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Kiini Ibura Salaam Tells All from Mexico
By Jane Musoke-Nteyafas
Toronto, Canada Kiini Ibura Salaam, a New
Orleans native, is a writer, painter, traveler, and all
around human being extraordinaire. The daughter of poet
and musician, Kalamu ya Salaam, Kiini has had her essays
published in Colonize This, When Race Becomes Real,
Roll Call, Men We Cherish, Utne Reader, Essence,
and Ms. Magazine. Her article "Navigating to
No," featured in the March 2000 issue of Essence
magazine, gain her literary recognition and caused a
flurry of radio and television interviews.
Kiini has had her fiction published
in Mojo: Conjure Stories, Black Silk, When
Butterflies Kiss, Dark Matter, and Dark Eros.
While traveling through five countries under a Thomas J.
Watson fellowship, she published "Of Wings, Nectar, &
Ancestors" in the Fertile Ground literary
journal, after her graduation from Spelman College in
1994.
Kiini frequently leaves the country
to devote time to her writing, and is currently in
Oaxaca, Mexico crafting her novel, Fate. It was
a pleasure to have her share her experiences with us
from Mexico in an email interview. Kiini, whose writing
style is phenomenal, heartfelt, and thought-provoking is
on her way to becoming one of the most well known
writers of the 21st Century. Her life experiences are
fascinating, flamboyant and entertaining especially for
someone as young as she is. She has lived in Fiji,
Dominican Republic, Brazil, and Mexico to mention a few,
and each of these exotic places has influenced her
writing and artistic style, enriching it with
multicultural tones and clever insight. Each day is an
adventure for Kiini, and she is the type of person that
people want to live vicariously through.
* * *
* *
Jane: Please tell us more
about yourself. What was it like growing up in New
Orleans?
Kiini: Hmmm, that’s
a difficult question. I grew up in a very particular
community in New Orleans. My parents, along with my
aunts, uncles, and other adults in the community,
started an organization called
Ahidiana before I was
born. They had a food-coop, a work-study group, through
which they discussed issues of race and gender while
studying works of various thinkers. They owned a
printing press and a school, which all my siblings and
me attended. We did all our socializing within that
vegetarian community of people that was based on
African-centered ideals. In my home we didn’t have a
television, we didn’t go to the movies or listen to the
radio, only albums from the large record collection my
dad had which covered a wall and a half of our living
room. There was a lot of New Orleans that I didn’t grow
up with—the cuisine for example, except the seafood
gumbo. We ate a lot of rice and beans even though we
were vegetarians. So the classic touch points of being a
New Orleanian as far as food was concerned, was
something I missed.
Jane: Well, what about the
famous New Orleans music and festivities did you
experience any of that?
Kiini: On the other
end of the spectrum, my father took us to hear jazz
performances, especially to see Ellis Marsalis, Lady B.J.,
and Jermaine Bazzle at Snug Harbor. We always went out
to see the Mardi Gras Indians, which was a central part
of my cultural orientation growing up. I have a memory
of seeing a big chief, I don’t know which, come out of
his house fully dressed, except he didn’t have his
headdress. He came out and stood under the balcony of
his house and they lowered the headdress onto his head
that was just how voluminous it was. The songs of the
Mardi Gras Indians are still a part of me. We never
danced with the second lines, so I can’t drop to the
ground and ride the funk like a homebred New Orleanian,
but the swirl of the activity is part of home to me.
I hung out in the French Quarter a
lot when I was in high school and the constant
surrounding of music was a central element along with
the strength of family. My aunts, uncles, cousin,
grandmother were all a central part of my early years
growing up. I think growing up in a city that has
seasons—Mardi Gras season, Jazz Fest time, summer
festivals—definitely laid the foundation for me to have
such a passionate connection with other countries such
as Trinidad and Brazil where celebrations of life are
the focus of society. I remember being in the middle of
a roving street Samba band and the next month going home
to New Orleans and being in the middle of a second line
and thinking, wow, this is the exact same thing! The
music, the horns, the smell of weed, the woman with the
rollers in their hair and the dancing. It’s the same
thing!
