ETHIOPIA SKATE The Lad Mags | Ahmed Knowmadic | Jason Lin SPRING/SUMMER 2015
Edmonton’s Independent Cinema! Celebrating the 75th Birthday of our home The Garneau Theatre
G A R N E A U 8712 - 109 St. | met rocinema.org facebook.com/Metro.Cinema @themetrocinema Metro Cinema receives ongoing support from these Arts Funders: 2 TITLE OF STORY
CONTENTS spring/summer 2015
“I wanted to go back to the traditional forms, but use a modern subject matter.” - Jason Lin
04
Editor’s Letter, Contributors
06
10 Songs
08
Ahmed Knowmadic
12
Artist Profile - Jason Lin
18
The Lad Mags
24
Ethiopia Skate
32
When the Beatings
EDITOR’S LETTER
CONTRIBUTORS It’s been bittersweet putting this issue together, especially as I sit here writing this.
This magazine has been a labour of love for me since I starting planning the first issue almost three years Interviewing Cody Chesnutt at Folk Fest. ago, and Marker is, for better or worse, a huge part of my life. But, independent magazines are hard to keep going. The love is there, but unfortunately, you can’t support a magazine on that alone.
Marker wouldn’t be possible without the awesome people who contribute to each issue. Here’s a few of them: Jason Halbauer is a Segment Producer for Breakfast Television by day and a freelance writer/editor by night. He is also a Board Member of The Local Good and a writer/ performer in Blackout, an Edmonton sketch comedy group. @jasonhalbauer
I made the decision a couple of months back to no longer continue with the print edition of Marker. It was a tough decision for me to come to, but unfortunately it’s also necessary. I love print, be it zines or magazines, so deciding to stop was not something I took lightly. Marker will, however, continue to live online. To everyone who has been a part of this journey at any point, as a contributor or supporter, and to everyone I have annoyed while trying to get shit done on a tight deadline and no money (specifically you, Jessica and Vic), thank you for everything you’ve done to help propel this project forward.
reakash.ca
If you’ve stuck with Marker up until now, I hope you’ll continue to do so.
Ray Lam is a graphic designer, illustrator, and photographer from Edmonton. In his spare time, he likes to eat greasy food and play SNES games.
Thanks,
Brnesh Berhe
@risecreative
Reakash Walters is a community organizer and policy wonk who is in love with the city of Edmonton. She is a professional communicator, yoga lover, poet enthusiast, and her mom is her best friend. She’s running for office and would like to be a Member of Parliament for Edmonton Centre.
raydaklam.com
Special thanks to: Mark Arsenault, Jordan El, Jenna Katherine
For questions, comments, or advertising inquiries: info@markermagazine.com
Issue 7 | Spring/Summer 2015
Publisher / Art & Editorial Director Brnesh Berhe Copy Editor Jessica Bateman Contributing Writers Caleb Caswell (cbwcaswell), Jason Halbauer, Anna Rushdy, Matthew Stepanic, Reakash Walters Contributing Photographers and Illustrators Rachel Buchsdrucker, Ray Lam, Vicky Mittal (VSM Photo), Sean Strosome
4 TITLE OF STORY
Cover photo credit: Sean Strosome
MARKER IS PROUDLY INDEPENDENT AND MADE IN EDMONTON, ALBERTA.
/markermagazine @markermagazine @markermagazine
This issue was published in May 2015. The views expressed in print and online are those of the respective authors and do not necessarily represent the views of Marker. The magazine will often present views that the publisher may not entirely agree with, because it may still contain information of value to readers.
markermagazine.com
UNDERDOG COMEDY
SHOW
WE ARE NOT NOT KIDDING EVERY THURSDAY. 8:30. FREE. 10425 WHYTE AVE.
10 SONGS A story by cbwcaswell | Illustrations by Rachel Buchsdrucker
1.” Don’t Be Sad” by Brad Mehldau Laying across the mattress from Hailey lately was like standing in a field getting threshed by a tornado — the kind that hurled you to Oz or through a grain silo. That was Hailey when she was sad. Thom would be sitting in the eye of the storm while she looked at the tablecloth three inches above her soup for the entirety of a meal… take a drink from her glass of juice… one from her glass of water… run fingers through hair styled by static. One day the wallpaper would snap in half from the tension. So for this playlist Thom was putting together, he felt this song was appropriate. Most times you want the first song of a mix to grab your attention and convince you to listen. An eight-minute instrumental did more to sweep the palate clean. Risky, maybe, but recently it seemed like anything he did made the wind kick up. He wasn’t sure they’d survive another storm. 2.“Something So Right” by Paul Simon Hailey really did hate the first song. And it got worse as the second started. Thom had always prided himself in his eclectic taste in music, and he would often throw some no-name-jazz-who-gives-a-fuck in her face, listing who it was, who was in the band, how it compared to all of their other songs. The line at the coffee shop wound from the counter, around her table and down the stairs to the door. And every goddamn person checked their phone and shifted and laughed in time with the music. Even the latte machine whistled steam in perfect harmony with the melody. Hailey took another sip of her coffee and then a sip of her water. She refused to be moved. So much of what Thom did was masquerade as an adult. He borrowed the years off all his old records to make himself seem fuller as a person. Hailey hated how he always rubbed his eyes while he lent her unwanted advice on her spending, her problems with her friends, why she had no reason to be sad. A girl across the cafe was tapping her foot perfectly in time to the music. Hailey stared until the girl noticed and stopped.
