On Terrorism.

5 years ago I was walking through Waterloo Station in London and a white man shoulder-charged me, knocked me down to ground and spat ‘take that fucking hat off’. He was referring to my Zanna Bukka hat; the ones I always wear. The following week I ordered five more. Last week, I also ordered five more. And every time racism and Islamophobia bares its teeth, I crown myself with what it is they hate, and stand even taller, walk prouder. In the wake of all this, I will order five more.

Most people, friends and family, think I wear them for pleasure, but I wear them for pain. I wear them to own the fear. Every. Single. Time. I expect to be assaulted, because this is England.

I’ve been touring An Evening With An Immigrant since 2016. Since Brexit, I’ve travelled up and down England, across the planet, telling my immigration story in an attempt to humanise us to those who think we are animals. Wherever I tell the story in another country, I research its immigration policy and narrativise it; I inform the privileged few in the theatre what is being done to immigrants there.

When I performed the show at the Sydney Opera House, 10% of the audience walked out because they didn’t want to hear the truth. This is the truth: none of what’s happening is surprising, it’s just disappointing. Because I / we / immigrants have been saying this for years.

We have been warning about what pathetic, inexperienced, useless, successive political leaders were fostering. From Badenoch saying just last week that ‘integration has failed’ to Sunak, Johnson, May, Patel, Braverman, Jenrick, Cameron, all those talentless walking cesspits of bile and bitterness craving power and demonising us in order to get it, never caring about the repercussions… this is it.

The chickens have come home to roost; their families, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, uncles, aunties, voters, electorate, constituents are torching our streets because they were miseducated and whipped into fleshy infernos of fear and furious inferiority complexes, then pointed at us. They are terrorists, homegrown by our politicians, now roaming the streets and hunting us. I have no words for them or for the terrorists, just for us.

So, to us immigrants, to refugees and asylum seekers: Don’t go looking for a fight. If arrested your citizenship could be revoked, the Home Office could claim you are a person ‘not of good character’ which would elongate your court battle, or worse, your ongoing claim could be completely rejected. All of this happened to me in my 26-year long battle. Instead, stay safe. Be vigilant. Find your tribe - people who genuinely care about you - Knuckle Down. Hold tight. For now.

A final thought. We must counterbalance the endless extreme stories told by mainstream media. They stoke fear and create extreme reactions. TV and Film industries can play powerful roles in commissioning nuanced and humanising migration stories. Too many of us who try to tell these are turned down or asked to write Black or Brown rom coms and crime dramas.

We won’t stop trying to tell our truths.

Xx

3Sis x Canada

I have only won one award for my work in theatre. It was for The 14th Tale, 15 years ago. I know awards don’t really matter - I don’t write for them - but something alchemical happens when you win something, when the industry seems to say ‘I see you, I see what you have done, keep doing it.’

Three Sisters is a play about the Biafran Genocide, about Nigeria’s civil war. When I saw this production in Canada earlier this year, I could not help but see what is occurring in Gaza reflected in the stories, lives, and bodies of the actors on stage. The judges of the Dora Awards saw the universality of human suffering, the attempt to find joy and meaning despite such difficulties, and awarded the incredible artists who came together, for telling my story, for letting it play out.

We won two awards, for Outstanding Production and Outstanding Performance By An Ensemble.

Thank you to: Akosua Amo-Adem, Virgilia Griffith, Daren A. Herbert, Sterling Jarvis, ID Leslie, Tawiah M’Carthy, Ngabo Nabea, Oyin Oladejo, Tony Ofori, Makambe K. Simamba, Ordena Stephens-Thompson, & Amaka Umeh, Mumbi Tindyebwa Otu, Weyni Mengesha, to Soulpepper Theatre and Obsidian Theatre Co-Production for mounting this production.

To the family members of people in conflict areas, people from Sudan, Congo, Ukraine, Kenya, Haiti and more, I know you are experiencing varying forms of survivor’s guilt in varying intensities, but we are privileged and lucky not be in the line of fire, so try to keep your guilt at bay and bear witness. Document the stories that you find, that come your way that future generations might learn and understand what it is happening now.

#thaswassup

No Moose by Mark Waldron

NO MOOSE
by Mark Waldron

An English seaside town at dusk, warmth
radiated by the stone buildings, warmth
emerges like sunburnt evening promenaders
from the stone buildings, warmth is secreted
like a pheromone from the stone buildings,
warmth emanates like the warmth of
the breath of a monotone speech from
the stone buildings, streetlamps brighten
on a darkening sky, a middle-aged man bares
his teeth and cracks through the choc’ of his
choc-ice as an unfortunate explorer might
crack through the ice in the thaw on
the Hudson Bay, his lips stretched back in
a grimace of terror as he vanishes forever.