Jane: What were your emotions
when you saw what Katrina did to your city?
Kiini: I’m currently
in Oaxaca, Mexico working on a novel, so I’m very
insulated from what is going on in New Orleans. I first
heard it from my brother via email. I called them
immediately; they were in a hotel in Birmingham. My
brothers were joking about all the mistakes they almost
made, the children, my nieces and nephews, were
screaming and playing in the background. My sister was
angry and shocked, and my mother didn’t want to talk. I
didn’t have a number for my father, but he had made it
to Houston with his wife, her daughter, and
granddaughters. My grandmother was in a hotel with her
sister, my aunts and uncles, a cousin, and more
children. I spent 4 hours a day in the Internet café
tracking down my family, reading the reports, and
looking at the pictures.
Jane: That must have been a
very stressful time for you, having to check on family
members and not necessarily having all the resources at
your fingertips.
Kiini: It’s
heartbreaking and astounding. It’s the kind of thing
that is comparable to when a veil gets snatched off your
eyes. I felt the same way with the Rodney King verdict.
It was like, "Hey, I know you walk around thinking
you’re equal to the powers that be, and we need you to
feel that way, or else you’d revolt and make our lives
pure hell . . . but you’re nothing, you’re not shit. We
couldn’t give a damn whether you live or die." That’s
the reality of how poor people are regarded, especially
poor black people.
It’s been the reality of New Orleans
for years and years. The poverty is crippling, the
education system is abysmal, and yet the city lives on
revenue from people who come to participate in the
culture made by these poor people who are eking out a
living god knows how. It’s painful. It’s been painful to
go home over the years and see areas that look like
they’re literally falling apart. The city is shutting
down public housing and the housing projects just
sitting there, boarded up, while a few units here and
there are still occupied. Among all the wonderful things
New Orleans is, it’s also a violent, desperate city.
Jane: Do you think that New
Orleans will be rebuild? Do you think it will ever be
the same?
Kiini: Yes, without
question. Will it be the same? I don’t know. Honestly,
in many ways I hope it’s not the same. I hope it’s
better for all those people who were abandoned and left
to die, but honestly I don’t think it will be. They were
abandoned for a reason and they won’t be considered when
the city is rebuilt. They will return home. I read
somewhere that someone was asking if the people who were
left behind were too poor to leave the city, how are
they going to afford to return home. They’ll do it
because New Orleans is in the blood. There are the kind
of people who didn’t leave the city even after the
National Guard tried to force them out. New Orleans is
that kind of place; it’s home—for better or for worse.
The things that are great are astoundingly wonderful and
the things that are terrible are profoundly and
woundingly terrible.
Jane: Your father is the
known poet, writer and musician Kalamu ya Salaam. How
does it feel to be his daughter? Do you feel any
pressure to walk in your father’s shoes? What is your
relation with him like?
Kiini: In many ways
it feels great to be my father’s daughter and in other
ways not so great. Like any other human relationship,
our relationship is full of pluses and minuses. My
father is an amazing role model. People admire his
public work, but even before that what is admirable
about him is the way he chooses to live his life. He’s
made a lot of decisions that have privileged HIS work
over the status quo. These choices have definitely been
influential in the kind of life I am seeking to live.
My father basically worked to support
us and when that was no longer necessary, he stopped
doing traditional types of jobs and did the work that
nurtured him. It certainly means financial
difficulties—and we felt the impact of some of those
decisions. I remember when he announced that after 40 he
wasn’t working for anyone anymore and he started a
public relations company at 40 with his partner Bill
Rousselle. That changed the way we ate at home. We
stopped shopping at Whole Foods, we all remember how we
couldn’t get our favorite items anymore, and we had to
go to the regular grocery store.
Jane: That must have been
challenging.
