He Didn’t Know What A Sonnet Was. Now He’s Won A Major Poetry Prize.

Ajibola Tolase has won this year’s Cave Canem Prize. His debut collection of poetry, “2,000 Blacks,” will be published in the fall. (Courtesy of Cave Canem)

BY SOPHIA NGUYEN

Sitting in class on his first day at the University of Wisconsin at Madison, Ajibola Tolase thought: I don’t stand a chance in this room.

He wanted badly to be a poet, but it was instantly obvious, he said, that “I had no education in poetry.” The other students in his master of fine arts program had gone to Stanford, Harvard, the University of Chicago, studying English or something like it. Tolase had a statistics degree from the Federal University of Agriculture in Abeokuta, Nigeria. The culture shock, he said over a recent Zoom call, was nearly as stark as the cold. (“It’s not even freezing yet!” Midwesterners informed him cheerfully that fall.)

“When they talk, they know things. When we’re reading books, they have terms to describe things,” Tolase, 29, recalled of his classmates. “‘Anaphora.’ I had not heard the word ‘anaphora’ before. Our first assignment was to write in blank verse. At that time, I had not written in any meter. I’m like, ‘First I have to figure out what iambic pentameter is.’”

Five years later, Tolase has been awarded the Cave Canem Prize, putting him in a storied literary lineage. The Cave Canem fellowship, founded in 1996 to nurture Black poetry, boasts a network that includes the winners of six Pulitzers and five National Book Awards. This prize alone has launched the careers of two U.S. poets laureate: Tracy K. Smith and Natasha Trethewey. By winning it, Tolase has also secured publication for his debut collection: The University of Pittsburgh Press will release “2,000 Blacks” in the fall.

Tolase grew up working-class in Ibadan, Nigeria, the son of a teacher and a government accountant. “There was no wealth at all,” he said. “There was barely any income, in fact.” At age 10, he was sent to government boarding school, where room and board were free, but he was bullied for being the shortest kid in class. His parents switched him to a different, wealthier school, where he was spared any bullying but had little in common with his classmates. He took to writing poems, sticking around his literature classroom during lunch breaks.

From there, he jokes, came a string of failures and reinventions. He wanted to be an engineer, but his exam scores were too low. He reluctantly studied statistics and wasn’t much good at it. He started a literary press with some friends, which foundered. Like many young Nigerians, he struggled to find work; nearly a quarter of the country’s population was unemployed. He tried joining the navy — no dice. So he applied for an entry-level position at a bank in Lagos and to two poetry programs in the United States. (He couldn’t afford the application fees for more schools.)

“My parents wanted me out of the house,” said Tolase. So when he did get that banking job, “I just lied to them.”

Luckily, he got into the University of Wisconsin at Madison that spring and landed in the United States in summer 2019. He learned what a sonnet was, and the difference between a Petrarchan one and a Shakespearean one. But as he graduated and headed to a fellowship at Stanford, he also got a parallel education in the forces that had shaped his world.

The Bay Area’s wealth disparity was so stark, he said, that a thought began to sink in: “You are in this room because someone chose that you’re going to be the one that’ll come into this room.”

This led him to exploring ideas about access and its denial, and about the flow of resources between Africa and the West over the centuries, from the transatlantic slave trade to migration patterns today. This theme recurs in the poems that make up “2,000 Blacks,” as in the first part of a sequence titled “Refuge Sonnets”:

I step into the new world and people stare at me. They want
to ask how I arrived here, and if it’s true I brought desert sand
with me, but they are afraid I don’t speak clearly or they are afraid
I’ll ask the same of them. “Who is your father? What did he do?”
So, we avoid each other. I live in their imagination as the wild man
who has crossed the Sahara to take from their bequeathal. This might be
why they drown me, even if they don’t, I’ll still avoid water.

The other current running through the collection is more personal: Several poems sketch out the life story of Tolase’s father, who during tumultuous periods lived outside their family home. These poems were attempts to understand his father’s anger, Tolase said: “Naturally he will read the book. I hope he doesn’t think about it as a judgment.”

Asked whether he’s spending the time, pre-publication, steeling himself for some tough talks, Tolase sounded amused and dismissive: “We are Africans. We don’t have difficult conversations with parents. You want closure with your father? Your father doesn’t want closure with you.”

For now, as a creative-writing fellow at Colgate University, he relishes giving his own students assignments designed to teach them form and meter and how to scan lines of verse: “I have fun watching them suffer through it.”

----------WASHINGTON POST

Poet Porsha Olayiwola And Composer Mason Bynes Collaborate On ‘The Wanderer’s Tethering’

THE BAY STATE BANNER

Composer Mason Bynes (left), PHOTO Matao Aric Photography and Boston Poet Laureate Porsha Olayiwola, PHOTO: Carlie Febo

Libretto explores 1803 Igbo revolt in Georgia

BY CELINA COLBY

Boston Lyric Opera (BLO) commissioned “The Wanderer’s Tethering,” a bold new work by Boston Poet Laureate Porsha Olayiwola and composer Mason Bynes that tells the story of Georgia’s Igbo revolution in 1803. The piece intentionally debuts Juneteenth weekend to reflect on an important piece of African American history.

In 1803, a group of people from the Igbo community of Nigeria were captured in West Africa and brought on ships to Georgia. When the Igbo people realized they would be enslaved in the United States, they revolted. Ultimately the Igbo group committed mass suicide by submerging themselves in Georgia’s Dunbar Creek, choosing death over captivity. In ‘The Wanderer’s Tethering,” the history is told from the perspective of a contemporary descendent who reflects back on the Igbo history in Georgia while preparing for her own open-water baptism.

“Igbo Landing was one of those narratives waiting inside me…brewing in me to tell,” says Olayiwola. The libretto is crafted in a fusion of spoken word and song that draws on her work as a playwright while also honoring the musical medium of opera. Olayiwola is of Black American and Nigerian descent, much like the contemporary narrator in the show, and learned about the Igbo Landing story not in school but through her own research. This commission brings that history back into the narrative.

“Porsha’s libretto pierced my soul as far as identity is concerned,” says Bynes. “Especially the idea of not knowing where you come from because all records of your story were burned or destroyed.” The duo worked by sending music samples and libretto back and forth, with Olayiwola crafting the spoken word text and Bynes writing the music for soprano and string quartet.

