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A poetryworkshop withRamanMundairStory and photos bv Liz Frankffi

Sister Namibia recently hosted a workshop forwomen writers with Raman Mundair, an inspiringperformance poet from the United Kingdom. Wespent an afternoon creatively exploring the meaningsof the names given to us and the names we giveourselves.

Recalling memories inscribed in our bodies throughour senses we linked past experiences to future hopesand desires.using poetry as bur tool.

Speaking of her own work, Raman Mundair empha-sised that she seeks.to "take risks in my writing in

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order to make a difference in the world." The poetryshe shared with us was at once deeply personal andhighly political. It dramatised situations of conflict,struggle and strength in her own life and in the livesof women from different parts of the world whosevoices need to be heard. '

Raman Mundair performing her poetry

We were privilegedto witness Raman'spowerful, honest andopen style of perform-ance in such a safeand intimate setting.

This workshopinspired the partici-pants to establish awriting group inwhich to share ourwork, to developskills and seek lilat-forms for performanceand to investigatepossibilities forpublishing. We thankthe British Council forconsistently promot-ing women's writingby bringing perform-ance poets of the

calibre of Patience Agbabi (in 1999) and RamanMundair to Namibia and sponsoring writing work-shops specifically for women.

Girls and women interested in writins are welcome. \ .to join our writing group and are invited to contact theSister office for details.

Participants engrossed in the performance by Raman Mundair

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histhrough

it's way

I hear my hairBeing tugged-at the root,Pulled and stretchedAcross the floorThe weight of my bodyFollows behind it.I see my consciousnessFade in and outThen flicker,Hi TechAudio visualShutdown.Itranscend myselfFlirt withNear death experiences,lwatch in slow motionThe movement of his weight massOn her body,I absorb the texture of her existenceI realise that she lies

On abrasive greyCarpetFibres of whichWork their way into her mouthAnd'cling,My transcendental fingertipsAcknowledge the grooveslmprinted onto her cheekOf where hisThick, cold metalWatch strap has been.Indented proofOf forced contactAgainst her skinAgainst her will.I know that she canAlmost see the sunWhen she twists her neckTowards the adjacent windowAnd narrows her eyesStaring,directly at theGlaring yellow lightSo that she can createRainbowsThat fill her head withA riotous kaleidoscope.

Raman Mundarr