It all began with a chance discovery. By the time I joined the Lantern Meet of Poets, I had been writing poetry for some time; four years to be precise.
I happened upon poetry before I knew what I was writing was poetry. As an adolescent with all the internal and social struggles that come with the age — like aspiring for the freedom of womanhood but being in almost every way a girl, wanting to grow our hair but being denied, wanting to be accepted by peers but also wanting to remain authentically me, missing home but living in boarding school most of the year — I found that writing about these things gave me some relief. I was one with no voice, you see; a quiet introverted person. I had few friends, and it seemed that people misunderstood me no matter what I said, so I often kept my thoughts to myself. Few people were willing to listen to me, so I thought to talk to myself through my writing. This writing was not anything I thought significant, it was my way of journaling, letting off some steam so I could keep my mind in equilibrium. Then one day someone at school happened upon my writings and told me it was poetry, and so it began.
I’d go on to write poetry for a friend intending to gift a mother or significant other with a poem. But mostly I continued to write from what I experienced, felt or what moved me. This poetry was written in a dedicated book that I carried on to university, coupled with the habit of writing occasionally. It was there that the chance discovery happened.
One evening while reading through my book, Jason Ntaro, one of the members of the Lantern Meet of Poets then, read one of its contents and invited me to the next Meet. It was no small thing for me to have my poetry read out to others. My poetry was personal and not just literary. I prepared to put my “baby” out there the following Sunday.
The thing I enjoyed the most about the Lantern Meet back then was the salad bowl it felt like. Each Meet felt like a deep conversation with the souls gathered, which I enjoyed. I wish I could open the eyes of the reader to see just how wonderful it was as the collage of souls met, laughed and then strolled back to Makerere University every other Sunday evening. There was no “ism” at all. No agendas. Just poetry. None of those first members were so inclined to literary styles and rules. The purity of that experience supported the flourishing of a talent I had not paid mind to in the beginning. In that, and the sharing of my poetry, I was inspired to write even more. Something akin to a fire setting this log aflame. And burn I did until it all changed.
The contribution of the Lantern Meet of Poets to Uganda’s literary scene is undeniable. We soon set the city ablaze with poetry. A year and some months into it we held our first recital, which was so well attended I was in awe. And that we pulled it off again and again was nothing short of humbling. I was active in the recital preparations for about three recitals, and I think my favourite was the second recital. It was my favourite because it had the most amazing poetry, of the sort I like. The themes were so personal and spoke from the hearts of the people that wrote them, without attempts to excite an audience. I liked that rawness. Moreover, because we had had the first recital, our performance was even much better. It was such an encouragement that we were being heard and indeed we were.
As more people were added to the Meet, the fire for poetry was taken out of the Sunday meeting and into Schools igniting a passion for poetry in the young ladies at Nabisunsa Girls Secondary school, a girls-only school. It was the first, if not among the first schools that the Lantern Meet of Poets engaged in poetry to intentionally develop a passion for creative writing and particularly poetry in the next generation and I believe it produced such eloquence and birthed another generation of enthusiastic writers.
As the Meet continued to gain popularity it started to incline more and more towards the laws of literary writing. Feeling boxed in, closed out or something in between, I began to fade away from participating in meets or events. However, the Meet was more than just a little literary club, it was a pond where creativity could and did thrive. I still enjoy writing, only more privately again.
When we had just started, I heard a Professor of Literature say, “Why are you giving so much time to poetry, Poetry is dead!” But it seems he was wrong. It has found a new life; it’s growing every day. Just look at the number of poetry nights in Kampala!