“The Wandering’s Tethering” will debut June 18 at 4 p.m. at Hibernian Hall in Roxbury during a pay-what-you-can performance. Part of the proceeds will be donated to The League of Women for Community Service, one of the oldest continuously running Black women’s clubs in the country.

In addition to this newly created 25-minute selection, the program pays homage to other Black composers with music by Florence Price, the first female African American composer to have a symphony performed by a major orchestra, and more contemporary pieces by Tufts University graduate Trevor Weston and composer Jessie Montgomery, whose piece “Source Code” was inspired by a variety of artists and civil rights activists.

BLO Artistic Advisor Vimbayi Kaziboni curated this additional song list with the collaboration of Castle of Our Skins, a local organization that celebrates and educates about Black music history. “This event celebrates so many aspects of the Black experience in America, and features music we think is meaningful around the Juneteenth holiday,” says Kaziboni. “In developing this program, it became important that the contemporary pieces link to music from the past.”

Why is a love poem full of sex in the Bible? Readers have been struggling with the Song of Songs for 2,000 years

BY JONATHAN KAPLAN

Many Americans have heard the expression “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” – in fact, a quick Google search turns up myriad websites offering wedding bands inscribed with the much-loved line. Search Etsy for Valentine’s Day gifts, and you’ll see jewelry, T-shirts and coffee mugs printed with the phrase. But perhaps not all of the quotation’s admirers know that its origins lie in a biblical text: the Song of Songs, which has created difficulties for readers for 2,000 years.

Also known as the Song of Solomon or Canticle of Canticles, the Song of Songs stands out in the Bible because of its extensive and candid sexual content. It is a work of sensual lyric poetry that portrays scenes of actual and imagined trysts between the poem’s female protagonist and her lover.

Graphic descriptions of both male and female bodies pervade the work and are certainly titillating, even bordering on pornographic. Sensual metaphors such as “grazing among the lilies” and “drinking … from the juice of my pomegranates” suggest sexual practices that are anything but vanilla.

It’s not just the emphasis on sex that makes the text unusual. The Song of Songs is the only work in the Bible that focuses exclusively on human-to-human love, not human-to-divine – at least on the surface level of the poem.

Ancient Jews and Christians were troubled by the inclusion of such a graphic love poem in the biblical canon and came up with their own ways to remedy the dilemma.
Barely a mention of God

The Bible includes other references to sex – including graphic depictions of sexual violence. And other books certainly contain depictions of human love, such as that of the patriarch Jacob, who labored for 14 years to win his wife Rachel in the Book of Genesis.

But when other biblical books talk about love and marriage, they primarily use this language to depict God’s relationship with people – specifically, the people of Israel, who have a special covenant with him according to the Torah. In contrast, the Song of Songs may possibly allude to Israel’s God only once, in chapter eight.

Yet ancient interpreters of the Song of Songs did not interpret this poetic work as a depiction of human-to-human love. In fact, while researching my book about early rabbinic interpretation of the Song of Songs, I noticed that no such interpretations – Jewish or Christian – survive from before the modern era.

Instead, the earlier commentators “reread” the Song of Songs exclusively as a portrayal of divine-to-human love, God’s relationship with a beloved individual or community.
Covenant with the divine

Other scholars and I have argued that the earliest interpretations of the Song of Songs appear in late first-century works, such as allusions in the Book of Revelation – the final book in the New Testament, which describes prophetic visions of Jesus’ second coming – and 4 Ezra, another apocalyptic work included in some versions of the Bible.

In the first few centuries, rabbis began to interpret the Song of Songs as part of their commentaries on the Pentateuch, the first section of the Hebrew Bible. The Pentateuch describes the creation of the world and includes stories about the Israelites’ ancestors and their epic journey from Egypt to Israel. Over the course of several books, the Pentateuch shows them fleeing slavery, receiving revelation from God at Mt. Sinai, wandering in the desert for 40 years and finally entering the promised land.

These early rabbis envisioned that narrative as an extended, intimate story about God’s relationship with the people of Israel. And although they shied away from the more erotic dimensions of the Song of Songs, they used its language to depict God’s relationship with the people of Israel as more than a simple contractual arrangement. In my 2015 book, “My Perfect One,” I argued that the earliest rabbis characterized these bonds as deeply affectionate and marked by profound emotional commitment. For instance, in one passage, they interpret Song of Songs 2:6 – “His left hand was under my head, and his right hand embraced me” – as describing God’s embrace of Israel at Mt. Sinai.
A lover’s yearning

In a similar fashion, Christian scholars avoided the carnal dimensions of this poetic work. Rather than seeing the Song of Songs as a statement of God’s love for Israel, early Christians understood it as an allegory of Christ’s love for his “bride,” the church.

Other allegorical readings have also emerged throughout history. Origen, for instance, a third-century Christian writer, proposed that the Song of Songs could be interpreted as the soul’s yearning for God. Similar to other interpreters, Origen associated the soul with the female protagonist, and the divine with her male “beloved.”

Another Christian approach to the Song of Songs was that the poem described God’s loving relationship with Jesus’ mother, Mary.

These diverse interpretations may also have influenced medieval Jewish mystics. In Judaism, the divine presence or “Shekinah” is often thought of as feminine – an idea that became important to these mystics, who relied on the Song of Songs to describe the Shekinah.
Reading the poem today

In the modern period, even more understandings of the poem have emerged, including some about human-to-human love. For instance, feminist readings have highlighted the female character’s power, autonomy and sensuality. Conservative Christians, meanwhile, often approach the poem as an ideal expression of acceptable love between a husband and wife.

From the first few centuries up to today, these many meanings highlight readers’ creativity – and the evocative power of the Song of Songs’ poetic language.

READ ORIGINAL STORY HERE

Q&A: Amanda Gorman Talks UN Poem, Future Presidency, Novel

Amanda Gorman recites a poem during an event called "SDG Moment" at United Nations headquarters, Monday, Sept. 19, 2022. The event is meant to highlight the urgency and importance of the United Nations' sustainable development goals. (AP Photo/Seth Wenig)

BY JONATHAN LANDRUM JR.

LOS ANGELES (AP) — When Amanda Gorman was invited to read a newly developed poem at the U.N. General Assembly, the young sensation took a deep look at how several societal issues — such as hunger and poverty — have impacted Earth’s preservation.