tucked beneath his collar, her nails stroking his chest while he stroked her foot with his own. In the dark, with the door closed, she released a laugh you could hear nowhere else — uncontrolled, ungracious, and wholly, entirely her. Thom often fell asleep in the thick smell of her hair. 4.“Loving You” by Matt Costa Hailey was thirteen when she really started listening to music — artists she chose, rather than what her father told her she should listen to. She had stolen a Discman and used it on the bus. And when she listened, she didn’t hear guitars or keyboards or strings or brass. She heard one song. Everything together, colours flooding over top of one another, blending and blurring. Now, because of Thom’s endless pecking apart of every note and “riff” and lyric, Hailey could clearly see the blueprint. And the combination was somehow less than the sum. A clinical knowledge of the moving parts exorcised the magical awe. She thought of a doctor looking through the shelves of a morgue, examining toe tags and inanimate expressions. This song was happy once. That one was in love. Was this how Thom listened to music? Did he enjoy this or was it just who he was? Maybe their relationship was a thing to be picked apart, examined and documented for what could be taken, and put back on the shelf when there was nothing left to learn. 5.“Nightmares” by Jay Reatard A punk song. A great juxtaposition for the playlist. Thom didn’t enjoy punk so much as he appreciated it. It had great energy, but the lack of complexity and intentionality made it too shallow for him. Thom wanted something he could dig into and rediscover every time he listened to it. Hailey listened to music to validate her mood — happy, sad, whatever. Thom cooked food to try out new ingredients and combinations, while Hailey would make the same meal her father made her every day of her life growing up. Thom watched everything he could about movies he loved — behind-the-scenes, the making of, production interviews. Hailey could watch a movie once and love it and be fine never seeing it again. It made Thom wonder if, in the event they broke it off, Hailey would stop to ask what went wrong.
3.“Stuck on the Puzzle” by Alex Turner Thom lay on their bed, probing the body of his record collection. The bed sagged where the records were stacked. He removed selections with the elegance of a surgeon. “Too telling.” “Too delicate.” “Too ‘90s.” Expended record cases mingled with the stack of DVDs piled along the wall, 6.“Everybody Loves Me Baby” by Don McLean spilling off the shelf above their headboard. Despite the Thom could be funny. His sense of humour was a comtelevision that had taken three movers to get into the bination of self-loathing and alpha-male superiority. It’s apartment, they often watched movies in the bedroom what Hailey knew led him to put a song with the chorus on a laptop propped up on Thom’s stomach. Hailey would “Everybody loves me baby, what’s the matter with you?” lay with an arm draped across Thom’s chest, her fingers on a playlist that was meant to… she wasn’t even sure SPRING/SUMMER 2015
what. It was this personality that could at one moment be preening and afraid, and the next pull her to his bed and undress her in a way she would spend afternoons fantasizing about. He was somehow both self-aware and completely self-unaware. And it was strangely easy to love. She stood from her table thinking about Thom running his hand up her thigh, packed up her bag while imagining how he caressed her neck with his lips, and put her jacket on, imagining that it was Thom’s hands running down her sides, arms and back. 7.“Old-Fashioned Hat” by Anais Mitchell The walls and ceiling of a bar burned in the midnight air. A van stopped in front of the building, a decrepit bar mysteriously placed in the middle of a commercial district of heavy machinery salesrooms and kitchen appliance stores. The passengers got out and stood — felt the heat on their faces. Everything was strangely still, as though a burning building was one of the most routine things in the world. The spectators, a band that had just finished performing at another bar, left without calling anyone. A year later the guitar player would capture the surrealism of the moment in a song using tremolo guitar, ambient cymbal work, and long, undivided space. It would be played at several performances but never recorded.
her. The moment was a microcosm of every relationship to have ever occurred since Adam flirtily asked Eve if she’d be finishing that apple. 9.“The Rain” by Melody Gardot The coffee that burned in her nose washed away with the smell of wet pavement, and the rain turned the sidewalk from chalk to shimmering creek bed stones. And it was like this, looking down, that the song began, and she looked up at the world that was not at all the coffee shop shifting in time to her music. And what she saw was what she heard. It was grey. And cold. And empty. And alone. It was as though sadness itself was an instrument that, with a pull of a bow, bled a beautiful moan. For the first time in her life, the world stopped chiseling against her. In this song, in the rain, Hailey belonged. She realized how desperately lonely Thom made her. But he was also the first who ever understood her sadness. He held that sadness in his hands. She was unhappy, but she was understood. And Hailey couldn’t decide which was more important.
It was the bar where Hailey and Thom met. Both knew it had burned down. Neither brought it up.
10.“Please Call Me Baby” by Tom Waits The record player spun. Hailey still wasn’t home. Thom fell asleep. The record needle fell asleep too.
8.“If I Needed You” by Townes Van Zandt Thom had chosen this song remembering that Hailey once mentioned she listened to Townes Van Zandt on long summer drives with her father. What he didn’t remember was Hailey also mentioning that she couldn’t listen to Zandt after her father suffered his stroke. However, Hailey didn’t know it was actually John Cougar Mellencamp she’d been listening to with her father all those years. So she walked to her bus stop, upset by a song she’d never actually heard, placed on a mix by a lover who had intended for it to woo
The last song wasn’t desperate. Not demanding. Not despondent. It was accepting of whatever happened and yearned. It was Thom.
