Logain Ali is a writer, teacher, editor, and poet. She is based in Sudan and holds a Biotechnology degree from Monash University. Logain has been writing poetry for the past 14 years, and to her, it has been an avenue of self-expression, a sanctuary, and a placeholder for her emotions. She is honing her writing skills and anticipates exploring different forms of poetry to be published.

Precious Okpechi: Hello Logain, it’s lovely to have you as our featured poet for June. How does being a poet affect the way you interact with the world?

Logain Ali: First off, thank you. It’s such a pleasure to be June’s featured poet at 20.35 Africa. Being a poet or rather claiming that title has been a new experience in itself even though I have been writing poetry for the majority of my life (and intend on doing so for the rest of it). At times I feel as if being a poet makes me reflect on everything internally more, unbinds my being (and all that comes with it) from the world. More often though, that reflection brings about comfort. I see my poems as a form of expression, a release of these reflections. It’s what keeps me interacting with the world. 

Precious Okpechi: You are a biotechnology graduate from Monash University. Tell me, what edge does this bring to your poems and your thoughts about poetry in general?

Logain Ali: “Ancora Imparo” is Monash University’s motto – “I am still learning.” You can imagine how much learning we did, restless and sleepless nights, busy schedules, a lot of reading and in-depth researching, and daily submissions upon submissions. It taught me resilience, it taught me that I am constantly learning and have so much to learn, which allowed me to grow as an individual and for my poetry to grow with me.

Precious: What writing rituals do you engage in? How have you constantly enriched your writing?

Logain: I have no specific ritual. I find myself writing when what I am feeling can no longer be contained (or needs to be reflected on). It’s my way of processing the bulk of my emotions and experiences in life. I read as often as I can. I research almost everything I come across, and life gives you a lot to learn from, so it’s a continuous process really. I am always learning and constantly on a self-discovery journey. I feel like that enriches my writing in turn. 

Precious: Your spoken-word piece, “Wattan/Homeland,” moves like a tale of life’s cycle. But the feeling of loss is grounded by these two lines: you are not a stranger / you are present in your absence. Tell me more about this piece.

Logain: Wattan/Homeland, was a very hard – if not the hardest – poem I had ever written. It was written to commemorate the Martyrs (may they all rest in eternal peace) that were massacred in a peaceful sit-in, on June 3rd of 2019, and in particular Mohammed Hashim Mattar (a.k.a Mattar, a.k.a the man who painted the world blue). Wattan is how I viewed the life cycle of the martyrs. It is inspired by their bravery, they died so others could have a chance for a better life, a just one. Prior to the day of the massacre, they were all strangers to the world, but they all fought so no one’s blood is lost in vain, they fought for freedom, peace, and justice. It was overwhelming that their absence dictated their presence in everything. I see pictures of them on walls, on bumper stickers, on songs and videos, it is constant and daily. What a life to be celebrated. 

Precious: Mary Oliver said, “Poetry is a product of our history, and our history is inseparable from the natural world.” What’s your thought on poetry and place, poetry that connects to the natural world and its uniqueness?

Logain: This is a beautiful quote. Everything in life is made up of energy. And so, anything a human expresses is a form of energy transfer or release, be it singing, speaking, dancing or writing poetry. Sort of balancing an exert of energy gained through experience and/or history. Poetry and place, therefore, go hand in hand. I find myself most times taken aghast by the natural world or chain of events that led me here, and the best I could do is write about it. 

Bint El Sudan  

Noun 
       1. Name of a perfume in Sudan; often added to a mixture of perfumes, soaked and dried in selected types of fragrant, balmy wood to make bakhur (or incense). 

       2. Sudanese girl 

Perfumes should come with warning labels –  
I can be your poster-girl.  
We can make a short movie,  
I wrote a script.  

Viewers discretion advised.  

Take 1.  
I take two sticks of bakhur 
and drop them on red-hot coal. 
It sparks at touch and smoulders out. 

I had used it before to heal.  
This time, it was different.  
The scars wound open.  

Take 2.  
The room takes orbit. 
I space into memories 
that lingered with your scent 
and reminisce.

Take 3.  
I stop to bargain.  

I had inhaled your bakhur for too long.  
I will compromise. 
I will clear the smoke out of my lungs.  
I will teach myself to breathe without it.

Of Wind

The wind came to a still today. 
It whistled through cluttered leaves 
that swarmed at my feet.  

I drew my luck of deep breath in its stagnancy. 

My eyes hastened after the sight of clouds
rolling in like curtains,
pinching on the last rays
of an exhausted sun.

I could see the colours of life around me
shy away. 
Their soft giggles, fading grey,
echoing my fears back to me. 

Had the wind brought rain?