Badriya Abdullah is the fifth student to be awarded the University of East Anglia’s Birch Family Scholarship set up to support UK-based poetry MA students from the Black, Asian, Latinx and other global majority communities. This was established by IS&T publisher Kate Birch in 2018 following the success of the Ink Sweat & Tears Poetry Writing Scholarship (MA) set up seven years before. Dana Collins is the thirteenth IS&T scholar.
As these fine young poets complete their studies we offer examples of their work.
Oranges with Bibi
Don’t hold the knife like that!
the first love lesson
from my grandmother.
[Imagine it was in Swahili, I don’t
want to cheat, you see.]
The knife was now more dangerous
waving around in her hand
punctuating every syllable
as she punctured the air.
Tizama she said as she
held the orange in her hand,
kama hii, na peel.
She slipped the knife under
the skin, twisted the fruit
and it followed her lead
without resistance.
You could have been a surgeon Bibi
a laugh as fresh as the juice
echoed across the waves
and a perfect peel landed in the sand
usi sema nonsense!
Messy, kama swahili yako,
she chuckled. The second
love lesson, don’t take
her teasing to heart.
My turn made short
fat pieces of peel
fall to the ground.
Practice makes perfect, and
watching her hands
was always easier than
watching her lips. My fingers
always twitch but my mouth
could stay forever unused.
Listening can take you far, hear
the agreement of eh-heeeeh
or disapproval of ah-ahhhh
but for all I’ve listened,
I could not tell my bibi,
that I love her in Kiswahili.
How is your Swahili?
[imagine Swahili]
Alhamdulillah, nzuri a little.
It’s been ten years and
we still can’t hold
a conversation without me
slipping into English.
Lete chungwa.
Something I understand, so I
glide the blade under
the skin, twist until
a perfect peel falls
on the ground,
slice the orange in half
juice catching in
a small bowl- no, bakuli.
Wewe unafanya vizuri.
Asante Bibi.
Badriya Abdullah explores the diasporic nature of her heritage, having grown up in England to Tanzanian parents. Winner of the Rebecca McMannus Prize and receiver of the Birch Family Scholarship, she invites her readers on her journey to unravel her experiences as a Black, Muslim woman in the UK. Instagram: @Badriyaishere
Note: The following is a concrete poem and will not work as well on small screens.
pulp
just once I want
you sprayed over pavement
I split my knuckles swinging
I want
to see your form pathetic
scrabbling around
plucking loose
teeth
like dirty
pennies
from dog piss puddles
coward
& raise an arm to save
your clotted face
I want
hysteria
me & partner & big brothers
& myself again but twelve
beat you aubergine
let everything ooze out
harmonise
wallop you into opera
I want
dribble to mix with snot
& blood & viscous onto your shirt
as you slump & beg me stop
the way I did
pigtails & school uniform
when you turned my body into jigsaw
kept half the pieces
I want
one perfect kick
to make you spew your stomach
into sandpaper
then I walk away
grant you
no absolution
I want
you to shit into a bag
as a nurse spoonfeeds you
mashed potatoes
& when you show people pictures of the accident
skin swollen into leather
you’ll tell them
you’ll tell them
you got what you deserved
Dana Collins‘ work often dismantles the body and pokes at all the different parts. She was the recipient of the Foyle Young Poets Award in 2019, shortlisted for the Wells Festival of Literature Young Poets Prize in 2020, and is currently completing her Poetry Master’s at UEA in Norwich, where she was awarded the Ink Sweat & Tears Scholarship. She enjoys looking at the fluffy part of cats’ bellies, hazy beer, and words beginning with the letter P.