Engine Books is thrilled to announce its inaugural Novel Prize. The winner will receive a $1,000 advance and publication by Engine Books in 2013. Four additional finalists will also be considered for publication. Any previously unpublished novel is eligible for entry.
The 2012 Engine Books Novel Prize will be judged by novelist Will Allison. Engine Books is a big fan of Will's novels, and in particular of What You Have Left. Every Friday and Saturday night throughout the summer and fall, the Indianapolis racetrack described in the book provides the soundtrack for work in the Engine Books office; it's just a mile or so away.
Will Allison was born in Columbia, South Carolina, and now lives with his wife and daughter in South Orange, New Jersey. In between, he's lived in Charlotte, Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati, Indianapolis, and elsewhere; taught creative writing at The Ohio State University, Butler University, and Indiana University-Purdue University at Indianapolis; and worked as executive editor of Story, editor at large of Zoetrope: All-Story, editor of Novel & Short Story Writer's Market, and as a freelance editor and writer. In 2011, he joined the staff of One Story as a contributing editor. He's also been on staff at the Community of Writers at Squaw Valley and the One Story Workshop for Writers in Brooklyn. He received a B.A. in English and political science from Case Western Reserve University as well as an M.A. in English and an M.F.A. in creative writing from Ohio State. His first novel, What You Have Left, was published in 2007 by Free Press, an imprint of Simon & Schuster. Paperback and audio book editions were published in 2008. A paperback reissue came out in April 2011. His second novel, The New York Times bestseller Long Drive Home, was published by Free Press in May 2011; the paperback is forthcoming in February 2012. Learn more about Will's work at willallison.com.
Entry fee for the Novel Prize is $25, payable by check, credit card, or PayPal. Multiple entries by the same author are welcome; each must be accompanied by a separate entry fee.
Deadline: March 10, 2012. All submissions postmarked by this date will be considered.
The winner and finalists will be announced in September 2012. If you wish to receive notification via surface mail, please include an SASE. Manuscripts will be recycled, not returned to authors.
To enter, send your complete manuscript along with a cover letter containing a brief synopsis and short author bio to: Engine Books Novel Prize PO Box 44167 Indianapolis, IN 46244
To pay the entry fee by check, please include your check, payable to Engine Books, with your manuscript.
To pay by credit card or PayPal, use the ADD TO CART link below to process your payment, then include a copy of your receipt with your manuscript entry.
A note on the payment process: If you do not have a PayPal account, or do not wish to use it, please click "Don't have a PayPal account?" on the page after you provide your billing address. You will then be given an option to use any Visa, MasterCard, American Express, or Discover card.
String Poet proudly presents our second annual String Poet Prize poetry contest, sponsored by the Long Island Violin Shop.
Submission Guidelines
Up to 40 lines, all forms accepted. Contest theme: “Remembrance.” No previously published or contest-winning poems. Winner receives $200 and winning poem set to original music by professional composer. Winner and Runners-up published in Spring 2012 issue of String Poet; all contest submissions are considered for publication in journal.
Entry Fees: $10.00 for up to 3 poems, $15.00 for up to 5 poems. Submissions deadline: February 25, 2012
Online Submissions
Payment: Use the shopping cart at the bottom of this page to send payment by credit card or PayPal. Make sure you choose the correct amount based on the number of poems you are submitting. If your PayPal email address does not match the email used to send your poems, please make note of that in your contest submission email. Submissions: Send a single e-mail with your poem(s) to contest@stringpoet.com. Poems may be included in-line as text within the email, or a single attachment. Attachment formats accepted: PDF (.pdf), Rich Text (.rtf), Word (.doc), or plain text (.txt). Include your name and contact information in the body of the email, or as a separate cover page within the attachment.
Postal Submissions
Send your poem(s) and payment, postmarked on or before February 25th, 2011 to: String Poet Prize c/o Long Island Violin Shop 8 Elm Street Huntington, NY 11743 Checks payable to “L.I.V.S.” drawn from a U.S. Bank. Author’s name and contact information typed on the BACK of each submitted page. Include a SASE or your email address if you would like to be notified of contest results, or subscribe to String Poet. Hardcopy entries cannot be returned, and will be recycled.
