Afropolitan Legacy Theatre (ALT) is seeking original music submissions to compose a soundtrack for its next project, a short film entitled “My Mother’s Tongue”. This narrative follows a teenage boy as he learns the value of his mother tongue when his mother loses her ability to speak. The story explores themes of multiculturalism, acceptance, and loss, and thus ALT is seeking musicians who reflect the same in their artistry.
The title of the soundtrack is “THE POLYGLOTS: A MUSICAL ODYSSEY”. Tracks selected for this project will be uploaded to a Bandcamp page (www.bandcamp.com) and cross- linked to the film’s website. The album will be sold as a collective and proceeds will benefit both the artists and the film’s production costs. Two songs will be shared every week,
in random rotation, to promote the sale of the music.
Artists will be paid once every month beginning September 1, 2011 for the duration of the use of their song for our fundraising purposes.
All proceeds will be divided into two:
1) Artist compensation
2) Raise funds for production of the film
All genres of music and spoken word are welcome. Special consideration will be given to artists who sing/rap in more than one language but English-only submissions are welcome as well.
Selected artists will be credited in the end credits of the film as well as on the film’s website.
Please send files in mp3 or jpeg format. Songs should be 3 – 6 minutes in length. Send all material to mymotherstongue@gmail.com
Thank You and Good Luck!
Afropolitan Legacy Theatre is a NYC-based production company that shares the Afropolitan experience through
“I be ki je ko?” These are the first words spoken in my new short film script and it is the fundamental question posed throughout the story, “Where are you going?” The protagonist, Obi Yagazie, has a school project due on Monday about his family history and he needs to solicit information from his mother. It is already Saturday but he has not started on it. His nonchalant attitude and uninterested demeanor towards this project doesn't help him because failure to perform well on it will mean his grades will slip even further and he would have to quit his band, which is the last thing he would ever want to do. When an unexpected incident renders his mother physically unable to communicate with Obi he is faced with the angst and anxiety of finding someone to provide such specialized knowledge on such short notice. He seeks hope in his grandmother, who is currently visiting from Nigeria, but he doesn't know how to converse with her because he doesn't speak her language.
“My Mother’s Tongue” is the name of this script and its scenario is all too familiar in the immigrant community. Obi doesn't speak his native language, at least not well, thus he can't communicate effectively with his extended family members who do not share his fluency in English. His mother serves as the liaison between Obi and his familial culture. She tells him about “home”, instills in him the values of her upbringing, and, most importantly, interprets her native tongue for him to be able to understand the idioms and wisdom of her people. But what happens if Mom can’t play that role anymore? What happens if Mom is not there to translate the words and ideas of the long line of ancestors that came before him? Essentially, how important is it for children of immigrants to learn their mother tongue?
Many people in my generation point their fingers to their parents for why they do not speak their local language. While there is some merit to that argument, I also argue that we are grown up enough to learn it on our own if we so choose to. We parade around in our native wear, break into “accents” to tell jokes or make points, and defend our people when they are being abused by non-natives, be it physical or psychological. Yet, without speaking our native tongues how connected are we really to our cultures? By no means am I, or this film for that matter, trying to denigrate this generation for its lack of linguistic competency. However, I am simply presenting a scenario that is meant to challenge what we value. Just as we learn other world languages for business, career, or pleasure, we could do the same with our own languages if we felt the feat worth it. This issue of cultural transmission can stop where it began and pick back up where it left off whenever we choose to proactively do something about it, for without the ability to communicate with your ancestors, seriously, “Where are you going?”
This film will be produced by Afropolitan Legacy Theatre and its fundraising campaign will begin in the coming months. Please check www.afropolitanlegacy.com and/or www.chikestory.com for updates and more detailed information about the project.
Being an artist is not easy. The creativity the public sees takes time to develop, practice to perfect, and tenacity not to give up. The same rules apply to making a living as an artist. It has been said that the artist's financial career takes just as much creativity to manage as it does to actually create the art. I find this to be true.
I work as a substitute teacher on occasion to earn money when other fiscal opportunities are not rampant. Today I had an experience that I felt worth blogging about. It started yesterday. I was in a 6th grade class with another teacher - their regular teacher - when she was having an extremely difficult time getting her students on task. So much that she took away their recess for the following day and told the Dean of the School that their class needs to have a "serious talk" with the Dean and herself. I was asked to wait in the back of the room until the second half of the lesson to assist the students but this teacher was struggling so hard that I decided to intervene earlier than instructed to. As I approached students they generally got quiet and heeded to my pleas for no talking and attention on their teacher, although I had to say it more than once. However, one particular student decided not listen at all and was simply dismissive of me. I repeatedly asked him to get on task, they were supposed to be taking a quiz, but he would ignore me or just flat out say no he won't get on task, repeating "you're just a sub" as he would backtalk me. I've experienced this before. It wasn't a big deal...it didn't have to be. Before I stooped to his level and argued with a 6th grader, I walked away, shook my head, and uttered under my breath, "Everybody wants to be a thug". This triggered something in him.
