West Oakland to Nigeria and East Oakland to Kenya
West Oakland to Nigeria Roll Call
Amos White and Godfrey-Elvis Odianose
Ayodele Nzinga and Koku Konu
Duana Fullwielly and Durotinu Jeremiah
Elaine Brown and Uchechi Obasi
Iman Gibson and Juliet Naji
Imani Todd and Victory Osarumwense
Iris Crawford and Matthew Otor
Kevin Dublin and Ifeanyichuku Onwughalu
Lisa Gray and Adeyinka Aromolaran
Makeda (Sandra Hooper Mayfield) and Isinaego Josephmark Chibueze
Meg Pierce and Michael Ayodmide
Nana Boateng and David Odiase
Shawna Sherman and Rhema Sunshine
Wanda Sabir and Gemini (Yusuf Balogun)
East Oakland to Kenya Roll Call
Adrienne Oliver and Kelvin Kombo Motuka
Chase Spears and Alfred Nyagaka Nyamwange
Dajuan Carter-Woodard and Lewis Wamwanda
Darius Simpson and Cornelius Kipkosgei
Dee Allen and Evans Mwendwa Mutie
Halima Olufemi and Caren Jepkogei
LadiRev and Rebeccah Mongina Mose
Landon Smith and Josephat Ndege Mauti
Mimi Tempestt and Stanley Kipkorir
Seestah Imahkus and Dr. Christopher Okemwa
Tessa Hersh and Lilian Omonga
Tongo Eisen-Martin and Bonface Nyamweya
Zakkiyah GE Capehart and John Otiso Bundi
West Oakland to Nigeria Featured Poems
Mama Told Me
by Victory Osarumwense
Mama told me
Not to wear my love for you on my chest
That I should bury it between my thighs
Tucked between layers upon layers of
Fabric, belt, jean, panties before skin…
Something hidden,
That would call you to dig up
That I should make you thirsty
To find my love for you buried beneath the surface of myself.
Origin
by Kevin Dublin
Intoxicate minds of all who lip them,
says my cousin. Or was it my brother?
Or was it another or anyone at all?
I come from a place where memory
slips as easily as fingers across a silk
dreadlock head wrap. I come from loblolly pines
lining the highway, from the taste of smoke
from a backyard barbecue, even when you
don’t eat meat. I come from train whistles
and routine rumbles shaking June
bedroom between evening cicada songs
and a radio tuned to Foxy 107/104.
East Oakland to Kenya Featured Poems
Resident
by Dee Allen
Not a native, but a resident
Of my corner of East Oakland
Where poverty dominates,
Where broke-on-broke crime
Is as natural as drawing
Breath into lungs, there’s more
Cars and SUVs broken into
By unknown parties than not, more
Fenced-off pieces of land and
Liquor stores than there are
Community centres and decent
Food shops, the homeless sleep
Against boarded-up buildings
Empty inside as the price of
Housing continues to soar past the clouds,
Drugs and black market guns
Are always available, have been available,
Five decades of strung-out
Black bodies and Black bodies shot
From petty disputes write that history,
Where the criminal image, the thug agenda is praised,
Where I fear the enemy & the enemy is my own–
How Do You Say No In THUNDER?
by Mama One Africa
Grandmaw said git under dat bed when
THUNDER and lightenin’ strike
God don’t want no squawkin’
while she’s talkin’ loud this night,
just make sure yo stuff is right
as that Thunder louds up the night.
THUNDER without lightenin’ is like fear that ain’t frightenin’
Or a gift of a toy received without joy
and love without kisses, when you finally meet your missus,
or that very special someone.
Clap, Clap, Boom, Boom
THUNDER in the room
Slap, Slap, Boommadeboom
THUNDER sounds like doom
THUNDER in the pounding of my chest
When my love’s been put to rest
And my world has gone asunder
THUNDER, THUNDER
BLUNDER, BLUNDER
Where did we go wrong?