A beautiful girl is looking for a man for a serious relationship, but not just any guy. She categorically insists that he be responsible and brave: he must be willing to get tested for ....
Directed by Kidi Bebey, Cameroon; based on an original idea by Salimata Sy, aged 11, Senegal.
The Films
Since the project was launched in 1997, a total of 33 SCENARIOS FROM AFRICA films based on winning contest ideas have been produced – an average of three films per year. Some or all of these films, which vary in length from 2 to 15 minutes, are now available in 28 languages (including sign language).
The SCENARIOS films are created by Africa’s most celebrated filmmakers, among them the continent’s premier female director – Fanta Régina Nacro of Burkina Faso – and four men who have won the grand prize at the Pan-African Film Festival (FESPACO, Africa’s Oscars): Cheick Oumar Sissoko of Mali, Newton I. Aduaka of Nigeria, Idrissa Ouédraogo of Burkina Faso, and Abderrahmane Sissako of Mauritania.
The films are effective at generating dialogue and personal reflection about AIDS; at improving attitudes towards those most affected by the epidemic and so helping to combat stigma and discrimination; and at encouraging people to protect themselves from infection. They are highly valued by broadcasters, NGOs and CBOs, schools and businesses across the continent and beyond.
Documents containing synopses of the SCENARIOS FROM AFRICA films and tips on using them effectively, as well as a one-page table showing the 33 film titles and the HIV-related topics covered in a given film, can be found in the film users' guide section. The scripts (dialogues) of
the films in English, French, Portuguese and many other languages are available on the film dubbing page. These scripts often prove helpful to people who use the SCENARIOS films in language classes and to those who draw on the films' story lines as the basis for community theater pieces.
Production of additional SCENARIOS FROM AFRICA films, based on winning entries from the 2007/8 contest and addressing key current HIV-related topics, will commence in the course of 2009.
Follow the links below for detailed information about each of the films and to watch them in streaming media (high speed connection recommended). In addition, all of the films can be viewed in 16 languages on Youtube.
We would be grateful for your critical comments about SCENARIOS FROM AFRICA films, especially so that we can make sure that future SCENARIOS films are as useful as possible. Please share your thoughts with us at info@globaldialogues.org. Thank you. Enjoy the films!
THE SCENARIOS FROM AFRICA FILMS:
The Shop (2'21"), directed by Idrissa Ouédraogo, based on an original idea by Olga Ouédraogo, aged 20, Burkina Faso
Reasons for a Smile (7'25"), directed by Fanta Régina Nacro, based on original ideas by: Ndlangamandla Phindile, aged 20, and Ndlangamandla Zanele, aged 16, Swaziland; Léandrine Baganda, aged 23, Democratic Republic of Congo; Sheikh Omar Taal, aged 15, The Gambia; Danga Essigué Désiré, aged 20, Chad; Samira Gomes Furtado, aged 17, Cape Verde; Madiène Niang, aged 21, Senegal; Celestine Nnodim, aged 22, Nigeria; Ninelle N’Siloulou, aged 23, Brazzaville, Congo
Iron Will (5'09"), directed by Fanta Régina Nacro, based on an idea by Malick Diop Yade, aged 18, Senegal
Safe Journey (7'56"), directed by Newton I. Aduaka, Nigeria; based on an original idea by Marcel C. Sourou Gninkinme, aged 24, Benin
Just Once (2'17"), directed by Idrissa Ouédraogo, based on an original idea by Diarra Diakhaté, aged 17, Senegal
The General Assembly of Diseases (8'46"), a cartoon by Pierre Sauvalle, Cameroon, based on an idea by Mamadou Macki Bah, aged 17, Mali
The Champions (14'57"), directed by Fanta Régina Nacro, based on original ideas by Abdoul-Razakh Cissé, aged 22, Burkina Faso, and Facely Jefami Millimono, aged 19, Guinea
The Bottom Line (12'55"), directed by Hamet Fall Diagne, based on an original idea by Fatimata Ba, aged 21, Senegal
Sexually Transmitted Marks (6'54"), directed by Abderrahmane Sissako; based on original ideas by Kossi Yesunyo Gossou, aged 18, Togo, and Régis Nkouma, aged 20, Republic of Congo
The Tree and the Wind (8'56"), directed by Mahamat-Saleh Haroun; based on ideas by Adama Ouédraogo, 20, Burkina Faso; Aïchata Diallo, 21, Mali; Badibalaki Wembie, 18, Togo
The Warrior (2'39") by Idrissa Ouédraogo, based on an original idea by Amy Badiane, aged 14, Senegal
No Time to Drop Your Guard (9'17"), co-directed by Hamet Fall Diagne and Olga Kiswendsida Ouédraogo; written by Hamet Fall Diagne, Senegal
Looking for a Brave Man (6'10"), by Kidi Bebey, based on an idea by Salimata Sy, aged 11, Senegal
Never Alone (1'41"), directed by Fanta Régina Nacro; based on an original idea by Christian Abidi Businge, aged 10, Uganda
The Expert (5'00"), directed by Newton I. Aduaka; based on an original idea by Jean Vincent Digbé Grobly, aged 18, Côte d'Ivoire
A Love Story (7'25"), directed by Fanta Régina Nacro; based on an orginal idea by Jean-Paul Brice Affana Affana, aged 17, Cameroon.
