Meeting Lupita Nyong'o, David Oyelowo and Respecting Actors

I like to watch the type of acting which creates so much tension that I am walking in and out of the room because  it is unbearable to sit through. If you watched the final match of World Cup 2022 between France and Argentina, then you'll know what I am talking about.

I like to observe cast members of a play, film or series who are able to interpret a script and create a reality that is palpable.

Beverley, Lupita Nyong'o, 2015 at Maisha Garden, Buziga Uganda, with the cast of 'Queen of Katwe'.

The first time I watched Lupita Nyong'o on television was on the Kenyan series, 'Shuga.' She showed such mastery on stage and looked spectacular while together with her fellow cast members, highlighted the lives of youthfulness, sex and the myriad of complexities in relationships.

I must have, at that time, probably for the 20th time in my life, cut my hair because of Lupita. Her acting impacted me so much that I followed the series and appreciated the dynamics and growing brilliance of the Kenyan film industry.

I have acted in school, church and during consultative work projects. Watching well developed television and theatre, I appreciate the massive effort that goes into scripting, editing, stage management, lighting, casting the right team, endless hours of back and forth, costume design and of course the enormous work of the actors who need to memorise their lines and embody their characters to perfection. 

Re-watching 'The Good Wife' has elevated my respect for good acting and the arduous hours that go into a seamless production.

Meeting Lupita with the rest of the crew of 'Queen of Katwe,' including the famous David Oyelowo, acting from a book whose hero Phiona Mutesi, has appeared in my poems, speeches and training sessions, was an honour. 

Phiona is a young lady whom I first met when she was in senior four, having just returned from the U.S where she played chess with Bill Gates and drew.

Her story is a highlight that depicts how despair and society's ills are not the end of our story; in fact they may be the chance for a great new beginning and rewriting.

Beverley with David Oyelowo, 2015 at Maisha Garden, Buziga-Uganda.

David Oyelowo who travelled with his family to Uganda in 2015, has a wealth of  fine acting under his belt, appearing in over 30 television shows, films and/or animations. He shared with us that he is deeply moved by the wealth and power of storytelling, and being given a chance to depict important life stories for millions of viewers across the world. Being a part of that was highly important in his career.

When I watch a good film with an equally impressive cast, I imagine myself as one of them, raising my right eyebrow and speaking fast without stuttering, wearing lipstick that never fades and high heels that never catch any dust. 

I imagine myself being able to cook a Sunday meal for ten within fifteen minutes, load the dishwasher afterwards and then complete a work proposal before swimming 50 laps in my backyard pool, because that is what good acting can do-achieve the impossible.

The moment in my life that I will savour though, is walking in New York City, Beverly Hills or  Las Vegas and bumping into an actor I highly respect. There will be no well-rehearsed speech, just gushes, hugs, selfies and unforgettable memories. That moment will come soon and I shall write about it then.

Respect actors. Respect writers. Respect art. and when you meet these creators, tell them what you think of their work. 

Bless!

Bev

From The Snow Leopard to Mayakovsky, by Jidi Majia.

 ‘First and foremost, we are convinced, since time immemorial, the most beautiful thing that has happened to us humans is that we are possessed of and by poetry,’ Jidi Majia from his essay, ‘Manifesto of Qinghai Lake International Poetry.

In 2017, I was invited to Beijing and Hebei Province in China to participate in two international poetry festivals. Those ten days were an unforgettable, worthwhile poetic journey that still impacts me today.

Having my first glimpse into the extraordinary nature of Chinese literature and the incredible power of their half century art, tradition and literary influence, left me in awe. In addition, the hospitality of the hosts was unrivalled.

This particular anthology which includes a vast collection of Jidi Majia’s poetry and collection of his essays, ‘From The Snow Leopard to Mayakovsky,’ is as profound, spiritually  moving and meaningful as words can get. The book is available in most online stores like Barnes and Noble, e-bay, Good Reads and so on. 

Jidi Majia is a highly respected and celebrated writer in China and meeting him, receiving an autographed copy of his book and learning more about his work, was an honour.

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Jidi Majia’s writing is soulful and speaks volumes of the power of keen observation and experiencing the nuances of nature, the ripples of our surroundings that we can easily miss, if we are not still. Deeply meditative, personal and interactive, a reader will be drawn to the careful structure of the poetry, the rhythm and pattern of the sentences and the carefully selected words.