And there, in the chip shop, lit by its strip
lights, a cramped and uncomfortable moose,
its antlers brush ceiling, its head pushes hard
against counter, its twitching rump against wall
with informative pictures of fish. A moose in
a setting like this is like a dog in your pool,
perhaps not a vagrant in your bedroom, sitting
on your pillow, or a noose in your playpen,
or sick on your patio, but a dog in your pool.
So remove it. Lit by the lights of the chippy, an
ordinary street; there’s a man with a choc-ice,
the fading scent of a moose, the heartening
odour of vinegar, and the warmth given off
like a sigh of relief by the stone buildings.

From Meanwhile, Trees (Bloodaxe Books, 2016)

First Story x Six Words

Ernest Hemingway famously wrote a six word novel - For Sale / Babies Shoes / Never Worn - and First Story, the magnificent organisation that creates writing projects for young people, asked a bunch of writers to write their own six-word story.

I was one such fellow, and all the stories are up for auction. They include David Baddiel, Diana Evans, Louise Doughty, Neil Gaiman, Jackie Kay, Linton Kwesi Johnson… 23 writers in all, 23 incredible short short stories.

Bidding closes on the 2nd of November… help yourself to one of these gems.

Out of the Margins

In collaboration with Christie’s auction house, I’m taking part in this really magnificent fundraiser in support of refugee artists… a whole bunch of playwrights - 50 of the best - annotated first edition copies of their plays with memories, reflections and thoughts in the margins of their iconic text.

All are part of an online auction - here's mine - and the list includes Jez Butterworth, David Hare, Dennis Kelly, James Graham, Ben Power, Jack Thorne, Tom Stoppard, Tanika Gupta, Sabrina Mahfouz, Suzie Miller, Lynn Nottage… and more.

It’s an honour to be counted among them, but a greater honour to be contributing to a good cause. The auction Starts: 15 September and  Ends: 6 October, 2pm. You should take part in this. Look at the gems you could win….

Honorary Doctorate

Last week, I was awarded an Honorary Doctorate from University Of The Arts, London. It meant more to me than the faculty knew at the time, which I explained in the acceptance speech I gave on the day. Marshalling my partner and my family together for the day was an uphill struggle, but a week after, thinking about, and looking at the photos, I am proud of myself and my family - of what we have survived together and have been able to build.

Honorary Doctorate Speech / 11/07/2023

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The last university I applied to was Goldsmith University, to study a masters in English Literature, in 2008. I’d lived in the uk since 1996, for 12 years at the time, but because my immigration case was still pending, by Home Office rules, I was classed as an international student – a status that tripled the school fees, which meant I could not afford to go. I spoke with the staff, explained my predicament, that I was in limbo, but there was nothing they could do. Rules were rules they said. I had to turn down the offer.

Days later the course lecturer reached out to explain he taught my work on the course. I’d been writing and performing poetry for years and some of that work had crept into academic circles. The lecturer explained that if I had made it on the course, I may have had to write an essay about my work for him to mark, which would have made a mockery of his classroom. So he advised, not to be too down about the outcome. Years before, I only turned to writing - I only became a writer - because I could not afford art materials. Pens were cheaper than paint, I’d write out the pictures in my head.

And before applying to Goldsmiths to study creative writing, I applied to UAL to this university to study graphic design. I showed my portfolio at the interview, again I was accepted, and again immigration rules priced me out of education. International student status again, I couldn’t afford to go. However, because I am my father’s son, because my mother taught me the value of eduction, because I am Nigerian, so naturally enterprising, and because Naija no dey carry last - I worked around these hurdles…

I befriend groups of students from Goldsmiths and UAL, who would sneak me into lectures in both institutions. I’d pretend to be one of them, taking notes by day, further researching by night, applying them to the work I was making, many of which have been mentioned tonight.

So today means more than you can imagine, a recognition from this university, an honorary award from the very institution I could not afford to attend, a doctorate no less! And I didn’t have to pay a penny… this is is a gift above asking, one I could not have imagined.

Though I thrived without full higher level education, I understand what I didn’t get experience: shared learning, a body of students, growing, nourishing and inspiring each other, essentially a sense of a community, of artists. It is still a hole in me, which perhaps this award may some way fill.

I never seek to be political, I am not an activist, but politics always finds me, and in wanting to learn, I found myself in the jaws of harsh anti-immigrant policies.

As global migration intensifies with climates changing, in increasingly hostile environments, should the wind rush other immigrants across treacherous waters to arrive at our shores, should they show a passion for learning, my plea to the educators here is simple: bend the rules when you can, break the rules if will, but let them learn, let us learn.

I’d like to thank my family and partner for supporting my artistic pursuits despite those hurdles, my oldest friend Jack Prideaux who was there from the start, Stella Odunlami for building with me, and the faculty for this, for the everything this is.