Kiini: It was. Also,
my father has always been on my side. That sounds
simple, but it isn’t. I remember when I got to college
and friends would tell me, "My dad wants me to be A, B,
or C and he’s not going to support me if I don’t do what
he wants me to." My father would never do that. Neither
of my parents has ever tried to influence what we were
going to do with our lives. They put a lot of work into
making us into responsible human beings who could make
our own decisions and take care of us . . . after that,
the decisions are ours. It’s our life—they raised us
with that clear understanding from the beginning. I
remember when I got pregnant, all my father wanted to
know was if I was happy. Once he realized I was, the
conversation was done and we could move on to other
things. I have never felt any sting or backlash because
I made a choice about my life that he thinks is wrong.
Jane: Your father was
involved in many things. He was very active and is still
active in the New Orleans artistic, musical, and
literary scene. That must have kept him very busy and
away from home a lot. How did that affect you as a
child?
Kiini: One of the
difficult aspects of being my father’s child is that he
wasn’t really interested in raising children. He writes
about it. He was always present in our lives, but he was
out being an activist and an artist and a change maker.
When he came home at night we briefed him on our days,
he rubbed aching knees, discussed report cards and then
he was off to do his thing. My mother was our daily
caretaker. When they separated, I didn’t know if they
had made a formal agreement that as long as we were
living at home my mother would be primarily responsible
for us, but when we went to college, he would take over.
That’s when we really got to know each other and he
began nurturing me into adulthood. But all of my
siblings have had varying degrees of issues with his
distance from us as children.
Despite those issues, he and I had a
special bond (that’s ideal, I think, to have a special
bond with each of your children). I was the president of
his fan club. The legacy of my childhood with him is all
mixed up. It is great on so many levels. Our closeness
has waxed and waned over the years. He was my chief
counsel from the time I began college until about five
years ago when I became fully comfortable in my
womanhood. But as a result of his emotional and physical
distance (he was in the house, just very, very, busy), I
had a lot to sort out about love, intimacy, closeness,
and partnership as an adult woman. I think I’m just
getting to the other side of some of those issues.
Jane: How has your father’s
work as a writer and performer influenced you?
Kiini: The first
time I ever saw my father perform was the summer before
I started college. I was working an internship at the
National Black Arts Festival, something he set up for
me, and he had produced a Nation of Poets. It was a
poetry reading with a number of poets who were also
change-makers. I was astounded. He was something like a
preacher man. I think his grandfather was a preacher and
that was a direction he was supposed to be headed in
until college (I could be wrong about that). I don’t
know that his work, itself, has influenced me as much as
his life has. Growing up surrounded by music and a
plethora of artists coming through the house impacted my
outlook. To this day, I feel more at home with artists,
and the artist way of life is what I am constantly
seeking to live.
My father is constantly pushing
himself as an artist—but also as a person—to try new
mediums and make new connections with communities.
Despite the fact that he is a writer and has been
committed to writing for the majority of his life, he
transferred his weekly writing workshop from focusing on
writing to focusing on video making because he believes
video is the medium that will make the largest impact on
society in the future. Anyone who wants to keep working
mostly on writing is welcome to continue doing so, but
he also encourages the members to make films and they
all participate in making his film projects.
Jane: Your father was
obviously a source of inspiration and support for many
other people. I can detect a sense of pride in your
description of him. What was his role as far as helping
you with your writing?
Kiini: My father was
my first editor and he has always encouraged me to grow
in my work. I sent him the first piece I wrote and he
suggested I send it out. He likes to remind me that it
was published in a magazine he has been the editor of,
The Black Collegian magazine. (I also have
memories of being at the Black Collegian
offices as they were putting together the magazine.
Seeing the boards mocked up—they were still cutting and
pasting then.) Since the beginning of my writing career,
he saw everything I wrote and advised me where to send
it. I stopped running things by him some years back, but
he was also instrumental in me starting the KIS.list,
which is my newsletter to my fans. As he knew that I was
concerned with audience building, he thought I needed to
communicate with the public directly through an
e-newsletter rather than just a website.
