Resensie | Kathleho Kano Shoro – Serurubele (2018)

Kathleho Kano Shoro – Serurubele poems. Modadji Books, 2018. ISBN 9781928215288

Resensent: Joan Hambidge

I

Die titel van hierdie bundel beteken vlinder in Sesotho.

Dit is die debuut van Kathleho Kano Shoro. Dit is ‘n besonder interessante digbundel: geskryf in Engels wat werk met die sogenaamde “praatpoësie” of performance poetry met vele Afrika-verwysings en wendings. Terselfdertyd artikuleer die gedigte ook ‘n bewussyn en kennisname van Engels Suid-Afrikaanse gedigte.

Enige leser van Suid-Afrikaanse digkuns besef dat gedigte in Engels, Afrikaans en Afrika-tale as’t ware in afsonderlike silo’s bestaan. Die AVBOB-poësie-program het ten doel om die verskillende stemme en uitinge ten minste op een webblad saam te snoer.

‘n Vlinder is uiteraard ‘n simbool van metamorfose en transformasie. 

In ‘n onderhoud vertel sy oor die skryfproses (Katleho Kano Shoro/ ‘Serurubele’ poetry collection take off and the writing on the wings - Bubblegum. Besoek 20 Februarie 2018).

II

Lesers kan van haar gedigte hier lees: Katleho Shoro | Badilisha Poetry – Pan-African Poets (Besoek 20 Februarie 2018).

Wat opmerklik is van die gedigte op die webblad en die gepubliseerde verse is dat die digter die verse verbeter het. Dit is minder woordryk en sterker metafories. Die gedigte van die voordrag-digter is uiteraard vir ‘n gehoor bedoel en hierom is daar herhalings, refreine, terugkerende beelde, anders as die gedig wat die digter skryf vir ‘n leser.

Die intieme vers vind ons ook in hierdie bundel. Die afgelegde liefde, die ontnugtering – die terugkyk op ‘n jeug …

'n Klein liefdesvers op bladsy 40 klink so:

               Unpunctuated ending

                          He turned

                 full stops into flowers.

               How was I to punctuate our

                     ending? We went

                            on ....

'n Sentrale gedig is "The poet and her habit" (21) waar die spel met die skryfproses voorgestel word as "snorting disordered syntax". Hier beweeg sy weg van performance poetry na die gedig-op-papier.Sy dryf die spot met die "colloquial diction" en sy beleef 'n hang-over weens die spel met woorde.

Sy is 'n "word junkie" en het beslis kennis geneem van haar Engelse tydgenote.

Lees dit vir die mooi oomblikke in hierdie klein debuut.

III

It's Not Over 'til the Fat Lady Sings

It’s not over ‘til the fat lady sings.

So the day our hearts stopped holding hands

I was on the look out for mountains of hips 

and marshmellows of cheeks 

that were bound to vibrate with the moving of her Vienna lips.

Through my wells of tears

I made sure my sight had enough leverage to scout out the cookie monster,

who was about to confirm that I’d lost my chocolate chip. 

The day our hearts’ hands broke it off

I thought our heart-shaped rusk was about to be beaten into crumbs or a death even worse

– being dipped in her sweet tea or waiting to be eaten later from the bottom of her purse.

But apparently we have to wait until the fat lady sings.

So with every step that my jelly-knees knocked away from you

I kept guessing her tune.

I imagined her to sing something high-pitched;

the kind of note that would dig a ditch into a keyboard 

and orchestrate conductor 

or inspire itself to soar even higher

until even heaven’s skies cried

as the glory of sunshine was crucified,

blackened by her pitch,

yet the grey clouds could only be parted by her voice’s lightning!

But that was in my mind.

So I carried on with my carrot-fed eyes 

in the dark of my night because…

It’s not over ’til the fat lady sings.