck’s piece well, of course, and it is a superb essay.  You are doing very important work.  Many thanks.
   Yours,
Marc C. Conner
 
Dr. Marc C. Conner is Professor of English at Washington and Lee University in Virginia.  He took degrees in English and Philosophy at the University of Washington, followed by the Ph.D. degree in English at Princeton University, and has taught at Princeton and at the University of Notre Dame.  His books include The Aesthetics of Toni Morrison:  Speaking the Unspeakable, and Charles Johnson: The Novelist as Philosopher, both published by the University Press of Mississippi, and The Poetry of James Joyce Reconsidered, forthcoming from Florida.  In addition, Marc has published dozens of essays and book reviews on American and Irish Modernism.