Translated from Mandarin, it would be powerful to hear the original thought and process. The English version, reflective and musical, is testimony to the translator’s ability to read, listen and understand.

Once you are invited into the space of Chinese literature your appreciation shifts to a higher level. You are transported into history, into generations of wealth and lifestyle, into unique traditions and cultural strengths. 

During my ten days in China, staying in two vastly different provinces, one contemporary and urban and the other rural and equally festive, I was drawn to the hospitality, high level of preparation and promotion of their language and culture. Chinese of all ages were involved in the preparations of the festival. 

While at Beijing Normal University, most of the 25 year olds that we met, had started their Ph.Ds and were focused on a career trajectory. I stood next to them, proud of my achievements and my own journey. Learning about their proficient lifestyle.

Meeting writers and academics, intensely drawn to deep discussions and long term plans, was stimulating.

If you’re able to, purchase a copy of Jidi Majia’s book, ‘From The Snow Leopard to Mayakovsky.’  from the many online stores.

Reviewed by Beverley N Nsengiyunva 

keep it simple and POWERFUL

 Speaking is everyone's right. Speak to inform entertain, express, opine and deliberate. Speak. Listen. Read. Speak. Communicate. Use your words. Use your body. Use your clothes.

With public speaking, many people believe that once they are able to articulate without pause fillers, speak with accurate pronunciation, use memorable anecdotes and impress the audience with humor. Research shows that when we speak, our words contribute to 7% of the impactful communication.

If you want to communicate effectively, do not rely on words alone, use your body, your face and your clothes. It is highly advisable to only wear two colours minimum, with simple design. 

Avoid complicated patterns, like polka dots, stripes, tiny squares and shapes. Use one or two colours, and ensure that the print is simple.

This is because most often the backdrop will have an assortment of colours which will compete with yours, and then the bright light from cameras and the stage, will eventually drown out your appearance. Keep it simple. Keep it powerful.

Your clothes should enhance and not become a distraction. When you speak, the focus will then be on your communication, your gestures, your facial expression, your appropriate pauses and your ability to listen to the audience and engage them.

Best!

Beverley

BOOK REVIEW OF THE YEAR OF NUMBERS, BY PAULINA WYRZYKOWSKI.

  ‘The Year of Numbers’ written by Paulina Wyrzykowski, a Canadian Polish writer, is one of the most spell-binding realities highlighting the interaction between aid workers and refugees. 

Here, the refugees have names, personalities, dreams and aspirations. The aid workers, with their goal to save, come face to face with individuals who have an acute sense of self awareness and a frightening level of stoic confidence. This of course, would shatter anyone with a saviour complex and a pitiful need for validation.

Paulina writes this unapologetic novel from her own experience working in Cairo and meeting the layers of life between Egyptians, the Sudanese Government and the thousands of displaced families searching for a place they can call home. Home is not just a safe space with a bed and food. It also includes religion, which is part of the defining identity of those searching for refuge.

In this novel, Genevieve, the protagonist from Canada, is in Egypt, and in 2004, with other U.N workers, navigates the journey of refugees fleeing their countries in crises, transiting through Egypt to Europe, Canada or the U.S. 

What she does not imagine is that her life would be caught up in a perilous, romantic and lustful relationship with Alpha, a Sierra Leonean living in Egypt, who’s passionate about social justice, even at the cost of his own life. It is important to compare and contrast his care for the refugees against institutional care. 

Genevieve and Alpha share a complicated bond; Genevieve with her openness and need to talk and share and Alpha, with his ability to control her with his carefully managed conversations and sex. It is complex, just like the work of aid workers is complex. 

The UN Organisations that document the experiences and quantify the damage, take on impossible tasks and yet these tasks must be complete, in order for someone’s pain to be justified in order to have them resettled. It is important work which opens psychological doors that will never close again.

Paulina lived in Uganda, where I met her, and in 2008 launched this novel, which has been on my bookshelf for 15 years. When I picked the book up this week, at the beginning of October 2023, the pages had stuck. And I am the one who became glued to every word and every page.

Paulina at her book launch-2008, Kampala.

‘The Year of Numbers,’ is a riveting, highly informative and engaging fictional novel, which should be taught in schools and universities.

It was published in 2008 by Seraphim Editions, Ontario and is available on Amazon.

Reviewed by Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

MY VERY FIRST SPEECH-BEVERLEY NAMBOZO POETRY AWARD, 2009

 BEVERLEY’S SPEECH DURING HER AWARD GIVING CEREMONY; 21ST AUGUST 2009 AT FANG FANG RESTAURANT.