8 10 SONGS
Please call me baby, wherever you are, It’s too cold to be out walking in the streets. We’re all a little wounded, everyone’s a bit insane. I don’t want you catching your death of cold, Out walking in the rain.
PEACE
POVERTY JUSTICE
#GALL2015 date
21 SEPT
location
BOYLE STREET PLAZA
The Gall Conference 2015 will be exploring the intersections of poverty and justice on the International Day of Peace. Join us WWW.JHCENTRE.ORG SPRING/SUMMER 2015 for a conversation that will catalyze shifts in our communities.
10 JT II LT LL ES TOAFN ST TO ON R Y
The Lad Mags By Jason Halbauer | Photos by VSM Photo
I’m going to modestly propose that, as great as they are, The Lad Mags wouldn’t exist in a city other than Edmonton.
was months late after getting stuck behind a box set a major label wanted to get together for Record Store Day.
Exhibit A: The band basically says so themselves.
“I think it started out as a really good idea but it’s gotten really weird,” Says Stagliano. “It just seems like record label cash “It seems like a safer place to try stuff out,” says Amelia Aspen, grabs.” one of the four vocalists and the band’s founding member. “I don’t know if we would’ve ever bothered to start a band The lilac purple 7” is the band’s spaciest effort to date, which if there was any kind of pressure because Aspen credits to her love of Motown we’re so shy and weird about everything.” and garage punk. “I’m not a proficient enough musician to steal those sounds, Shy and weird is a perfect description of through my filter, all of that sounds a bit the psychedelic garage rock band. I am wrong and trippy.” talking to them on the stoop outside of their jam space and, aside from Aspen, the Their latest effort is also the most sonirest of the band barely says a thing. cally realized.
Even if you kind of fuck up, people will be pretty cool until you get there.
I’m inclined to attach a sort of Jack White mystique to their sheepishness, which they immediately dismiss. That tameness is also part of the reason for their concise catalogue. The Lad Mag has been around for about three years and has put out nine originals and one cover over five EPs. “We’re self-conscious,” says Stagliano.
“We all come up with a nugget on our own and bring it back to everyone and then decide it’s not done,” adds Aspen. “It’s totally just shyness.”
The title track was recorded at MetroSonic in Brooklyn, which has hosted bands such as Moby, Andrew Bird and the Black Lips. The other song, the spacey ballad “Alien Bride”, was recorded here at home at Edmontone Studios.
As treasured as that Brooklyn recording session was, it only happened out of necessity. The band couldn’t get the required Visa to get into the States with their equipment to play CMJ without that recording session.
“We were trying to find a workaround,” says Aspen. “We basically showed up at the border with this paperwork saying That reticence also makes them very deliberate with their we’d booked a recording session and the guy totally gave us material, which is part of the reason they’ve become such a the gears and we were all sweating and shaking and it was bright spot in Alberta’s music scene. Their garage soul sound totally scary, but we made it.” has gathered notable crowds at Calgary’s Sled Island and CMJ in New York City, where bands like Alabama Shakes first The band also worked with videographer and Edmongot noticed. ton Journal Arts Columnist Fish Griwkowsky on a video for “Hypnotized”. It’s beautifully Edmontonian for a number of As we talk, they’re hours away from playing a show to sup- reasons. It’s shot at various locations around the city; even port Record Store Day, which is somewhat ironic given that Mayor Don Iveson makes an appearance. the annual event has been detrimental to the band. Their latest record — the spooky, sparse and soulful EP Hypnotized — “It’s about stalking and being a bit creepy, so I was surprised SPRING/SUMMER 2015
that he would get behind it,” says Aspen. “But he looks great on film. He’s a hunk.” It also features other local bands and characters borrowed from local music videos. Fish Griwkowski says it’s a series of breadcrumbs for future historians to piece together. “A few of us are doing it on purpose to create a connected narrative other than, say, sports or whatever.” It’s a constant struggle to garner support for independent bands in a city whose persona is so defined by sports narratives. As much as The Lad Mags love the tight-knit community, it’s also a bit of a sore spot for a band that wants to see deserving local bands get their time in the spotlight. “We’re a small minority,” says singer/keyboardist Dara Humniski.“Like, a couple of weeks ago when Crashed Ice was down in the River Valley, so many people went to that. That’s what they consider coming to downtown for culture.” It’s something The Mags are conflicted about. It means less support locally, but it’s also what allowed them to get where they are today. While the low pressure may be the reason the band exists, Aspen says the supportive few are what kept them going. “Because the scene is so supportive and so cohesive, you can just take a run at it and even if you kind of fuck up, people will be pretty cool until you get there.” It also allowed them to take a run at a European tour with their good friends and mentors, The Betrayers. They were having a tough time finding gigs and, once again, the Edmonton community came to the rescue, making calls and helping with logistical details like finding a manager, a driver and a route. “From what I’ve heard, that’s not always true (in other places),” says Aspen. “People were really good to us. That’s kind of the nice thing about Edmonton — that’s kind of the standard.” Now the band stands on the verge of a nine-date European tour with at least two festivals coming this summer. They’re also seeing really promising signs here at home with a new split EP with The Destroyers and their first full-length on the horizon. “It seems like there’s super energy behind Edmonton’s music scene,” says Aspen. “With Faith Healer and all of these bands that are doing really well way outside of Edmonton, I just think that’s it’s cyclical and it’s at the hot part of the cycle right now. It’s super exciting.”