Thank you x

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05 Fest x Barbican

Tue 26—Sat 30 Sep 2023 / 6 - 7:30pm

Last year, I wished to find a way to unite all my live events, so I started 05 Fest. Can you remember? The inaugural festival - which puts poetry and words centre stage - happened last year at The Albany in London in February, quickly followed by the second fest at The Abbey in Dublin, Ireland in June.

I’m excited to let y’all know the next fest will be at the Barbican Centre in London, this September. I’m keeping all the secrets to myself for now - I shan’t say who is on the line up – but I’m working with over 35 writers, thinkers and artists to present 5 unforgettable evenings at The Barbican – one of the most magnificent art centres in Europe.

This fest features 2 Search Parties, 1 Poetry + Film / Hack, and 1 R.A.P Party, but I’ll also be presenting two new events: Anonyms - a live exuberant discussion on names, meanings and personal mythology, and Redacted - a quick-fire blackout poetry exercise with deliberately poor psychoanalysis!

As usual, demystifying the creative process is at the heart of my events: removing all airs and graces, all the bullsh*t about the creation of art and democratising space – this what it’s all about, and each event makes room for audience participation and interaction. I really hope you will spend some time with us: So, save the evenings for the festival.

Doors / 7:45 pm / Show 8.00pm
Date / 26 - 30 Sep 2023 / Tix £5 - 18 / Book Here.

Barber Shop Chronicles / Kenya

A little known fact about my play, Barbershop Chronicles, is that I also travelled to Kenya to research. The play is set in five African cities: Johannesburg, Harare, Kampala, Lagos, Accra, and in London, but it was meant to be six African cities including - Nairobi.

I could not make the scene in Nairobi serve the larger narrative, so we had cut it from the play – one day I’ll do something with that scene – but it gives me then the great pleasure to announce that the play will be read in Nairobi, at the Goethe-Institut Library this Friday, tomorrow. If you are there or have friends in the there, please share. It is happening for one night only!

Time / 6pm
Date / June 16 / free / book from here.
Venue / Goethe Institut / 1st Flr. Maendeleo House / Monrovia St / Nairobi / Kenya.

Full Cast

And we’re fully cast! It took some time to find the right alchemy, but I believe we have discovered the perfect blend. This exceedingly rich, talented crew will bring The Half -God of Rainfall to life at the New York Theatre Workshop this summer.

In 5 weeks, Jason Bowen will take the stage as Sango - the brash God of Thunder, Mister Fitzgerald as Demi - the vengeful god-son, Patrice Johnson Chevannes as Osun - the River Goddess, Michael Laurence as Zeus - the God-King all-father, Lizan Mitchell as Elegba - guardian of the crossroads, Jennifer Mogbock as Modupe - high priestess and warrior mother, and Alexander Silber as Hera - Queen-God and protector of women.

We have a magnificent supporting cast of creatives: Orlando Pabotoy - Movement Director, Ricardo Hernandez - Scenic Design, Stacey Derosier - Lighting Design, Tal Yarden - Projection Design, Dawn-Elin Fraser - Voice & Dialect Director, Linda Cho - Costume Design, Mikaal Sulaiman - Sound design, Ann James - Intimacy Director, and Caroline Englander - Stage Manager.

It takes a village to raise a child and our child is the play. Come see her dance…

Time / 7pm

Date / 13 July - 20 August / Tix $25 - $65 / book here.

Venue / New York Theatre Workshop / 79 E 4th St, New York, NY 10003

Yinka Ilori x Hannah Buckman x Inua Ellams

Yinka Ilori & It’s Nice That commissioned Hannah Buckman to create a comic illustrating ‘Fuck / Carrots’ - one of the poems from The Actual, and I think the result is pretty dope!

There is also an interview about how the poem came about here.

The Actual / Book Launch

Day 5 / Day 5

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The Day is finally upon us! There is nothing left to add, that hasn’t already been said above. JUST COME THROUGH! See you tonight! Tickets from here!

Fuck / Batman X Play Drop

Day 4 / Day 5

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Fuck / Batman & Press Play >

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I am a Batman fan, and when articles of the possible source of the various pointed the finger at bats, I grew… conflicted. I began comparing the genesis of Spiderman (who was bitten by a radio active spider) with what might have happened in Wuhan, shared my fears with my friend, Deborah Yewande Bankole, who instantly incinerated the idea of Batman as a hero in the first place. This short audio play, recorded binaurally*, is the fallout, a dramatisation of our conversation.

Binaural recording involves both ears. Noise is recorded in the way the human ear and brain works to receive sound. The play was recorded as though you, the listener, were sat between Deborah and I as we argued. You’ll need some good headphones. The play was commissioned by Story Futures and all recorded and edited during lockdown. The poem was the last one written for The Actual, and was by far, the most difficult.

I hope you enjoy it. You can read the poem, and purchase the whole book here from Penned in the margins.