In December of 2008, a poetic rumbling stirred inside of me and the rumbling has been growing louder and louder up to this point where poetic lava is about to explode on each one of us. Each of you here is a literary sojourner, and you belong to a large family who in one way or another wants poetry to be unearthed from the graves of misconception and skepticism. Each of you, in your own way, believes that female poets have a stage that for several years has been left empty to cake dust. Those that have made recognizable landmarks must be congratulated but right now we need to see that stage meant for women poets to be active once again. This is the stage, and you are the players.

Deep down inside of me that December in 2008 I knew that something had to happen and I was not sure what. Questions like, Will anyone believe me if I say I’m starting an award? When I send a call out for submissions for a poetry award, will anyone in their right mind respond? If I walk up to FEMRITE and tell them that I need 2 judges to look through the submissions, will they just dismiss me as someone with dead ambitions?

Well, seeing each of you here answers all those questions. The hard work I have put into the whole Beverley Nambozo Poetry award is immeasurable. I have climbed so many hills and waded through so many valleys to get to this point. I do not even have any poem at the moment to share the experience with you. When I see WordAlive Publishers sitting there giving me a nod of approval and pushing me forward, I get tears in my eyes. When the Right Honourable Rebecca Kadaga offers to grace this occasion as guest of honour, I am even too humbled to jump. Believing that UHMG and Uganda Clays Limited can stand by me and trust my effort to make an indelible mark on Uganda’s poetic scene, I feel a deeper sense of purpose and understand more than ever, my role on this earth.

I cannot thank each of the poets enough for submitting their poetry because it is those submissions that made me wake up and clean my literary lenses everyday so that this vision would reach its completion. While many women may shy away from this, I want to also thank Emmanuel my husband for always trusting that this day would finally come. Thank you.

I appreciate all of you here and thank you very much for coming.

The Beverley Nambozo Poetry Award will be an annual event and after this one, I will launch into an even more aggressive national campaign to even out the submissions. Every woman with a creative spirit, should have a chance at empowering themselves with the pen. I cannot do it on my own and so I request you, just as you have supported me this year, to support me again for the next event.

In my own unique way of saying thank you, and let's make this a journey worth its time.

I VISITED SHARM EL SHEIKH IN 2008-WHAT AN EXPERIENCE!

 SHARM EL-SHEIKH

I have decided that Sharm El-Sheikh neither exists in Asia nor in Egypt. Neither does it exist on any map. I do not feel that there is any map in the world that can locate it to its exact likeness or true worth. In these pages, I decide that Sharm El-Sheikh exists in a place where my mind meets with enchantment. It is also the place that holds the Sinai Desert, at the tip of the Red Sea, where the Israelites got lost for 40 years.

I travel through Jordan Airport and saliently sail through the stares from the Arabs who either have never seen anyone black before or are not used to women showing their arms. Young children peer at me clinging to the safety of their mothers’ skirts lest I ‘eat them up.’ The braver passengers on the flight whisper to me how beautiful they think I am. I believe what they mean is how different I am from them and where on earth am I from?

Sharm El-Sheikh is a desert. It stretches from whichever point you are at to as far as you can bear the glare of the desert sun. The Airport is hardly occupied at the time of my arrival in June. My red suitcase sits forlorn on the static conveyor belt. A man in a white uniform ushers me to the immigration desk. A small line takes forever to clear. There is no hurry in Sharm. Finally, after a few questions about where I work, he stamps my passport.

One cab driver hurries to take my luggage to his car. Domina Coral Bay, South Sinai, is where we are headed. The desert looms ahead of me. A vast desert with one or two large unfinished buildings. The paved roads are my only link to home and within 10 minutes, I arrive at Domina Coral Bay. It looks like a Sultan’s Palace. Uganda’s state house can comfortably fit in the parking yard. I feel like Jack before the giant beanstalk, intimidated by the grandeur of the place. I pay the cab driver his 25 US dollars without thinking of how I have been cheated. 