12 T H E L A D M A G S
SPRING/SUMMER 2015
14 T I T L E O F S T O R Y
Jason Lin artist profile
Interview by Matthew Stepanic
What sparked your creativity? What got you drawing and creating art? I’ve actually been drawing all my life — since I was a little kid. Actually, I used to draw at my parents’ under the table with crayons, and on walls and whatever surface I could. Going through elementary, junior high and high school, people started noticing that I was getting good, so they predicted I’d be an artist when I grew up. It was just something I enjoyed doing as a sort of an escape... I would get so in the moment, drawn into whatever I was working on. It was actually never something that I saw myself doing as a career, so it’s kind of funny how that worked out. I took a lot of time off, actually, post-high school. I took graphic design at MacEwan, the illustration program, but I didn’t finish it the first time around. I just wasn’t focused. Eventually though, it was like a light switch turned on and I wanted to get back into it and finish my degree. I went back and completed it. I was very focused — challenged me and I enjoyed that. What gave you the focus to go back to MacEwan and finish your program? I think it had to do a lot with growing up; maturing and realizing the things you want in life, the things that make you happy. I didn’t have the life experiences to tackle a lot of the things in illustration and graphic design the first time around.
What would you say are some of your creative influences? I’m a huge film buff and music person, so those have huge influences on me. For film, I tend to gravitate towards the more original, artistic-type directors like Alejandro González Iñárritu — love his work. Paul Thomas Anderson is great too. And music, I tend to listen to a wide range because I used to play a lot of music as well. I really like Radiohead and Sigur Rós.
Strange and honest is a good combination to have. We need that in art today: a lot more truth and weirdness.
When you were younger, what sort of things were you drawing? I would do a lot of realistic, almost photographic-type drawings and still life. I had a Japanese animation phase where I drew a lot of anime. I was also very much into technical drawings, so I would draw machinery and planes, science-fictiontype robots and things like that. Part of that was influenced by my brother because he drew a lot while he was going through school, and was huge into the mechanical drawings. Describe your style right now. When I started, I was really interested in Japanese block prints — those old ukiyo-e prints. There was something about the composition and the simplicity of it that I was drawn to. After that there was a new version called the shin hanga. It’s like ukiyo-e, but more three-dimensional and modern with coloured lines. Kind of like modern design aesthetics, but with traditional subject matter. So initially, that’s what got me going. I wanted to go back to the traditional forms, but use a 16 J A S O N L I N
modern subject matter, so I draw everyday things that people can relate to. Now the trend today is to use digital things, like vector-based art, but I’m not really as into that.
What aspect of the music are you using in your work? I think it’s very emotion-based. Every time I work I like to have music playing, and I think energy and the emotion of the music directly correlates to the work I’m making. I need to be able to feel things that I’m doing, I don’t think how skilled you are at drawing is necessarily as important, it’s more how you feel about what you’re drawing. I’ve always felt that was very important. For me, illustration is very much story-based, and that’s what I get out of it; that’s what really gets me into it — being able to tell stories and relate to people on that level. Can you explain some of the processes for your drawing?
When I first started pursuing illustration, I had a clear-cut idea of my process. I knew that in the industry, most people were working digitally. I wanted to explore that, so I got Wacom tablets. I also wanted to work traditionally, so I had this process of starting out with pen, ink and graphite, and laying the root work down. Then I’d scan that work into the computer and do the colours, textures and digitals. I found it was a very pleasurable way of working because they’re two very different processes. Do you find there’s a central image in the story that you’re drawn to before you begin an illustration? I like to over-read a story — like over and over. A lot of the time you’ll form these ideas initially, and you’ll kind of explore more with other ideas and sketch everything out. I find I usually go back to the first ideas. I find what grabs me in stories is the human aspect in them, the things that people can relate to most. Those are the things that I pick up on and churn out. I think that’s led my work to have a darker aspect to it.