Under Pressure (5'58"), co-directed by Olga Kiswendsida Ouédraogo, Burkina Faso, and Hamet Fall Diagne, Senegal; based on an original idea by Oby Akaneme, aged 23, Nigeria
To listen to a 7-minute radio report about SCENARIOS FROM AFRICA, with special emphasis on the film Under Pressure, please click here. This report was produced by Felicity Thompson in Bamako, Mali, in 2008.
For Aicha (4'12"), by Cheick Oumar Sissoko, based on an original idea by Dieudonné Ouedraogo, aged 16, Burkina Faso
A Ring on her Finger (4'12"), by Fanta Régina Nacro, based on an idea by El Hadji Malick Seck, aged 20, Senegal
Shared Hope (5'53"), by Cheick Oumar Sissoko, based on an idea by Andréa Ouédraogo, aged 21, Burkina Faso
The Voice of Reason (4'50"), by Fanta Régina Nacro, based on an idea by Haby Fall, aged 20, Senegal, and her team
My Brother, (8'13"), by Cheick Oumar Sissoko, based on an original idea by Justin Correa, aged 23, Senegal
Advice from an Aunt (2'26"), by Idrissa Ouédraogo, Burkina Faso, based on an idea by Arame Dièye, aged 16, Senegal
Uncle Ali (6'32"), by Cheick Oumar Sissoko, based on an original idea by Cheikh Birahim Ndao, aged 17, Senegal
Good Reasons (5'05"), directed by Abderrahmane Sissako; based on original ideas by Ndèye Diasse Samb, aged 18, Senegal, and Guy Merlin Wayap, aged 21, Cameroon
A Call to Action (7'54"), directed by Fanta Régina Nacro, Burkina Faso; based on ideas by Grace Dovi Nassiva, aged 15, Ghana, and Maman Lawali Tankari, aged 20, Niger
Rhythms of Friendship (3'06"), directed by Cheick Oumar Sissoko, Minister of Culture of the Republic of Mali; based on an original idea by Chibuzo Mbata, aged 23, Nigeria
The First Step (6'26"), directed by Abderrahmane Sissako, Mauritania; based on original ideas by Médard Kiénou, 20, Burkina Faso; Liliane Sipouwoua, 18, Cameroon; and Carmelle Nadège Hounnou, 20, Benin
Peace of Mind (8'33"), directed by Fanta Régina Nacro; based on an original idea by Olivier Kaboré, aged 22, Burkina Faso
The Heart of the Matter (8'41"), directed by Mahamat-Saleh Haroun; based on an original idea by Sandra Nsambi Nzali, aged 20, Democratic Republic of Congo
The Volcano (8'38"), directed by Hamet Fall Diagne; based on original ideas by Liboke Limpho, aged 22, Lesotho; Egbeleye Azeezat, age 23, Nigeria; Ntamba Alon Johnas, age 18, Tanzania
African Solidarity (10'30"), directed by Mahamat-Saleh Haroun, Chad; based on original ideas by Ibrahim Barry, aged 14, Mali, and Margaret Marire, aged 18, Kenya
To the Rescue (4'21), by Cheick Oumar Sissoko, based on an original idea by Olga Ouédraogo, aged 22, Burkina Faso
A recently published study in the Journal of Environmental Radioactivity confirms that the radioactive fallout from the Fukushima nuclear disaster reached Europe (Lithuania), and included plutonium, the most deadly manmade element (nanogram for nanogram) in existence.