Just like her stirring inauguration poem last year, Gorman felt compelled to express the impact of unity through her poetic words on the opening day of the 77th session Monday in New York. The 23-year-old poet created “An Ode We Owe” in hopes of bringing all nations together to tackle various issues of disparity along with preserving the planet.

Gorman once again graced the big centerstage in front of the world’s leaders. Her fame exploded after she recited her poem “The Hill We Climb” at President Joe Biden’s inauguration, which made her the youngest inaugural poet in U.S. history. Her poem quickly topped bestsellers lists and made her one of the most in-demand poets, putting her on other big stages like the Super Bowl and in an interview with Oprah Winfrey.

In an exclusive interview with The Associated Press on Sunday, Gorman talked about her hopes for the United Nations poem, her future presidency plans, resentment she’s gotten toward her commercial success and wanting to someday write a novel.

Remarks have been edited for clarity and brevity.

AP: What do you want listeners to take away from your poem?

GORMAN: What I hope people can garner from the poem is that while issues of hunger and poverty and illiteracy can feel Goliath and are so huge, it’s not necessarily that these issues are too large to be conquered. But they’re too large to be stepped away from.

AP: How important is having a young voice like yourself to speak at the general assembly?

GORMAN: When I was writing this poem, I kept getting flashbacks of several years ago when I came to New York for the first time. I was 16 and I was coming as the United Nations delegate for the Commission on the Status of Women. That was the first time I’d really ever engaged the U.N. as a space in any way. I just remember not seeing people who looked as young as me. I also looked like I was 11 at the time. I started marinating on this idea of “I want to come back someday in the future. I don’t just want to be a delegate. I want to be a presenter.” I’m not here to speak on behalf of young people, but to speak alongside and with them.

AP: Why did you touch on sustainable development goals in your poem?

GORMAN: I actually think that there’s swaths of the population which has yet to be engaged or kind of told or activated around the Sustainable Development Goals. So much of what I like to do in the poem is making sure that we raise awareness around these issues and show that these goals do exist.

AP: How have you managed the transition to being a high-level celebrity?

GORMAN: I’m still learning and growing so much. I think one of the things that changed so much for me was just privacy. All of a sudden I became someone — which I never really necessarily expected — who gets recognized on the street. If I go to a restaurant, even if I’m wearing a mask, people are very good at spotting my face and or my voice. I’m very grateful for that type of visibility, even though sometimes I do miss individual privacy because it means that I have a platform that I can use for good.

AP: How have people approached you while in public?

GORMAN: I had an experience (Saturday) night. I was eating at a restaurant and a woman just came up to me and started crying and saying how much my poetry meant to her. It’s flabbergasting to me. That’s not a rare occurrence in my life anymore. My friends started crying around me seeing this woman’s emotion. I had a great conversation with that woman before she moved on, and me having to take a moment, sit with the fact that there were so many people around the world who probably have this person’s same response that haven’t gotten to me. I want to do justice by them when I write. I want to honor them when I write. That’s a really hefty ask. But I also think it’s a deep seated privilege of mine. I think that’s the thing that I wrestle with and draw power from when I write.

AP: Has the fame changed your writing?

GORMAN: I think it hasn’t changed my writing in the sense that my voice and style is still the same because the roots of where I come from are still there. But I do think it makes me think more creatively and imaginatively about ways in which I can get those poems in the world.

AP: Is it much harder to write these days?

GORMAN: I think the main difficulty in writing poetry for me nowadays is, yes, that there’s a lot going on. But even if I’m able to carve out time and space to write, I think the biggest challenge that I can face sometimes is just my own self-sabotage in the sense that I feel so much pressure and so many eyes on me.

AP: How do you keep out the distractions?

GORMAN: I’m like a 70-year-old in an 11-year-old body. I have muscles from that of pulling away from technology and pretending like it’s not there. Like it doesn’t exist. When I write, I tend to put all my devices on “Do Not Disturb.”

AP: Have you had to deal with any resentment from the poetry community, who sometimes don’t look kindly upon commercial success?

GORMAN: The only type of trolling that I experience is actually not from other poets. It’s from people who don’t write poetry. I hear those kind of like “What Amanda Gorman does isn’t that difficult. I don’t understand why she’s famous.” I have no ill will towards those people. I actually, in a sense, feel bad for them because more often than not, these are people who haven’t been exposed to a lot of poetry in their lives, who haven’t been either encouraged or challenged to write poetry in their lifetimes.

AP: What are your thoughts toward those skeptics?

GORMAN: I think the one thing I have to say to those people would be if you’re reading my work and you’re saying, “Amanda Gorman’s writing is so easy for me to do and I can do better.” Oh, my God. We need you. We need you to pick up a pen and write. That means you’re going to be the next great voice of literature. I would love for you to find a way to, for lack of a better term, dethrone me.

AP: Do you still plan to run for president someday?

GORMAN: Yes, that’s still the case. I obviously have a long way to go — not just in terms of years, but in terms of learning.

AP: Is there a timetable?

GORMAN: No, I’m just living and enriching my life with the understanding of “Wow, girl you are a weapon of cultural and poetic power. Here’s where you decide what to do with it.” Whether that follows a specific table that’s explicit for the presidency or whether it’s one that’s a bit more unorthodox and nontraditional than we’ve seen, I think remains to be seen.

AP: Do you aspire to write something besides poetry?

GORMAN: I love poetry, but I love all forms of writing. When I was younger, I actually wanted to be a novel writer. But novels just take — for me — a longer amount of time than a single poem. That’s just how my brain and writing works. But I would love to get out some more prose, some more essay writing. You’ll definitely get more than just a verse for me.

AP: What kind of novels?

GORMAN: I really like to draw from what I consider to be my literary ancestors Zora Neale Hurston or Toni Morrison, who wrote this beautiful prose, which I think came out a culture of language that they drew from the African American community. I think about the titans of writing whose footsteps I would love to dance in.

___

For more on the U.N. General Assembly, visit https://apnews.com/hub/united-nations-general-assembly.

Text of Amanda Gorman’s poem, “An Ode We Owe,” first read to the U.N. General Assembly on Monday:

How can I ask you to do good,

When we’ve barely withstood

Our greatest threats yet:

The depths of death, despair and disparity,

Atrocities across cities, towns & countries,

Lives lost, climactic costs.

Exhausted, angered, we are endangered,

Not because of our numbers,

But because of our numbness. We’re strangers

To one another’s perils and pain,

Unaware that the welfare of the public

And the planet share a name–

–Equality

Doesn’t mean being the exact same,

But enacting a vast aim:

The good of the world to its highest capability.