So while I may not have pulled my
work from his work, his fingerprints are all over my
work; from encouraging me to go public with it, to
editing it, to sending me calls for publication, to
suggesting ways for me to expand my audience. Also,
because he raised me (and all my siblings) to be
substantive people, and because his work is so honest
and direct, I think he has influenced the substance of
my work and the thrust of my gender-oriented essays,
which intend to help change minds, perspectives, and
social mores.
Jane: I guess one thing that
we learn as we become adults is that our parents are not
as perfect as we thought they were as kids. It can be a
very painful revelation, but it also helps us to see
them in a more human way and less like demi-gods. They
are just trying hard to survive, bring us up in the best
way possible and follow their dreams, just as we are.
But it sounds like your father was very supportive of
your career as a writer. That’s amazing to hear!
Kiini: Most
definitely!
Jane: Did you ever get to
meet any of the people that he interviewed? For example
Julius Nyerere, former president of Tanzania or Luther
Vandross?
Kiini: No, not to my
knowledge. Perhaps when I was a baby. More than those
people, I met the people who were his colleagues, people
who were also involved in the black arts movement and
wanted to make change in the world. People like Sonia
Sanchez.
Jane: How has your mother
influenced your life? What lessons have you learned from
her?
Kiini: Big question,
let’s see what I can pin it down to. Both my parents are
both extremely dynamic people. Part of their life’s work
is considering what African Americans need to be
healthy, happy, and free. As a teacher, my mother spent
a lot of time developing the pedagogy of how to raise
intelligent children who are aware of their self worth
and power and we are her children. She was the
co-creator of the Ahidiana
Work/Study Center, where my siblings, my cousins,
and I were educated. She did at home with us. She
covered so many bases as a parent and she raised five
us—we are all now powerful, intelligent individuals with
lives of our own. Four out of the five of us are raising
dynamic, intelligent little people of our own. My
mother’s not conventional and her entire life is an
effort to live what she believes.
To be what she believes. I follow in
her footsteps trying to do the same. I make choices
based on what I believe, whatever my beliefs are in the
world. That is a difficult and gratifying thing to do.
My mother taught us all how to cook and wash our clothes
and made us responsible for our own upkeep early on in
life. There were five days of the week and five of us.
Every night one of us was responsible for cooking dinner
for the entire family. So my mother standardized things
and we cooked in big amounts. No small pots of rice were
cooked . . . we cooked 6 cups of rice at a time. We
learned how to do everything around the house. My
brothers can take care of themselves as well as the
girls can. She worked hard to raise mature, responsible
people, and all her work was geared toward making us
independent; and I believe that it worked.
Jane: Your mother did all of
you a huge favor; she taught you to be self-reliant
human beings and to be prepared to live in any country.
She sounds like a very amazing woman!
Kiini: Yes. My
mother is also really inspirational. She’s been through
two brain surgery operations, five births, and a
hysterectomy; not to mention dental surgery. She got her
college degree when I did and recently completed her
Ph.D. She had a severe handicap, which was not being
conversant with academic language. She confronted
academia on her terms and enriched her department while
learning a lot about pedagogy and curriculum
development. She’s a live wire, always looking to enjoy
life. She also likes to treat herself well, beautify
herself and her environment, so she’s a role model in so
many ways.
In addition, we always enjoy our time
together; she is super supportive and always brings a
positive perspective on difficult situations. She’s
always pushing me to evolve more emotionally and to take
the difficult, but healthy, position in conflicts. After
I had my daughter, my friend in Brazil kept sending me
invitations to go. I hesitated to accept the invitation,
and my mother said, "You better go. It will be great for
you and your daughter." And it was! It was perfect! She
doesn’t allow me to wallow in fear.
Jane: When were you first
aware of the fact that you wanted to be a writer? When
did you first begin writing?
