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| Courtesy: Salomè Dubois Han |
Your poems are autobiographical in that they draw on your own experiences, from your past in South Africa and your present, adjusting to a new life in South Korea. What are your thoughts about confessional poetry, and do you prefer such personal poetry to more objective, impersonal work?
I love confessional poetry – it is the reason why I am enamored with poetry at all. As for objective, impersonal poetry, I’m not sure that I’ve come across much of it. Poetry is art and objective art seems to me a bit paradoxical. As I’ve matured as a reader and writer, I’ve found myself more and more drawn to poetry that plays with language. I think the younger me would was not that attuned to the wonders of form, rhythm, and had a harder time identifying a masterful poetic hand. However, these days, regardless of the subject matter of the poem, I find the poems that take my breath away are the ones that display innovation, evidence that the poet is executing their art masterfully, poems that exist for the love of the medium.
Some of your poems deal with the trauma of your father leaving your family, and they explore the impact of that trauma on your life. Do you see poetry as a means of ‘healing’? I think that poetry, and art in general, can play a role in the healing process but they are not the be-all and end-all of the healing process. I’m no expert, but from what I have gathered healing is complex. At the Open Book Festival this year, something like this question came up and one of the audience members said something along the lines of ‘art is not therapy. Therapy is therapy.’ I totally agree. Of course, there is art therapy, but putting together a poetry collection, however personal it is, is very different from processing trauma with a licensed professional. Especially because during the editing phase one has to take a step away from the work and then make decisions that best serve the poem, as opposed to decisions that best allow the person to process and move on from their pain.Do you see yourself as a poet, a woman poet, or a black woman poet?
Well, I’m a woman and a black person, which affects my experience of the world, which then has an influence on my art. I believe that identity always has an influence on the work, regardless of how the person making the art feels about categorisation and no matter how ‘neutral’ their identity is deemed to be.
When did you start writing the poems in Rootbound – while still in South Africa or mainly while overseas?
I wrote the entirety of the collection while living in South Korea. I had previously completed a chapbook-length collection while in university, but I wasn’t confident with what I had produced, so I put that away. I moved to Korea straight out of university, in 2018, and by 2019 I had completed another manuscript, which I actually submitted to uHlanga but did not meet the quality standards. After that I took a long break from writing before properly picking it up again, around 2023. From 2023 to 2024 I worked on the manuscript, and it eventually became Rootbound. So, I was writing a bit while in South Africa but since I’ve spent most of my 20s in Korea, that’s where the manuscript was fully developed.
Apart from the obvious matter of themes, has your shift from South Africa to South Korea affected your writing in any way?
Living in a foreign country has been quite an experience, equal parts mundane and bizarre. It’s shifted the way I think about the world. It’s also made magical realism or surrealism more appealing to me, and I have a feeling that my next piece of writing will reflect that.
Your write in the Notes to Rootbound that the collection was inspired by Maneo Mohale’s Everything is a Deathly Flower – in what way was the collection inspired? What poets – South African and otherwise – do you admire and feel inspired by?
Everything is a Deathly Flower was truly a life-changing book for me. Though the subject matter differs greatly, I think that Rootbound drew a lot from Mohale’s work, something essential that I find hard to put into words. Perhaps it is that Mohale made me want to write and to join the uHlanga family. In fact, I found Megan Ross’s work had the same effect on me and I admire them both. I also love Safia Elhillo, Sabrina Orah Mark, Sarah Lubala, Safiya Sinclair, Mark Strand, Ilya Kaminsky, Franny Choi – the list goes on.
I am curious about the experiments with form in some of your poetry – almost like concrete poetry or calligrammes. What inspired this experimentation?
I think poetry is the language of leaping and I love the notion of poetry as play. I have been and continued to be inspired by many a poet who plays with form – Koleka Putuma, Terrance Hayes, and other poets I have had the pleasure of encountering online. How to Be Drawn by Terrance Hayes blew my mind and I wanted to try my hand at playing with form similarly.
Roots are obviously important to you, and in the interview at the book launch at Love Books you mentioned you have many plants at home. But roots transform and grow, they spread, they journey – like lives, thoughts, emotions, words. Could you expand a little on this roots metaphor?I first learned about propagation in South Korea after I took an interest in houseplants. I find it fascinating how plants grown in such restrictive conditions can thrive – or at least, live long enough to give their plant parent the impression that they have a green thumb. I also love the fact that certain plants love being rootbound, but others will die if not given more space. Roots are often associated with home, and I wanted to complicate that notion by asking, what happens if one roots elsewhere? Is there a kind of falsehood to that existence or wonder? The roots metaphor is multi-layered though – it could point to identity, language, home, escape, belonging, hope. It’s part of the reason why Rootbound has its title – I love this multiplicity.
What are your feelings about poetry publishing in South Africa at the moment? What do you see as the challenges and opportunities?
I’m not sure, to be honest. I feel so far away from home and despite being a South African poet, I don’t feel like my experience is similar to that of poets living there. uHlanga is also an incredible press, but it’s a small one, and so I can speak more comfortably about small, indie publishing versus publishing at large. One of the main challenges is resources – small presses have smaller budgets for things like book promotion, especially in the age of BookTok, where it is often crucial to get copies of books out to people who have reach in the social media book space. As for opportunities, I think I would have to be on the ground to give a more cogent answer for that.

