The wise believe that our people without power

Leaves our planet without possibility.

Therefore, though poverty is a poor existence,

Complicity is a poorer excuse.

We must go the distance,

Though this battle is hard and huge,

Though this fight we did not choose,

For preserving the earth isn’t a battle too large

To win, but a blessing too large to lose.

This is the most pressing truth:

That Our people have only one planet to call home

And our planet has only one people to call its own.

We can either divide and be conquered by the few,

Or we can decide to conquer the future,

And say that today a new dawn we wrote,

Say that as long as we have humanity,

We will forever have hope.

Together, we won’t just be the generation

That tries but the generation that triumphs;

Let us see a legacy

Where tomorrow is not driven

By the human condition,

But by our human conviction.

And while hope alone can’t save us now,

With it we can brave the now,

Because our hardest change hinges

On our darkest challenges.

Thus may our crisis be our cry, our crossroad,

The oldest ode we owe each other.

We chime it, for the climate,

For our communities.

We shall respect and protect

Every part of this planet,

Hand it to every heart on this earth,

Until no one’s worth is rendered

By the race, gender, class, or identity

They were born. This morn let it be sworn

That we are one one human kin,

Grounded not just by the griefs

We bear, but by the good we begin.

To anyone out there:

I only ask that you care before it’s too late,

That you live aware and awake,

That you lead with love in hours of hate.

I challenge you to heed this call,

I dare you to shape our fate.

Above all, I dare you to do good

So that the world might be great

ODU Undergraduate Selected As Virginia Young Poet In The Community

BY JONAH GRINKEWITZ

Aderonke Adeleke

Aderonke Adeleke always considered herself more of a lyricist than a poet.

"I know a lot of people spend their lives being passionate about a particular thing, and poetry was not really that for me," said Adeleke, who writes lyrics for her music and sings pop and gospel music.

But when her creative writing professor encouraged her to enter the Young Poets in the Community contest, she went for it.

"When I gave it a try, I didn't know that I would actually win," said Adeleke, a sophomore studying English and journalism at Old Dominion University.

The Poetry Society of Virginia chose her, along with 23 other students from elementary schools, high schools and colleges across the commonwealth, for this recognition.

Young Poets in the Community was started by Luisa A. Igloria, Louis I. Jaffe professor of English and creative writing at ODU and the 20th Poet Laureate of Virginia. The project's goal is to showcase young poets in Virginia who are trying to use the power of poetry to influence social change, community and civic engagement, and emotional well-being.

"The poems and project proposals from these young poets were impressive," Igloria said. "They show not just a lot of awareness of what's going on in the world, but also so much heart and hope for a better future."

Heather Weddington, chief departmental advisor and lecturer in ODU's English department, said Adeleke was a perfect fit for the program.

"I found her to be very community-minded in her writing goals," Weddington said. So, I encouraged her to submit an application - and I'm so glad she did!"

Adeleke's submission of three pieces included a spoken word poem titled "Imaginary Things."

The poem was inspired by her parents, who are immigrants from Nigeria.

"They came over here more than 20 years ago, and they've been grinding all of their lives just to give four kids a really good future," Adeleke said. "And it wasn't easy. I saw them fail sometimes, but because they had so much on the line they would keep getting up and trying over and over."

"Imaginary Things" refers to obstacles they faced that most families don't see.

Such as how the college degrees her parents earned in Nigeria were not recognized in the U.S., or how they were told to speak English by a grocery store employee who overheard them conversing in their native Yoruba.

"They might be imaginary for some people because they don't get it, but it was very real for my family," she said. "Instances such as these from Americans made my parents feel conscious of their surroundings and pushed them to work harder to prove themselves and protect us."

The Young Poets in the Community contestants were also asked to submit a public poetry project proposal. Adeleke's theme was "Release," which focuses on mental health.

"I think mental health is one of the most important things that a lot of us don't maintain," she said.

Weddington noticed Adeleke's passion for mental health.

"Aderonke - likely on the first day of class - discussed her interest in creative writing as a means to empower people in taking care of their own mental health," she said.

Adeleke plans to place anonymous poetry boxes across ODU's campus where students can drop off their poems. She hopes that writing poetry will help students' relieve their burdens and struggles that they keep locked away.

In addition to the Virginia Young Poets in the Community Project, Igloria recently launched the Virginia Poets Database, a digital archive of Virginia poets meant to serve as a literary and educational resource. This project was made possible with support from ODU Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs Austin Agho, ODU's Perry Library and Digital Commons Platform, as well as a fellowship from the Academy of American Poets.

The Love Ceremony

Alan Kevin Walton King. (Ehirim File Images)

BY ALAN KEVIN WALTON KING


There is a grand ceremony that takes place in the Five Lands. Whose origin and nature have been hidden, that is until now. It is the ceremony of ceremonies, that I have the privilege of setting before you now. There is a blessing that accompanies the ceremony, to those that hear it, tell it, and participate in it.

For each year after the harvest the Five Lands come together to celebrate the Love Ceremony. It is the oldest and greatest and most anticipated ceremony of the year. Greater than the initiation ceremony where the boys and girls on the cusp of adulthood leave behind the vestiges of childhood and attain the full privileges and responsibility that accompanies their new status as full citizens of the village. Greater even than the wedding ceremony where two individuals come together in love to start a new tribe. Or even the ceremony that takes place after one has constructed a new home, or the ceremony that occurs when a village has been victorious in battle. Greater even than the ceremony after the first rains of the year, or the wonderful harvest ceremony, or even the ceremony after a child is born. Or the ceremony at the time of death when one transcends the material realm and becomes an ancestor.

The love ceremony is supreme because the Five lands that make up our realm, the mountains, the desert, the forest, the plains, and the waters come together to celebrate love in all its healing, creative, and joyous forms.

For before the Love Ceremony the Five Lands were sworn enemies. And the conflict became so great that all the lands were on the verge of catastrophe and extinction. But before the point of no return, each of the lands at the same time and without knowing their enemies were doing the same thing, sent one emissary to ask for peace or else become a sacrifice, for they knew not which.

But instead of a sacrifice each land was ready for peace. For by this time those who were feuding were advanced in age and saw the toll that the conflict had had on their lives. They did not want their children to face the same fate. And so, in honor of the Five Brave Heroes, the Love Ceremony was established.