Kiini: I was always
good in English in school. It was a natural fit for me,
but for a while I thought I’d be a dancer. I trained as
a dancer while in elementary school and in high school I
went to the New Orleans Center for the Arts (NOCCA); an
arts high school has turned out lots of musicians in the
city. But I didn’t have the drive and dedication to be a
dancer and I also lacked spark and emotiveness. When I
got to college a classmate had a crazy experience. She
was reading a book by Haki Madhabuti, and he was
postulating some theories on white people. A white man
in a business suit was reading over her shoulder, he
didn’t like what he saw, so he knocked the book out her
hand. I don’t remember exactly how the altercation
escalated, but at one point he hit her.
All the passengers on the train were
black and did nothing. Eventually she pushed him and he
fell down. Then the MARTA police (this happened in
Atlanta while I was a student at Spelman College) came,
a black man, saw a black woman standing over a white man
in anger and tried to make her leave the train. She
refused and no one spoke up in her defense. They were
mumbling among themselves, but no one broke out of their
cowardice.
The situation kept running through my
head over and over again and I just couldn’t make sense
of it so I wrote a story about it and added a
speculative fiction element where when the man hit her,
the protagonist was transported to slavery time and she
was being beat for knowing how to read. Her fellow
enslaved Africans stood there watching, even though the
overseer was the only white person present as far as the
eye could see. This is the story my father encouraged me
to publish. I got paid $100 and it was the beginning of
my career as a writer.
Jane: So what did your
parents say when they heard you wanted to go into
writing?
Kiini: My parents
didn’t say much of anything because it was organic. It
wasn’t like one day I announced I was going to write. I
just started doing it and it became more and more
important to me. During my senior year my friends and I
started a magazine, Red Clay Magazine, and that
was an outlet for a lot of my nonfiction writing. It was
just a part of my life and they welcomed it like
anything else I was involved in.
Jane: How would you describe
your writing style?
Kiini: Visceral. I
try to put readers in the middle of an experience.
Sensory, sensual, direct. It’s hard to define myself.
Jane: What are your influences?
Kiini: Life. Life influences
me; the emotional journeys that we all traverse in life
and manage to survive. How people grow, change, and
survive is my overall theme. I’m fascinated with human
transformation.
Jane: What made you choose
the genre of erotica?
Kiini: It sort of
chose me. Over time erotic elements and undertones
emerged in my writing. When I first moved to New York,
someone put me in touch with an erotic publisher. I sent
her some of my stories; she felt it was too much story
and not enough sex. I didn’t end up pulling back story,
but I did add more sex. It made me think about why sex
isn’t included/involved in "serious" literature more
frequently. It’s definitely an important part of life.
I’m very interested in sex and sexuality, but not in a
vacuum. I’m less engaged by stories that are only about
sex. The relationship between the people heightens the
sexual tension and tells a story that gives the reader
more to work with.
Jane: You have been to
interesting exotic countries like
Fiji, Mexico, Brazil
and the Dominican Republic. What were your experiences
living there as an African American woman?
Kiini: Oh my
experiences in every country are different. I’ve written
about the challenges I had in the
Dominican Republic.
They have a serious phobia about and hatred toward
Africanness, despite the obvious manifestations of
African in their cuisine, music, physical appearance and
culture. Also there are some serious gender issues. So I
wander in, all unaware, a black woman with natural hair
and I was in for some serious shock and lots of verbal
and sexual abuse that really destroyed some of my sense
of self. I put myself back together over time,
culminating with trips to Brazil where I felt much more
validated despite that country’s deep race and gender
issues. Each trip has been its own experience.
Jane: Have you ever been to
Africa?
Kiini: No, I have
not been to Africa.
Jane: Would you like to go
there?