I returned to this school today with a fresh attitude and was greeted warmly by the staff and students. During one of my breaks the Dean asked to speak with me. In her office was none other than the "you're just a sub" boy from the day before. She asked me what happened in class for me to call him a thug. Aghast, I had to jog my memory to even remember what she was talking about. When it came to me I explained to her the situation and let her know that I said, "everybody wants to be a thug", when my back was to him as I walked away from his provocations. She let me know he told his mother about I called him a thug. And his mother wasn't happy about that. I apologized to him and told him I didn't mean to offend him. I meant it. He didn't accept my apology. The Dean said she will talk with him later about that and thanked me for apologizing. She followed by saying I shouldn't call a student a "thug" and he shouldn't be disrespectful to adults. She'll call his mother to let her know we met and everything should be fine. Later this day the very same Dean approaches me and tells me she won't be needing my services anymore, and then starts to walk away. I had to stop her to ask her why. She told me that the word "thug" was inappropriate to call a student and not something one should ever hear coming from an adult's mouth in their school building. She said it's negative and disrespectful and no student should feel like they are being disrespected by anybody there, especially a teacher. Point taken. But didn't we already resolve this?
From my understanding the word "thug" does have a negative connotation and it is not something you should say to just anyone. I also think the word "thug" is associated with insecure people who try to feel powerful by bullying someone around. I feel like this kid bullied me. He challenged an adult in the school building and then used his "kid" status to bully his mother and Dean into believing I had ill intentions by using my words against me. His mother then used her parent status to backup his bullying. The Dean had to bully someone because she was getting jumped. and I was the last person in the equation. To recap, I was provoked into my slip of the tongue (the kid admits this too) and I apologized on my own accord for any offense. In our conference with the Dean, the kid, and myself he wasn't interested in my side of the story or my remorse. The Dean also said that this particular student had a "rough year" and has been influenced by what he hears and sees on the street. But to his credit he is making a better effort and getting back on track. I am happy for the kid. I wish him the best. I wish all kids the best. I thought the Dean saw this when she sat in my next class and witnessed the rapport I had with her other students. Apparently she didn't. Or apparently mother didn't. Either way, I was "fired" from that school. The Dean asked me to leave and called the organization that contracted me out to tell them not to send me there anymore. Damn, who's the thug in all of this?
My contractor was pretty understanding about the incident and just told me to be careful moving forward. I still got paid for the day and keep a working relationship with them. Plus, this incident is somewhat juxtaposed to a good review I received earlier this week for recent work I did with kindergarten children. It is what it is. The point of this story is do be mindful of what you say. You never know how someone will interpret it or use it against you. But if you are going to say something that could be misconstrued or misrepresented, make sure the people you saying it to hear you. It'll be worth in the end. If they can ever adversely affect you because of the words you speak, at least they'll know how you really feel. That's how thugs do it.
What's in a name? Everything. And possibly nothing. It's all about what we put into it, the power we give its meaning and what we do to live up to it. This is what my new play explores. Through drama, comedy, and thought-provoking dialogue the "The Naming Ceremony" follows Ada Kalu, a Nigerian-American, in her last stage of pregnancy as she struggles with what to name her expected son. When her baby's father, Tony Phillips, an African-American, advocates for suggestions of names a clash of cultures ensues between their families. Ultimately, the play investigates the importance of names and cultural identities in a world where globalization convolutes our ethnic make-up.
I recently held the 1st public reading for this piece at Center Stage NY. To my surprise and delight, it was presented to a standing room only audience that gave us a great response when it was over! I am still getting texts and emails from people congratulating me on the work and I am very thankful for that. It is humbling, yet empowering, to make art that speaks to the people.
I am looking forward to seeing this project in full production this year and collaborating with the great artists that help to tell this story. This one is for the Afropolitans, our generation. This is our time, our lives, our ceremony. Let's give it a name.
