Back in May 2010, I went on my first out-of-state trip to promote Powder Necklace at the Afr'Am Festival in Norfolk, VA. I set-up my books in the Literary Cafe unsure of what else to do as I watched the other authors get their hustle on. They hawked their books calling passersby to stop by their tables, dispatching friends and children to hand out bookmarks and other marketing collateral, and explaining their stories on the different panels.
I was incredibly intimidated. I had my big box of books, and I was wearing a cute dress, but I was not prepared. Everyone was gracious to me, but as they peppered me with questions about my plans to market myself and the book, it was clear I was a rookie. One of the writers I met that day was Tinesha Davis, author of Holler at the Moon. She was incredibly supportive and so generous with her story, and information and suggestions about what I could do to get the word out about my book.
A few weeks later, she came to New York to do a joint reading at Hue-Man bookstore in Harlem with authors Kwame Alexander and Victoria Christopher Murray. After the reading, several of us went to dinner. That evening, I learned from Kwame that he was producing the Capital Bookfest. I sank my teeth in as it were, rabidly pitching myself for the opportunity to attend, and he graciously invited me. Over the next six months, I had the opportunity to sell my books and speak on panels in the three cities the Capital Bookfest hosted dates. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and I will be forever grateful to Tinesha, Kwame, and God for connecting me with both. I really think of them as angels to my literary career.
But fast-forward to Brasil.
I knew Kwame had launched an international fellows program two years ago. We had become Facebook friends and I "liked" all the posts that popped up in my newsfeed that he and Tinesha shared of their time in Tuscany. I never imagined that two years later, I would be invited to the second international fellowship in Brasil!
As the date for my flight approached, I kept fearing something would go wrong because I wanted it so badly; so when we were stopped by American Airlines officials on our way to board the connecting light from Miami to Salvador, I felt my armpits begin to puddle. Half of our group was on the plane, and the other half of us had been held back. We waited a half hour with no explanation as the AA folks called border patrol. Finally, we were told we could board.
When we got on the plane, one of the flight attendants announced the plane was 5000 pounds overweight. My fellow Fellows must have seen my panic because they all graciously came to visit me where I sat in the booty of the plane--literally the last row on the aircraft where I could feel every cough and wheeze of the engine. One of the fellows, acclaimed novelist Tayari Jones, came by to share stories of the craziness that was happening in First Class. One guy was apparently waving cash demanding to be let off the flight.
Anyway, we made it to Salvador after a detour in Puerto Rico to replace the fuel they had dumped to lighten the plane, and it was beautiful. In between get-to-know chit chat with the other Fellows, I stole glances at the panorama whizzing past my window. Later, I was able to process the Bahian vibe and put it into a picture I could understand: it was Ghana x Cali, if that makes any sense. The kiosks, roadside food stands, omnipresent construction, and red clay of Ghana with the omnipresent pounding surf and foaming waves of Surftown USA.
We were staying in a house in a posh suburb of Bahia, called Barro do Jacuipe, a five minute walk to the beach. After unloading our stuff, we headed to the beach to make official intros, share a bit about the projects we planned to work on, and learn about the structure of the Fellowship. The itinerary would include education trips into the city of Bahia along with two free travel days. Aside from one meal a day that we were to enjoy in communal company, we were free to work on the projects we had come to the Fellowship to work on.
Those first few days we wrote and ate and talked into the night (swatting mosquitoes and flies) and respectfully passed around the Vivo internet stick so we could get on the interwebs. One Fellow, prolific author and poet Leslea Newman led a wonderful workshop on formal poetry. (Leslea and I also got wicked lost on a beach walk gone horribly awry.)
The Secretaria da Cultura do Estado da Bahia so generously availed themselves. They organized an evening of exchange between us and Bahian writers, poets, and culture-keepers. They read and sang, and we spoke through the patient translation of one of the officials at the Secretaria over Abara and other treats they brought to our home.
The Secrataria also helped organize a trip into the historic city of Pelourinho for us where we learned that the plaza used to be a popular square for those who enslaved to alternately show off and punish the human beings they enslaved. Pelourinho was also the site where the Afro-Brasilians revolted against colonial rule. Their revolution preceded the independence of all of Brasil, our guide explained. In Pelourinho, we also stumbled upon the foundation for Brasilian writer Jorge Amado. His books looked so amazing, but alas they were completely unaffordable as the taxes on books in Brasil are out of control!
On another day, we drove to the historic city of Cachoeira where Joao, a professor and poet, guided us though the town sharing nuggets of history about the Sisterhood of the Good Death, an order of African women who were enslaved that bought their freedom through side work (doing laundry, making cakes, etc) and ultimately bought the freedom of many others. We also visited a terreira or African temple in the hills of the city and learned a bit about the orixas (African gods) and the Candomble religion which has preserved much of the traditional African religious practices. It was a powerful and conflicted moment for me as a Christian which I'll get into in another (long) blog post. The picture above was taken in Cachoeira.
Later shit happened. One of the bathrooms in the house overflowed and we were forced to pack up abruptly. Kwame and Deanna who helped Kwame organize the trip were amazing at putting the alternative plan together so quickly.
We ended up in a sweet hotel on the beach in Itapua where we spent the rest of our time. Communal dinners continued poolside at the hotel or at the local churrasco, and in between, we scattered around the hotel to write.
I got some writing done, but I think in the end, the greater value of the trip was in meeting the people and getting exposed to the culture. I know I'll see the fellowship's impact in my future work.
Read more about the Fellowship in Part 2
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