Kiini: I would like
to go, but something has stopped me from making it a
priority. I don’t know if it’s fear—I think I’m afraid
it’s going to be overwhelming and I’m not going to know
how to navigate it. I’m not sure where this fear is
coming from. My parents both have traveled throughout
Africa; my younger sister has been to every region of
Africa and encourages me to go. I made plans to go to
Tanzania and Cape Verde on two different occasions and
still never made it for some reason. And now I have a
young daughter. Logistically, it never seems to work
out. Eventually, it will happen. I probably will go as
someone’s guest at some point. I have a friend in Azania-South
Africa that I have been meaning to visit for years. It
will happen.
Jane: Would you say that your
stories are aimed at any group of people in particular?
Kiini: No. I write
what’s in my heart to write, and then I look for an
audience.
Jane: What have you learnt so
far through your journey as a writer?
Kiini: So much, too
much, to cover here. One of the most important things
that is equally relevant to life is the fact that the
invisible issues that guide what we do, can deeply
impact our success or failure. Issues with ego, fear,
and self-perception can guide what a writer writes and
doesn’t write. The thing that the muse may most want to
bring through you, may embarrass you . . . you may think
it’s too shallow, or too mainstream, or too deep, or too
crazy and you may avoid it and try to write in your
image rather than just express what is deep inside you.
The more I write the more I lean on faith to find the
way the through.
Jane: You have accomplished a
great landmark in your career as a writer. Do you have
any aspirations to write a novel?
Kiini: Yes, I spent
many years trying to write a novel. After each completed
draft (I wrote four drafts) I would send it to editors
and agent. They gave me the best responses; specific
paragraphs on what they liked about the work and what
wasn’t didn’t work in the novel. I even got two
enthusiastic phone calls, both from agencies. Ultimately
what held me back with that novel was not being
cognizant of the basics of novel writing—of plots,
through line, structure. So I finally decided to enroll
in an MFA program, I figured at the least I could teach
creative writing and have a more humane work schedule .
. . I really don’t want to teach, but I let that
pretense get me into the program. Now that I’m in it, I
am getting so much valuable information on novel
writing. I’m getting immediate feedback on what’s not
working and why, as well as what’s working and why. I’m
in a two-year novel writing workshop and I intend to
have a novel when I come out of the program. It has been
a challenge learning the genre and I finally feel as if
I have a sense of what I’m doing.
Jane: I notice that you are a
natural haired woman. I read your article "Hair
transgressions" and I identified very much with what you
wrote about the perception of natural hair. For the sake
of our readers, could you please elaborate briefly on
that article and your experiences with natural hair?
Kiini: Well, it just
talked about being someone who grew up with natural hair
and how the world treated me as a result of not having a
perm. From childhood I’ve experienced immense friction
in the world because of my hair. It is bizarre that this
simple difference in me can cause such uproar. It’s even
more bizarre when you consider that I am simply wearing
my hair the way God made it, I’m not altering myself in
any way . . . yet this in and of itself is an affront to
the world.
The western world is remarkably
hostile to Africans and Africanness. Any reminder of it
is seen as aberrant, curious, misguided, and just wrong.
So as a child in the 70s and 80s I was teased a lot—no
one in New Orleans (except other girls in my community)
has natural hair. I was called all sorts of names;
Kojack, Baldy, Grace Jones, baldhead bitch. When I got
older, I faced snickers and laughter, or a well-meaning
guy coming over to my boyfriend (not knowing we were
together) saying he could never date someone with hair
like mine.
Jane: That was definitely a
horrible experience and I am glad that we are addressing
it because people need to know how natural haired women
feel when they are constantly vilified for wearing the
African mane that the Creator blessed them with. That is
one of the things that make us stand out as black people
and it is one of our beautiful trademarks. Our hair is
beautiful and versatile. I am willing to bet all my
money that the same guy who made that rude remark had
natural hair himself.