So, after the harvest when the weather is still warm, before the winter and while the hearts and bodies of the people are still glad the Five Lands celebrate their love.

One village brings the Meal of Love, another the Song of Love, still another the Story of Love, another the Ritual of Love, and the last the Game of Love.

This year it was the Land of The Mountains turn to host the ceremony and to prepare the Meal of Love. And so as is tradition two are selected to gather the ingredients for the Meal of Love. A boy and a girl at the age of adulthood.

And so early the next morning they went out to the surrounding villages to collect the ingredients which would become the Meal of Love of the Love Ceremony.

And when they came to the first village the villagers said our ingredients are bitter because our love has been difficult this year. And they gave them bitter herbs. When they came to the second village, they said our ingredients are fatty because our love has been abundant this year. And they gave them fat young calves. When they came to the third village, they said our ingredients are salty because our love has healed us this year and they gave them all manner of salt and spices. The fourth village said our ingredients are sweet for our love has flowed easily this year and they gave them fruit of every kind. At the fifth village they said our ingredients are healthy for our love has sustained us this year and they gave them all kinds of vegetables and leafy greens. And so, did each village give ingredients according to the character of love that year.

At the end of their journey they brought all the ingredients back for the Love Meal. And all of the inhabitants of the Land of The Mountain worked together to prepare the greatest love meal that they could.

Everyone was glad to help and on the day of the Love Ceremony, before the sun broke through the dark night you could smell the aroma of love winding its way through the mountain villages.

And before long the Land of The Desert approached and you could hear the song of love “love is here” they sang, “yes our love is here.” And as they heard the Song of Love the children started to dance. And so, during the year whenever one was downtrodden or grief stricken, they could sing the Song of Love and so restore their love and joy.

Next the Land of The Water came with the Game of Love and the children gathered to learn the new game. And as they played you could hear the sound of laughter all around. So that whenever one was disappointed, they could remember that our very lives are the Game of Love that we play and love never disappoints for long.

Then the Land of The Forest came with the Story of Love and they went to each person and family one by one, and they taught them the Story of Love and the origin of The Love Celebration. And so whenever one was confused or hurting, they could remember and recite the Story of Love and experience refreshing and renewal rather than resort to conflict.

And after the sun crossed the sky everyone gathered for the Meal of Love. The Land of The Mountain villages and The Land of The Desert villages and The Land of The Water villages and The Land of The Plains villages and The Land of The Forest villages. And everyone was happy and full of love. And whenever anyone was tempted by bitterness or resentment or hatred, they would remember the Meal of Love that they shared at the Love Ceremony and their very bodies would be full of love once again.

And after the Love Meal it was time for the Ritual of Love. And all the villages sat in a circle as the Land of The Plains’ villages conducted the Love Ritual. During the ritual each person and each land and each village looked inside to see their love if it was well and whole or ill. And each put their love in the center of the circle and waited for their collective love to grow. For if it did then their individual love and village love would do the same. And if it did grow, they wondered what it might become.

And that night as they all sat in the circle life began to sprout in their midst. First a green shoot, then a stalk, and finally a branch. As night turned to day, they could see that a gorgeous Tree of Love was growing. And as the dawn approached, an elder from each village proclaimed a blessing of love upon the Five Lands. That as long as the Tree of Love grew so too would the love in their land.

And you too my children of love as long as you see life around you, know that love dwells within you as well.

Questions for The Journey

What is the flavor of your love? How is the love inside you is it whole or ill? How do you maintain your love? How do you heal your love? With whom do you share your love? How do you experience love? How do you express your love? How do feel and know that you are loved? How do you address the need for love in you and your world? What question do you want to walk with this day?



Through storytelling, poetry, singing, dancing, preaching, and facilitating spaces and times of cultural wellness, Alan Kevin Walton King creates a space for love. Bringing together his experience and training as a religious minister; along with training and performing with Griots and professional artists in Senegal, Mali, and the Gambia; his work in Post-Katrina New Orleans as a community organizer, a whole-hearted participant in second line dance performances, and as a preacher in communities looking to rediscover their vision; and most recently working as a psychotherapist and healer. Walton King Lives in Los Angeles

Alan Kevin Walton King: oracleforthepeople@gmail.com

"Cliff House By The Sea" By Nina Fabunmi

T’was not the cool summer breeze that snuck up on me

Touched me tenderly

Filtering through my clothing

Tossing my hair to the obedience of the wind

No, it wasn’t

T’was not the calming sound of the rolling waves

Rocking back and forth

Lacing the ocean line with seashells, strange blue jelly fish and crabs astray

Not the kiss of the mid day sun

Shinning down with gentle warmth

Causing the sea to shimmer

A horizon with a silver lining

It looked like precious platinum

How could it be?

Lovely scenery, yes

The beauty of nature, magnificence

Bringing with it with it, peace and serenity

Not even that…..

T’was the presence of the one who made it complete

Holding hands, we strolled by the shore

We left our footprints in the sand

We let the water wash our feet

We made snapshots to define our bond

Watched by the cliff house by the beach

We waited to bid the sun good bye

It gently descended into the sea

And glazed the skies in a violet rage

It looked like the fire the burns between us

The wind became chilly

And we held each other through the scenic makeover

By the Cliff house by the sea

---------------NINA FABUNMI

After Christmas In The City Of Angels

The spirit of Christmas was felt all around the city

The lightnings and decorations

On the trees and landmarks

And down on the Avenues

Like Fat Larry's Band

Every soul has departed with some help

But the chilling weather isn't over yet

Freezes and frosts won't just leave

The cold wind still blowing

And the trees can be seen by its effect

-------Ambrose Ehirim

Lagos Jungle Blues, 1984

A party all around the city and we had partied hard
We walked through the army barracks, the signals
It had been all guarded by the juntas
Guns can be seen all around their shoulders
Waiting for orders and the last command
It breezed in when we all had gone to sleep
We had expected the president's new year message
It never came,
Martial music had filled the air waves
Up and in much anticipation, we had guessed
The possibilities of the military juntas
Wrestling power from the people, again
Civilians had begun to celebrate and,
Chants welcoming the juntas filled the air;
The president and the 2nd Republic
Had been toppled

