Dancing on the Streets, World Literature Festival Oslo, September 2008

How do I start describing the World Literary Festival at Oslo in September this year?

Shall we talk about trams first? Yes, Trams, the same trams that rumbles down on busy thoroughfares of Kolkata. Trams are reminiscent of the British Raj in India and therefore boarding a tram from the Oslo dockyard with its familiar gongs at intervals was an experience lingering that I think of putting down hastily on the paper. Trams and Poets have a common link. The best of love poetry started off inevitably in trams as I see couples clinging on to each other. Love poetry sat on such a tram one day and it built itself up as streets and ancient buildings ran around it, people dropped by and parted till the conductor announced brusquely, ‘This is the last Stop’

The tram stopped and we got down. That was Adam Donaldson Powell, the moderator and key organiser of the Festival, Professor Santosh Kumar an academic from Allahabad, India, his son Karunesh,  the owner of the well known publishing house, ‘Cyberwit’ in India,  Barbara,  a poet / artist from Canada and obviously me. We are at the Vigeland Sculpture Park in Oslo. The park contains 192 sculptures with more than 600 figures, all modelled in full size by Gustav Vigeland without the assistance of pupils or other artists. Vigeland also designed the architectural setting and the layout of the grounds.

The park is the most beautiful ecological marvel keeping in pace with modern sculpture in a world where space and greenery is becoming increasingly rare. They harmoniously blend on to each other. Among all the sculptures that show human beings in its majestic forms, popping muscles, I mentioned to Professor Santosh, ‘ Gustav Vigelland knew the human anatomy well’; is this towering phallic column known as the Monolith. The column, 14.12 meters (46 feet) high carved out of a single block of stone, consists of 121 figures. Modeled by Vigeland in the years 1924-25, it took three stone carvers from 1929 to 1943 to complete the Monolith, just shortly before Vigeland died. The column is completely covered by human figures in relief, singly or in groups. At the bottom there are seemingly inert bodies. Above them figures ascend in a spiral, the movement halting midway and then rising at a fast pace towards the summit which is covered by small children. Various interpretations of the Monolith have been suggested: Man's resurrection, the struggle for existence, Man's yearning for spiritual spheres, the transcendence of everyday life and cyclic repetition.

I ate my favourite ‘Parle Crackjack’ biscuits from India which Karunesh generously gave me at the foot of the monolith and we made sure that we don’t drop the crumbs. Adam informed us that this park remains a favourite haunt of all lovers even in severe winters. The Pier from where we had started our journey had a number of boats with sails docked there. They reminded me of traditional Arabic boats or Dhows of Dubai. I thought of the mighty Viking ships that use to traverse all the way to Ireland from Norwegian coasts. I asked Adam about the dogs that the Vikings use to take with them during such plunders. I had suddenly remembered about the dogs in the company of Vikings in my favourite cartoon strip, ‘Asterix and Obelix’. Adam remained unsure although he has a dog that definitely doesn’t have a Viking lineage.

 Frankfurt Airport, A suspicious official takes a long look at my passport, my long hair and my tattered Levis. Who am I he asks inquisitively

A Poet, pop came the answer

Going to….

Oslo, I answered

Business?

No,Poetry reading at the Poetry Festival

Your profession?

I am a Poet, I had told u earlier

U mean You make money by writing poetry, he asked quizzically

Yes, Sir

I left a very unhappy man at the airport.

I have arrived at Oslo sans baggage. I am perturbed knowing that the suitcase with all published books, journals and lecture notes is still at Johannesburg Airport. Nasra Omar Ali is a god sent angel. She finds me at the airport at a time when I was visibly disturbed. She took over from me all the decisions of my further movements via the train and the walk to the downtown hotel. During that period I came to know that she is a Somali born in Oslo. I told her about the Somali refugees in South Africa, their determination to resist xenophobia and many ways they have prospered in Madantsane, the place where I practice medicine.

Oslo down town looks like a beautiful woman in its festivity best. Cobbled streets, flower beds, people cycling, which would be a long lasting impression of Oslo. The World Literature Festival is happening right at the centre of the town. There is a huge white tent that has been erected and all around it are streets on which I found that there were impromptu mini festivals of music, dance and theatre that were happening all the time. Oslo is definitely the cultural capital of Europe.

