1. Shamshad Khan
“...there is no convenient category in which to place Shamshad Khan. Her poetry is delicately worded yet strong in its messages. She presents her work with such physicality that to watch her truly engages the senses.”
(Carmen Walter, Writing Magazine)
Photo: Shamshad Khan and Jason Singh performing Megalomaniac
Shamshad has been published in anthologies including: The Firepeople (Payback Press 1998), Velocity (Black Spring Press, 2003) and Masala poems for children (McMillan 2005). She is the co-editor of two anthologies of poetry.
Her performance work includes collaboration with musicians and live beat boxers. Megalomaniac, a verse theatre, toured the UK (2005/06) and Hard Cut, a poetic monologue with music, has been performed in Switzerland and for the Barcelona literature festival. Both pieces are directed by Mark Whitelaw, winner of the Lawrence Olivier Award 2004.
Commissions include BBC Radio 3 and the Manchester Museum (2003-05). This year she is due to feature in and present a programme on Muslim poets for Radio 4.
Shamshad is supported by the Arts Council England and is currently Literature Advisor to the Arts Council England (North West). She is an Associate Artist with the Green Room, Manchester.
This year she been shortlisted for the Arts Foundation fellowship in performance poetry.
For more information on Shamshad, see http://www.applesandsnakes.org/artists.php?contact_ref=310343
climbing the ladder (extract from Megalomaniac)
this season brown is the new black
this season
asian muslims replace African caribbeans as the most oppressed
society gives us a score
you’re born with something
but nothing’s static
where there’s nature there’s nurture
where’s there’s snakes there’s ladders
you can add to your score
we’ve all got choices
just that some’ve got more than others
asian woman climbing the ladder
she’s doing alright
but she has to step on someone’s toes or someone’s knuckles
if she's gonna get her foot on the next rung up
society’s built like a house of cards
new york city
two aces topple
and over here
the whole pack gets shuffled
some of us go out of fashion
this season we’re not passive Asians
this season we’re raving muslims
potential terror threats
head quarters in the corner shop
back on the ladder
we’re dealt a new hand
play to win what we can
‘cos we all want the same thing
just that
your bling
might not look like my bling. bling
but we all want to be dripping in something
books, gold chains or prayer beads
conspicuous wealth
over stretched limousine
a big fat chain with a fuck of bling
or conspicuous education
a stack of flashy titles and letters after your name
to show off all that learning
high on success
we want to forget
what it’s like to be down at ground zero
the outsider
the one without
and we hold tight
because we know it’s a sliding scale
no-one’s safe
we’re all black
brothers
when there’s plenty
but when things are short
a jew is a jew
black means African not asian
and asian doesn’t mean chinese
only so much room under an umbrella
when it’s raining
Somali refugee in Jamaican domain
Bangla boy in a Pakistani terrain
Vietnamese in poor white district
they know they have to take their chances
then some no hoper reaches for a gun
because he reckons he’s never gonna get what he wanted
morality
says try on someone else’s shoe
squeeze your toes in
empathise
but for the grace of god
it could be you in the gutter
you
just want to get away from the nutters
got your eye on those fake
designer trainers
gonna take another step up the ladder
say
see you later
______
2. Zahid Hussain
Zahid Hussain is a British Asian, born and raised in Lancashire. He studied IT, Business and Management in England, France and Spain and speaks six languages. Zahid is a former winner of the North West Poetry Slam and has performed at venues such as Manchester’s Green Room and the Contact Theatre and has featured regularly on local BBC Radio. His first novel, The Curry Mile, is set in Manchester’s curry district. The novel is about a Pakistani family’s experience of the restaurant trade and he explores the Asian British Diaspora.
Although Zahid studied Management and IT at University, he claims he only did so after his father suggested creative writing was better left to his “spare time” - which was invaluable advice. Now, in his “spare time” Zahid works as a social entrepreneur, specialising in community based research and regeneration. Zahid lives in Manchester.
For more information on Zahid, see http://www.zahidhussain.co.uk/events/Events.html
http://www.publishingnorthwest.co.uk/author/205
http://www.bbc.co.uk/manchester/content/articles/2006/10/16/161006_curry_mile_feature.shtml
3. Vijay Medtia
For more information on Vijay see http://www.vijaymedtia.co.uk.
