Sophia

Are you ever reminscent of sunnier summer breaks?
Bike rides furiously on estate curbs
And there she was;
Young Sophia
Freckled skin hides behind large framed lenses
Hair in innocent ponytail
She's Dominican?
Island girl
Her mum was aunty Bessy, her brother my best friend;
Amen
Sofia was my first crush, first love
Ode to Sophia
Can we journey back in time when it all seemed so easy
I won her heart from dangerous manouevres 
I'd peddle in great speed towards her
Then just before she and I thought love will collide in a fateful tragedy
Right hand break will swerve into a gradual skid
I'd smile
Never lost that boyish charm of mine
She'd offer me her hand to kiss.

I never did kiss it
I was never noble enough to kiss my Sophia
Sophia was dream to boys who star gazed at night
Their nocturnal ways obstructing visions of true love
They'd lay still at night feeling echoes of her absence
It vibrates gently on their back
Soothes them even
Ode to Sophia 
A gentle lullaby
Until one night they can fall asleep again
The patient dream Sophia waits.


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The Beat - Song for Ife

It’s all in the hips she said

How the swaying leads to the dips she said

Like the way there’s a curve in our lips she said

When one prepares for a kiss she said

Now I know it’s one of those that must be said

When an African muses on the drum she said

There’s a spiritual evoke it provokes she said

The finesse in the balance in the stroke she saidSee the secret is in me she said

Way before I knew me was me she said

I guess my mother knew, she must have knew she said

The way she crept in the shadows and she stared she said

Mother had the fear she said

The fear that man couldn’t comprehend she said

Their eyes on my guise and their lies she said

Mother said it’s about time I realised she said

And that aroused a pain in me she said

It’s like I was to blame she blamed me she said

That her husband came after me she said

Old husband wanted me and not her she said

Every night it was me she said

And every cry was from me she said

I would close my eyes and ask mother why she said

Why she crept in the shadows and just watched she said

And I knew she was watching she said

Her eyes were unnerved as she watched she said

and her fist ooo her fist they were clutching she said

And when it was all over mother said NOTHING she said

so it’s one of those things that must be said

When an African muses on the drum she said

A young girl muses on the drum she said

An old man plays the beats on the drum she said

Umoja - Review

The show opens with a salvo of drum patterns, huge men beat ferociously as if the decades of oppression they endured were now bundled into the hollow depths of this instrument they played.

This is "Umoja" we're told by our narrator Gregory Mkhabla, a man who I can only liken to a sub Saharan Morgan Freeman with his deeply melancholy voice, he goes on to explain; " it is a word from Swahili meaning togetherness", and there was a familial togetherness on stage as we had glimpses of a past Zulu nation, a nation that roared with sheer vigour and power. The men, spear in one hand and shield in the other leapt and tumbled, their chests pounded with intent and they grappled each other for respect and honour. The women, exposed to the world were vivid, their guise tempting and voices rejoiced in unison as they beautifully harmonised the spirit of togetherness through musical number and dance. Occasionally they will spill out into the auditorium in full glory, unapologetic, vibrant and intimidating as if to reclaim a land that once belonged to them; this was evident in the wildness in their eyes.

Many are aware of the story of Apartheid and political fraction in South Africa; Film, Art and Theatre have all played their part in contributing to this discourse. I remember none more fondly than Sarafina; a musical by Mbongeni Ngema depicting students involved in the Soweto Riots, in opposition to apartheid. Umoja, however doesn't fall into that category, in fact, it did everything it possibly could to sway away from the politics and harsh reality of living in South Africa, instead what we have is the optimist's approach, satirical reflection of mainstream South African culture and the decision to revel in wondrous discovery of Sheebebs underground clubs where, we're told, the likes of Miriam Makeba and the Soul Brothers careers were birthed.

Todd Twala's choreography although engaging at first became repetitive and all too predictable, the music seemed at its best in the first half when the richness of African voices flowed easily and with cadence to traditional music, the transition into contemporary Kwaito seemed unnatural and the Gospel explosion turned our spirited songstress into Sister Mary Clarence.

This didn't matter however, what we saw was a new nation celebrating its history, their spirit relentless and passion uninhibited. Their message was clear and poignant; it's the past and present that makes us great, the spirit of Umoja travels through time and on a night where sub zero temperature battered the streets of London, I was at least grateful to be transported to a warmer climate.

