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Seán Hewitt (00:00):
The Glimpse.
Nithy Kasa (00:05):
So how you read a poem
was always very important from the
start, and now I can't write a poemwithout reading it out loud. It's
the sound that gets me, and thestructure of the poem goes with the
sound. It's how I will speak it.
Seán Hewitt (00:25):
Welcome to The
Glimpse. I'm your host. Seán
Hewitt.
Nithy Kasa is a Congolese-Irishpoet whose work has been featured
in The University of Galway'sArchive, Poetry Island Review and
elsewhere. Her debut collection ofpoetry, Palm Wine Tapper and The
Boy at Jericho was listed among thetop poetry books for 2022 by the
Irish Times and shortlisted for thePigot Poetry Prize in 2023. Nithy
(00:48):
Kasa is our guest today on TheGlimpse.
Nithy Kasa's poems are fresh andyet rooted in tradition, romantic,
and spiked with a subtle darkness.I love how unafraid these poems
are, not only of lyricism, but ofrich, almost archetypal imagery. In
(01:10):
her debut collection, Palm WineTapper and the Boy at Jericho,
which came out in 2022 there's agorgeous blending of the erotic,
the bodily and the folkloric, whichNithy Kasa illuminates with a
striking, earthy imagery and askilled narrative impulse.
Traversing the landscapes of boththe Democratic Republic of Congo
(01:31):
and Ireland, Her work is memorable,tensile and full of mystery. One of
my favorite of her poems brings usto an ancient monastic site in
Ireland, and seems to commune withits spirits all the while being
attentive to the ways the landscapecommunes with itself. This is how
it goes,
"lower an ear on the rye grass,when at Clonmacnoise, for the
(01:54):
phantom chants, missioned to thehalls of the pollened bogs to the
orchards hallowing." Nithy Kasawelcome to The Glimpse. Thank you
so much for being here.
Nithy Kasa (02:06):
Thank you for having
me.
Seán Hewitt (02:08):
So tell us where
you're speaking to us from.
Nithy Kasa (02:12):
I am right now in
Kinshasa, Central Africa, in the
Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Seán Hewitt (02:19):
Nice. And do you spend
a lot of time there?
Nithy Kasa (02:21):
I'm trying to, because
the past few years, well the past
20 years, really, I've mainly beenbased in Ireland, and every now and
then I would travel to Congo forlike, a week or two, or maybe a
month. But I am trying to balanceit evenly between the two countries
(02:42):
now, because I do have a familyhere. And the older you get,
obviously you realize there is alot more to life than me being free
and traveling and trying to connectto the family now, because the
whole family is really here inCongo and trying to see what I can
get from the country.
Seán Hewitt (03:01):
Nice, and do you think
that that comes through in the
writing that you're doing at anygiven time, whether you're in
Ireland or in the Congo?
Nithy Kasa (03:08):
Absolutely, like I
always say, wherever I am really, I
carry both countries. I think it'svery difficult to pick just one
country, because I am literallyboth countries at this stage. So
when I am in Ireland, I write a lotabout Congo.
Seán Hewitt (03:25):
It's interesting that
you kind of need to be away from
one country to be writing about theother. Is that how it works for
Nithy Kasa (03:31):
It does. It does a lot.
But sometimes, when you're in a
Seán Hewitt (03:32):
And is poetry always a
way to process that for you, or do
you?
situation as well, you can beconsumed in it as well. It's not
you do other forms of writing,
Nithy Kasa (03:40):
It was always poetry
for me. Before I began releasing my
always that way. Sometimes you dofeel when you're in one country,
poetry for other people, it wasmore of a diary, really. It's the
you're thinking a lot, but othertimes, when events are really
way I kept everyday lives and theconfusions of teenage years and
current and the extreme, intensive,you can be just consumed in the one
country that happens as well. Yes.
(04:18):
everything immigration as wellthings that came with it, and being
far away from home, Kinshasa, thatis the home in Kinshasa, in missing
the people, and that came throughas poetry. So that's how I got into
poetry. I was already doing my ownstuff, and I ran into poets and the
circle, the community, they justkept pulling me like we need to
(04:40):
hear, we need to hear, to hear it.That's how I got into it.