SPRING/SUMMER 2015
18 T I T L E O F S T O R Y
How so? You don’t really see a lot of happy, hoppy things in my work — besides maybe colour-wise. Colours are bright and you know composition or angles might be lively, but if you look deeper, you’ll find things are a bit strange or dreamlike. Where do you hope your work will take you in the future? Eventually I would like to get into those bigger publications out there in the bigger cities like New York or London. There are tons of illustrators and I follow a lot of them, but I don’t really have a plan for what’s in store for me. I just want to naturally evolve from what I’m doing right now. I have a lot of pieces I want to get done. I sketch a lot. Every morning and night, I’ll pull out a sketchbook and just sketch out a lot of ideas. Eventually some might have some weight to them, and others I can just trash. How do you pick which ones you trash? It all comes back to how I feel about them. I might leave them for a few days and if they still pull me and stimulate me somehow, I’ll run with the idea and develop it more — dig deeper. I also like to consider how other people feel about them. I think everyone can relate to each other and have similar experiences, and that’s a main reason why I do this. It’s a very powerful feeling when you can relate to a complete stranger. What’s something that’s surprised you about being an artist? Probably the reception. It’s always great to know that people out there enjoy what you’re doing and look forward to seeing more. It’s such a great thing to be able to put something original out into the world and be appreciated, because sometimes you have doubts and don’t know if people will get what you’re saying. My work can be very vague, and I like that. It’s very subjective and that leaves it open to a lot of interpretation. Any advice for emerging artists? It’s really about hard work and networking. I believe if you really want something, you can do it. You’ve just got to be realistic about it, have a strong work ethic and be truthful. Honesty and sincerity go a long way. Strange and honest is a good combination to have. We need that in art today: a lot more truth and weirdness. And that’s where the dark aspects of my work come out. Not to be cynical, but I think a lot of truth has dark aspects to it, and those are things that stick around. I feel that sometimes happiness can be very temporary. When you read classics and stories, the things that keep popping up, the cyclical themes, are death and love lost — things like that. Human perseverance and hope are amongst everything else. SPRING/SUMMER 2015
Ahmed Knowmadic By Anna Rushdy | Photos by VSM Photo
20 T I T L E O F S T O R Y
Ahmed Knowmadic is a local Somali poet who uses his art form as a means to promote social change. Born in Somalia, he feels a strong connection to the spoken word and uses his poetry as a form of resistance against injustices he and others experience. His ideas about community resonate with me because they involve calling people in rather than out, and he expresses desires to create accessible, inclusive spaces where people can feel safe and welcome to share their art and ideas. We began by talking about the Breath in Poetry Collective, which he has been part of since its inception in 2009. A lot of times people speak for us, so we empower people to speak for themselves because language and literacy are very valuable. Recently we worked with the University of Alberta in a Community Service Learning program with first year English students and first year level American Sign Language students. [They recorded] a poem and translated that into ASL. We did Take Back The Night [a march that demands an end to violence against women], Words With Friends, [an Edmonton-based creative writing collective and performance series]; we’ve worked with the IFSSA [Islamic Family Social Services], with Edmonton Public Libraries, the Art Gallery of Alberta, and we’re in collaboration with the Edmonton Poetry Festival. I recently came back from a literary conference in the UK where we got invited to represent Canada. Out of all the literary organizations in Canada they came to us. The Breath in Poetry is more than just a poetry night, it’s an organization fostering growth in art and we’re using it as a means of social justice.
When you talk about exclusivity, who do you find is included and who is excluded? Is it a class thing? It is definitely a class thing. Some of us are university graduates; I am not. I left university to pursue my art and it’s worked out, but there’s this idea that if you want to be a poet, truly called a poet, you have to be a literary poet — you have to publish a book, have a degree. There’s that stigma and it is definitely classist. How do you acquire that if you don’t have that upbringing? How can I acquire a degree if I was born in a house that was made out of cow doo-doo and sticks and came to Canada as an immigrant on welfare and, at points, lived in shelters? [...] How am I supposed to get a degree — how do you want me to fit in? It’s not accessible. Poetry in all forms is accessible. I can be a poet, you can be a poet, but the credentials behind it are what make it very exclusive.
My father would always say, “Raise points, not fists.”
Did you have any idea where it was going to go when you started it? No, my lord, no. When we first started it we did it for the love of it. [We felt] there was a lack of inclusiveness in the community. Not out of disrespect, but the literary community is very tight-knit and we’re spoken word poets and I just didn’t feel welcomed. This wasn’t because of the organizers, but just the atmosphere. So Titilope [Sonuga] founded the night on January 27, 2009. I was at the Edmonton Poetry Festival when I met her and we performed. Essentially [we decided to] come together and form a collective.
There have been times where what people say to me is very detrimental, like: “How did you learn how to speak so well?” I don’t think they would ever ask that of someone who grew up Canadian or who was born Canadian, right? I used to find it offensive, but now I just laugh because it’s their own ignorance, it’s not me. I [was performing at a school with] another individual, a white female, and after we performed, the teachers came up to me and said, “Great rap”, when my poems didn’t even contain rhyme. [To her they said], “Great poetry.” In Breath in Poetry it doesn’t matter who you are as long as you have a voice and you’re not hating. This is your family. Our current poet laureate was the champion through the Breath in Poetry. I’ve become a full-time poet through
SPRING/SUMMER 2015
TITLE OF STORY
the collective. Titi and I do this from the bottom of our hearts because we realize the power of community. Our whole goal is to provide people a space to speak and to give people access to the resources we have. Somebody else’s success is my success. What brought you to poetry? I used to do stand-up comedy [...] and theatre in Toronto. That’s how I escaped the difficulties I was going through. Entertainment became a way to step outside the boundaries of just being a black person [and allowed me to be] somebody who is respected for their art. When I came to Edmonton in 2008, I was in university and was very depressed. [...] I met [the person who is now] my wife and she told me about a poetry festival. I went there, performed, and that’s where I met Titi. That’s where everything evolved. It’s poetry in itself how I started because my partner is the reason I found poetry. Can you give a little bit of insight into the symbolism that you use in your poem I Am Africa? That poem came from people [calling] me an “African poet” instead of just a poet. If a literary person wrote a poem about a bird, that person wouldn’t be a “bird poet”. It was just so offensive. I got tired of people asking where I’m from, and I’m like, this is what you’re looking for: I am not from Africa, man, I am Africa. All these things you’re looking for in my culture and heritage in buried grounds or caves, it’s all me. I am Africa. [...] Africa is not starvation — it’s me. I’m embodied in everything, so don’t judge me or characterize me in a disrespectful way when I am carrying the African culture. Did the poem also come from people asking you how you learned to speak English so well? That’s exactly it. It’s all that. My father would always say, “Raise points, not fists.” So instead of arguing with people I just write poems. It’s not to say, “Yo, you are stupid,” or “you’re racist.” It’s just to say, “Listen, that’s your view, but check it out, here’s another view.” This is what I was talking about [when I referred to] the “voiceless”. A lot of times people speak for us and they assume all Africans are broke losers that have no language and who are on welfare. They don’t understand that there are a lot who are successful engineers, poets, doctors, lawyers…and those people don’t get heard because they don’t speak. They’re so busy with their things and we have no face to that. I almost wanted to become an embodiment of “I’m standing up for my people, quit labeling us”, you know? Do you still feel a strong connection with Somalia?