The mood was one full of uncertainties
The juntas only wanted to make the people blue
The khaki boys announced why they took power
A widespread scandals of bribery and corruption
And a nation overwhelmed by disobedient
And reckless, bloody civilians
A one-star general had announced on the radio
Proclaiming dictatorship and absolute power
A new head of the juntas popped up
With chopped up measures and decrees
Which destroyed all aspects of civil liberties
And had become the order of the day and time
I was not really worried of Totalitarianism
Because I had not played any part in either
Of the military and civilian administration
To be charged for any wrongdoing

It was business as usual with no prohibition
Life was very normal and didn't make any difference
Only what I witnesed could differ
I saw a killing by firing squad for drug peddling
I saw an artist slammed for carrying alien money
I saw journalists ripped off their pants and caned
I saw people of the media sent to the gulag
And I had seen a slammed for the juntas' leaks
The decrees had been disturbing as
The juntas never stopped harassing the people
People started to disappear inexplicably
Which had made the place spooky
Without changes or any improvements
We could only see a change of hands
Between the military juntas,
And the thieving civilian politicians

They locked up all their subjects
And charged them with all sorts of crimes
Asserting the country had been ruined
By we they called 'bloody civilians'
Making all of us nervous as we panicked
While they duped the people
And raped the treasury empty, and
Institutionalized corruption
With a series of tricks and games
Pushed and shoved it in our face
As we carried the nation's burden
Which they tarnished while we looked bad
Bribery and corruption had continued apace
Even though the juntas said,
They came to set the priorities right
It was all a gimmick, in the long run


---------------------Ambrose Ehirim

Troy Surrenders To Mormon Country Youths

Oh what a game

You like the Trojans?

Yes, I live down the street

Trojans got to win

Yes, they have regained the lead

Against the Mormon Country Youths

Touchdown with 17 seconds

On the clock;

Mormon Country Youths now leads 23-21

Against the Trojans

Call reversed

Trojans 21-Mormon Country Youths 17

10 seconds on the clock;

Touchdown

Mormon Country on fire

Jubilation all over

Another one bites the dust

A Troy fall

"Love is a Crime" By Nina Fabunmi

If love is a crime then sue me
For I am guilty of all that it asked of me
It was the hunter and I, the hunted
I fell prey to its strength
Let go and let it consume me
And like a drunken man
I have been intoxicated by it

 

If love is unconditional, how can it be wrong
Two people in love, that's all that matters

A passion ignited
Desires that must be fueled
A touch, a kiss and sweet love making
And all the feelings that come with it

 

If love is selfless why hold back
I chose not to love, it chose me
I tried to fight it but to no avail
I tried to hide it but it glowed like a flame
Finally I gave up and let it take me
I am in love so sue me

 

If love is of God, how can it be wrong
Love is not a crime
For it demands not a dine
Love may have flaws
But love can break laws
And for this, love is a crime

 

Nina Fabunmi

 

AL-MUSTAPHA MUST NOT DIE

By Keni Saint George

From the howling winds of the Hebrides
To the icey lakes of Blair Atoll
From the dark Moors of York
To the Sandy Stones of Penzance
Even the Irish meadows Sigh
Al Mustapha will not die

From the plains of Mont
To the Hot Springs of Louisiana
From the Icebergs of Alaska
To the cool waters of Lake Superior
Even the Polar Bears sigh
Al Mustapha will not die

From the straights of Maracaibo
To the Chilean Horn of Terra Del Fuego
From the Isle of Grand Bahama
To St. Vincent and the Granadines
Even the Flamingoes sigh
Al Mustapha will not die.

From Rostov, Beijing and Qiqihar
To Nguru, Anambra and Bayelsa
From the Parched stones of Al Fayoun
To Ankara, Kabul and Kazakhstan
Even the Falcons sigh
Al Mustapha will not die

Al Mustapha will not die
And so say all of us
And so toll the bells of Tinubu and Bellarus
RAMA …Rights Avenue of Man and Animals

"Thoughts" By Nonso Anyanwu

Thoughts in times of tyranny

Keep awakening my jaundiced eyes

Whispering into them, the realities I never knew



Thoughts, guild me into a future

With glittering smiles and wishes

Yet, the beginning of my manhood



O! Thoughts of many colours

Paint me into a favourable favour

For every night is a revelation of deceit



So tragic is the earth's menu:

Unbleeded wounds, uncried deaths

Yet, many teary eyes stare up to Heaven

Our fears legalises our silence



In times of tyranny, O Thoughts!

Be the architect of my unbowed head

Even when furiously bleeding



Thoughts! I pray you,

Be the anchor at my fall

Lead me up, let me drive and soar!

For the world is a lament of victims...

Nonso Franklyn Anyanwu hails form Imo state of Eastern Nigeria. A final year student of English and Literary studies at the Ahmadu Bello University zaria, Nigeria. A member of Creative Writers Club and Association of Nigerian Authors. He has collections of unpublished poems and short stories as well as a novel, he's currently working on his second novel.

CASTLE OF MY THOUGHTS BY NONSO ANYANWU

In my great castle

I voyaged to the land called yesterday

When you were declared the 'Moses'

To lead us to harvest honey and milk



We witnessed your obedience

In your executive clothes

When you pledged your loyalty

Held it high for the world to see



You sang an unquenchable fresh air

Which inflamed the sky

And advertised your goodluck

As you pleaded for our thumbs



Still in my thoughts

I sit to sweat under my skin

Trying to comprehend why

We ke-ke napep all day

While you fly in your private bird



You dine with forks and knives

While we wait for the harvest of honey

As our soul brothers

Turn our land to mass-graves



Sweating in my castle

My eyes swim in tears

I scoop wine with buckets

Just to rinse my mind's eye

And erase all shabby memories

To the forest of forgetfulness

As I fight with my pen

In my humble castle

Of my thoughts...



Nonso Franklyn Anyanwu hails form Imo state of Eastern Nigeria. A final year student of English and Literary studies at the Ahmadu Bello University zaria, Nigeria. A member of Creative Writers Club and Association of Nigerian Authors. He has collections of unpublished poems and short stories as well as a novel, he's currently working on his second novel

These Gory Sights By Nonso Anyanwu

I saw through the midst of torments

The echoes of many burnt faces

Grimacing in their own fumes

Lying potently in quest for quench

Kinder that those echoes

Should wail off in torment

Clutching on their faithful apparatus

As their mind succumbs to their place of rest

We clap with our minds at alert

Yet, there is hope in anarchy,

We worship with troops at the gate

Yet, the Lord is Ominiprotect

Still in these gory sights

The Lamb is helpless

In corrugated iron bars of wealth

Sprinkling on us, the holy waters of hope

While we weep and smile at once...