Seán Hewitt (04:45):
And that's how we came
to have your debut collection. I
suppose.
Nithy Kasa (04:49):
The debut collection
came a long way. There is a lot to
it. I suppose I had mydifficulties. Like every writer,
when you have the time you try tolook for somebody to publish your
collection, and everything thatkind of comes into it, the "nos"
and the "no response" I had thatmoment as well. But then the film I
(05:14):
did with Adrian Brinkerhoff, Isuppose that was the first time my
image just kind of went into notjust Ireland, but the U.S. and
people were kind of looking at mypoetry, and the publisher saw it,
and they they contacted me to know,do I have more of it? And I'm like,
(05:35):
"You know what? I'm actuallylooking for a publisher right now,
do you want to see my work?" "Well,okay," and I did send them a
sample. They saw it. They liked it.
Seán Hewitt (05:47):
I actually wanted to
ask you about commissions, because
when I read your bio there, Inoticed just how many commissions
you do and how many you're asked todo. I know a lot of poets can
struggle sometimes with working oncommissions. You know, they
struggle when they're told what towrite about or how to write it. How
do you approach working withcommission? Do you do you enjoy it?
Nithy Kasa (06:10):
Like every poet, it's
very difficult to have you know,
somebody gives you something. It'slike ‘write something about it.’ So
it's a more difficult process thanbeing in your bed and something just
kind of clicks. It's magical. Andyou jump off the bed, try to grab
your phone and write it down, oryou're at work or something, or on
the bus, and sometimes you're justwalking, and something clicks in
(06:33):
your head, and you take your phone,it's like before I forget, I have
to write it down. You have to sitdown and think about it a lot.
Think about it and be around it.It's a lot more difficult, but
there is a joy that I love. It'swhen you get it right. When you go
around all those difficulties andthe thoughts and the desperation,
(06:55):
you know, when you're getting tothe deadline, it's like, "Will I
ever get it right? Will I ever getit right? Oh my god." And something
clicks. It's like, "I have it." Andthat excitement, I love it as well.
So it's, it's challenging, and Ienjoy the challenge. I say, more
than anything, the process isharder when you're being
commissioned, but the journey,especially when you get it right at
(07:16):
the end, it's, it's always pride,yeah, it's exciting.
Seán Hewitt (07:19):
I mean, it's pulling
you in different directions as a
writer, isn't it? Because I think Iagree, when, when you were saying,
you know, when you're sitting onthe bus and you suddenly have an
idea and you write it down, oryou're in bed, those moments are
kind of unpredictable and and theyjust come to you sometimes out of
the blue, or you've been thinkingabout an idea for months and
(07:39):
suddenly it clicks. And I guesswith a commission, you have to give
much more structure to thatprocess, which is perhaps not the
kind of natural way that a lot ofpoets write. Would you tell us a
little bit about the poem you'regoing to read for us today? My
People Dance by Their Hips. Wheredid the idea for it come from. Do
(08:01):
you remember writing this poem?
Would you read it for ourlisteners?
Nithy Kasa (08:03):
Yes, it took years for
me to write this poem. It came from
my obsession with the waist beads.In the Congolese culture, it's more
of a grown up kind of a thing, andbecoming a woman comes with the
beads, really. So you can't be alittle girl wearing the beads. It's
(08:23):
just, it's not okay. It's verysexualizing, I suppose. And when
Ok. My People Dance by their Hips.They let me in rivers, when I could
you're a younger girl looking tobecome a woman, you want those
little things, but you can't reallygo ask your African auntie. It's
like, "I want the beads." It'slike, "child, what are you looking
(08:43):
to get into?" So it's like,something you struggle with
yourself, just wondering, "Wherewill I get them?" I was obsessed
with the beads and I became a womanin Ireland, so I traveled very
young. So I spent all my teenageyears in Ireland, and there is me
becoming a woman outside of Congo.And those things you wish would be
(09:08):
cultural were in there, in a way,then you become obsessed with them
at the same time, because you can'thave them. Here you can just walk
in the markets. There is a wholepavilion where you just have the
beads, kind of like the cartons,and you can pick, I didn't have
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that. You have to google them. Youhave to find a place, an exotic
something, place, an African shopto get them. And my obsession with
the beads is where the poem camefrom, and the taboo around it as
well. So it took me years trying to get the poem right. I had a lot
(09:50):
of drafts of the poem, loads of itfor years. It just kept changing.