Vijay is a British Asian, born and brought up in Oldham . He graduated in Business Studies and soon after set up his own construction business. His regular trips to India have provided him with a wealth of knowledge and inspiration for his writing. The House of Subadar, his debut novel, published by Arcadia Books, tells the story of the Subadars, a farming family who have lost their farm in the Punjab to the bank and who subsequently embark on the 1,000 mile epic journey to Bombay . Vijay has also had a short story, Pinto the Barber, included in the Hair anthology published by Shorelines, Manchester . He is presently working on his second novel, a passionate love story set in India.
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4. Muli Amaye
‘I grew up with the Bible and Enid Blyton. As a child my whole life revolved around what I could read next and what stories I could make up in my head.
I began work in an office at 16 and spent the next 2 decades wishing I was somewhere else. I could never get to grips with the seriousness of letter writing for business and was frequently asked to rewrite some of my most creative work!
When I began studying at Manchester Metropolitan University at the grand old age of something my life turned around and I've never looked back. My BA (Hons) English Studies only whetted my appetite for more and I continued on with an MA in Creative Writing. After two years away from it all I'm now in the lofty halls of Lancaster University undertaking my PhD in Creative Writing.
I have almost completed my first novel, just a little more tweaking before I begin on my next, which will look at the African Experience in Manchester from around the 1950's. When I have any spare time I write poetry which is more narrative than poetic, in my opinion, but releases the pressure on my creative juices when necessary. I've been fortunate enough to perform some of my poetry during Black History Month in 2003 and again in 2005.
For four years I worked within an SEN department at a local high school where I used creativity alongside Literacy Progress Units to assist young people to access the National Curriculum. I have also worked with people with both severe learning disabilities and physical disabilities; both hands on and in a creative capacity.
Recently I have been commissioned by the BBC for their RaW campaign. I have been facilitating reading workshops that have taken me from prisons to mother and baby groups all over the North. During the past year I have also run creative writing workshops for Trafford MBC, including Party in the Park, and for Sale West Community Centre.
You can find a short story on the BBC Baby Father Website, I'm published in journals, Muse One and Muse Two and I was runner up on the GMR short story competition which took place during the Commonwealth Literature Festival in Manchester 2002. What else can I say…? Umm I've interviewed E.A. Markham, Olive Senior, Lorna Goodison, Jackie Kay, Lindsey Collen and Sir Trevor McDonald to drop a few names.
I love my children, red wine, hot baths, Star Trek and a good book!’
Extract from To Benin and BackI’m standing on the red earth inside the walls of my father’s compound. Things have changed. There is peeling paint on the wall and the palm nut tree in the front yard is so withered it’s almost a bush. The gates are rusting and to my left I see the garage is in a dilapidated state. There are no cars parked in it. The gardens are uncared for with patchy, dry tufts of grass. Scrawny white chickens run around, pecking at the earth.
The front door opens and three strangers come out. They are my sisters and brother. I smile, expecting them to greet me as their senior. They don’t move from the steps. They are older now and look at me with reserve or maybe even disdain. The years have been hard on them. It’s written on all their faces. The door opens once more and behind them comes their Mama. Her wrapper is dirty, pulled tight across her large bosom and under her arms. Her feet are dry, pushed into old, ripped slippers. They’re the ones I bought for her ten years ago. She takes one look at me and begins to scream. She wails and pulls at her grey, matted hair. The children don’t move. Their eyes are accusing me.
There are words coming out of her mouth that I don’t understand. A mixture of Itsikiri, Pidgen and English. I don’t need to understand. The expression on her face says it all. She hates me. She fears me. Her voice rises, the children turn from me.
‘No Mama, no. Stop. Come now. Come.’
Sophia’s weary voice tries to stabilise her Mama. To ground her into the here and now. But it doesn’t penetrate the wails that circle in the air. Nor does it still the hands that are pulling at the wrapper, as though trying to shred the material.
Papa hurries round the corner. He stands and watches his wife, strain shows on his face. He doesn’t seem to see me. His inertia breaks and he begins cussing the children.
