Creative of the Week: Ngartia

Ngartia (@Ngartia) is a dreamer. He spends most of his time engrossed in stories, making some up in his mind, writing them or finding reasons not to write them (mostly this). He also pens poems occasionally, a majority of which are weepy, heartbroken or confused. Once in a while, he comes up with a poem that paints a false picture of him as a fearless revolutionary – it is this kind that he has been performing on the Nairobi Spoken Word scene since 2011. He also happens to like history a bit too much. One of these days, he might just disappear into a dusty, yellowing colonial file forever. That is if his mother doesn’t summon him back to repair something in her compound, since she keeps forgetting that she paid for him to study Theatre and Film at University, not Electrical Engineering and the intricate workings of basic plumbing.

1. Did you always know you wanted to be a poet/writer?

Always? No. I knew I loved stories. I read everything I could lay my hands on (I got caught with that condom instruction paper thing in class one) from as far back as I can remember. I also knew I loved telling stories, orally mostly, because my family is full of ridiculous storytellers. Coursework compositions bored me, so I wrote things on the side. My Kiswahili teacher was trying to get me to read my inshas in front of the class at 10 or 11. At 12, I was working on my first attempt at a novel. Oh sweet innocence. I started and just could not stop, and here we are.

2. What is your creative process like?

Depends on the project. Most short poems are one off affairs, with edits later. Longer (performance) ones I write in fragments, in no particular order, as the idea matures. Then later join them up. For fiction, I prefer having the whole concept in my mind first before I start writing, no matter how short the story is. This, of course, is an excuse to lose as many stories as possible and later hate myself for it. For creative nonfiction, I prefer to reconstruct the available story first before deciding what liberties to take and where.

3. How much do your life experiences influence your work?

We are products of our experiences and environment, so a lot. Sometimes I think I have avoided leaving pieces of myself in my work, but when I examine it later, I am right there staring at myself. In the language, the characters, or opinions. I have come to accept that these pieces of art are my hocruxes.

4. Who are your favourite poets and why?

I do not think I will ever get over Warsan Shire. Jonathan Kariara was one of the first poets I could relate with and I am still in love with his work. I hate how good Neo Sinoxolo Musangi is. Wanjiru Wanjiku is also on the list with Harriet Anena. Of course Clifton Gachagua because… Who doesn’t want to be him? Tear Drops, Dorphan and Flow Flani’s genius still stuns me. As do Sanna Arman and Lord! There is the new Slam champion who goes by the moniker “Yours Truly”, I don’t even know where to find his work off the stage! I find myself revisiting Catelyn Siehl. Sagna Noel, who is also brilliant, introduced me to Ocean Vuong and now I am stuck on Night Sky With Exit Wounds. I love Sonya Kassam and wish Liz Neke would write more.

5. What are your thoughts on poetry in Kenya, what challenges have you faced as a poet and how do you think we can improve on the craft?

I feel we are smack in the middle or at the beginning of a renaissance. I have watched so many people mature in their writing over the last few years. The likes of Richard Oduor who have been leading the pack for a while now have projects scheduled for soon (I hope! Otherwise we will have no option but to raid their houses and print them out ourselves). Abigail Arunga is out here boldly proving that self-publishing is a thing even if mainstream publishers keep choosing school texts over us.

The performance scene is even more exciting. We have matured enough to start holding our own concept shows. Mufasa is trailblazing. GuFy is setting standards. Cre8tive Spillz are showing artistes that they do not have to be taken advantage of the way we had gotten used to.

Challenges are many (this should be a Kenyan proverb). We used to go to these popular gigs a while back where you would pay to get in (even if you were scheduled for performance), do the piece you have been preparing for weeks then go home penniless. You pay the person who just used you to be paid.

My art is not paying my rent (yet!).

There has been a sense of stagnancy in terms of spaces we can perform in, but that is changing with borders opening and regional collaboration budding. Audiences are not growing as fast as I would wish them to, but then poetry is not exactly the most accessible form of art.