Yes! 100 per cent! If they called me a Somali poet I’d be really happy [and proud]. My country is known as the Nation of Poets. It had an oral tradition until 1979 when language became written. I always talk about my country in a positive light and I reach out to Somalis a lot more. Recently my poems have been found in Somali and Kenyan refugee camps and [youth are] memorizing my poetry. I am finding out through organizations or through collectives or media representatives. It rewarded me in a sense that you can just be who you are and love what you do. I don’t do poetry to make money, I do it because I love it. It’s an art form for me. It’s a means of escape. I am my own boss and I’ve empowered myself. To see Somali youth connecting to that while I’m all the way in Canada is very empowering. Just the other day I won the Emerging Artist [Award] at the Mayor’s Celebration of the Arts. [It was through a community nomination] and it’s rewarding for me [to receive] so many honours and awards. [...] They put me in the spotlight. This one time I got pulled over by a cop and he [asked for my license and registration], I gave it to him and he’s like, “Aren’t you Ahmed Knowmadic?” I was [surprised] and he [said he saw me on CTV and that he was writing a novel]. He gave me my stuff back and [said to have a good night]. That’s very empowering and that’s what I’ve been trying to achieve, so it’s very rewarding and I’m very humbled. Completely humbled. Tell me a little bit about the workshops that you do. The majority of my workshops are focused on empowering individuals on speaking. A lot of the time we forget that we are individuals; [...] we are grouped into categories all the time. A big issue I had with high school is that they never allowed me to think the way I wanted to. I always had to write a test and fail. I am creative and I never got empowered for that, but my ESL teacher would empower me. So I’m taking the lessons that he gave me and am bringing them to the workshops. One example of a workshop is that I provide the students with five words and ask them to write a poem. [Even though] we have the same words, the poems always end up different. I say to them, “Isn’t [it] powerful that you guys have the exact same words, but you’re writing totally different poems? That’s the beauty of individuality. Remember that you are just as important as a Shakespeare, as a Martin Luther King, as a Mahatma Ghandi. Create yourself.” I say empower yourself, don’t try to be like anybody else, because in a world of seven billion people nobody can be you. [The students] learn to write creatively and empower themselves to write creatively, but also empower themselves to think creatively and critically of themselves.
SPRING/SUMMER 2015
By Brnesh Berhe | Photos by Sean Stromsoe
26 T I T L E O F S T O R Y
The images that most people outside of Africa have of it are of its tragedies. When one happens, it eclipses the continent and leads to rehashed, cookie-cutter solutions, while grouping it all as an “African problem”. For many, the picture they have of Ethiopia in particular is that of Birhan Woldu, the malnourished child that became the face of the devastating famine of the ‘80s, and prompted Sir Bob Geldof and Midge Ure to pen a song that somehow transcended the West’s sometimes misplaced and patronizing intentions. And the Christmas bells that ring there Are the clanging chimes of doom Well tonight thank God it’s them instead of you Lovely. A lot has changed since then. Ethiopia has become one of Africa’s fastest growing economies and is home of the Africa Union Commission. Simultaneously however, much still remains the same: the media is state-run and poverty is rampant in both urban and rural areas. When you weigh-in the latter points, it’s hard for people to catch a break. Some are taking it upon themselves to not only create opportunities, but to also help change the way the world sees Ethiopia.
gogo campaign in February 2014 – they raised $14,900 of their $60,000 – the group received messages of support from around the world. Along with a strong social media presence, with followers including Tony Hawk and Stacy Peralta, they have been able to reach a large network of fans and supporters, despite the often-limited access to Internet in the country. With an army of skaters that has grown to about 50 members, their small project is surpassing even their own expectations. “I feel like it was just perfect,” adds Hailemariam. “The right timing, right people, right friends. When you have the right motivation and when you have one goal, which, in our case, was to build the first public skate park in Ethiopia, everything else falls into place. It was just perfect.”
Looking around you don’t see many football fields or basketball courts, but everything is skateable.
Addisu Hailemichael is one of them. When he discovered skateboarding, he was the only one he knew of in the country who was doing it. What started off as a hobby quickly evolved into something much more. “It was difficult for everyone like me [in Ethiopia],” says Hailemichael, “but I consider myself very lucky. Despite the poverty and the problems I had growing up, I am thankful for the person I’ve become today, and skateboarding helped a lot [with that]. It changed everything for me.” Hailemichael eventually met up with a then-16-year-old Abenezer Temesgen and American photographer Sean Stromsoe. Together they started to create the framework for what is now Ethiopia Skate: a grassroots initiative intended to facilitate opportunities for foreign and local skaters. The hope for Ethiopia Skate is that it will help grow and maintain Ethiopia’s youth counter-culture. After falling short on crowdsourcing through their Indi-
Unlike his Ethiopian counterparts, Stromsoe, being a native Californian, was always surrounded by skate and surf culture, growing up in the state that helped create and revolutionize the sport. “I grew up in a beach town and skateboarding has always been a part of my [life]. Most of my friends are skaters or surfers and I spent a lot of time making little skate videos when I was a kid.”
