I write to complete creation; to lend my hands to the moulding of this temporal space I am made to dwell in. 

I make sentences because my father left me with a head pan of letters and a shovel of words. He named me a builder and asked me to draw light from darkness, to invent and cement a storyline. He threatened to throw my birthright to the dogs if I do not create a soft landing, a base, an accessible megaphone to allow for koinonia among my brethren.

 I write with the audacity of a god, an heir to an empire the king left at foundation level and ascended into divine space. I write because I carry a yoke on my fingertips, a light burden that unearths itself in a form devoid of emptiness and ready to give the world shape. 

When I write, I am obeying the last wishes of my grandfather, a gentle spirit and king in a small village in southeastern Nigeria. I like to believe divinity sent him as my forerunner to deepen and uproot languages with his tongue, to travel across dynasties, and baptize royalties with moonlight stories so that I can be worthy enough to unbuckle the straps of people who have walked through timelessness. 

They say writing flows in my ancestry; that my mother and the mothers before her wrote on sands, that they registered shivers down the spines of men and scrawled threats into the palm wine keg of the drunkard who dared to beat them even before paper was invented. I write because I want to summon them, to make them have breath in this new world they are not accustomed to; to continue their legacy.

In this world full of limitations, writing is my escape route, my oxygen of confrontation, and my freedom lounge. When I write, I embody the temerity to call things that be not as though they are. Like a true daughter of a royal father, I give breath to clay and dare them to turn to dust.

I have the power to create life and take it, to transport bodies across continents from my favourite armchair and sprinkle diverse traits over the characters I have formed.

 When I put my pen to blank paper, I feel like a god with the bravado to build anthills in the savannah, to come out boldly and declare that the beautiful ones are not yet born, to look at the yellow sun and slice it in half, to behold the severity of chaos and still declare that everything good will come. 

I evade prosecution with my words. How I can boldly declare my sister a serial killer without facing the full wrath of the law or look the future in the eye and tell it that tomorrow died yesterday. I write because I can reinvent, alter time, build up, and tear down.

I write to remove the thorns of misogyny for daughters like me who will walk through tough paths on their journey to becoming unbreakable. I want to give them a weapon to bruise society when it tries to shrink them; to make them reject the suffering type of comfort that keeps them in anxiety with its claws around their necks.

I write to squeeze the necessity out of darkness until it is drained to comprehend the light. I write because, in a country clouded by bad judgment where I can be stoned to silence or death by anything that dares to fall apart, it is not my time to die. 

I wrote this essay as a student at SprinNG & it was edited by my Mentor Ìbùkún

Disclaimer: The poetry is not an attempt to explain the artwork. This will just be me writing whatever poetry came to me when I looked at the artwork.

Today we will be exploring the awesomeness that is Jamilla Okubo. I saw her Art on Pinterest and I was in absolute awe. Her art, in my opinion, is a raw and defined mix of Afro, colour and culture. Her painting calls you, mirrors your thoughts and leaves you wondering. It gives you a feel-good sense of adventure and wishes you into resonation. I want to say maybe it's just my eyes, but I know it's not. Jamilla is simply amazing.

Jamilla Okubo's Bio

Jamilla Okubo is a mixed-media and interdisciplinary artist exploring the intricacies of belonging to an American, Kenyan, and Trinidadian identity. Combining figurative painting, pattern/textile design, fashion, and storytelling, she celebrates the Black body in relation to movement, expression, ideology, and culture. Inspired by kanga cloth, which communicates messages derived from Swahili proverbs, quotes from the Qur’an, African folklore and popular culture, Okubo creates her own patterns in reference to the history, mythology, and vernacular of the African diaspora. 

A fusion of Jamilla Okubo's Artwork and my Poetry

Body lingua

I soak my loneliness in wetness 

And it is unable to dry,

 I knock my knees together 

To silence the lips in between my legs.

I pretend not to understand its language 

When our bodies scrape past each other in the lobby.

Last supper

Many hands to one bowl

That was my home,

Was how I knew that 

Boiling grain long enough 

Will let it swell into satisfaction.

Was how I knew eating meat was funeral,

Our mouths could not suck on marrows 

Or chew flesh

Unless God struck something dead

And left it decaying in the backyard.

Was how I knew my mother to be a starving woman 

Calculating & observing, 

Marinating the meal in her saliva 

Until my father swallowed his piece. 

This is us

Maybe we are a brainwashed generation

Maybe we have become too fizzy & unorthodox for regular reasoning

Maybe we are all the things they say we are

Crazy - rebel - doomed!

We have vomited status quo

Trampled conformity underfoot

Decided to live happy and free

On our own risky terms.

We have apologised to our parents

Forced them to bury their expectations

Because we would rather parent plants & cats

Than produce people who will inherit our problems

Maybe this is us

Wanting to relax and be taken care of

Wanting everything in the bag secure

Wanting the table, the seat and the whole room

If this is us

Is it really such a bad thing?

Let my body burn

I want the type 

Of love

that feels 

Like voodoo 

Something enchanting

that will make me fall 

Head over heels 

In touch with my emotions

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I want to be bent 

In positions 

that break my 

Bones into rainbows

Twist my nerves 

Into gummy bears 

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I want the type of love 

that calls me home 

raises my moans 

Above pitches & 

Let's it go up like incense 

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I want this love that 

Lights up my soul

With a match 

Of sensation 

And doesn't care if 

My body Burns 

In ecstasy

⠀⠀⠀

⠀

Did you know that Jamilla designed the book cover for An American Marriage  by Tayari Jones

What was your favourite poem/artwork from this post?