Nonso Franklyn Anyanwu hails form Imo state of Eastern Nigeria. A final year student of English and Literary studies at the Ahmadu Bello University zaria, Nigeria. A member of Creative Writers Club and Association of Nigerian Authors. He has collections of unpublished poems and short stories as well as a novel, he's currently working on his second novel.

Campaign Speech for Chairman of the United Igbo Congress, USA

Podium courtesy of Faqs


Ladies and Gentlemen;

I would like to use this opportunity to salute my campaign managers Uzontiri Ijemere, Nchamere Nd'Igbo, Adannaya Okwuchukwu, Chidubem Udumotali, Otapiapia Ohiaukwu, Magnus Ibezim Onumaraekwu, Jacob "Nwa-Jesu" Garagara and uncountable others who had made this august event possible.

I would also like to thank my wife Lolo Adaure Nwanyioma and my children for their support.

I thank the Almighty God for all his mercies;

Now pay attention and listen to me carefully. I am talking to you from the bottom of my heart that if you vote for me I will make the life of my people better and I will ensure the effectiveness of transparency and accountability. You all know my track record. I am a man of few words, and I believe in action, action and action.

I need your vote and I believe in myself and I do not doubt your capacity to help turn things around in Igbo Diaspora and homeland when you give me your vote,
because I will be working together with you
and every penny will be accounted for.

You will elect me because I will watch your back
You will elect me because I have engaged in many morally outraged activities with most of you, if not all
So elect me and we can cover our ass to avoid any sex scandals and what we do behind closed doors at the strip joints;
You will elect me because I will defend all extramarital affair by way of attacking our enemies who snitch to our wives.
You will elect me because we have too much weird stuff and skeletons in our closets, and all that games we play is going to backfire on us if you don't vote for me.

But it is not only about covering our ass that I ask for your vote.
I will change the way business is conducted in Igboland;
I will make sure that more roads are built.
I will make sure there will be no more interruption of power supply in our communities.

I will build more American standard hospitals in our respective enclaves;
I will build more schools
I will help the poor and the elderly with bags of rice and anu ewu, goat meat
And school will be free at all levels if you elect me
I will build libraries and research centers in every district;
And jobs will be everywhere
There will be no more misery

For our roads to function effectively, I will construct more storm drains
I will provide a whole lot of job opportunities for our youths

I will ban homosexuals from our society
I will ban same sex marriage to be punishable by sex with the opposite;
I will encourage marrying as many wives as possible
I will encourage having uncountable concubines, like King Solomon

If you elect me I will encourage my wife to try other men in order to make it even
I will drink more akanaeme, spirits and the magani, pills that takes me to another level on bed.
I will make life easier with lots of enjoyment
I will revive bongo
with plenty of women
It is now a free world

[the crowd cuts in yelling: what makes you think you are qualified to be chairman with all the nonsense you are spewing?]

Yes, I am the most qualified
I have confessed my sins
I have been forgiven and life starts anew
I am the Omemgbeoji 1, Ishimiri 1, Ori ewu na azi 1, sir, chief, doctor, engineer, architect, accountant, PhD and Onyiriuwa 1 of Ugwumagala.

I have First School Leaving Certificate (FSLC), West African School Certificate (WASC), BA, BSc, MA, and another PhD in talkology;
I also have a degree in lootology and pornographic studies.

[he forgets to include driver as one of his haul of titles and degrees]

I am the man of the hour and our finest hour is an election away
I will make each and everyone of you chief and whatever title that you choose
I will not embezzle any of your funds
You all know I already have money and I have proof
I have mansions everywhere
I have fleet of cars in my garages -- home and abroad

I will establish an institute of ethnic African studies here in the United States to encourage and promote African cultural heritage.

I am asking for your votes because I am the only one who can make things happen in our communities.

I have balls and that is the reason why you should elect me;
I am a fervent believer in collectivity which ultimately leads to utopia meaning you must elect me because working together works.
I will not seek nku ukwa, the crumbs from the caliphates in Abuja for I shall demand a probe of the affairs of state in Igbo related states.

I will probe every unbecoming conduct within the Igbo elite
I will bring back the fold of Igbo Union; the days of profound leadership in Michael Okpara, Mbonu Ojike, Nwafor Orizu, K.O. Mbadiwe, Francis Akanu Ibiam, L.N. Obioha, Louis Mbanefo and the rest.

I am the great communicator
I will knock on the doors of every household to find out about the goings on
I will not be caught sleeping with my best friend's wife even if I had the intention to or even if I did.

Like Mohandas Gandhi, I will fight for your liberation from bondage;
Like Martin Luther King, Jr., I will take you to the mountain top;
Like the Chief Priest, Fela Kuti, I will use everything within my reach to fight the establishment against injustice and oppression;
Like Peter Tosh, I will author and sponsor a proposition to legalize goof, Indian hemp, for its medicinal purposes;
And like President Barack Obama, it is a new dawn and change will come to our communities

For all you naysayers who called me a thug and imbecile;
take a look at the previous leaderships
They screwed your wives, bragged and told their friends about it
They poisoned their minds
They are a wicked people
They forced your daughters into prostitution because of their vulnerability
They screwed your live-in partner because you had no money to pay for her abortion
They took advantage of you for being handicapped
They exploited you in every aspect of life

You swore not to tell anybody
You have destroyed yourself despite my efforts
to scrap the stubborn layers of fat around your mind
I told you I will come back and lead
There are no leaders but me
I am God and you must elect me if you really want change

How soon do you forget
they raped your women
they desperately starved your children to death
they demolished and plundered your homes
And you did nothing

You now dine and wine with them
the evil that destroyed your entire household
you have forgotten so soon
the bigotry and hatred
And how can you forget such an atrocity

So you must elect me to fight for you
I am pulling you to be up
The next generations must know about it
Because it is all that you have
you must keep the records intact

for their awareness
And never to happen again
If it repeats
the price will be high, and
the consequences more ominous

Well that ends my speech and I do hope some lessons would be learned not just for me being elected or any other thing but for a change in our respective communities which borders on what I earlier said about building community through collectivity. I have seen it all and I also believe the change is now or we will perish as a people.