stand above the ripples on my own.The hidden bend for women, beating
(10:15):
clothes against the river banks,that is where I heard about it,
waist beads, how men love thesethings around women. But we bought
for beads for ourselves. The peoplewhere I am from dance by their
hips, with bead chains, leopardprint wrapped on, you swirl to
(10:40):
drums. It's tradition. But women'stalks in chambers, almost to a
whisper, were safe, to stoppretending that you've never been
touched, and tell that you let him,spell a poem on you, bare hands. We
(11:01):
shared tricks, recipes, shea butterfor the lines on your tights, the
sorcery you'll need to keep a fussyman, and waist beads--men love
these things around women. But webought ours for ourselves, the
(11:23):
people where I am from dance bytheir hips. It's tradition,Our
beauty pavilions have weepingwillows of bead bonds swaying,
mirrors, brave to show the days weused to wear skirts above our knees
have passed, like rosary beads on apraying hand. Still, I keep the
(11:49):
beads around my hips, the peoplewhere I am from dance by their
hips.
Seán Hewitt (11:58):
Thank you so much.
It's so great to hear you read that
poem. And I wonder, when you'rewriting, do you, do you read aloud?
Because this is a poem that seemslike it's just begging to be
spoken.
Nithy Kasa (12:12):
So how you read a poem
was always very important from the
start, and now I can't write a poemwithout reading it out loud. It's
the sound that gets me, and thestructure of the poem goes with the
sound. It's how I will speak it. Iwill change words, cut the phrases,
(12:34):
what you call the lines, to go withthe way I wish to deliver that
poem. And if the poem was justwritten for the page. Like I said,
it's very tricky for me to beconnected with it, to pick up that
poem and go around to placesreading it; very challenging. So I
have to write it with the voicespeaking it out loud. Usually,
(12:57):
that's how it goes for me.
Seán Hewitt (12:58):
Yeah, there's
something in this poem I think that
that almost sways. I feel myselfswaying as I read the poem. And I
don't know if it's the rhymes or orthe use of repetition, but I
wonder, you know, as you arewriting it, how do you kind of
decide where, where you're pullingback that repetition and how you're
kind of getting to the rhythm? Doyou feel it in your body as you
(13:19):
write? You know, can you describethe process?
Nithy Kasa (13:22):
It's almost as if
you're reading it for yourself. And
I can see myself on the stagedelivering it. It's where the voice
wants to stop. Usually, that'swhere it stops. There might be a
word which I wish to emphasize atthe beginning or at the end, and
that would be where the line wouldbreak and start with something
(13:44):
else. It's usually the performanceI see myself doing. Sometimes I'd
walk around the house deliveringthe poem, and it's that voice where
it feels comfortable, or maybe youjust want to take a breath. It's
like, "okay, this line is long.This is where I want to take a
breath," and that's where you breakthe line. It's like, "okay, I love
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this word. This is how I want tostart." Usually, that's how it
goes.
Seán Hewitt (14:09):
There's something in
this poem, and I think in a lot of
other poems in your collectionwhere you know the female spaces,
or female kind of lineages, arereally centered at the front of
this poem. I I love you know theidea of of this hidden bend in the
river for for the women, because insome ways, it's a place of of
(14:33):
intimacy between the women, wherekind of secrets can be told and
people can be talked about. As youaccumulated the poems for your
collection was that sense of a kindof, you know, a female inheritance,
kind of in the front of your mind.Do you see that as kind of one of
your principal kind of drivers forwriting poetry? Or where does that
(14:59):
come from?
Nithy Kasa (15:00):
When I got into poetry
actively, like not just my own
diary, but looking to be a part ofthe community, I was becoming a
woman. So I'm an African in thediaspora. I'm writing"who is out
there, what black woman is outthere?" And Maya Angelou was that
woman when you're reading herpoetry, what she expresses as a
(15:22):
woman. I mean, being a woman isuniversal, but then you do have
those racial, cultural stuff thatyou do have to speak to somebody
who's like you, who comes from thatplace for you to understand. I
mean, when I read the PhenomenalWoman, and Still I Rise and you
read it, it's like, "I get that." Iget what she meant. I absolutely
(15:45):
understand what she's talkingabout. And my obsession with her
trying to see, how can I writepoetry? How do you write poetry as
a woman?