According to the study's authors the radionuclide concentrations measured indicate there was "long-range air mass transport from Japan across the Pacific, the North America and the Atlantic Ocean to Central Europe as indicated by modelling." What this means is that every region under the jet stream -- which includes half of the planet north of its equator -- could have been exposed to some degree of plutonium fall-out; a fact that is all the more disturbing when we consider there is no such thing as a safe level, and that the harm (on the human scale of time) does not dissipate: the half life of plutonium-239 is 24,200 years, and that of uranium-238 is 4,460,000,000 years, which is older than our planet.
In a past exposé, where we identified the likelihood of the occurrence we are now reporting on, we published Jet Stream radiation dispersion projections from Germany's EURAD system which showed that Radioiodine-131 and Cesium-137 were within detectable concentrations thousands of miles away from Fukushima within days after the event. This was, after all, a nuclear explosion (as occurred also at Chernobyl) producing extremely small particles moving at extremely high velocity, and not a hydrogen-based conflagration, which was erroneously reported to be the case in the first days following the disaster.
New rule could result in power shortage across country struggling to recover from twin disasters
updated 1/7/2012
TOKYO — Japan says it will soon require atomic reactors to be shut down after 40 years of use to improve safety following the nuclear crisis set off by last year's tsunami.
Concern about aging reactors has been growing because the three units at the Fukushima Daiichi plant in northeastern Japan that went into meltdown following the tsunami in March were built starting in 1967. Among other reactors at least 40 years old are those at the Tsuruga and Mihama plants in central Japan, which were built starting in 1970.
Many more of the 54 reactors in Japan will reach the 40-year mark in the near future, though some were built only a few years ago.
The government said Friday that it plans to introduce legislation in the coming months to require reactors to stop running after 40 years. Japanese media reported that the law may include loopholes to allow some old nuclear reactors to keep running if their safety is confirmed with tests.
The proposal could be similar to the law in the U.S., which grants 40-year licenses and allows for 20-year extensions. Such renewals have been granted to 66 of 104 U.S. nuclear reactors. That process has been so routine that many in the industry are already planning for additional license extensions that could push the plants to operate for 80 years or even 100.
Japan does not currently have a limit on years of operation. It had planned to expand nuclear power before the meltdown, but has since ordered reactors undergoing routine inspections to undergo new tests and get community approval before they can be restarted. The new restrictions mean that only six Japanese reactors are currently running.
Power shortage to come? The Asahi newspaper reported Saturday Japan is likely to face a power shortage if it carries out the 40-year rule, which barring loopholes would force 18 more reactors to shut down by 2020, and another 18 by 2030.
The future of Japan's nuclear policy remains under review. Some people are worried about radiation in the food and water, as well as the health of children, who are more at risk than are adults to sicknesses from radiation exposure.
Promising that nuclear plants may be gone in about four decades may help the government gain public support for getting more reactors running again.
Refuge is a photojournalism project by Veronique Kingsley featuring the landscape and people of Benin, Togo and Niger.
About The Author
Jepchumba
Jepchumba is a digital artist originally from Kenya. She focuses her passion for technology and creativity around Africa. She specializes in Web Design, Digital Art, Audio/Visual Production and UI/UX. She is a freelance designer and the Founder and Creative Director for the African Digital Art Network.
ON Wednesday, America’s detention camp at Guantánamo Bay will have been open for 10 years. For seven of them, I was held there without explanation or charge. During that time my daughters grew up without me. They were toddlers when I was imprisoned, and were never allowed to visit or speak to me by phone. Most of their letters were returned as “undeliverable,” and the few that I received were so thoroughly and thoughtlessly censored that their messages of love and support were lost.
Some American politicians say that people at Guantánamo are terrorists, but I have never been a terrorist. Had I been brought before a court when I was seized, my children’s lives would not have been torn apart, and my family would not have been thrown into poverty. It was only after the United States Supreme Court ordered the government to defend its actions before a federal judge that I was finally able to clear my name and be with them again.
