For
the last eleven years, I have not missed a single Mawenzi House’s fall launch event. It
used to be held at the Gladstone hotel till a couple of years ago and now, for
the last couple of years at the cozy, comfortable almost homely Centre for
Social Innovation at Bathurst.
For
the last four decades, Mawenzi (earlier known as TSAR) has become the
authentic voice of multicultural Canada, by focusing on providing a platform to
authors from different ethnicities who have made Canada their home.
Mawenzi
House has introduced me to many contemporary authors, some of whom have supported
me in different ways in my attempt to become an author. It has published some
of the best books that I’ve read in the last decade.
An
illustrative (not exhaustive) list would include Chelva Kanaganayakam’s
translation of R. Cheran’s Tamil poems You Cannot Turn Away; Kwai-Yun Li’s The
Palm Leaf Fan and Other Stories; Safia Fazlul’s The Harem; Saima Hussain edited
The Muslimah Who Fell on Earth; Dawn Promislow’s Jewels and Other Stories; Ava
Homa’s Echoes from Other Land; Loren Edizel’s Adrift; Sheniz Janmohamed’s Bleeding
Light just to name a handful.
Earlier
this month, at the fall launch, Mawenzi again unveiled some excellent titles. I
was at the launch and based on the readings by authors, I bought Lamees Al
Ethari’s Waiting for the Rains – An Iraqi Memoir and Sohan S. Koonar’s Paper
Lions (fiction).
Here’s
an extract from Al Ethari’s memoir:
We knew that the Americans
intended to erase us; if they had wanted to remove Saddam Hussein, there were
less violent ways of taking him out. No one was safe. In the first Gulf War,
they had bombed Al-Amiriyah Shelter, which had housed hundreds of civilians,
mostly women and children. Father and husbands had dropped off their families
there, hoping they would have a better chance of surviving the air raids. Four
hundred and eight civilians died that night. Three missiles that hit the
shelter led to the doors locking from impact and imprisoning people within the
burning walls. I had seen images of the shelter and went to the annual memoriam
at the site; the remains of bodies were plastered on the walls of the shelter.
Shock and Awe, as George W.
Bush called it, was exactly that. Everything was a target; we saw smoke rising
from different parts of the city, until the smoke was all we could see.
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Also,
in November, my friend Fraser Sutherland’s collection of poems Bad Habits (Mosaic
Press) was launched at the Yorkville Library. Fraser has published nearly 20
books – mostly collections of poems, but also a short story collection and a
number of nonfiction titles. He is great editor, who has contributed to turning
unreadable and badly structured writing into scintillating and compellingly
readable prose or poetry.
Bad
Habits has a section titled An Introduction to Fraser Sutherland, which has a
page-and-a-half of Fraser’s idiosyncratic observations that are pithy,
epigrammatic and memorable.
Here’s a sample:
“Poetry
can’t defeat ongoing ignorance, repetitive wrong-doing, physical deterioration
nor persona extinction. But to say a few meaningful words about being in the
world in the face of infinity and eternity – well, that’s something.”
“The
idea of poetry-writing as therapy is especially seductive; if you’re writing a
poem and it’s going well, there’s no better feeling in the world.”
“Somehow
a good writer has to work aslant to the existing order. For a writer to be
popular, to win prizes, to be feted by the media – those to me are grounds for
suspicion. If the trappings of public success, however welcome, began to
descend on me, I’d start to suspect myself.”
And
here’s a poem from the collection
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