Booking until February 19, Box Office: 0844 412 4300

Nostagic blues....

Just over a year ago I embarked on a journey in New York... this was a personal reflection I shared amongst friends...enjoy

I wake up early most morning on my single bed to a hesitant New York sunrise, I say hesitant because the sun here seems to seep conveniently slowly into my room, a welcomed change to what I’m used to because sometimes I like to play mental games with myself and try to guess how many things I can get done, or how many of my friends birth date I can recall before the natural light fully illuminates my room. Most mornings though, I just like to sit there and imagine – reminisce - think about the busy London life and everyone’s individual strives, I know you’re thinking I’ve only been away for a couple of weeks and it’s way too early to be hit by the waves of nostalgia, but I guess I’m the eternal sentimentalist and for us it’s never too early.

I set out on the streets of Greenwich Village, downtown Manhattan, New York – the concrete Jungle, never before has a metaphor been used to greater effect, this place really is a place for David Attenborough to commentate over; the cloudy mist from sewers almost swamp like and human beings flocking from busy intersections like herds of gazelles avoiding the dangerous clutches of yellow beasts on four wheels, well unless you actually want to catch one. Like the Jungle it all seems to work and coincide together, the historical landmarks and new memorials, the eccentricity of busy Harlem nights and corporate Wall Street mornings, it all seems to make sense in this eclectic metropolis full of power and history, laughter and pain, purpose and desire... I think they call it the concrete Jungle because I don’t think you can ever find a place that blatantly conflicts with the needs of a natural world but still feels so natural.

I study at New York University or NYU as it’s commonly known, at the TISCH school of the arts, the artistic director of my course is Spike Lee, the Spike Lee bit has no relevance to what I’m about to say but just thought I should throw it out there. The course itself is ‘Graduate Filmmaking’, it’s a MFA which is sort of like a masters but not really (http://gradfilm.tisch.nyu.edu/object/MFAFilm.html), as well as this I’m doing a intensive creative writing course as a supplement. The course is tough but very insightful, it’s a three year course but I’ve been fortunate to learn the second year of the course which tailors to what I want to do - documentary. I am loving every moment of learning here, and what’s actually amazing is I am actually learning, I’m learning beyond what’s being taught in class and my daily interactions with new friends and class mates is really giving me greater insight into my work and how I want to develop as an artist.

I'll finish this rather prompt reflection with a simple message for all my friends in the creative field; we’re going to make great impacts on this industry...

Trust me we will.

Ola Malachi Masha

Success and Sabotage of Lovers Rock. How Positive Black Films get Blocked, Messed up and Messed around

The Story of Lovers Rock is a film made by Menelik Shabbaz about a type of music known as Romantic Reggae and the associated lifestyle and culture of the black community in England in the 1970's/80's.
Mr Shabbbaz is an award-winning filmmaker who was never privileged and patronised in the same way that white directors of less stature have been. Lovers Rock is his first film for fifteen years, it was refused funding by all of the major arts and culture funding bodies who came up with a list of excuses ; not relevant, no market, too niche, not really history, etc. Mr Shabbaz and his team went to the community and repeatedly asked for investors. Despite getting full houses and rapturous applause at several preview screenings at the BFI and the Coronet, people were long on talk but short on pulling their pockets. Fifty thousand pounds was the amount in question. Mr Shabbaz persevered, completed the film despite several last minute obstacles and amazingly managed to secure a distribution deal which meant that a company would assist in placing the film in cinemas across the country. This in itself is unusual as many black films never get
distributed and are shown once or twice if at all before disappearing. The result is that people never get to enjoy, learn or benefit from the those films and there is no box office results to prove such films sell. This then puts off distributors from distributing such films and producers/studios from making such films in the first place.
Mr Shabbaz and his team got the Story of Lovers Rock on a number of screens across the country. This is what happened next..