I left Algeria in 1990 to work abroad. In 1997 my family and I moved to Bosnia and Herzegovina at the request of my employer, the Red Crescent Society of the United Arab Emirates. I served in the Sarajevo office as director of humanitarian aid for children who had lost relatives to violence during the Balkan conflicts. In 1998, I became a Bosnian citizen. We had a good life, but all of that changed after 9/11.
When I arrived at work on the morning of Oct. 19, 2001, an intelligence officer was waiting for me. He asked me to accompany him to answer questions. I did so, voluntarily — but afterward I was told that I could not go home. The United States had demanded that local authorities arrest me and five other men. News reports at the time said the United States believed that I was plotting to blow up its embassy in Sarajevo. I had never — for a second — considered this.
The fact that the United States had made a mistake was clear from the beginning. Bosnia’s highest court investigated the American claim, found that there was no evidence against me and ordered my release. But instead, the moment I was released American agents seized me and the five others. We were tied up like animals and flown to Guantánamo, the American naval base in Cuba. I arrived on Jan. 20, 2002.
I still had faith in American justice. I believed my captors would quickly realize their mistake and let me go. But when I would not give the interrogators the answers they wanted — how could I, when I had done nothing wrong? — they became more and more brutal. I was kept awake for many days straight. I was forced to remain in painful positions for hours at a time. These are things I do not want to write about; I want only to forget.
I went on a hunger strike for two years because no one would tell me why I was being imprisoned. Twice each day my captors would shove a tube up my nose, down my throat and into my stomach so they could pour food into me. It was excruciating, but I was innocent and so I kept up my protest.
In 2008, my demand for a fair legal process went all the way to America’s highest court. In a decision that bears my name, the Supreme Court declared that “the laws and Constitution are designed to survive, and remain in force, in extraordinary times.” It ruled that prisoners like me, no matter how serious the accusations, have a right to a day in court. The Supreme Court recognized a basic truth: the government makes mistakes. And the court said that because “the consequence of error may be detention of persons for the duration of hostilities that may last a generation or more, this is a risk too significant to ignore.”
Five months later, Judge Richard J. Leon, of the Federal District Court in Washington, reviewed all of the reasons offered to justify my imprisonment, including secret information I never saw or heard. The government abandoned its claim of an embassy bomb plot just before the judge could hear it. After the hearing, he ordered the government to free me and four other men who had been arrested in Bosnia.
I will never forget sitting with the four other men in a squalid room at Guantánamo, listening over a fuzzy speaker as Judge Leon read his decision in a Washington courtroom. He implored the government not to appeal his ruling, because “seven years of waiting for our legal system to give them an answer to a question so important is, in my judgment, more than plenty.” I was freed, at last, on May 15, 2009.
Today, I live in Provence with my wife and children. France has given us a home, and a new start. I have experienced the pleasure of reacquainting myself with my daughters and, in August 2010, the joy of welcoming a new son, Yousef. I am learning to drive, attending vocational training and rebuilding my life. I hope to work again serving others, but so far the fact that I spent seven and a half years as a Guantánamo prisoner has meant that only a few human rights organizations have seriously considered hiring me. I do not like to think of Guantánamo. The memories are filled with pain. But I share my story because 171 men remain there. Among them is Belkacem Bensayah, who was seized in Bosnia and sent to Guantánamo with me.
About 90 prisoners have been cleared for transfer out of Guantánamo. Some of them are from countries like Syria or China — where they would face torture if sent home — or Yemen, which the United States considers unstable. And so they sit as captives, with no end in sight — not because they are dangerous, not because they attacked America, but because the stigma of Guantánamo means they have no place to go, and America will not give a home to even one of them.
I’m told that my Supreme Court case is now read in law schools. Perhaps one day that will give me satisfaction, but so long as Guantánamo stays open and innocent men remain there, my thoughts will be with those left behind in that place of suffering and injustice.
Lakhdar Boumediene was the lead plaintiff in Boumediene v. Bush. He was in military custody at Guantánamo Bay from 2002 to 2009. This essay was translated by Felice Bezri from the Arabic.
