Bridge Across Atlantic
Here is what the talk is all about. This is the story more than a thousand years telling. It travels from the ancient paths of Africa to the superhiways of America. It is about love, it is about hate, it is about joy, it is about pain, it is an America story as it has never been told before. Read an Excerpt. Here's a Q and A with the author, IBé. See what people are saying. If you are so moved, click the button below to get your very own copy. If you live in Minnesota, you can find it at these local stores. Or you can always buy it from Amazon.com.
An Excerpt from the book, Bridge Across Atlantic
Orphan
I miss you Mother
Every day I come home wanting
To put my head down
I think about the days you held it in your lap
Rubbed it so gentle
To put me to sleep
No matter how deep the tears
You wiped them dry
(Chopping)
Through onion and exotic spices
In my kitchen, I’m a chef now
But no matter how hard I try
How much fresh ingredients I buy
It’s never like those I tasted
In your kitchen
I miss being your taster
The first to try the fried fish
The rice
before steam
(Typing)
Through words I can’t even pronounce
On my computer, I’m a writer now
But no matter how hard I try
I can’t seem to find the words
To tell stories the way you did
Under moon lit skies
In the middle of our compound
Your voice was music
I wish I’d recorded it
Cos there are times
Many, when
There is nothing I want more than to sit and listen to your voice
Go up
And down
The other day
I was in a dark spot
I woke up before the sun, and
Went for a walk on the beach
Standing on the West Atlantic shores
I looked across the oceans
I swear I could see your face
Your star in a night sky smile
I reached but couldn’t touch
You
I went home
Tried to call but
All circuits were busy
I miss you Mother
My busted pants you used to sew
My shoes too
I used to hate it then
But even for waking me up early in the morning
Asking me to make my bed…
Do you know I still hear your voice
Whenever I wake up
Look at my bed undone
My room unkept?
You used to say, “Don’t run out in the rain, you’d get sick”
But it felt so nice on those hot afternoons
And getting sick…well, meant getting tucked in your cozy blanket
And the soup you made!
These days when I get sick
I have only memories to keep me warm
I miss you mother
I miss the way you walk
So graceful
The way you sleep
So peaceful
The way you carry yourself
So…so…so
Even when they didn’t like you
Whenever you passed through
They looked on with admiration
There she goes
I know it’s hard to imagine
But you made every ray of the beautiful African sun…
Well, a little brighter
I miss your eyes, your touch, your smile, the way you say my name
I miss you Mother
Sometimes when I walk into my apartment
After a long day of stress
I smell your presence
I reach to give you a hug
But my arms-length is never long enough
Put my head down to sleep
I dream about you
But it’s always in black-and-white
And I know you to be more colorful than that
“Treat people like they want to be treated.”
“Treat adults like you would me.”
“Keep your back straight when you walk.”
“When you don’t remember somebody’s name, smile big and be genuinely happy when you say hi. Don’t ever ask their name twice.”
“It’s better to be half hungry with your friends than full while they sit hungry.”
See, when you thought I was not listening
I absorbed and now remember and live all that you said
I miss you mother
You want to know a secret?
It’s been nine years
And there has not been a day when I close my eyes and not see:
Me standing on the top step to an airplane
You standing at a distance
Waving goodbye
You cried that day
They say a man is not suppose to cry
And I tried
But that day I cried
Tears like a little girl
If that was unmanly
Thanks for making me perfect
Mother
Nine years
Nine years I’ve been waiting
To bless my eyes, hands, ears, and taste
With your presence
Nine years to be continued…
For here I am
Sitting with a phone in hand
Listening to someone tell me you died last night
I’m sorry, Mother
I can not make it to your funeral
I don’t have my Green Card yet
And my visa expired two weeks after I got here
I miss you, miss you so much
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Q and A with the Author
Q: So, IBé, you are a poet now?
A: You don’t become a “poet now”. Is a poet, was a poet, will always be a poet. Anyway, I like to think of myself as a writer.
Q: Finally, you got a book on the shelves. How does it fell?
A: Like a big load off my shoulders. Wow! It’s exciting. But man it’s a lot of work. I didn’t know writing was the easiest part of writing a book. I’m proud of myself. This is something I’ve wanted to do a long time, and spend many months and years preparing. I’m glad it’s finally here.
Q: Self-published...is that code word for not good enough to be published?
A: It's code word for writer freedom, for some editor fell asleep and let a gem fall off his desk. But, you're right though, that's the first thing that pops up in people's head as soon as they hear "self" attached to "publish". But the truth is publishers don't reject a manuscript because it is not good. They reject it because they don't see a market for it. But as we all know the market (or people's belief in it) gets it wrong many times. At first they got D.H. Lawrence wrong, at one point or the other got Mark Twain wrong, Whitman wrong, DuBois wrong. And the list goes on. It sounds to be I'm in great company.
Q: Is this the book you’ve always wanted to write?
A: It is definitely one of the books I’ve always wanted to write. There are lots of books I want to write. And I hope one day I get a chance to. Even as we speak, I’m working on my next. Look around you, everywhere stories are crying to be told. I will be damned if I let them go to waste without trying my hardest to grab some.
Q: How long did it take you to write this book?
A: How long? When something is part of you it’s hard to give it any time stamp short of your entire life. But I can tell you the oldest poem in this book is about 8 years old. And I started putting together the collection at least some three years ago. I’m not going to say I spent all that time getting it together, but it definitely took some hours.
