{"id":7720,"date":"2014-11-06T08:49:01","date_gmt":"2014-11-06T08:49:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=7720"},"modified":"2014-11-06T13:54:21","modified_gmt":"2014-11-06T13:54:21","slug":"togara-muzanenhamo-on-poetry-disobedience-for-aldeburgh-poetry-festival-2014","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/togara-muzanenhamo-on-poetry-disobedience-for-aldeburgh-poetry-festival-2014\/","title":{"rendered":"Togara Muzanenhamo on ‘Poetry & Disobedience’ for Aldeburgh Poetry Festival 2014"},"content":{"rendered":"

The 2014 Aldeburgh Poetry Festival runs for the 7th-9th November. Today and over the weekend Ink Sweat & Tears is featuring poems on the theme of \u2018Poetry & Disobedience’ which is the subject of the IS&T-supported Short Takes this year.\u00a0\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

from Lyra<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He could smell the ocean. Almost hear the water
\nrushing up against the rocks. Great sprays of salt
\nbanking up then falling back. Red carcasses of ships
\nrusting all across the shoreline. He clutched his hip.
\nThe brass fragment jutting out \u2013 an \u2018S\u2019 with a bolt
\nloose at its upper most tip. He stopped. The sputter<\/p>\n

of an engine. Looking over his shoulder he could
\nsee a small black dot trailed by a tail of dust. Fuck.<\/em>
\nThe cliff face was bare and steep, his body pressed
\nflat against it, black like an ant. He was at the most
\ndifficult point of the climb. Here he judged the rock-
\nface jutting out above him, a large shelf he would<\/p>\n

have to scale using only the strength of his arms.
\nPain tore through his body, his legs cycling the air
\nas his arms trembled above his weight. He pulled
\nhimself up onto the top part of the shelf, crawled
\nfor a bit, then just lay there on his belly, sucking air.
\nBeneath him, because the sand was already warm,<\/p>\n

all he saw was fresh blood creeping out. A red stain
\ngrowing silently. He looked up, ahead. The mouth
\nof the cave gaped back at him. Black. He slithered,
\nangry with pain, towards the entrance, rowing hard
\non his elbows. In the cave: cool air, a thin footpath
\ndisappearing deep into the distant sound of rain.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

The smell of water over stone fell heavy with iron.
\nA constant trickle riding away, deep to where colour
\nknew no other colour than black. The sound of a fire
\ncrackled and spattered. The light at first vermilion
\non the dome of the cave, then a whole riot of crystal
\nsparks revealing wet constellations: reds, purples,
\nblues \u2013 bright for a second or two \u2013 became alluvial
\nshadows, smoke cloaked. Incandescent. His people\u2019s<\/p>\n

words ran through his mind in rapid, furious bursts
\nof prayer. He could hear every whisper. Soft trickles of
\nwater flowed along cold walls, compelling his thirst.
\nAn arm cradled his head. Dregs of sediment and rough
\nindefinable grains seeping into the froth of his beard.
\nA woman\u2019s voice echoed. A constant stream of cool
\nwater flowed over his forehead. The cave\u2019s colourful
\ndisplay washing in waves. Its walls wet \u00adand fissured.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

If it\u2019s them, they\u2019re coming down the south tunnels.
\nSound carries deeper there<\/em>. There were others though.
\nOthers in the caves. They would hear the shouts echo
\nthrough the water corridors. Horrible screams. They\u2019ll
\nkill us all. We have to leave him!<\/em> He lay stretchered.
\nWater neck high. Oily rainbows beneath the dirty flame
\nslithering in their wake. Ahead the black passage stared
\nback at them like a lair. Deep, cold and uncertain.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

For hours. Nothing. The cold on their skin like a numb
\nsuit. Darkness echoing off the wet rock. They held still.
\nOccasional voices. Movement in other tunnels. The hum
\nof a fan powering some sort of machine. They held still,
\nhuddled like eels in the cramped recess. The machine
\nhumming closer with the slow swish of wading. The light
\ngrowing stronger on the cave\u2019s wet walls, almost bright
\nas day, then suddenly brighter. Cold. Clinical. Clean.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Togara Muzanenhamo<\/strong> was born in Zambia in 1975 and brought up on the family farm in Zimbabwe before studying in France and the Netherlands. He returned to Zimbabwe where he worked as a journalist before turning his attention to the development of African screenplays. He now divides his time between writing and farming. His first collection, Spirit Brides<\/em> (Carcanet 2006) was shortlisted for the Jerwood Aldeburgh First Collection Prize and his second book Gumiguru<\/em> is launched at the Festival.<\/p>\n

His Short Take will feature on Saturday at 10.45am. For more information on his other performances and the festival see here<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The 2014 Aldeburgh Poetry Festival runs for the 7th-9th November. Today and over the weekend Ink Sweat & Tears is featuring poems on the theme of \u2018Poetry & Disobedience’ which is the subject of the IS&T-supported Short Takes this year.\u00a0\u00a0     from Lyra   He could smell the ocean. Almost hear the water rushing […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7720","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7720","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7720"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7720\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7739,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7720\/revisions\/7739"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7720"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7720"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7720"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}