Book: Irki
Author: Kadija Sesay
Publisher: Peepal Tree Press
Price: £8.99
Review by Andrea Enisuoh
Publisher, literary-activist and nurturer of black writers Kadija Sesay has published her debut collection of poetry which brings her out of the shadows and showcases some very well-crafted writing.
Called Irki, (which means homeland in the Nubian language), it is a fitting name for a collection that seems to be examining just where home is, whether it be a continent, an island or simply the house you were raised in.
For a relatively small collection Irki covers many issues: migration, racism, womanhood and cultural tensions to name a few, but it is the way that Sesay illustrates an experience, or a period of time, that makes the work so captivating.
In Back in the Day we read about 1960s singers who “Sold thin, plastic round plates of black gold”. In Adoring Michael she reminisces about a deep crush on Michael Jackson while all the white girls loved Donny Osmond. “We feel sorry for the white girls dem at school ‘cos there is no way Donny and his brothers could be as cool as the Jackson Five!”
With the light comes the shade. Nestling between poems about pops stars and young “Afro-Caribbeans shimmying to soul music”, lay poems about much more controversial issues. In Cutting Sesay alludes to the cultural practice of “cutting” young girls and narrates some of the arguments of those who defend this practice.
Private fostering of black children by white families, a common practice among many West African parents who migrated to the UK in the 50s and 60s, is a theme much returned to. In a similar way that Jackie Kay highlighted inter-racial adoption in her classic poetry collection The Adoption Papers, Sesay writes about this sensitive topic with love but searing honesty. From feelings of abandonment, cultural clashes and out and out resentment, she lays bare the experiences of many children who passed through the private fostering route during that time. Interestingly she also addresses the theme from the parents’ point of view.
Growing up as a second-generation Sierra Leonean during the seventies leaves the door open to the inevitably of racism and prejudice. Sesay creatively plays with form while confronting some of those realities. Using three-way monologue, arranging words into two or three columns, she highlights the different perspectives and experiences from different ethnic groups, allowing a common theme in black writing to be addressed in a very creative way.
Once again, with the light comes the shade, a thought I return to continually while reading this lovely collection. It is the layering, the pace and the honesty which makes Sesay’s first collection such a page turner.