A drizzly grey day brings the promise of Autumn, and with Halloween approaching, I’m thinking ghosts and ghouls and fantastical monsters on the reading list.
Fledgling by Octavia Butler
Tuti Island
More news from September and this time from my world of art, with my painting, ‘Tuti Island’ appearing in the Menduina Schneider 6th Salon of Painting.
It’s wonderfully inspiring to exhibit alongside such a diverse range of international artists, and this piece, from my hand-painted mosaic collection, holds significance since it tells the personal story of a turtle I once met while living in the Sudan.
To listen to the story, click here for the you tube video. Read on for the extended version:
Happy Reading!
Tuti Island
In the shade of a steel truss bridge she stands,
On a not-so-deserted strip of sand,
Red fiery sun akin to warm Sudanese smiles,
At this place of confluence of the Blue and White Nile,
Behind her, Khartoum, a tale of two rivers,
And bustling streets, but her gaze drifts and lingers,
As young lads fish a turtle to torment,
She walks over to barter with intent.
Downriver she finds a secluded spot,
A safe place where the turtle won’t be recaught,
The turtle looks on at the water with longing,
But ‘Khawaja’, ‘foreigner’, the boys are calling.
In the mid-day sun, she heads further downstream,
Past crocodile watchers, asleep, so it seems,
Nervous, she casts an eye on the water,
Boys still following, unfazed by danger.
Her basket rustling, she heads for home,
Across the White Nile bridge to Omdurman.
Her sink becomes a makeshift pond,
For a turtle, of which she grows so fond.
When its skin begins to flake and dry,
She rubs fish oil into its leathery hide,
Days pass and still no-where to go,
With a turtle who needs a river for home.
Bemused smiles from friends sipping mint tea,
To see a turtle burrowing beneath her knees,
After call for prayer customary tales are whispered,
Of friends and neighbours disappeared,
Her heart aches for Aameira, never to return,
Brother and child left with hearts that burn,
Tears shed for the sorrow caused by those holding sway,
With check points and rifles never far away.
A maze of souks with brightly coloured tobes,
Great bowls of coffee beans, dates, cinnamon and cloves,
Shared trays of fuul beans laden with chilli and salt,
A taste for this staple, she has got.
Then finally news of a place,
A stretch of river where the turtle will be safe,
Basket full they leave the bustling streets,
Untempered by the stifling heat.
A boat ride to Tuti island she lands,
At the shore she gazes at the turtle, her friend.
Before releasing it to swim to its hearts content,
She’s taken aback by her own gushing sentiment,
And the turtle catches her by surprise,
Ducking under her skirt, reluctant to break ties,
Until finally it swims away,
And she stands alone, feeling emotions sway.
Time to leave this fertile shore, she knows,
But falters when a trail of bubbles show,
It couldn’t be… but then a head poked out,
This was a friendship she could not doubt.
It’s okay to go, she gently said,
Unmoved, the turtle raised its head,
The woman smiled and gently sighed,
In return, the turtle blinked its eyes.
When finally they parted ways,
She wiped away a tear that strayed,
Thoughts of women declaring with knowing smiles,
‘Nothing washes tired skin better than the Nile,’
FantasyCon 2021
Nearing the end of September and the month has flown by. Last weekend involved a trip to Birmingham to join FantasyCon 2021, an annual convention celebrating the weird and wonderful worlds of SFF.
For the Love of Books #9
I was introduced to African Australian author, Eugen Bacon when I heard her speak at last year’s World Fantasy Convention. Thought provoking in her viewpoints, challenging in her ideas, refreshing in her insights… I was left inspired to read her work.
Firebird Book Award
I’m delighted to share the news that Return of the Mantra has won a Firebird Book Award!! It’s wonderful to have recognition for the story. Affiliated with Speak Up Talk Radio in the USA, it’s an inspiring initiative linking the awards with a charity supporting women and children in homeless shelters: while books receive recognition, shelters receive gifts – win win.
I had the opportunity to be interviewed by radio host, Pat Rullo. To listen to the interview download, click here.
And to check out my author page, click here.
It was wonderful to speak with Pat yesterday, who got me thinking about various aspects of the book, my writing journey, and my creative life in general. From the African inspired landscapes in Return of the Mantra, the motivation behind the inspired mythology, to issues around representation and marginalisation in characterisation. The main character just happens to fall in love with another woman. It’s not what the story is about, it’s just part of her backstory, encompassing coming-of-age love. The story backdrop focuses on exploitation of the natural world, while along the way, exploitation of people is revealed, in particular, women and children, as well as the marginalisation of beliefs. Moving forward with the series, it interests me to see what societies go through when systems are overthrown and oppression is challenged. I hope you’ll agree that The Warder offers some insight into how characters evolve and change amid new freedoms and surrounding upheaval.
Overall, the interview got me thinking about the power of stories. Because of the charity that the awards are linked to, it seemed apt to expand on the themes of exploitation in the book, including domestic abuse and sexual exploitation. Having worked with women in various roles, in particular in a women’s refuge here in the UK, it was important for me from the beginning to have a broad range of women’s experiences represented. These are issues often not spoken about, which can leave those effected feeling marginalised. In the book I represent these issues in a non-graphic way, while focusing on messages of empowerment, and the bonds formed from people supporting one another. Together with challenging stereotypes (including different forms of love, complex women, hero underdogs, men who nurture and feel fear as well as courage…) and reflecting society, I was left with the thought of how stories can help harbour feelings of self-worth, affirmation and empowerment.
What are you reading?
Open Mic
I’m looking forward to this evening’s open mic, hosted on zoom by the lovely folks of Stairwell Books. It’s just one of several open mics I’ve been attending throughout lockdowns and the general chaos of living through a pandemic. It’s been a great way to get a fix of social contact, to share extracts of published work, or try out something new, a poem, or a song. (I don’t sing, I hasten to add, although it’s always a treat to hear others.) Zoom has allowed gatherings from literally all over the world, and tonight promises to be as varied, as eclectic, as welcoming as ever.
I’ll be trying something new tonight from an idea I’m mulling over. It’s not the poem below, that is quite simply a big thank you to all those who have hosted and found innovative ways of keeping us together over the past year or so.
Did we ever think we would see the day,
Lockdown, shutdown, countdown to Freedom Day,
Perhaps we should retire the expression,
Avoid it like the plague,
When science is brought into question,
And fact is reduced to emotion all too vague,
Allowing for little or no effort in avoiding an actual plague.
For those of us attune to shielding,
Against a virus unyielding,
Watching an invisible threat through clouded windows,
Sceptical of politicians fooling,
Mindful of our NHS heroes
Being Zeroed, while we feel detachment looming,
In the chaos that is mushrooming.
Closed in by these four walls,
Scouring the shelves seeking magic portals,
Wrapped in a comfort blanket of rereads,
Transported, illuminated, flying with the phoenix,
Stories like friends, that nourish and feed,
Our need for company, friends missed,
That sense of belonging, in need of a social fix.
And when you long to hear words unedited,
Social contact with kind faces uninhibited,
Login, zoom in, find your place in the room,
Among friends and strangers looking out from their squares,
Dressed up, at least waist up, ready for zoom,
Each singing their own tune, eager to share,
Applauding with emojis and jazz hands to show that we care,
In this forum where it’s good and proper to boast,
And be grateful to all of our zoom hosts.