"We live in an extraordinary debauched, interesting, savage world, where things really don't come out even...Because they aren't clean, they aren't neat, but there's something in them that comes from the heart, and, so, goes to the heart." - David Mamet
There are few authors that I read just about everything they publish: Chinua Achebe, Paulo Coehlo, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and David Mamet first come to mind. This is not to say that I actually have read everything they have made available to the public, or, to be honest, that I actually like everything they have published. Moreso, I appreciate their style of writing and listen intently to their voices because I feel they always have something valuable to share. Recently, I was reminded of one of Mamet's works that has left a profound effect on the way I structure my writing and I couldn't resist the urge to say something about it. Embarking on a public reading of a play I just wrote, "The Naming Ceremony", and subsequently embarking on the journey of taking the play from page to stage, David Mamet's "Three Uses of the Knife" puts into perspective the reason I chose to write drama in the first place and, more importantly, how I am supposed to do that. It is a small, worthy book of literature that cuts to the heart of every dramatist, every artist, every human's innate desire to express and expound. It is about the necessity of creation.
While the text can sometimes be philosophical and existential, it is still very clear and concise. Mamet illustrates through words why humans dramatize and what benefit it gives to our society, our consciousness. "The purpose of theatre, like magic, like religion - those three harness mates - is to inspire cleansing awe." Drama reveals the truth, not with the intent of bringing about social change but by "stilling a conflict by airing rather than rationalizing it." By facing our nature, our reflection, in honest and real terms, we are given permission, as well as authority, to reexperience what we already know through the eyes of another: Our Lives. And by now being distinct from us these witnessed experiences commit us to an act of faith, a degree of submission, to the will of the protagonist in the story, that we may be piqued, have doubt, feel joy, mourn and/or rejoice at the decisions they make in their own respective lives. Like a mirror, what we see is entirely up to our perception. However, what we know is that the reflection exists and that it is real for the use of our purpose.
As it concerns cutlery, Mamet breaks the use of a knife into three parts, or rather how to slice a drama into three acts (which he argues is an organic mechanism for human beings to order information -- boy meets girl, boy looses girl, boy gets girl; thesis, antithesis, synthesis; etc.).
Understand that it is in human nature to dramatize. Drama is about overcoming obstacles, as we all do in everyday life no matter how big or small, so you character should be set in a situation that presents the obstacle clearly from the very beginning of the play. "The theater is about the hero journey, the hero and heroine are those people who do not give into temptation. The hero story is about the person undergoing a test that he or she didn't choose." The audience should want to go on a journey with your character(s). The first act is about drawing them in to bring them along with you.
Raise the stakes. In the second act the opportunity cost for not reaching their destination should increase. Maybe the main character overcomes one obstacle and another, greater one presents itself. Or maybe your hero underestimated the magnitude of the original problem and must reapproach how they go about solving it. "Part of the hero journey is that the hero has to change their understanding completely, whether through force of circumstance or force of will. The hero must revamp their thinking about the world." Thus, Mamet further suggests, "the audience needs the second act to end with a question."
In the end, when all possible avenues have been explored to arriving at one's destination, when the probable now seems impractical, you bring the hero, and your audience, to a believable conclusion that stems out of the actual events in your story. The audience's reward is their suspension of disbelief, their trusting investment in the hero's journey and experiencing all the emotional highs and lows of their voyage. Because this journey is a representation of our own journey, our own walks and runs through life, it can speak to us on a deep, intimate level. "We have created the opportunity to face our nature, face our deeds, face our lies in The Drama...At the end of the The Truth - which has been overlooked, disregarded, scorned, and denied - prevails...At that point, then in the well-wrought play (and perhaps the honestly examined life), we will understand that what seemed accidental was essential, we will perceive the pattern wrought by our character, we will be free to sigh or mourn. And then we can go home."
No. I lack language.
The language to clarify
my resistance to the literate.
Words are a war to me.
They threaten my family.
To gain the word
to describe the loss
I risk losing everything.
I may create a monster
the word's length and body
swelling up colorful and thrilling
looming over my mother, characterized.
Her voice in the distance unintelligible illiterate.
These are the monster's words.
I took a writer's workshop yesterday morning and this poem was one of the pieces we looked at. It resonated deeply with me. Why? Because it speaks to a condition that I and many others find ourselves in: the inability to fully express what we feel due to the lack of vocabulary in a beloved secondary language, becoming more popularly known as your Mother Tongue. The context of the above poem is a Spanish speaker finding voice in an English speaking world. As an Afropolitan I completely relate to it. I hold onto my native culture the best I can but, like many, I don’t speak my Mother Tongue as fluently as I would like and thus must rely on alien vernaculars to communicate the stories and perspective of the people I want to honor most. Even when someone does speak their Mother Tongue fluently the need to use a more prominent language to engage with the masses of this society threatens the relevancy and resolve of your Mother Tongue. In placing prominence over your "mother" we become unable to verbalize "the loss" in terms of our own choice, creating a "monster" of foreign words that terrorize our intentions.