Seán Hewitt (15:55):
Yeah, I kind of
wondered, you know, when I was
reading the poem, because it comesup so often, is these brilliant and
I think Maya Angelou is maybe inthe back of this as well. But the
eroticism, if that's a fair wordfor the way in which you write
about the body and romance. I'mthinking of another poem in your
(16:18):
book called "Son of August" aswell, which has a brilliant rhythm.
It's kind of almost song, like inmy head. I suppose. I'm wondering
with the erotic, is that somethingthat you think comes from the kind
of private world of your poems,because they started in diaries,
you know, that is there somethingthat? Or do you even experience it
(16:41):
as a sort of brave thing? Maybethis is just a particularly Irish
hang up. You know that thesethings, you know, we associate with
bravery, even just being kind ofhonest about desire or longing or
kind of growing into womanhood,
Nithy Kasa (16:58):
Absolutely, especially
in the African culture. You, you
just, you cannot be sexualized. Youcannot be intimate. I mean, things
are changing, but when I wasgrowing up here, like two decades
ago, I mean you can't even bringyour boyfriend around. You just
possibly couldn't. The only timeyou get to bring somebody here
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means you're getting married. Youjust possibly couldn't have the
guts to bring somebody around.Getting a boyfriend is like, "Oh my
god, it's the biggest taboo" if youwant to be beaten to death. And I'm
not kidding, not the slipper, theproper beating, let somebody catch
you with somebody. Maybe it's justmy personal desires, and the way to
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deal with them was writing themdown, I suppose. The bravery that
comes with it as well, having thecourage to say it out loud, not
being restricted because of thesociety that I am growing up in as
well. Maybe it's just mypersonality. That it's the place
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that I feel like I can make it comeout, write about in my own space.
Write it in because I am quiteintroverted and a bit shy, a tiny
bit shy. So I suppose my own page,pen and paper indoors is a place
that I feel comfortable lettingthem out. But of course, with the
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worry of knowing where to draw thelines really. Where is it you can
and cannot go in terms of theculture and being a black woman as
well. We already have what's outthere, the stereotype of black
women and sexuality. What can beromantic for one woman can be
(18:50):
vulgar when a black woman says itor does it. So knowing where to
draw the lines is all a part of it,really, but I suppose I wouldn't
really say it's just more of acultural thing, but maybe it's just
me, maybe it's just my writing iswhere I feel more comfortable.
Seán Hewitt (19:10):
I absolutely love it
because it feels so kind of warm
and sensuous in your hands. Youknow, we often talk about
permission in poetry, and it soundslike that's kind of what, what's
going on. You know, we are talkingabout, where to draw the line, or
kind of the bravery. I wonder ifthere are any poets, either that
(19:32):
you've read in the past or thatyou're reading now that feel like
they've kind of given youpermission to write in a certain
way, or think in a certain way.
Nithy Kasa (19:41):
I grew up mostly
Ireland, so my secondary schoolings
And where I would have reallystudied poetry is Irish. The Seamus
Heaney, the Yeats would be thepoems that the Irish poems that I
really love. But when you go to therhythm and the sexual stuff, it's
not really coming from women.Surprisingly, in Congo, it's coming
(20:05):
from men. If you look up CongoRumba, the Congo Rumba were mostly
poems. The well, the man who wrotemost of them, Simaro Lutumba
Masiya, he was a poet who wrotethose songs for the musicians, and
they were mostly written in thevoices of women. So you had men
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singing, "I am a woman." Veryrarely they ever sang songs about
"us men." It was always about awoman complaining about men, and it
was very raw. I'm not sure. Maybeit's the language, how it's
involved, and some of the wordsbecame vulgar, but they would sing
it in a way that it was very sexualat the time. I'm not sure why it
(20:50):
was okay then, but now,
Seán Hewitt (20:52):
That's interesting. I
wonder if they kind of got away
with it because they were mensinging as well. You know, maybe
it would have been different if itwas women singing the same thing?