Q: I heard you are quite the prolific writer. You must have like a thousand poems written…
A: I’m not counting, but quite possible.
Q: So how many poems in this book?
A: About twenty. Some very long ones.
Q: Yeah, yeah, I heard you’re known for your 7 page poems.
A: You know, some things take a while to say, even in verses.
Q: So, why these 20 for this book?
A: Well I tell you it was not easy. First of I was going to include many more. Because personally, I feel all my poems deserve to be read. Just kidding. I didn’t want to make the book too big. I want people to be able to slide it in their coat pocket to read on the bus, in waiting rooms, etc. See, I admit poetry is not the easiest read. I don’t expect people to read it sunbathing or anything. Poetry is meant to be savored, sipped is small doses. And I try to accommodate this. So first I had to outline the story I wanted to tell. And I chose the ones I thought best help me tell this story. Knowing the story first, helped me narrow the poems.
Q: Talking about the story. I see you have a big story here that the poems seem to tell.
A: Yeah. I’m glad you caught that. This is not just bunch of poems put together. There is order to the madness. Like the title implies, this is an Africa to America story. The big story here is my story, it’s our (Africans in America) story. I deliberately chose When Night Fell as the anchor poem because it is the reason. We all have an action to this chain reaction. That there is mine. It’s my way of saying, here, this is why I come to be in America. After that, we can talk about the before and after. First in Africa, hence Africa 101, Mon Pays, etc, all the way to America. Somewhere in the journey, life happens.
Q: Are you an American?
A: I'm not Belgian
Q: So, you know I got to ask this. Of all these poems, which one is your favorite? And please don’t give me that cliché answer like “they are all my babies”.
A: But they are! Man, that’s a hard one. Honestly, I love all these poems. They all mean a great deal to me. But you already made it clear you are not going to let me get away with that answer. So, where does that leave me? Here: I really like College Daze. I read it to laugh at myself. I love She Smiles Tears. Tainted Sparkles is dear to my heart. I enjoy reading African in America. As a writer I’m most proud of The Lucky Few. How's that for an answer?
Q: A politician wouldn't have done better . But I'm not going to press it further. I got to tell you a lot of these poems read like prose. I mean not a lot of metaphors and such. So I got to thinking, are these true stories?
A: Well, I don’t lie.
Q: You know what I mean. Are these your true stories?
A: Okay if you put it that way, then no. Though each and every line is rooted in the truth, of course it is not all my stories. These are composite stories. I take a lot of people I know, a lot of experiences I’ve lived or seen my friends and family live, and paint them over one character, one scene, ect. That’s the lie writers with no imagination tell. Our make-believe is a lot of people’s believe.
Q: So your mother is not dead like you imply in Orphan?
A: God no. But I have a cousin that poem happened to.
Q: Do you have your Green Card?
A: Do you have your passport?
Q: Tell me, who do you most want to read this book?
A: Everyone of course! I want Oprah to read and ask the world to read it. But seriously, I always write for my people, Africans in America. These are our stories. But I think others will benefit highly from it too. It’s a small world out there, and I truly believe we should all do our best to see through our neighbor’s eyes. So yeah, though I think Africans in America will get it the most, I believe any and everyone should read it and try to understand it. At the very least it might give them the right questions to ask.
Q: What’s up with spoken word artist?
A: What’s up with it?
Q: Everybody and their cousin is a spoken word artist.
A: That’s good. A generation of people in love with the word, what else can anyone ask for?
Q: But how do you weigh, if there is no standard? If anyone can do it, what’s the point?
A: It’s that elitist mentality that keeps all the best things in life for a few people. They say whatever the masses consume is just not authentic anymore, it’s not worth having if Freddy on the corner can get his hands on it. Yeah, there are some bad spoken word artists with some bad spoken word pieces. But there are some bad quantum physicists with some bad theorists. And when it comes to art who’s to say which is bad and which is not? Some think Shakespeare can not write a bad verse. I know people that can’t stand his ass.
Q: So how do you like it in America?
A: I love it in America. If I was not here, I’d probably be holding vigil in front of one of their embassies.
Q: What do you mean?
A: It seems all the young people in many parts of the world, especially mine, all they want to do is come to America. So whether I like it or not, chances are if I was not here, I’d be dying to get here.
Q: How do you feel about that?
A: Well, I wish we would stay home and do something there. But they’d say, who are you to speak, why don’t you move back? Indeed who am I? So I can’t tell them to not come chasing their dreams. But I must tell them what I know, what they can expect when they arrive. I see a lot of my brothers and sisters here saying, “Man, I wish I knew.” I don’t want to hear that any more.
Q: So you think "Bridge Across Atlantic" can shed light on how life really is like in America?
A: It would definitely give you an idea.
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Stores Selling Bridge Across Atlantic
Common Good Books
165 Western Ave N
Suite 14
St. Paul, MN 55102
Tel: 651-225-8989
Magers and Quinn
3038 Hennepin Avenue South
Minneapolis, MN 55408
612-822-4611
866-912-6657 (toll free)
Amazon Book Store
4755 Chicago Ave. So.
Minneapolis, MN 55407
612-821-9630
Macawbers
2238 Carter Ave.
St. Paul, MN 55108
651-646-5506
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