Kiini: He did. It
definitely impacted my vision of myself as someone who
was dateable. In college boys/young men were constantly
making fun and screaming abusive things. When I had my
hair shorn in college, an older woman sounded wounded
and asked me "Why did you cut your hair, baby? Your hair
is your glory." Women would stop me (as well as my
friends with short natural hair) and say that they
wanted to go natural but they didn’t have the guts, they
didn’t have the right face, they didn’t have the right
head. In the Dominican Republic, I received a lot of
sexual abuse and negation because of my hair.
I was touched in the street, ignored
when I wanted someone to dance with, and not allowed
entry in some clubs. Their hyper-rejection of
Africanness and, consequently of Haitians (or vice
versa) mixed with profound gender issues, made it okay
for them to abuse me. In Jamaica, no one in the middle
class seemed to have intimate knowledge of what locks
were. Every time I went out, people wanted to touch my
hair. In the grocery store I had to have multiple
conversations with cashiers as to whether my hair was
real and whether or not I was Rastafarian. Now I’m in
Mexico where everyone is fascinated with my hair and
with my daughter’s hair. They stare, and strangers reach
out and touch my daughter’s head as she’s passing by.
We’re seen as something remarkable just by being who we
are.
Jane: What a contrast of
reactions!
Kiini: Indeed!
Jane: Kiini, you are also a
painter. What do you paint and where can we find your
paintings?
Kiini: Well, it’s
bizarre. I painted for exactly two years. It started in
Bahia, Brazil where there was such a range of artistry
that I felt comfortable trying my hand at something I
had wanted to do all my life. I continued painting as I
traveled back and forth and lived on people’s couches.
Then for some reason I stopped. I deeply desire to
return to painting. I loved the paintings I made and the
act of painting was a mood-altering activity. It didn’t
matter how I was feeling when I went into it, while I
was painting I just reach a place of peace and total
focus on what I’m doing. It’s very meditative. So my
paintings are in friends and relatives’ houses all over
the country. Perhaps one day I’ll put up a gallery on my
website.
Jane: Most artists have to
balance their craft with what the rest of the world
calls ‘real work’ at the beginning. Are you only
focusing on your writing and art or do you have another
job on the side?
Kiini: I still have
to keep a job. For years I was a freelancer with an
order-by-mail book company. This was perfect for me
because I could alternate times of work with times of
travel. After I had my daughter and my company was sold,
I felt insecure relying on the freelancing to support
us, so I got a regular 9-to-5 as a grant writer. But
when I enrolled in my MFA program, I realized I needed
to focus on the writing. Working did allow me to cut the
amount of loan money I was taking out in half, but I
couldn’t give myself over to the work. So now I’m
totally focused on the writing. I took the loan money
and went down to Mexico. When I come out of the program
I plan to get a fellowship and continue writing. If that
doesn’t work out, there’s a possibility that I will have
to return to the 9-to-5 insanity.
Jane: Who do you most admire
in your profession at the moment?
Kiini: I’m not
someone who fixates on people. I read a lot of stuff
that impacts me that I’m wowed by, but I don’t record
them in my conscious mind as someone to watch. I admire
different writers/artist for different reasons. One may
be mind-blowing creative; another may be daring with
their subject matter. I may admire how another is making
her way through the literary world. So there are many
and I draw inspiration from as many sources as possible.
Jane: Who is your favorite
writer?
Kiini: I don’t have
one.
Jane: What music would we
find in your CD player?
Kiini: I’m a bit of
a monk. I don’t buy a lot. My money goes to food and to
travel. I never buy music. It’s just not where I want to
spend my funds. I love eating and traveling, those are
my priorities. But this whole I-tunes thing has
revolutionized my relationship to music. I downloaded
all my CDs, all of which were gifts or giveaways, onto
my Mac and now I listen to music while I’m writing and
sometimes in the morning when getting my daughter ready
for school. Who do I love? Stevie Wonder, Prince,
Cassandra Wilson, Nina Simone, and a range of Brazilian
artists are in constant rotation on my I-tunes. Zap
Mama’s playing right now.
Jane: For your dream dinner
party which five guests would you invite and why?