"Language is power but we all know we live in a world that doesn't distribute power equally", Jan Clausen, Jan Clausenthe facilitator of the workshop said. And I asked, "Is gaining more power synonymous with gaining more language?" Simply put, do I need to use the language of power to tell my people's story, to empower the ones I love so dearly? What is the risk to my Mother Tongue in doing so? It would seem I would distance myself from the very people I want to get closer to. It would seem I would get closer to the very people I wanted to distance myself from.
This conversation reminds me of Ngugui Wa Thiong'o , the Kenyan writer who deliberately chose to stop writing in English any longer and started to publish in his own native language, Gĩkũyũ. I highly regard this political and sociological shift as a gesture of faith and encouragement to Mother Tongue’s everywhere. Yet I often wonder what about those who never had a choice in using their native language or not, but would still like to say something positive, something organic about the Kenyans, the Africans, the world of "the others"? Talib Kweli once rapped "writing is fighting" and I hands-down agree with this statement when in the right context. I just wonder that if you are writing in English and fighting for the non-English then who are you really fighting? Who are you defeating?
This is a complex issue that cannot be answered in a simple blog post. The poem inspired a response so I wrote one. Here. If anything it is interesting food for thought for the language lovers out there who contemplate the role of language on cultural identity. I guess, to paraphrase Kweli again, "Knowledge of Self" is the key to empowerment....no matter what language you speak.
Kedu! I hope everyone enjoyed their end of the year/new beginning celebrations. It is a great year! Already. I am starting this blog to document and discuss communication and culture that is fascinating, fun, fierce and fearless. I will be writing about the stories, conversations, notes, quotes and dramatic arcs that move me -- and hopefully you as well! With so many colorful characters, ideas and idioms shaping our now globalized world one cannot help but to appreciate the diversity of knowledge, talent, and profoundness that is accessible today. I hope you join me on this journey!
I have chosen to start out this blog with a look at Nigerian Cinema. This is not because I am Nigerian or have a particular blind allegiance to one place or another (okay, well maybe a little lol -- you gotta support your people!) but because it is genuinely inspiring to see an artistic and intellectual movement take shape and grow. No, I am not talking about Nollywood here. I am talking about Nigerian cinema -- art house, independent, quality-driven storytelling that noticeably differs from mass marketed films. These films focus on "social and political themes rather than any commercial interests" (as Wikipedia stated about African cinema) and present clearer pictures of the message they are trying to relay. In fact, some would say Nigerian cinema exists in juxtaposition to the Nollywood that we are used to which, unfortunately, can be characterized by overacting, suspect sound quality, mimicry of Western culture and never ending chapters to mediocre movies (Parts 1 - 10).
To be fair, not all of Nollywood is bad. There is value in Nigerians telling Nigerian stories and controlling the means of production and distribution. In addition, it gives a contemporary glimpse into African life that other Africans can relate to and identify with as opposed to outsiders coming in to tell our stories through their biased perspectives and viewpoints. However, Nigerian cinema offers something different, something genuine, something....well, cinematic. It delves deeper than the surface and does what drama is supposed to do: question, challenge, honestly reflect society onto itself. The images are crisper because it is understood that seeing is indeed believing. The sound quality is sharper and the plots are more refined, properly accenting the beat of each narrative. The stories overall are universally human yet distinctly African. Nothing more, nothing less. That there even exists a community of this sort emerging out of Africa's largest nation suggests there is new hope for the African in a world that doesn't hear its voice, neither on the continent or in the diaspora. It is my belief that in this new year, this new decade and this new millennium, the world, yes THE WORLD, will come to see and appreciate the genius that Nigerian creative minds have to offer.
It is important that such films are being made and indeed necessary. The people occupying the Niger Area have been struggling to find a cohesive national identity since the creation of the state we now know as Nigeria. Independent artists and progressive thinkers can help to forge - or forfeit - this effort through critical analysis of our conditions while still celebrating our culture. Art is meant to push society and facilitate growth, whether that is comfortable or not. Following the examples of preceding African storytellers that rode this wave of consciousness - Ousmane Sembene of Senegal, Haile Gerima of Ethiopia, Safi Faye also of Senegal amongst others - I believe the emergence of Nigerian cinema and independent thinking in the arts in general will push Nigeria, and Africans at large, into a deeper sense of self-awareness and human connectivity, something that is sorely needed in a time of identity crisis and lost generations.
Please take a look at the trailers below to better understand what I am talking about. These films are yet to be released or have had limited releases in Nigeria and elsewhere. What do you think about the hopes for the genre? Is there an audience for it? If so, how do we contribute to its sustenance? Na waoh, just to have this conversation gets me inspired! Alas, whether it is late or it is early, it is our time.