In an extract from his memoir written before he died last year, Gil Scott-Heron talks about when he toured with Stevie Wonder to establish Martin Luther King Day as a national holiday in the US
Gil Scott-Heron and Stevie Wonder singing Happy Birthday on the Hotter than July tour.
Memphis, Tennessee was only 90 miles west of Jackson, my childhood home. But Memphis was as far away as the north pole in my mind. The history that we were given about it was done in light pencil that hopscotched its way to a semi-solid landing with Elvis Presley on The Ed Sullivan Show. Sun Records considered itself the fuse that lit the 1950s with Elvis and rock'n'roll. With Carla and Rufus Thomas and Otis Redding, Stax Records brought blues to the hit parade with hooks and horns and a solid beat, evolving into Al Green and Willie Mitchell. Memphis meant music.
And unless you stop to think for a minute, you might forget that it was in Memphis that Dr Martin Luther King, Jr was shot and killed on a motel balcony on 4 April 1968. Stevie Wonder did not forget. In 1980, Stevie joined with the members of the Black Caucus in the US congress to speak out for the need to honour the day King was born, to make his birthday a national holiday.
The campaign began in earnest on Halloween of 1980 in Houston, Texas, with Stevie's national tour supporting a new LP called Hotter than July, featuring the song Happy Birthday, which advocated a holiday for King. I arrived in Houston in the early afternoon to join the tour as the opening act. By 15 January 1981, King's birthday, I had been working on the Hotter than July tour for 10 weeks.
What's amazing about people who are supposed to "think of everything" is how many things have never crossed their minds. That was never more clear to me than when I saw how things looked from the back of the outdoor stage set up on the Washington DC monument grounds as Stevie's rally for King got under way.
I would never claim to be the smartest son of a gun on the planet. But by the same token, by then I had been in this business for 10 years and had to feel as though I knew more than when I started. I had some new information crossing my mind as I climbed the back stairs on to the temporary stage and looked out at perhaps 50,000 people standing shoulder-to-shoulder across the expanse of the Mall, chanting: "Martin Luther King Day, we took a holiday!"
The Hotter than July tour was a project that, when taken as a whole, was set up to cover 16 weeks, or four months, a third of a year. The endeavour was cut into two six-week halves with a break – a rest period – that lasted a month. In essence, this rally was the half-time show before the second six-week half. One thing that knocked me out looking at this half-time show was how much I had not thought about. Like how much work was involved in organising a fucking rally. That was what Stevie had done and what had to have taken up so much of his offstage time when we were playing, and what must have consumed what I was calling a "rest period". The rally. Ways to publicise it, ways to dramatise it, ways to legitimise it.
Some of it was obvious. You had to have permits, such as a licence to have a parade. That seemed bizarre, but it took a necessary number of police to close certain streets or divert traffic or just stand around looking like police. And on the monument grounds there were wooden saw horses and security and crowd restraints and a stage and sound equipment and technicians to set it all up and run it. And I was enjoying another piece of equipment I felt was necessary: a heat-blowing machine to warm my chilly backside.
I had no idea what this was costing, what the total expenses were. Nor did I ever ask about it and have the expenses incurred by Stevie neurotically concealed from me. I didn't have any way to justify saying: "Hey, just what the hell is this gonna cost?" I considered that this information was probably something that was being distributed on a need-to-know basis, and apparently I did not have that. I didn't worry about why.
My respect for Stevie Wonder expanded in every direction that day. I was following his lead like a member of his band, because seeing as he had envisioned was a new level of believing. It was something that seeped in softly, and when you were personally touched by someone's effort and genuine sincerity, your brain said you didn't yet understand but your soul said you should trust.
The march in Washington on 15 Jan 1981 to publicise Martin Luther King Day. Photograph: Jonathan C Katzenellenbogen
We had been to Mayor Marion Barry's office earlier in the day. There, I was introduced to the winner of a citywide essay contest that had been run in the Washington DC school system. The theme of the essay was why King's birthday should be a national holiday, and the contest was open to middle-and high-school students.
A seventh grader [12 or 13-year-old] won, and I thought the fact that he was in the seventh grade was the headline out of that. After they introduced us, I took a few minutes to read his essay so I would know what to be listening for – my cue when he came to the end, because now, at the rally, I would present him to the crowd.