Kiini: My dream
dinner party? Well, I’m in love with my friends, I
really am and I’m currently down here in Oaxaca, so it
would be beautiful to dine with them . . . but my dream
dinner party. Well, the complicated thing too is that
real people are so very different from their messages
(artistic or political), so when you sit down with
someone you admire it could be wonderful or it could be
heart breaking. So maybe I should give you the
archetypes; a world traveler who has a million
fascinating stories from her/his travels and yet is a
gracious listener so he or she doesn’t hog the
conversation.
A successful artist who has managed
to stay true to her/his artistic heart and has also made
loads of money. That is to say someone who knows the
values of her/his work yet continues to think of
her/himself as an equal with other artists. Someone who
works with people; could be an educator or a social
anthropologist; who tries to get us to consider things
we could do to make change in the world; a trained,
spiritual person who is studying to reach new heights in
their spiritual ascension and who is open with their
spiritual process. A good friend who would enjoy the
same company I would and with whom I could discuss
everything that happened the next day.
Jane: Are you romantically
involved?
Kiini: Not
currently, though I am deeply in love with my little
girl. We have quite a love affair going on.
Jane: This is a new question
that I am asking because I believe in promoting
self-esteem, especially among black women who see very
little representation of themselves in the media.
Magazines like Bahiyah Woman Magazine are working
hard to change this and that excites me because it is a
project that I have personally embarked on. What is your
idea of beauty in a man or a woman?
Kiini: My idea of
beauty in men and women isn’t all that different. I
think a good heart is beautiful. Honesty; someone who
knows they are human and are honest about their foibles
and mistakes, is beautiful. Charisma; that something
special that makes some one compelling; intelligence;
uniqueness; people who walk to the step of their own
drum. And fearlessness. Oh, and someone who cares about
what happens to their neighbor and all the other people
who occupy the planet with us.
Jane: Do you have any advice
for those who wish to follow in your footsteps?
Kiini: Listen and
do. Listen and do. Listen and do. I think we get lots of
messages of the best direction for us, but we have to
listen and not be afraid to follow our own instincts, no
matter how crazy they are. And of course, you must do.
Whatever you’re doing, it is writing, loving, and
parenting. You have to do your work. Without judgment
and with a minimum of ego, not getting caught up in how
you’re going to be perceived. You have to do, do, do and
keep doing. The doing evolves as you evolve. That’s what
keeps life interesting, you change and there are new
levels of honesty, faith, fearlessness required to carry
on.
Jane: So what's next for
Kiini Ibura Salaam?
Kiini: Lots of
money, freedom, and new opportunities from my
novel—Fate, the first draft of which will be finished by
January 2006. I’m ready to burst to the next level of my
writing career, that means finding a way to write full
time and to live comfortably on the revenues from my
writing. That is the challenge I’m taking on now.
You can learn more about Kiini Ibura
Salaam at
www.kiiniibura.com
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Jane Musoke-Nteyafas,
poet/author/artist and playwright, was born in Moscow,
Russia and currently resides in Toronto, Canada. She is
the daughter of retired diplomats. By the time she was
19, she spoke French, English, Spanish, Danish, Luganda,
some Russian and had lived in Russia, Uganda, France,
Denmark, Cuba and Canada. She won the Miss Africanada
beauty pageant 2000 in Toronto where she was also named
‘one of the new voices of Africa’ after reciting one of
her poems. In 2004 she was published in T-Dot Griots-An
Anthology of Toronto's Black storytellers and in
February 2005 her art piece Namyenya was featured as the
poster piece for the Human Rights through Art-Black
History Month Exhibit. She is the recipient of numerous
awards for her poetry, art and playwriting and is
becoming a household name in Toronto circles. Please
visit her website at
www.nteyafas.com
Source:
http://bwmmag.com/magazine/content/view/560/178/
posted 24 March 2006 * * * *
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posted 7 November 2007 |