‘Are you useless? You know wetin u dey do? Or you want make I beat you first?’
The children jump into action. Sophia pushes Mama roughly towards the door. Yemi tries to hold onto the hands that have begun to rip at the fleshy stomach that has become exposed. Bola runs through the compound gates and disappears from sight. I stand here. My heart is pumping hard. A chill surrounds me despite the heat that makes sweat run down my spine and between my breasts.
Still Papa has not looked at me. Has not seen me. Instead his eyes turn to the tenants who have slipped from their doors. The women stand together; all have the same tight expression. The men look at Papa with something akin to pity. Only their children seem to notice me. Small, brown bodies spotted with red dust. Dirty shorts or knickers their only covering, leaving firm, round baby bellies exposed, hernias protruding where belly buttons should have been. There must be eight or nine toddlers, all staring with solemn faces. No interest in anything except the stranger who is standing in the middle of the front yard.
Mama’s muffled wails reach my ears. I haven’t moved since getting out of the car that brought me. I stare at Papa willing him to acknowledge me.
‘Papa?’
My voice sounds different to me. Unsure. I don’t know if I have said the word out loud.
‘Papa, it’s me.
5. Joe Pemberton
Joe Pemberton was born in Moss Side, Manchester in 1960. His parents emigrated from the West Indies to England in the late fifties, before moving to Ashton-under-Lyne in 1970. He has worked as an electrical engineer and a college lecturerand is a graduate of the University of Manchester Creative Writing Course.
Joe has written two novels - Forever and Ever Amen (2000) and A Long Time Dead (2003). He has also written stage adaptations for both novels and Forever and Ever Amen was workshopped at the Library Theatre, Manchester in August 2005.
Forever and Ever Amen is about a nine year old black boy growing up in Moss Side, Manchester during the late 1960s. The book enjoyed widespread critical acclaim, and had very positive reviews in the Times and the Guardian. The Sunday Express compared it to Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye and The Daily Mirror review likened it to Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, concluding ‘it’s childhood alright, but not as we know it’. Hilary Mantel considered it ‘a story that needs to be told and here is a fresh new voice to tell it’.
Manchester Central Library Archives and Local Studies developed a website based on the novel (www.manchester.gov.uk/libraries/arls/mossside/index.htm) which provides digital images of the streets, buildings and people of Moss Side in the 1960s, as well as worksheets for schools that focus on key citizenship themes such as 'the changing face of urban England' and 'the diversity of national, regional and ethnic identities in the United Kingdom’.
Joe has given readings at Waterstones and several North-West libraries including Manchester Central Library, Oldham, Powerhouse and Hulme, as well as interviews on national and local radio. He was one of the judges for the 2004 Crocus Novel Competition. At present, he is working on his third novel.
Read an extract from Forever and Ever Amen
The ten foot snowman in front of Mrs Powell's was of no interest to James. Neither was the giant snowball as big as a big man that was rolling at a rate of knots towards him. He did a neat little side step just in case it didn't miss. No, all he was interested in was the snow all around, everywhere, as far as the eye could see. Last night on the telly, Burt Ford the weatherman said it would snow really deep but James didn't believe him as the snow in Moss Side was only as thin as skin on custard. Even when the wind blew very hard in the night James thought at the very least there'd be a few bins blown over. So you can imagine his surprise when he opened the curtains and there outside the window was a winterwonderland straight off a Bing Crosby Christmas Special. In two seconds flat he'd brushed his teeth, combed his hair, fought with his sisters and eaten his cornflakes. Now he was having another breakfast, a gobful of crunched up snow. Snow three foot deep tasted different to the usual snow they had in Moss Side. For a start you could actually taste the snow and not bits of tar or whatever was left on the street the night before. And it tasted like the pictures of snow in the encyclopaedias in the front room, sparkling decorations of ice that tingled your tongue and made you glad to be alive. As far as James was concerned Cadogen Street could stay covered in snow like this forever and ever amen. And he would have told Aunty Mary too when she suddenly turned up from nowhere as usual but she had other things on her mind. So instead of saying hello and how are you, she cuffed James across the head.