Domina Coral Bay is located in South Sinai and was officially opened in 1994. The resort extends across an entire coral bay of 1.8 kms and has the capacity to hold more than 5,000 guests. Two very kind gentlemen relieve me of my luggage as I check in. Despite being the only guest at the check in desk, it takes long to locate my name and get my room. That’s when I make up my mind that apart from the Latin languages, Arabic is also one of the most important languages that I must learn. There are about six sections of the resort at Domina Coral Bay which are all five star but even within the five star they are categorized from Standard to Deluxe. I feel filthy standing on the gleaming white tiles and next to the polished plants. I just smile politely at the staff and make up my mind to have a bath as soon as I get to the room. That is when I begin to conceive the concept of vastness. At Domina Coral Bay, you need to travel in a shuttle from the reception area to your room.

The shuttles run at specific times and they have specific routes to cover all the sections of this magnificent resort. Tourists came walking past me in skimpy swimming suits and trunks with see through tops and sun hats. All the foreigners walking past me are clad in the bare minimum. I notice as I check in, a sign that says, it is forbidden to walk in wearing just a swimming costume. The sign obviously has little or no impact. Shuttle 2 arrives and I ride to my hotel room; and what a room! Oasis is supposed to be five star Standard. It should be called anything but standard. I itch to tear off my clothes and just bask in the view overlooking the Red Sea from the balcony. The heat slowly makes it way through my clothes and I take a cool shower. Sunglasses are not an option at Sharm El-Sheikh. Neither is sun cream or very light clothing. I look at the clothes in my suitcase which I have brought for the AU Summit which I will be attending. I lock the case again. Time to do some shopping. 

Outside my room window, hundreds of tourists are milling at the diving center at the Red Sea. Lines of shops lie below me. They glitter with their ornaments and crafts and I can hardly wait to step outside again. 

Unlike most five star hotels whose shops are obscenely expensive, I find Domina Corale Bay prices quite moderate. At Sharm El –Sheikh, contrary to the popular saying, “All that glitters is indeed gold.”

The shops are lined up just outside the reception area. 

“Sister, sister,” the men from their shops call out to me. 

So many trinkets, souvenirs, metals of all kinds and perfect clothes for the weather.

“Where are you from sister?”

“Uganda,” I reply.

“Uganda, oh is that Rwanda?”

“No, Rwanda borders Uganda. It is not Uganda,” is my firm response.

“Okay, you are very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I answer with dignity.

 I notice immediately that there are only men who work in the shops. There are actually only men at the concierge, men who carry the luggage, men who deliver the room service and also men who operate the telephone booths.

“Where are the women?” I ask.

“Oh, they are in entertainment,” is the response. 

I look at the US dollars peeping out of my handbag, each dollar worth just over 5 Egyptian pounds. I look forward to changing my suitcase.

Having heard, read and imagined so many things about the Red Sea, it was hard to envisage that it was just within a walking distance. I could not have been more wrong. Domina Coral Bay is as vast as a small city anywhere. The temperature was at 48 degrees and the heat just consumed me. So while the Red Sea seemed near, it was a struggle to get through the heat. It was as if someone’s hot fingers were resting on my head adding a burden to my walk. The walk to the Sea however was worth it. 

It was like clean bathing water with blue shower gel. I could see all the way to the bottom of the coral reef. I could see the fish teasing each other and manoeuvering in between the bare legs of some of the tourists who had gone snorkeling. Parts of the Red Sea had been demarcated to make swimming pools. It was really something else. I got enough pleasure from just staring right down into the aqua depths of turquoise colour. I waded through; battling the coral rocks at the start and then I plunged right into its magnificence and began to glide along just as I had seen the other tourists do. I hoped at this moment that God would not decide to part it again like He did in biblical times because I felt heroic just knowing that I was at the place of the miracle. Unlike the Indian Ocean however, whose salt is good for the skin, as soon as I stood up I felt cuts all over my body. It felt uncomfortable after a while with the heat beating down on me and so I backed out of the water from my million dollar aquatic experience. 

The Red Sea

Each day I spend at Sharm El-Sheikh, I keep reminding myself that this is the Sinai Desert. And so every carving, plant and building is from imported material. Part of the place looks like it is unfinished and that an oasis could pop up any time. The other part looks like a city of lights; a dream world. One such place is Neeama Bay, an artificial city that sleeps only during the day. It only makes sense that some places are only active from 8:00pm to the wee hours of the morning. The heat dictates so. From the entrance of Neeama Bay to its end, there is glamour on every side. All kinds of food restaurants from Italian, Greek, seafood, Macdonalds and so many more that it is hard to make a choice. Dancing dummies parade over the rooftops, swinging palms knock against each other in the night, neon lights illuminate the body of black sleek limousines for hire, couples open their mouths to let the humidity sprays gush into them and for my four friends and I, we try to allow it all to seep in. 