Nithy Kasa (21:02):
Yeah, I never thought
of it that way. Absolutely. They
sang about everything and theypronounced everything, sexual
stuff, but most of the songs werevery romantic and they were women
crying. There is a song called"Mamou" [sings] so it's just a
(21:23):
woman crying. It's like, "Where areyou going? Like you're leaving me
with the children. I'm here. Whereare you going?" The poems that I
knew were songs written aboutwomen, giving out about men, and
they were written by men, sung bymen. I suppose that's where it's
kind of came from, because theynever sang about men against men,
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gangster stuff, powerful stuff.They just sang about women,
sexuality and their relationshipswith women. I suppose that's where
mine came from.
Seán Hewitt (21:53):
That's fascinating.
Yeah, yeah. I'd never heard of that
before, but it's kind of blowing mymind, because I suppose, what an
interesting kind of inheritance tohave as a woman, to have had almost
a kind of ventriloquism ofwomanhood, kind of sung to you. Do
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you think that you're kind ofspeaking back or speaking within
that tradition?
Nithy Kasa (22:19):
I think it's both. I am
a woman, and the things that I
thank God I write in English, anddon't write in Lingala French so
nobody understands what I'm writingabout. I suppose it's the culture
that I love, I admire, that's beingcarried, but against it as well,
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because it's like, maybe it'ssomething that I wasn't supposed to
be doing, speaking openly about mysexuality. It's just a no-no. Women
here, I have to say, they are verysensual. That as a woman, I know. I
am, I have access to those spacesof women, and I do talk to women,
(23:01):
young girls and the elders. Womenare super sexual, but it's just,
you're not allowed to bring itoutside and me writing about it I
suppose it's it's one way of goingagainst it. But then again, there
is the trouble of knowing where todraw the limits, not only because
of the Congolese culture of being awoman, but the Westerner ideas as
(23:23):
well of what a black woman is, andyou the stereotype of what you
should and shouldn't be doing. Yes.
Seán Hewitt (23:30):
Yeah, I think there's
something so so gorgeous about the
Nithy Kasa (23:31):
Thank you.
way your poems kind of put inimages, these kind of suggested
ideas, and in some way in kind ofcloaking them, that is kind of the
essence of the erotic, right?Because it has to be kind of
hidden. It kind of loses itseroticism if it's all given, all
(23:55):
given away. Okay, to a verydifferent poem after the break, but
which I found out was was read atJackie Kennedy's funeral, which I
didn't know, but we'll, we'll takea short break, and then Nithy is
going to introduce us to one of herfavorite poets.
Cathy & Peter Halstead (24:26):
We hope
you're enjoying this second season
of The Glimpse. It's just one smallpart of the Adrian Brinkerhoff
Poetry Foundation. We're thefounders Peter and Cathy Halstead.
Our goal is to make great poetrymore accessible to everyone, and we
do that in a variety of ways,through partnerships, our film
(24:47):
series, this podcast and ourwebsite, brinkerhoffpoetry.org, We
hope these works will lure you intoa parallel universe the way a
Möbius strip. Life brings you intoanother dimension without leaving
the page you're on. Thank you somuch for listening.
Seán Hewitt (25:08):
Nithy Kasa, welcome
back to The Glimpse. Nithy, what
made you choose this poem?
Nithy Kasa (25:16):
It was probably one of
the first poems I had to learn back
in the days when I was doing poetryaloud where you had to memorize the
poem and read it out loud. So thepoems, one of the poems that I went
(25:36):
around everywhere in the housebefore I slept, before when I woke
up trying to get every word in myhead was yeah Ithaka, obviously one
of the very first, yes.
Seán Hewitt (25:49):
It's such a it's such
a great poem. Would you read it for
us?
Nithy Kasa (25:51):
Yes, Ithaka by C.P.
Cavafy. As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one, fullof adventure, full of discovery.
