A few lines from the poem, “Swallowing Suns,” by Mahtem Shiferraw flashed through our minds as we delved into the worlds sent our way by the 20.35 Africa team for Anthology IV:
You swallow your light inward, so when others come
they will not notice […]
that way of masking everything
behind a laughter that splits them in half.
Each of the poems in this anthology possesses a quiet resilience and depth in exploring the textured realities of African poets both from the continent and in the diaspora. The anthology provides ample moments where just a few lines transport you into landscapes and communities that migrate from the page to the heart and back.
It is an honour to have read these poems, and we are grateful for the opportunity to share more powerful African voices in the world, voices based in our homelands, and in the diaspora. 20.35 Africa’s Anthology IV boasts myriad talents: everything from the sharp wit of poets such as Rabha Ashry, to the fusion of sense and sensuality in the works of Alirio Karina, Grace Adeyemi, and Basma Osman. We found ourselves returning to the high note of Akosua Zimba Afiriye–Hwedie’s piece:
When my mother calls from a distant continent,
I must travel her voice to come into myself.
She writes in “Call me by my name.”
Even far from or torn from our homes and our loved ones in the face of a pandemic and many crises, we write to reach one another and ourselves – to let the world know that we are still present, breathing, our voices soaring above our heads, sprawling in the cosmos, beyond our bodies – these delicate timepieces. Home is still above our heads, and in our hearts, no matter where we may be in the world, lingering even when we think we’ve forgotten who we are.
there are so many ways to tell a story about despair (I
mean, joy)
Writes Alírio Karina in “the shore a stage so lovingly set.”
In volume IV, we bring you incredible stories. Stories of fathers and sons, where “boy becomes man s t r e t c h i n g / towards his son,” as Martins Deep writes; stories of grief and memories, with Njoku Nonso asking, “What does memory know / about love if not a war without mercy?” Stories of powerful observations where “the seas of earth part with their red awnings across the sky,” by Simon Ng’uni. Tender and true stories from across the continent.
It is from this lush choir of voices that we offer you, the reader, an invitation to bask in the wisdom, warmth, and gentle light that unfolds in each of these pieces. We’d like to extend our heartfelt gratitude to Itiola Jones, for her endless dedication to nurturing this space for African writing. This volume would not be possible without the hard work, patience, and brilliance of Ebenezer Agu. We hope one day to own these anthologies in printed form and that this anthology will lead to the discovery of future emerging voices from other uncharted corners of the continent. Kweku Abimbola, in “Adinkra,” writes, “Love never loses its / way home.” May these poems guide us through our most difficult days. May we find our way home, wherever it may be.
Nadra Mabrouk
K. Eltinaé