I talked on Contemporary trends in South African Poetry quoting extensively from the poetry of Kobus Moolman and Phillippa Yaa de Villiers, two poets whose books I have taken all around the world. Post Apartheid South African Poetry, its versatility is something that we all South Africans are proud of. Professor Santosh Kumar who interviewed me also felt that South African contemporary poetry is still in a transitional stage in a young democracy. A far more mature form would evolve in the years to come.

At a debate on Current and Future Trends in Electronic Publishing, I concluded that apart from all other aspects, I personally feel that while electronic publishing is here to stay in a major way, traditional book publishing will not vanish, at least for the next two centuries. The reasons are: Humans are just too used to romancing paper. There is something wholesome and good about paper that makes us buy hallmark cards even though it's easier and far cheaper to send attractive e-cards; Complete books are too long to be read solely on the computer. Besides the computer is not portable enough, despite laptops and smart phones - which carry bite size stories, popular in Japan, and the famous sms language, these days you even have sms poetry competitions and calls for phone fiction! Down loadable books in PDF paid for via paypal and ready to print out in your home printer is a very good option, but humans are not honest enough, and many will find ways to beat the nominal price asked for. My friend and colleague, Victoria Valentine’s views were read out by me. She writes –As a small press publisher since 2001, and being someone who is very passionate and dedicated to the promotion of new and established writers, I have become quite disillusioned and disheartened with the entire publishing industry, distribution and sales markets. I have weathered extreme difficulties both financially and physically to publish books on a regular basis for the purpose of placing print materials into the marketplace—not for profit, but solely to further the struggling efforts of new authors. 

Regardless of dauntless work hours of writers and small press, many print and online publications die daily because of the surmounting challenges that face us.  Even in the face of disappointment and adversity, we hang in there and forge ahead, regardless of the hurdles we have to jump—in the hope that someday we’ll find our niche and realize our dreams—find success and recognition for our hard work, and be rewarded for what we all strive for.

Our ambitious project of publishing a poetry collection of international repute to be launched during the festival had started about a year back. Tonight, An Anthology of World Love Poetry was launched with a lot of fanfare and its first copy gifted to Adam Donaldson Powell, one of Norway’s most popular poet. I talked on the poetry of Mahmoud Darwish, the renowned Palestinian poet who had passed away recently, respected by Palestinians and Israelis for his efforts in peace and understanding. A one minute silence was maintained at my request by poets from all over the world at the festival.

Geoff Jackson arrived from Denmark. He had told me in advance about his arrival and I had communicated to the organisers about it. We both belong to a Yahoo poetry group called Glorioustimes in India. We were meeting for the first time as much as most of the poets there whom I had known only on the internet till then. It was like ‘Mr. Livingstone, I presume’ and after that followed all encompassing bear hugs and more laughter. Got a little back ache after that trying to lift so many obese poets.

The festival was coming to an end but not the enthusiasm of participating poets. Eli Borchgrevink, the convenor and organiser is a ballet dancer. She tells me about dance forms that can be integrated with poetry. I screened clips from my poetry film which brought visual arts, poetry and music in a documentary shot by me. Poetry is a massive movement featuring unknown poets where trends change every other day and geographical boundaries are erased in such festivals and beyond.

I remember Rafael Prado Gutierrez from Santiago de Cuba and his foot tapping Cuban music enmeshed with Caribbean rhythms. I was entranced with the music of Becawe Aw of Mauritania. He sang and played African blues guitar with the beautiful Unni Lovid about nomadic living and longings. He was pleased to meet another African so far from home. Trouble is brewing at his home. The President Sidi Mohamed Ould Cheikh Abdallahi was ousted by a military junta and kept under house arrest.

Its midnight in Oslo. I look out from my hotel window and see groups of people walking down the street below. Somewhere somebody is playing the blues. I rush out and mingle with the crowd. Dancing on the streets with some friendly Norwegians was never so good. There is music everywhere and a spring on the steps of everybody. Guzzling beer and dancing is all I did till I reached the early hours of the morning to my hotel where I danced my way to my room to the utter amazement of the receptionists.