Ken Ike Okere: On love, poetry and bullying

Ken Ike Okere answers the name Slam Master, but yet is not your average crazy poet. Always suited with a James Bond elegance, he sits in his swivel chair as a Director at Radio Nigeria and his eyes sparkle when he talks about the future of poetry in Nigeria. But why the Slam Master for […]

Ken Ike Okere answers the name Slam Master, but yet is not your average crazy poet. Always suited with a James Bond elegance, he sits in his swivel chair as a Director at Radio Nigeria and his eyes sparkle when he talks about the future of poetry in Nigeria.

But why the Slam Master for this gentleman?

He laughs. “Just a big title for someone who organises the poetry slam,” he says.

A decade or so ago, he co-founded the Abuja Literary Society, a group that is engaged in the promotion of reading and writing in Nigeria’s capital. And he earned the title as the brains behind the annual poetry slam, a face-off of spoken words poets from all around the country.

He reads almost rabidly, in almost every space available to him. It was a habit instilled in him from childhood by his father – a habit that has shaped the way his life has played out.

“I have a father who always prefered me reading than going to play football and he would be very angry if I left my books for football and I developed a love for reading,” he says.

“He would always leave his newspapers with me even as a child, when I was as young as seven or eight, and have me read them and then summarize the major stories for him. That was his way of getting me literate beyond what we were taught in school.”

His father’s love for learning saw him send his young son off to boarding school, a decision that did not quite sit well with his mother, who felt her son was too young, too small perhaps.

It was the smallness that some of his fellow students tried to capitalize on and bully the young Ken Ike. It was particularly worse in his first year and especially when students went out for sports.

He resorted to hiding away in the groves to read instead of making himself available to be bullied. It was during one such furlough in the woods that he read a book that had a profound impact on him.

“I remember reading a book then in which one of the antagonists said he doesn’t believe in an eye for an eye, he believes in a head for an eye. So I chose that at the time. So anyone who tried to bully me came in for a shocker because I reacted in such unexpected ways,” he says.

He grew a thick skin and could, in his own words, “give back a ton for an ounce.”

But beyond fending off bullies, he learned more from books in those trees. He made friends of his would be enemies and was soon able to allow his talent take wings. He joined the debate and literary society and rose to be its president.

“Books helped me to understand human character and the way that we behave. That understanding enabled me to turn into my friend, those that would have continued to be my bullies,” he says, leaning forward in his chair.

But how did Ken Ike the reader transform into Ken Ike the writer? Simple, really. He fell in love. Not with books, but with a real girl in his school. He, however, was shy about talking to her so he remained a closet admirer for a long time. What he could not say to her, however, he penned down. His first ever poem was inspired by this love.

He laughs as he recounts what happened. “Just as they say love is a catalyst for many things, it was also true for me. Being very shy, I was very bold in other ways but I couldn’t express myself to her. But I could put it in writing and one of my best friends saw it and he knew who it was for. He went and gave it out to my eternal embarrassment.” His laughter filled the office and it took him a while to calm down.

But did the poem open doors; did the girl tumble in love in the fashion of a classic love story?

“She really loved it, but nothing happened, in the sense that we didn’t start dating or anything. But she wrote back and asked that I should write more, to her. In our days, love was very innocent. That’s how I started writing. From then I never could stop,” he says.

Well, not much luck with the girl. But her losts was eventually another woman’s gain. He laughs when he describes himself as “husband of one, father of two.”

His wife, who just relocated to Nigeria from her US-base, is an admirer of her husband’s poetry.

“She reads everything I write. She is one of my best critics. She comes out now and then for literary activities but she really does love literary events, especially the poetry slam,” he says.

And because he never looked back from that first poem, Ken Ike now has his name on two poetry collections, The River Died and an avant garde pocket poetry titled Spirit Walk. As well as a lifetime Ashoka Fellowship to go with them.

His poetry is rich in native wisdom and is heavily garnished with African folklore. He is preoccupied with the exploration of African myths in a bid to move away from western-styled poetry to something closer to home.

“For us not to let poetry die in Nigeria we have to put ourselves into it. This entire attempt to ape, to be obscurantist and all that can’t help. And you find that such books are published and not more than a hundred copies are read, even when your friends politely take it.

“Poetry in Africa has its roots in our folklore; our song, our dances, our moonlight stories. Verses were sung to accompany short stories,” he says. And that was what he tried to do with his poetry.

“Our myth, how did it arise, how did we come to believe what we believe in?  These were very intriguing for me. Even though I grew up in the city, my dad used to take me to the village where I met interesting characters whom I later wrote about,” he says.

One of these characters is the mad man of Oye, whom he met when he was just seven. The mad man, known for his prophetic prowess said to him, “One day, you will write about me”

And he did, many years down the lane.

Such is the stuff of his poetry, coloured by the wisdom of his grandmother, who prayed for him when he was leaving for school, drawing from the fauna and flora of his village.

But once in a while, he writes also about ‘Virgin Snow’ drawing from his wide travels. He was, at a point, a correspondent for the Huston Chronicles in Texas, United States and also edited a local community paper there. He travels out constantly and could have dwelt on writing poetry about snow and fall and things foreign to his land. But his focus has remained on Africa.

His second collection – actually, a single epic poem – Spirit Walk recounts the story of a father and son’s journey as the father transits to another life and the wisdom he imparts on his descendent who selflessly desires to follow his forebear to the land of the dead. It is a slim volume, something you could actually slip into your pocket and read through in one sitting.

“It’s a book of transitions,” he explains.

Ken Ike is concerned with exploring new ways to make poetry appealing hence his desire to promote spoken word poetry and his idea of a pocket poetry series in which he hopes to publish other poets.

“We now said why don’t we go in line with technology, nano-technology? Why don’t we bring pocket size poetry that people can take and read in a bus or when being driven in their cars or when you give it to people, they won’t be afraid to tackle it?”

He realised the need to explore new ways of bringing poetry and staged the first poetry slam in 2004. He was taken aback with the response and reactions that greeted that event.

He came away with this realisation: “People do love poetry. What they do not like is the way it’s being taught in schools and the way some poetry fanatics insist it must remain the way it was written in the 18th century.”

And thanks to his effort, and those of others who share his dream, poetry is enjoying a resurgence in the Nigerian art scenes. Ken Ike is almost fanatical about the future of poetry, even when one throws in his face claims being made by some that poetry is a dead art.

“People have always said poetry is a dead art for over two hundred years but as far as I can tell, it is the king of the arts. It is painting pictures with words but in such a manner that what the novelist will take 20,000 words to write, the poet can write in 20 and yet make a stronger impression. It’s never going to die as long as there are dreamers, idealist and sensitive people in the world. Poetry will never die.”

For his zeal and commitment, he was awarded the Ashoka Fellowship in 2008 in recognition and commendation of his work in promoting the arts in Nigeria’s capital city, which had hitherto languished in a dour, artless ambience.