(26:14):
Laistrygonians, Cyclops, angryPoseidon, don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find things like thaton your way, as long as you keep
your thoughts raised high, as longas a rare excitement stirs your
(26:36):
spirit and your body.Laistrygonians Cyclops, wild
Poseidon, you won't encounter themunless you bring them along inside
your soul, unless your soul setsthem up in front of you. Hope your
(27:01):
road is a long one. May there bemany summer mornings when, with
what pleasure, what joy, you enterharbors you're seeing for the first
time; may you stop at Phoeniciantrading stations to buy fine
(27:22):
things, mother of pearl and coral,amber and ebony, sensual perfume of
every kind, as many sensualperfumes as you can; and may you
visit many Egyptian cities to learnand go on learning from their
(27:46):
scholars. Keep Ithaka always inyour mind. Arriving there is what
you’re destined for. But don't hurrythe journey at all. Better if it
lasts for years, so you're old bythe time you reach the island,
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wealthy with all you've gained onthe way, not expecting Ithaka to
make you rich. Ithaka gave you themarvelous journey.Without her, you
wouldn't have set out. She hasnothing left to give you now. And
(28:32):
if you find her poor, Ithaka won'thave fooled you. Wise as you will
have become, so full of experience,you'll have understood by then what
these Ithakas mean.
Seán Hewitt (28:55):
Thank you. This poem
to me feels almost like
instructions for life, you know,like you could read it at different
times in your life and follow italmost as a as a journey in itself,
like you might follow your yourpath through life. I think it's a
pretty brave move for a poet towrite instructions for life, but I
(29:18):
think Cavafy has done that. Iwonder. You know, is there a lesson
that you draw from this poem, or isit something that you return to?
Nithy Kasa (29:26):
I love it for the very
reason you said it's kind of
an instruction for life. And I, Imostly love poems like this. It's
when you read it and you you takesomething from it, you might be
having a bad day, and it's like,"okay, I can take this with me" and
makes things a little easier,clearer. My obsession with it came
(29:51):
from that same reason as well. Yousaid it's very brave for poets to
write instruction while I lovepoems. Like this. I struggle
writing poems like this as well.Because I'm not sure now, but
especially when I started to write,it almost felt like, "Who the hell
do I think I am to give peopleinstructions on how to live life?"
(30:16):
I just didn't think I had anythingto teach anybody. It's like, "what
do I have to teach the worldreally? What do I know about life?"
Every time you write somethingabout life, you can't help but feel
"This is a stupid poem. Don't dothis to yourself. Don't release it.
It's ridiculous. Don't make a foolout of yourself." So it's very
(30:40):
hard.
Seán Hewitt (30:41):
It is hard, I think
it's hard to, you know, position
yourself as a teacher, as a poet,you know, like because often, you
know, the reason that we're poetssometimes is because we're full of
doubts, or we're full of questionsand, you know, uncertainties, and
(31:02):
the poems help us figure thosethings out, or give us some sort of
connection to to the questions thatwe have. Whereas Cavafy's poem
has confidence. He comesstraight in and he says, "This is
how life is going to be," which isa pretty big subject to decide
(31:22):
you're gonna get into. You knowwhat? 40-50 lines. My favorite part
is "Ithaka gave you the marvelousjourney. Without her, you wouldn't
have set out. She's nothing left togive you now," You know the idea
that it's just a spur to a journeyand and that going is the gift, you
(31:43):
know, you know, having a kind ofdirection to go. And myth is
something that interests me inpoems. You know. Do you find it
useful in your work to kind of drawon myth? And how does it work for
you?
Nithy Kasa (31:57):
I suppose one way to
run away from reality is to go into
the myth and the fairy tale, andit's a safe space as well, because
it's a myth. Really, it's not real.So it's there for anybody to make
it what they want, and it comeswith the whole the scariness of
writing reality of life. Somebodycan say, "well, that's not true,"
(32:21):
yeah, and well, yes, it doesn'thave to be. It's a myth. You see,
you can get away with it that way.So it's safe, it's there. But there
is something about stories as well.I suppose it's just very poetic to
run away from reality sometimes.And I love it. I love it.
Absolutely, do love it.
Seán Hewitt (32:40):
I agree. I think more
poets should run away from reality.
