On Thu, May 6, 2010 at 9:25 AM, Judy Prince <[log in to unmask]>wrote:
> Heard your speaking your "Growing up Misfit" last week, Uche, on TNB
> (thenervousbreakdown), and loved how you got into it, brought out in your
> several "dialects", your morphing through several cultures, coping with
> disparate expectations.
>
> Returns me to the *live*-ness that poetry so often was and is now to a
> certain extent returning. Though we speak poems in our heads as we read
> them, still it's so stunningly augmented by hearing the poet (I should
> qualify re poets whose readings are less than we'd want them to be).
> Thinking of Sappho and Anacreon, I so much yearn for fine poets to
> accompany
> their words with musical instruments.
>
> Thanks for the reminder to hear you! It's the only time most of us will
> have that privilege and pleasure.
>
Very kind of you, Judy.
Yes, yes yes. I think that poetry's proper place is with musical
accompaniment. I think we all get by reasonably well without it, but there
is a surfeit of magic that we lose without the nearby Grecian lyre or the
griot's ekpe or tumba or other drum. I have neither the musical talent nor
connections to collaborate as I'd like on such projects, but I certainly
have a mind to do so.
As for the shifting accents, it was completely unpremeditated. I think it
was the word "ajebutta" that triggered it. You can't really say that in
other than a Nigerian accent, and then I kicked into that accent for a few
verses before I realized I was doing it, and then there was a bit of an
awkward moment for me as I was thinking in my head, while trying to avoid
ruining my flow: "is this going to sound mad?" I'm grateful that in the end
it didn't sound too badly.
I just got back from my parent's 40th anniversary past weekend. We had
family and friends from the world over, including some of the same uncles
and aunties who taught me Igbo, Efik and Umon when I was a toddler. I'd
already recovered much of my Igbo during my Nigerian schooling, which was
all in Igbo territory, but never really the Efik and Umon, except for the
toilet and privy part words, which have always been in Umon in my parents'
household (glan-glan = penis, ebribe = buttocks, ibe = faeces, etc.) but
this weekend, I found myself back to saying "Messierere", "Aba ibibi",
"ih-ih", "di" and more, and realizing that I haven't lost the knack for
pronouncing some of the really difficult bits of Umon, such as the rapid,
tone-inflected combinations of dentate "d"s and unaspirated "t"s and "p"s.
Not so much a misfit, I guess.
--
Uche Ogbuji http://uche.ogbuji.net
Founding Partner, Zepheira http://zepheira.com
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