Stromsoe didn’t know how far that influence reached at first. After traveling to Ethiopia for the first time in 2011 to shoot video for the Tropical Health Alliance Foundation, he came across a random group of skaters that piqued his interest. “I only had three days notice before the trip and didn’t know anything about Ethiopia. It was eye opening being in the countryside that first trip and the next three return trips, but I [still] wanted to get a better sense of city life. In June 2013, I met the kids skating in Sar Bet [a district of Addis Ababa], and we started hanging out every day. Abenezer, Addisu, and other friends really showed me local life in [the city] — now I feel like they’re my family and Addis Ababa is my second home.” *** Ethiopia is made up of rocky terrain along the countryside that can be challenging for novices to skate on; and the capital is a growing metropolitan city with honking cars that whiz past while you play real-life Frogger trying to SPRING/SUMMER 2015
28 T I T L E O F S T O R Y
SPRING/SUMMER 2015
cross one of many busy intersections. With new development projects being built in the capital, there are more and more paved streets making for ideal, but not always welcoming, skate spots. The accessibility of skateboarding is also huge for those in the third world; decks are easy to ship and travel with, and are a cheaper mode of transport than bicycles — a big factor when you weigh-in how important bicycles have become in Africa for those who do not have access to motorized transportation. “The sport has the potential to mean a lot in Ethiopia,” Stromsoe says, “especially in big cities — more and more pavement and places to skate. Looking around you don’t see many football fields or basketball courts, but everything is skateable.” For many youth in the country, there can be a struggle to balance the traditions that are so engrained in the collective culture with their modern, western influences. Among elders, there is a fear that these influences will overshadow or replace the traditions they grew up with. With changing times, however, comes changing ideologies, and for Addisu, skating was a shift towards something bigger — a hope to open the minds of those in the country who may be skeptical of their “rebellious” intentions. “Skateboarding teaches one to be patient, hard working, creative, determined… So if it helped me the way it did, and if it’s helping the kids the way it is, I say it’s very important for the youth and for the country.” And they’re not alone. There is a growing movement of similar grassroots collectives that have popped up in 30 E T H I O P I A S K A T E
recent years, including a dedicated magazine focused on highlighting Africa’s skate scene. These skaters are laying the foundation in their own cities while creating a network that is taking over more and more countries on the continent. “The local skaters share a dream where, in the future, people around the world should think of skateboarding when thinking of Ethiopia… as opposed to running or coffee,” said Stromsoe, “They’re really going for it. With a few public skate parks, kids would have the opportunity to train, compete with each other and, with time, even compete in nearby African countries with growing skate scenes such as Uganda, Kenya and Tanzania.” Ethiopia Skate completed their first big project last year, building a mini ramp in Addis Ababa, giving the youth a dedicated spot to practice without worrying about being considered nuisances in other public areas. “Our slogan is ‘we just want to skate’,” adds Hailemichael, “and I want to see [at least] four skate parks [around Ethiopia], more youth join the skate movement, and one day, of course, to compete at an event abroad representing Ethiopia through Ethiopia Skate.” If their growth in the last year and dedicated following is any indication of their success, there’s a lot on the horizon for the group and skate culture in Africa. While challenges are inevitable for many of the youth in Ethiopia, this collective has planted the seed that there are still options out there that may not go along with the traditional ideals they are used to. “The kids are so determined and dedicated,” ads Stromsoe. “They’re true pioneers of skating in Ethiopia and I think they know it.”