It was a grey winter day, the type of grey that looked permanent, not bothered with clouds or memories of blue. Grey, sullen, not threatening but sporting an attitude. When we got to the part of the programme where the kid was to read his essay, I introduced him and walked back offstage. I kept one ear on the loudspeakers because I had to be on it when he was through. That would be no more than five minutes, max.
At some stage, I heard the kid having trouble reading his own essay. I thought he might have been nervous with the big crowd and the TV audience – it must have felt as if everybody in the world was watching him. I could hear the crowd getting restless, and a couple of folks started giving the kid a hard time. Suddenly, mid-sentence, or maybe in the middle of a word, the kid stopped. He turned around and went back to his seat. It was a seat of honour, right behind the podium in the middle of the stage.
It was quiet now, just a sprinkle of sympathetic applause. I found my list of speakers and introduced the next one, but I realised something had gone wrong. As the next speaker approached the podium, I went over to the kid and said: "Let me see that essay there, brotherman." And sure enough, he had stopped at the top of his second page, a good five or six paragraphs from the end. He had been reading from a mimeographed copy of his essay, and the ink was faded – I would have needed night goggles or some shit to see what was on that paper.
I waited until that next speaker was through, then went up there and explained to the audience that I was going to introduce the kid again, and that he was going to read his essay to the end, and that they were going to listen. Yeah, I knew it was cold, I said, but it was cold for this kid, too, and he was reading from a faded copy, and I didn't want to hear nothing from the crowd but applause, period. "Have some patience with the young brother, please."
After I introduced him, I walked backstage again. He started to read again, and I heard him coming to the point where he had faltered, the part on the page that was damn near invisible. He started to falter again, and I listened for some wiseass to say something. But then it started to go smoothly, and I looked over and there was Diana Ross standing next to him with her arm around his shoulder. Without being in the way, without making it her essay, she helped him over those rough spots. My man's confidence got a lift and the crowd started to appreciate what he had written. I stood there thinking: there must be 30 or 40 adults up here on this stage, and she's the only one of us who thought to go up there and help the brother!
Gil Scott-Heron in 2010. Photograph: Anthony Barboza
Jesse Jackson spoke, too. His attitude was about changing the laws and about people needing to know more about Thurgood Marshall [the first African-American supreme court judge] and needing to know more about what happened, because the way to change America was through the law. You see, if you don't change the law, you don't change anything. You could burn your community down and somebody else would build it up; all you were doing was burning down some houses. But if you changed the law, then you had done a whole lot to change the foundation of society.
To be sure, I looked at the appearances there and then as a tribute of respect for King. But they were also an indication of respect for a brother for taking a step to bring a positive idea forward, to remind some of us that we could hardly criticise congressmen and other representatives for inaction if their attempts to push ideas important to us out in the open received no visible interest from those it purportedly would benefit most.
Yeah, this piece of legislation to make King's birthday into a national holiday looked like a long shot, especially with it being raised just after America had elected Ronald Reagan, who would be inaugurated at the other end of the Mall in five days. But if our community was to make valuable contributions, then those who made them had to be recognised as offering something of value. Why would the next one of us feel that he or she should make the effort, marshal the strength and somehow fortify him or herself against the opposition that always seemed stronger, if even a man who won the Nobel peace prize was ignored where those efforts for peace had done the most good?
All holidays should not be set aside for generals. To have the country honour men for doing what they did at a time when difficult personal decisions made their actions worthwhile for the overall good meant the same thing for all citizens. That had been both the point and the ultimate disappointment of what had once been called "the civil rights movement".
What was special about the 60s was that there was only one thing happening, one movement. And that was the civil rights movement. There were different organisations coming from different angles because of geography, but in essence everybody had the same objective. It came so suddenly, from so many different angles, things happening in so many different towns and cities at once, that the "powers that be" were caught off-guard.
Until the 60s, "the movement" had been the exclusive property of middle-aged and old people. Then it became a young people thing, and as the 60s opened up, the key word became "activism", with Stokely Carmichael and the SNCC [the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee], "freedom rides" [challenging segregation on interstate buses], and sit-ins. There was a new feeling of power in black communities. And once it got started, it was on the powers like paint.