* Cinemas did not display the Lovers Rock poster in advance or on the day
* Cinemas did not have the film listed on their own website or on their printed programme
* Cinema staff did not know that the film was on in their cinema
* Cinemas did not include the film in their weekly mail out to their regular customers
* Cinemas did not play the trailer for Lovers Rock before the main feature in advance of the film opening as normally happens
* Cinemas that were showing the film did not take delivery of the film or if the film failed to arrive at the stated time did not chase up the distributors they just cancelled the show even though people had booked in advance to see it
* Cinemas agreed to one or two screenings at weird times like 1.30pm on a Monday

No room on screen for loving black couples.
All of the above happened before and even after the screenings began to sell out.
Lovers Rock has been selling out 400 seat cinemas at 11.30pm 7.30pm on weekdays and weekends. Lovers Rock attendance and box office takings have beaten Hollywood blockbusters on at the same venue such as Tinker, Tailor, Soldier Spy. This is incredible as Tinker had heavy TV, Radio, billboard and newspaper advertising whereas Lovers Rock has none of that. Lovers Rock has had people being turned away at the door and dancing in the aisles. Cinemas were approached to screen the film or extend the run. This is what happened next...
* Cinemas said no
* That they couldn’t see the point
* That they weren’t sure if the film was 'right'
* That it wasn’t worth the risk
* That they weren’t sure if there was any interest
* That they couldn’t put up posters as the directors name was spelt incorrectly
* That they might give it one more day maybe
* That they would definitely show it.. At 1.30pm on a Monday and Tuesday
This is the treatment that a successful independent black film that is making money is getting. Does this happen to Harry Potter? What is the problem? Why would you refuse to screen a film that is making money? Is it that the film shows black people in an accurate and positive light? Why would a film that is making money at 7.30pm on a Thursday be given a follow up slot at 1.30pm on a Monday afternoon when most people are at work or school?
Spike Lee's film about heroic black soldiers in World War 2 Miracle at Santa Anna was blocked by its European distributors because they didn’t 'like' the film. Mr Lee took them to court and won 45 million dollars in compensation.
Oprah Winfrey’s and Denzel Washington’s Great Debaters, about black academic success, which made a profit of 15 million dollars was never even released here. Jumping the Broom an African American romantic

This image is not wanted in the UK.

Comedy shows loving black families getting married. It made 31 million US dollars and got to number 3 in the US charts but will not be released in this country. Shirley Chisholm the amazing and inspirational story about the first black woman to run for President was never released here. Perhaps it was because these films have an all black cast and the majority white population is not interested in seeing black people on the big screen. In which case how is it that 50 Cents Get Rich or Die Trying got released nationwide ? It was the story of drug dealing/prostitute mum who gets murdered and her son and his drug dealing criminal associates who get killed before he becomes a rapper. Precious a film about a homeless, illiterate, overweight black teenager who is the victim of rape and pregnancy twice by her father and physical/emotional abuse by her mother; which has a scene where black women are compared to dogs was on 447 screens across the
country. American Gangster, starring Denzel Washington, about a drug-dealing gangster who flooded Harlem with heroin in the 70's was also on general release. Attack the Block was Joe Cornish' first ever film. As a white director he had no problem getting 6 million pounds to make a film with a majority black cast. In the film we are introduced to a mostly black criminal gang as they rob a white woman with a hint of wishing to rape her, then the lead black youth goes to his local drug lord where he gets promoted to a drug dealer. He and his mates are quite happy about this. The only thing that stops him drug dealing is the arrival of aliens from outer space. By the way, the aliens from outer space are 'black' 'So black you can’t see!' and ‘Blacker than my cousin Femi' according to the script. The black male lead ends up in prison. This film was heavily advertised and made the top ten. What does this say about the film industry and British culture?

Lovers Rock is out now if you haven’t seen it... We are also holding a private screening this Friday in view of encouraging attendees to go out challenge this anomaly.

Sir Richard Branson

So recently I had the pleasure of sitting on the MTV base panel and meeting Virgin Founder Sir Richard, it was a truly memorable day as I sat down with him talked about the Africa, The Elders foundation, Sex Pistols and how he's going to invest huge money on my scripts. (I dream right?)

























Top: The film crew preping our interview
Bottom from left: Sizwe, Lil Simz, Dick, Ola, Sarah and Arnold

An evening with the Prof

Monday 30^th of May, I learnt from my friend that Professor Wole Soyinka will be giving a talk at the Southbank in a couple of weeks, “there’s no way I can miss this” I said “please make sure you send me the details this week so I can book my ticket” The next day I found out from Symeon Brown (Monty Kipps) that the event that I envisioned will be in a couple of weeks time was in fact going to happen the following day, so my weeks of preparation was actually days and in all probability our chances of procuring a seat will be slim because tickets for this will virtually be sold out. With this in mind we decided nonetheless to meet there, one way or another we said; we will enter, the Southbank cannot stifle the voice of two young black men who were adamant on listening to one of their inspirations, a literary genius who has impelled the works of so many, if they deny us access we will storm the barracks, demand the Profs attention and as sturdy men wrestle us out he will stand up and shout no, this is exactly the type of passion and action that lacks dreadfully from the young people today, let them stay, in fact, bring extra chairs up to this stage, they will sit with me... one can dream right?