Eunice's Art Bio

Let's explore, This should be fun

Her unfinished work is an even deeper kind of art!

I will print this and hang it on my wall!

See! The unfinished work has me spellbound

I just saw this and I thought "power" an African woman's ability to hold her own is a concept generations of people from other continents will need centuries to fully grasp. It is the daring eyes, the sharp wing liner, the bare chest and the fitting firmness of the headwrap, that did it for me.  

This piece screams confidence & beauty in culture

  

Read this post to find out why I named this Artwork "choices" Brethren a queen is a queen wi or without full hair, plus look at the facial expression, it's screams " I did it and I am going to live with it and thrive, deal with it."

This version of the sketch is my fav. look at the freedom. Beauty is not one size fits all, its diverse. It is good to have hair but it doesn't define you, That's the vibe I got from this piece.

I honestly don't know why I named this "halo" I just know I admired the piece for a while until he started to look like a greek god. Starring at it again, I am thinking Kpop, I feel as though he was taken right from a Korean series.

See eh, if you like him just print him or blow powder because this hotness.

Can we just take a moment to admire the accuracy, neatness and precision of the braids? I can literally feel the weaving by touching my screen. 

This artwork is very modern yet it portrays identity. Braids are originally African and it's amazing how it has gained worldwide recognition. Everybody wears braids these days. I love it.  The whole painting, for some reason, gave me some kind of afro-futurism feel.

I think there is a kind of fierce tenderness In this photo. I see protection and an understanding of something inarticulate. It's like there is this whole world ahead and she is strong enough to conquer it. A darling but daring soul. 

The digital art adaptation of this piece is just amazing, looks like a comic book or anime cover

It's very simple, this art is magic, there are roses on her head and my name is Roseline,   So I have a soft spot for it lol.  This drawing is so dreamy, from her eyes to the bridge of her nose to her curly hair and her collar bones. 

This piece already makes me want to write poetry

I love the precision in the drawing and the fact that Eunice used her amazing shading skills to highlight the facial features, crisp! The roses took the drawing to a different level of beauty for me. 

I am getting Aladin vibes from this artwork, she looks like a genie. If I am to imagine one of my ancestors in her prime, it will be like this, looking like royalty with moody eyes, and a resting "we are the pacesetters" clueless face. (I am laughing at what I am typing but okay)  anyway, guys look at the Ankara on her head, do we all ageee Eunice is talented? Like the details!!!

 

Okay, this is the End. To see more of her art. Visit her Instagram Page and be blown away!! She is open for bookings too and it's affordable, hit her up to draw you and your family members! 

View this post on Instagram

Start the new year with a kind and grateful heart🙏❤

A post shared by Eunice🐾 (@_ukamaka_) on Jan 2, 2019 at 2:49am PST

It's the month of August already! I always have some sort of time shock when it's a new month! Like how did we get to four months away from Christmas? Anyway, I have to say I am happy to be starting this month with a very exciting feature.

I am drawn to stories and how they shape people. I want to hear how people are dispossessed or elevated by their experiences so I started digging. And to be honest, I found treasure. I was drawn, excited, cried even, at some things I found.

I was particularly intrigued by Stella's Story. The honesty and openness of it. I binge-read her Blog in one sitting. Her writing style is simple but it will draw diverse and complex emotions out of you, open your eyes to the nuance of what you once considered obvious till you can see the unconventionality of perspectives. Whoosh! I am typing so fast I might go on a spiral and forget the purpose of this blog post.

I reached out to Stella and she responded so warmly and timely. I feel so honoured that she agreed to do this ( I am actually smiling my I am so blessed smile) I am so grateful for this. I learnt a lot from her response and I hope you will too.

Let's meet Stella

I became an orphan when I was ten years old.

I am so glad to have you here please introduce yourself?

What was it like growing up in South Africa?

Have you received any push back in terms of sharing your journey with people, have you had anyone try to measure your grief and tell you that you are supposed to just move on?

How did it feel losing your both parents on the same day and what was the most defining moment in that for you?

In a recent post, you talked about being an orphan bride and how you were able to navigate through it, in that light how do you handle disappointments and what advice do you have for anyone who feels sad that their expectations were cut short. 

My mistake was that I relied on religion and religious principles and not so much of spirituality and my actual relationship with “the unknown”.

You mentioned giving up on God at some point, how did that feel + do you think having a spiritual life is important in handling Loss?

You have had to Isolate yourself at some point and try to hide your pain. How effective was that in itself and do you think hiding from pain is a solution for grief? 

Did pity from friends and family contribute to the length and intensity of your grief. 

You mentioned writing as a coping mechanism, how was that like and where are you in your writing journey. 

How would you advise people to handle loss and the pain that comes with it, is there like a rule book? 

Do you ever outgrow the need for having your parents + advise for young people who want to hurry up and just be independent?

How has loss affected your relationship with people?

Give us two fun / random things about you? 

View this post on Instagram

... I remember going to bed on an empty stomach, crying from both the pain of hunger and the pain of feeling abandoned. The memories I had of a happier childhood no longer fit in my life - the memories no longer made sense and felt too distant to be real. How could such beautiful memories and such sombre memories all be a part of one life? My mind couldn't process it. I just had to escape... (the full blog post is on my website - link in my bio) #orphanwrites #griefjourney #orphan #motherless #fatherless #openlette

I learnt so much from this and I know you did too. What are your takeouts from this post? How do you handle loss? Let's chat in the comments + Stella would love to reply you. If you have any suggestions or people you want me to feature tell me and we'll make it happen. Love ya!

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