But at some point a difference was created between "equality", "freedom" and "civil rights". Those differences were played up because something had to be done about the sudden unity among black folks all over the country. Folks got more media attention whenever they accentuated the differences. There were media-created splinters. Otherwise the civil rights movement would have been enough, and would have been more successful. Accomplishing the aims of the movement would have made "gay rights" and "women's rights" and "lefts and rights" extraneous.
But divide and conquer was the aim of programmes such as COINTELPRO [the FBI's covert attempt to infiltrate and disrupt groups deemed "subversive"]. And even though it ended up working damn near backward, it worked. They separated the fingers on the hand and gave each group a different demand; we lost our way. Separated, none of us seemed to know to watch out for COINTELPRO. J Edgar Hoover was dead, but in DC they honoured what he had said: fuck every one-a-them.
There I was at the halftime show, looking up and down the field, and I could see for the first time. I could see what this brother had seen long before, what really needed to be done.
We all took the stage. The crowd continued to chant: "Martin Luther King Day, we took a holiday!" Stevie stepped up to the mic and addressed them: "It's fitting," he said, "that we should gather here, for it was here that Martin Luther King inspired the entire nation and the world with his stirring words, his great vision both challenging and inspiring us with his great dream. People have asked, 'Why Stevie Wonder, as an artist?' Why should I be involved in this great cause? I'm Stevie Wonder the artist, yes, but I'm Steveland Morris, a man, a citizen of this country, and a human being. As an artist, my purpose is to communicate the message that can better improve the lives of all of us. I'd like to ask all of you just for one moment, if you will, to be silent and just to think and hear in your mind the voice of our Dr Martin Luther King ..."
Somehow, years later, it seems that Stevie's effort as the leader of this campaign has been forgotten. But it is something that we should all remember. Just as surely as we should remember 4 April 1968, we should celebrate 15 January. And we should not forget that Stevie remembered.
As Stevie sang on Happy Birthday:
We all know everything
That he stood for time will bring
For in peace our hearts will sing
Thanks to Martin Luther King Extracted from The Last Holiday: A Memoir by Gil Scott-Heron published by Canongate at £20. To order a copy for £16 with free UK p&p go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop or call 0330 333 6846. For more on Gil, including a short film of the last interview he did before he died and exclusive readings from The Last Holiday, go to www.canongate.tv
Now that Write Wing's ad is published in the current issue of Poets & Writers, a re-post of the submission guidelines is in order, so poets will not have to scroll back through older posts. Here it is again, and good luck to all entrants:
Call for Poetry Submissions
Surrounded: Living With Islands
Write Wing Publishing calls for submissions of poems about living on, by or with islands. These islands can be physical or metaphorical. Poems may be prose poems, blank verse, free verse and/or traditional forms.
What is your experience with islands? Do you feel captive? Insulated? Serene? Cabin fever, as residents of Hawaii have reported? Surrounded seeks strong voices, both emerging and established, to explore this subject. For inspiration, see Reuben Tam’s The Wind-Honed Islands Rise.
Please submit 1-3 original unpublished poems, limit 60 lines each; Times New Roman 12-point font, single-spaced. Include SASE, cover sheet with contact info, poem titles and brief author bio (<50 words), and $5.00 reading fee. (Poems should not show writer’s name.) Mail to: Write Wing Publishing, 3795 Hubble Court, Clinton WA 98236. Deadline: February 10, 2012.
A prize of $50.00 will be awarded for best overall submission. Poets selected for publication will receive one free copy of the book. All rights revert to authors after publication.
ABOUT THE EDITOR: Sheryl Clough holds a Master of Fine Arts degree from the University of Alaska Fairbanks. She taught literature and composition at UAF and Seattle’s Highline College, and taught three summer terms in the Upward Bound and Della Keats programs in Alaska. Sheryl is widely published in journals and magazines, with credits in poetry, creative nonfiction, essays, interviews and travel writing. She is a Founders Circle member of Soundings Review and 2010 winner of the William Stafford award from Washington Poets Association. Follow Sheryl's blog at http://scatchetpoet.blogspot.com/
Since the project was launched in 1997, a total of 33 