SPRING/SUMMER 2015
I NF G S O T OU RT Y 32 CT IHTELCEK O
BEATINGS WHEN THE
By Reakash Walters | Illustration by Ray Lam
My shoes stumbled across the entrance to my south Edmonton home and I shut the door behind me. Books, backpack, toque and winter jacket were all deserted. I left a trail of personal belongings on the worn hardwood floor from the door to the couch. I had already wrenched my laptop from the lip of my backpack. My body sank deep into an enclave of couch cushions. My heart sank at a similar rate. I steeled myself for bad news. On November 24, 2014, I tapped my nails impatiently as my laptop booted up. I was researching a question I already knew the answer to. “Protests Flare After Ferguson Police Officer is Not Indicted” the New York Times article read. What’s the point of reading this, I wondered. My house was empty that night. My roommates were out for dinner. They weren’t letting their hearts bleed out and seep into expensive upholstery over another statistic. The reverberation of my vacant home echoed apathy throughout the city. Who cares about one dead black kid in another country? I started reading; “A St. Louis County grand jury has brought no criminal charges against Darren Wilson, a white police officer who fatally shot Michael Brown, an unarmed African-American teenager, more than three months ago in nearby Ferguson.” The letters of that first line of text began to mingle with one another as tears obstructed my vision. My heart pulsated in my chest to the beat of defiance, fear, disbelief, understanding. Of course he wasn’t indicted. My laptop slid off of my lap as I rose, unseeing, and allowed my feet to guide me to the kitchen. Momentarily deranged, my eyes flashed around the room in search of a weapon. I had to do something. There must be something I could do. I decided to beat the racism out of the jury members, or the judge, or the system! With a… spatula. My limbs accepted defeat beneath me and I slumped to the floor. I had so much. It was late November, the time when Alberta’s winters began to bite, yet my home toasted at a cushy 23 degrees Celsius. My peers were made up of
educated, upper-middle class twenty-somethings. I could count on my right hand how many people I knew who had been arrested, never mind killed, by the police. And I lived 2,949 kilometres away from Ferguson, Missouri. Yet my quality of life did not soothe the sting of racism. Proximity did not slide the dial of emotional impact up or down. I looked outside my kitchen window and watched fat, formless snowflakes meander to the calm asphalt below. Later I would sit, slacken jawed, and watch footage from Ferguson protests that night. While Edmonton rested, swaddled in cloaks of new snow, indignant American citizens were battered by tear gas and rubber bullets. I wondered absently how many people thought less of me because of the colour of my skin. It hurt so much. It hurt to know the historic past of my people and to see a consistently bloody, underprivileged future. It’s hard to hear the same stories of black oppression over and over without feeling discouraged. Martin Luther King had a dream, but he also suffered from violent depression. I have always been good with numbers. My best friend’s phone number from grade school was 4037820914. The barcode on my library card was 1320001636985. Sometimes when I’m nervous I let the numbers shape my mouth into a silent prayer. Digits often dulled mental strain. But other numbers invaded and tormented. They ransacked the orderly set-up of my consciousness. They were uninvited reminders. Blacks comprise 13 per cent of the U.S. population and 14 per cent of the monthly drug users, but are 37 per cent of the people arrested for drug-related offenses in America. Blacks receive 10 per cent longer sentences than whites through the federal system for the same crimes. I repeated the numbers to myself again. 37 percent of arrests. 10 per cent longer sentences. Three seven one zero. 3710. Three 7 one 0. The neurotic repetition propelled me to my feet. I snagged my laptop from its abandoned state on the couch and
Miami, USA - December 7, 2014: Racial injustice protesters line the streets in reaction to the Michael Brown and Eric Garner cases | Credit: Getty Images
situated it on the concrete surface of my kitchen island. My eyes scanned my Facebook timeline as I fingered the cracked surface of the island absentmindedly. Ferguson had blown up social media.
My eyelids were easing closed when the cellphone wedged under my thigh startled me alert. A text message from my friend Ashley:
My initial intention was to expel my emotions via the “empowering” vessel of a Facebook status. The more I scrolled, the more I understood: updating my Facebook status wouldn’t do shit. My arms slackened on either side of my laptop. Leaning back in my seat, I was weakened by targetless hatred. Who will we hate? Who can we blame other than ourselves? I switched on a record that had begun to feel like a sort of theme song. Uncut Lauryn Hill for when frustration and pain can only be consoled by the reflection of those feelings in another. The unproduced acoustic track scratched to life to the tune of “My Favourite Things”:
The hair on my forearms rose in disbelief. Goosebumps covered my body. There are 120 Edmontonians that care about the verdict in Ferguson, I thought, still not quite believing the truth of the text message. I began to discover fragments of hope that sliced slivers into blockades of bigotry. Fragmented people, distanced by careers and children and rent and homework were heaving themselves together to demand equality.
“Did U hear about the Mike Brown verdict protest tomor“THIS IS DISGUSTING…” I read, with a link to the New York row?” it read. While I was still processing the news, anTimes article I neglected to finish earlier. other message arrived. “Have we traveled back to the 1950s?!?” Another post “Starts at 5 p.m. Churchill Square.” wailed out of my computer screen. “There are 120 ppl RSVP’d girl. Wanna go with me?”
Black rage is founded on blatant denial, Squeezed economic, subsistence survival. Deafening silence and social control, Black rage is founded on wounds in the soul. When the dogs bite, When the beatings, When I’m feeling sad, I simply remember all these kinds of things And then I don’t fear… So bad. 34 W H E N T H E B E A T I N G S
My lips curled themselves into a smile. The protest itself likely wouldn’t change much. Police officers would still kill young, unarmed black and brown men, the system would still protect them, and Mike Brown would still be dead. But it was something. Author Statement: This story is about my experience of hearing about the Mike Brown verdict. As a Canadian who is part of the African diaspora I feel poignant connection to black people around the globe. It doesn’t feel like too much to ask for our lives to matter…yet the message that black lives don’t matter is consistently conveyed by the justice system and other social structures. It is easy for black people to be submerged in sorrow to a place of numb understanding/disbelief. Thankfully my community pulls me out of this dark place with initiatives of change. We demand equality because the equal quality of human beings is a capital T truth that cannot be ignored. The next day I went on to help organize the protest and was the media spokesperson for Edmonton’s action in solidarity with the people of Ferguson.
MORE STUFF
more stuff a r t i c l e s | p h o to s | v i d e o s
back issues • video • exclusive articles
markermagazine.com markermagazine.com | dan mangan
PERSONALIZED EYE CARE. WE’LL SEE TO IT, PERSONALLY.
36 T I T L E O F S T O R Y
| www.cvcyeg.com