Sometimes I think we're a bit toostuck in it. And I love, you know,
like you said, doesn't always haveto be true. You know, you said you
first encountered this poem whenyou're doing poetry aloud. I
wondered you know, we all havethings in writing that we think are
(33:04):
maybe sometimes getting in our ownway. I wonder, do you have any of
those? Are there any things thatyou need to kind of or that you're
hoping to get out of your own wayas you go forward
Nithy Kasa (33:12):
Loads? And I suppose
one we already spoke about, the
sexuality, the taboo of culture isone. You're looking at two
cultures, and you're trying tobalance. It's like knowing the
limits without censoring myself.It's like, no, you don't want to be
(33:33):
shut down and be quiet just becauseculture wants you to be but at the
same time, you're aware of them,that would be one. When it comes to
the art, I suppose the financialside of it that we don't really
talk about is there. I mean, youwould love to dedicate your time to
(33:55):
write, to do a lot more art, butthen you have to make a living,
which the art doesn't really giveyou.
Seán Hewitt (34:01):
Unfortunately,
Nithy Kasa (34:02):
Unfortunately. So being
an immigrant in Ireland, it's not
really your country, it's notreally your culture. How do you
speak about the Irish society beingan immigrant? To what extent do I
get to have permission to speakabout a certain matter and where to
(34:22):
draw the line, especially assomebody who comes from the Congo,
and I'm very mindful, I'm verysensitive about that history, and
understanding the colonizationhistory of Ireland, and how
sensitive that can be. I think itmight be from respect as well a
place of respecting and knowingwhat to touch and what not to
(34:48):
because I wouldn't. Yeah, it's notthat I'm afraid. I can go out there
and shock people, if I want to, Ican, but I don't want to. Yes, when
it comes to certain matters, it's.I know I can. I can give myself
permission to do it. I have thatdecision. I have the option, but
(35:08):
it's me saying I don't want to takethat option. Yeah, it's knowing
those limits and caring for otherpeople as well. It's important that
it's it doesn't come from a placeof fear. They're not afraid, but
it's like, I respect you, I loveyou, I care about you, not to do
this and do this instead. I supposethat's where it comes from as well.
Seán Hewitt (35:29):
And what are you
working on now?
Nithy Kasa (35:32):
Working on the second
collection.
Seán Hewitt (35:34):
Second collection,
yes, I'm glad to hear it. Do you
have a title? Can you share atitle?
Nithy Kasa (35:40):
I haven't as of now.
Seán Hewitt (35:43):
Okay, we will wait
with bated breath.
Nithy Kasa (35:48):
I'm still working on
Yes, so no, it was a difficult
journey. It still is, but I'mlearning to let go. The poems are
there. I'm trying to set myselffree this time and not be too
afraid.
Seán Hewitt (36:05):
Well, I cannot wait to
read it. That is something really
to look forward to. Nithy Kasa ithas been such a pleasure. Thank you
so much for for taking the time totalk to me and for reading those
poems as well. And I can't wait toread the new collection. Thank you
for coming on The Glimpse.
Nithy Kasa (36:24):
Thank you so much.
Seán Hewitt (36:30):
Thanks for joining us
today, I’m your host Seán Hewitt
Nithy’s poem "My People Dance fromTheir Hips" is from Palm Wine
Tapper and the Boy at Jericho, itwas published in 2022 and aired
with permission from Doire Press.
The poem “Ithaka” by C. P. CAVAFY:
Collected Poems Revised Edition (36:43):
undefined
translated by Edmund Keeley andPhilip Sherrard, edited by George
Savidis. Translation copyright ©1975, 1992 by Edmund Keeley and
Philip Sherrard. Published byPrinceton University Press and
aired with their permission.
(37:05):
Coming up next week poet Kit Fryatton being a chancellor, Ezra Pound
as a problematic forebear and thebeauty in collaboration. Make sure
to subscribe to The Glimpsewherever you get your podcasts. You
can also find episodes on ourwebsite,
brinkerhoffpoetry.org/podcast. We’dalso love to hear from you; drop us
(37:26):
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The Glimpse is a production of theAdrian Brinkerhoff Poetry
Foundation. I’m your host, SeánHewitt. Our Senior Producer is
Jennifer Wolfe, Kat Yore is ourtechnical director and mixing
engineer. Editorial Director AmandaGlassman is our curator and
(37:46):
production coordinator. Amy Holmesis the foundation’s Executive
Director, and our co-founders areCathy and Peter Halstead. Thanks
for listening.