The next day I frantically negotiated my way through London traffic, the last thing I wanted to be today was late, being late will somewhat dampen my act of defiance, and generally, it’s not a good look. I then received a text message from another friend of mine who managed somehow to get us last minute tickets from press office, “how on earth did you manage that?” I ask “Gift of the gab” she said as she laughed “I also told her you guys will blog about it and will not storm down their event!”

So we arrive, late, but that’s not the point right now, we sit, bring out our notepads and fixate our gaze at this ethereal being, with an angelic halo of perfectly conditioned afro hair hovering above him he spoke magnificently, addressed Jude Kelly with such swagger that I’m sure she if not for just a split second thought about the Prof in ways her husband Michael Birch would not approve. He spoke about many things, inevitably about Nigeria and its politics, the impact Nollywood is having on the economy and his reluctant embrace of the industry, Africa and its choice of leadership, and his resentment over how his work has pulled him away from being an artist and towards politics. Most importantly he spoke about Theatre, its transforming powers and how he will forever be in love with this medium.

The evening was opened up to the audience and Symeon inevitably got the mic, he posed a question on historical archive when it comes to the African and Caribbean experience, why there is no recognised institute committed to retaining these chronicles in a way that will harness our future as Black people. The professor somewhat misunderstood and made a valuable point of how we take for granted the history of our people in the UK because it’s very much embedded in the fabrics of our day to day living- we live on Ladbroke Grove, we live in Brixton- we don’t realise these are cultural landmarks and that we need to preserve the stories within them. Without the mic now, Symeon continued his personal dialogue with the Prof across the auditorium as he reiterated his question, now understanding the scope of Symeon’s question the Prof said “maybe we should ask SOAS, why this infrastructure isn’t in place”, only for Symeon to respond “I studied at SOAS, believe me it’s not the place for the answer”. Sitting there enjoying this rather spontaneous banter reminded me of the words of a Malian writer and ethnologist Amadou Hampâté Bâ who said; "In Africa, when an old man dies, it's a library burning." This sentiment resonated with me through the night and made me realise just how important organisations like the Black Cultural Archive are in recording the legacy and preserving true and honest accounts.

Straight after the talk we met a lovely young lady by the name of Ibiene who has indirect relations to Prof Soyinka and was one of the select few that was invited to the post talk reception, buoyed by our fortuitous day we decided to accompany her to the reception and get close and personal with the Prof, alas, this was not to be as we were denied access despite our attempts to use our skills of negotiation. After a minute or two of fruitless negotiating we realised the Prof was approaching us so we decided to talk to him personally before he entered the ever elusive reception.

“Professor Soyinka ” Symeon called, he smiled at us as he stopped, “We just had a very interesting conversation about historical archive and the Black experience in the UK, I feel we need to continue this dialogue”, there was brief silence, then the Prof reached out to shake our hands and tap Symeon on the shoulder saying as he walked away “it is down to you young ones now, you must take it from here” we were rendered speechless and could only watch as he walk through the doors into the reception...his charisma intense but effortless, this man had real swagger.

Still dissatisfied with our brief encounter we continued scoping our way in, planning our manoeuvre around the clutches of one lady adamant on standing at the door like a MI5 operative, we will find our attempts to be futile as we later settle for creating our own reception outside with Ibiene and volunteers of the collective artistes, I guess those inside must have known it was out with us where the real party was because even Dianne Abbott ventured out responding to Symeon’s “how was it in there?” with a passive “it’s alright in there” as she joined Femi Elufowoju, Nigerian playwright and director who like us was relegated to the sidelines, others fizzled out and we all entertained each other until it was quite clear that we will not be seeing the Prof again that evening and with that in mind took to our exit.

My drive home gave me time to reflect on the evening and the wonderful chances we took, it left me spurred by the words of Professor Wole Soyinka, more so by the one he said much more casually as he walked away from us; “it is down to you young ones now, you must take it from here”

We will Prof, we will.