Many tourists have been checking in everyday since my arrival at Domina Coral Bay. I now know that this is where everyone ends up. The Italian food is delightful. Even the service fee that is part of the bill is not a bother. It is a clever way of making the frugal leave a tip. Arabs enjoy space and colour. In many of the shops, different colours keep blinking back at me. From the shawls, hats, bags, shoes, key holders and statuettes to the pictures on papyrus, colours combine into a mélange. At this place, time waits for everyone. There is no end to the activity. 

At Domina Coral Bay Hotel, I do not necessarily feel any sense of crowdedness. It is only at the Coral Restaurant, where we have breakfast. Thankfully it is always easy to locate my friends because all I have to look for is similar skin colour to mine. The Restaurant is just as far as any other place. While the people directing you make it seem near, it is actually downhill, across a hot plain and then downhill again. The breakfast is a large spread of all types of sweets, beverages and pastries. My favourites are the chocolate croissants and Spanish omelette. I also took a liking to the coffee. Egyptian coffee, they say, is supposed to be very good. A particular fruit which is best described as a green watermelon is popular amongst the crowd too. I usually down at least four slices a day. Breakfast is always a desired part of the day for me especially when it is already paid for. 

During the evening of the first day of the workshop, I saw two types of entertainment that completely dazzled me. The first was of an Egyptian dancer who wore many puffed up coloured skirts with yellow sleeves and black dancing boots. He used huge rattles to spin round and round until he worked himself into a frenzy while his skirts billowed out like a failed parachute. And as the skirts billowed, they covered his head and all we could see were coloured balloons dancing round and round. Quite spectacular. The next was of a belly dancer. Her movements at first appeared easy and tame until she too slipped out of her sanity to lure us into a hypnotic state of awe as she wiggled her belly this way and that. 

It is not enough to keep describing the different scenes of Sharm El-Sheikh. The language of the city is encrypted for everyone to decipher in their own way. I was not sad to leave. I was only humbled to have been part of such an immense existence. At the airport, the wonders did not cease. After ordering a sandwich from there, once again I noted that there were no female staff. That was not until I entered the ladies’ room. Seated on an overturned bucket, I was given some tissue paper and then told to leave some money behind. I did not know if the money was for her or for maintenance. In every perfect place, there is a flaw and I found that the lack of female staff in many places at Sharm El-Sheikh; one of the greatest imperfections. 

Fondly known as Sharm, I can only wait to take my family there. It is the least I can do. 

Article previously published in several magazines.

This September Sun, by Bryony Rheam-Review by Beverley N N

 The purest and most honest form of history is through the eyes of children, which is why after reading ‘This September Sun,’ a novel by Bryony Rheam, we must all re-read ‘The Diary of Anne Frank.’

It is through this first person narrative, through Ellie, an eight-year-old, whom we see growing up, parallel to Rhodesia and Zimbabwe’s shift, is a clever portrayal of the country’s enormous strengths, resilient people, alongside economic challenges and social changes.

Using the potent power of observation of a child, Bryony takes no prisoners. The gentle and yet firm and unapologetic way in which Ellie witnesses how the Rhodesia -Zimbabwe transition is coincidental with her family’s own change for belonging, success and journey out of the imminent confusion ahead.

With flashbacks from post World War 2, we see through the grandmother and her family, friends and lovers that war is not a physical encounter between countries and powers. It is also a conflict that affects individual choices, migrations, leadership and long term relationships. The physical shift caused by war has an adverse emotional impact, which is not obvious as people recover from survival mode. They then realize that dreams still need to be fulfilled and lives have to be lived.

There are clear distinctions between Bulawayo and Harare, which any reader would be glad to read about. Similarly, the relationship between Zimbabweans in England and those in Zimbabwe and the distance between the two countries that decreases and increases with time and political impact, is interesting to read amongst the characters’ conversations and daily lives.

Bryony does not engage in virtue signalling, which is exhausting and condescending at times. Instead she chooses real characters which any reader from any part of the world will recognize, in simple and dire situations, from diverse continents and ideals, and uses their lives to speak about reality.

‘This September Sun,’ was first published by AmaBooks in 2009 and won the Best First Book Zimbabwe Book Publishers Association Award.

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Review by Beverley N Nsengiyunva