Then of course, there is the old problem of explaining what you do to your relatives.

We can only improve things by being fearless and pushing this thing until it splits open. We need to collaborate, share contacts and databases, push each other’s projects, and pull as many people as you can in every opportunity you get. Buy peoples books and stop trying to get into gigs free because you know the performer!

Also, let us all resign from our day jobs and concentrate on this art thing.

6. You are part of the team that is touring with Jalada. What is your role in this and what milestones have you been able to achieve?

I am a resident (does that term still apply when you are travelling?) performing artist. Mostly dealing with poetry and storytelling.

Performing in three major Kenyan towns in one week was definitely a milestone. In Nairobi, we did a stage adaptation of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s Ituĩka Rĩa Mũrũngarũ: Kana Kĩrĩa Gĩtũmaga Andũ Mathiĩ Marũngiĩ ( The Upright Revolution: Or Why Humans Walk Upright) which has been translated in over 63 languages, a majority of them African. That was the stuff of dreams. And the cast was just stellar!

Storytelling with and to children in Kisumu was something to remember. Just like performing alongside Ugandan poets I have been watching from a distance and kick-starting discussions I hope will grow into exciting projects.

I was terrified of the high school visits in Nakuru and got pleasantly surprised by how receptive students at Menengai High were.

7. You also work with the outfit Story Zetu. What has that experience been like?

Three of my friends, Brian, Hellen, Tonny and I, run Storyzetu. We initially just wanted a space to share our art, fresh out of high school. Eventually, we found ourselves giving space to other interesting artists we met as we ventured out in the art scene and before long, it had grown bigger than us. We have published poetry, fiction, nonfiction, flash fiction (like the Pictory project) and almost everything we could dream of. It is still amazing to have hosted people like Olubunmi Familoni and Morris Kiruga who are growing into notable voices.

It is an ongoing and ever-changing project – testament of how much we have grown and diversified in taste and interests as individuals. You don’t even have to dig that far back to find embarrassing work, but who cares? It has created networks and offered space for people who, previously, had not been published elsewhere. That is what matters.

We are expanding it into a multimedia/multiplatform space, so yes, that is something to watch out for.

8. What work/project are you most proud of?

Apart from being part of Upright Revolution and Storyzetu? It has to be Losing Grip. It was a story told over the span of two hours in ten spoken word pieces and snippets of music. An hour before we got on stage, only 32 tickets had been sold and I was sure it was going to be a failure. I was shocked when the audience lights came on at the end of the performance and the place was packed!

9. What advice would you give an aspiring poet that you wish you had gotten when you were starting out?

This scene is not big enough for competition yet, there is space for everyone. Believe in your talent, there are no rules to this thing, no matter what people tell you. No one has it figured out yet. You will need people a lot! Create as many relationships as you can, they are all resources (if you go around recording diss-tracks insulting everyone you don’t like, no one will want to work with you). You may feel like you know everything now, you do not. The “clique” that seems to be at the top are only that tight because they have been struggling together for years. They also disliked the people they found at the top; someone will also think you and your peers are hogging all the space in a few years.

Come through for people and people will come through for you. Do not underestimate people. Keep working on your craft.

Lastly, your talent deserves remuneration. Passion is not a good enough reason to be made to do things for free. You are the one who will determine your worth; no event organiser will ever come up to you and tell you it is finally time to start charging for your services.

10. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Having quit my 8-5, completed the series of Storytelling gigs I am doing with Abu Sense starting from May 17^th 2017 at Kenya National Theatre and making a living off writing, performance and filmmaking. Travelling the world would not be a bad bonus.

Bonus Question

11. If you could have written any existing poem by another poet, which piece would you have written and why?

I will just mention a whole project because I cannot pick from Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth by Warsan Shire.

Check out Ngartia’s work and profile below:

Facebook: Ngartia J Bryan

Medium: Ngartia