Summer Read

Books, academic journals, newsmagazines, newspapers, your hood free papers on your doorsteps, the freebies we bump into on our way to run errands and the take that, it's free that comes in your mailbox just to get informed in every aspect of life endeavors is honestly what keeps body and mind one. Without that, body and mind will simply rust away.

So as the Summer jams echoes every nook and cranny of our neigborhoods, it becomes clear that reading is not only for information but a resouceful avenue to keep our internal being healthy, and in some other ways to stay away from trouble by being preoccupied reading a good book.

Let's see here. Too many books have popped up on the shelves this summer and a whole lot seems to be fascinating according to the reviews that I have read. I shall begin with a book I had long expected which eventually surfaced and, the reviews seemingly applauds the author's work, and even though I haven't read it yet, which I would, certainly, and based on the numerous articles posted by the author regarding the troubled, fabricated Nigerian state, I believe the critics for lauding Nigerian-born, British trained and United States-based professor, Max Siollun, on Oil, Plitics and Violence: Nigeria's Military Coup Culture.

Siollun, whose political commentaries on Nigeria, particularly on the military juntas and a corrupt civilian regime is all over Nigerian-related web sites and other publications, covered the fabrication of a Nigerian state to the civilian and military staged coups. I read Siollun coupled with the reviews on his new book meaning that I haven't read the book yet as I write, and other than having a copy in my study, there's not much that I would learn because the story about Nigeria's internal strife has been told in many different ways. And the book's hardcover prize of $33.95 and two hundred and something pages published by Algora is way high, though good in a sense for its revelations.

Like one reviewer noted, "most people probably do not see the Nzeogwu coup as the second attempt at overthrowing the Balewa government by force. While many followers of Nigerian history may know that Awolowo -- leader of the Action Group, one of the opposition parties in the First Republic -- was jailed for treason in 1964, few are aware that it was not a trumped up charge, and that three decades later, Action Group General Secretary, S.G. Ikokwu, confirmed that there was a genuine AG plot to topple the federal government."

I read Chris Mullin's "Diary" on the toxic mess in British parliament he wrote for the London Review of Books in which he came out unblemished and still has his 30-year-old black and white television. Mullin is a member of the British parliament. Detailed and quite some interesting stuff that reveals the digging by the Telegraph after paying a lump sum to purchase a computer disc which had to do with British Parliament's "unexpurgated expenses." The drama, indeed, makes Nigeria National Assembly look like a child's play.

On divinity and spirituality, there are good summer reads. In Martin Luther King Jr. for Armchair Theologians by Rufus Burrow Jr and illustrated by Ron Hill, "Burrow addresses those who see King as 'only' a social activist by showing how King's studies -- particularly his theological studies -- influenced, shaped, and transformed the activist part he pursued during his public life." And there's With God on All Sides: Leadership in a Devout and Diverse America by Douglas A. Hicks which deals with how American leadership bridges two bodies of knowledge -- "religion and leadership studies" which has been destroyed from complex problems. Here Hicks widens the discussion to include overcoming not only religious differences but also socio-economic, political, and cultural divides, according to D. Michael Lindsay who teaches sociology at Rice University and the author of Faith in the Halls of power: How Evangelicals Joined The American Elite.

And check this out. I remember while growing up, My childhood buddies and I hanged out on the beach and most often at Ruga Park playgrounds talking about the Knicker Bockers and the Yankees. Now there's a book titled Knicker Bocker: The Myth Behind New York by Elizabeth L. Bradley and published by Rutgers University Press. Philip Lopate had this to say about Knicker Bocker: "Those who puzzle at the incessant branding and rebranding of New York City would do well to read this fascinating, sophisticated, and witty social history of a myth."

There's interestingly The Making Of A Tropical Disease: A Short History Of Malaria by Randall M. Packard, published by The Johns Hopkins University Press. There's The Invisible Hook: The Hidden Economics of Pirates by Peter Leeson published by Princeton University Press. There's Love Lessons: Selected Poems of Alba Merini and translated by Susan Stewart, and here the book talks of Italy's foremost poets already known by Italian readers while English readers are about to discover for the first time.

There's Mind in the Balance: Meditation in Science, Buddhism, and Christianity by B. Allan Wallace, published by Columbia University Press, and Father Lawrence Freeman calls it "our best selling mind and consciousness scholar boldly corrects the balance bewtween empirical study and religion. There's Einstein's Generation: The Origins of the Relativity Revolution by Richard Staley published by The University of Chicago Press and Times Higher Education Simon Milton puts it this way: "A magnificent achievement and a work of great scholarship. Staley succeeds brilliantly in providing new ground for understanding how Einstein gradually emerged as the central figure within the German physics community."

There's Hitler, The Germans, and the Final Solution by Ian Kershaw and published by Yale University Press. And there's last but not the least, Bloody Lowndes: Civil Rights and Black Power in Alabama's Black Belt by Hasan Kwame Jefferies and published by New York University Press. Robin D. G. Kelley calls it the "book historians of the black freedom movement have been waiting for."

It's just too many of them books out there to keep you going along with the summer jams. So, people, go out there, sit and relax in any book store, browse some books for highlights and get yourself some good books for the summer read.

City Blues

A street once full of life, and
a whole lot of activities
on the store fronts with busy sidewalks
and pedestrians excited sightseeing
and window shopping;
bargaining for items in a bouyant economy
economy takes a downturn
and low turnout of events
lay-offs a commonplace, and
traders lose points
market slows down,
customers gone and stores emptied
going out of business on every booth
customers vacate the sidewalks
on a dead economy

Turmoil Christmas

All 'has' been well
a great expectation, and
good Christmas
coming with good spirit

Shopping spree and happiness
and all the gifts
Christmas Carrol
a one family

Celebrations and jubilations
joyous festivities
good feelings,
indeed

Not anymore
depression has set in
the joy is gone
gains and treasures gone

A miserable life
frustrations and loneliness
hopelessness and temptations;
on Skid Row and hungry

Paradise lost,
not to be regained
the pain is enormous, and
a disappearing oneness

war is in the hood
taken over by greed
exploitation the means
sex commerce

Vulnereable and gullible
survival of the fittest, and
all options exhausted
tight time and economic meltdown

A game of gangsters
crooks thriving on chaos
of bitterness and disappointments
government full of deceit

Wishing All A Merry Christmas

This is how we got here,
With so many fishes in the sea
And the cold wind blowing by
The merchant ships took us away,
The rest is now history.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!