Rasaq Malik

Rasaq Malik Gbolahan (born on December 30,1992) is a Nigerian poet and essayist. With Ọ̀rẹ́dọlá Ibrahim, Malik is the co-founder of Àtẹ́lẹwọ́, the first digital journal devoted to publishing works written in the Yorùbá language. He was the founding Editor-in-Chief of Agbowó. Rasaq Malik Gbolahan is the Author of "No Home in This Land” and “The Other Names of Grief”. Quotes In the course of writing, the act of grief comes naturally to me. Grief birthed through bullets trailing the backs of children returning from schools; Grief of women whose husbands are murdered by Boko Haram; Grief of a man whose wife is kidnapped by bandits. Many times, these tragic narratives return to me and I have to write about them. I have to lend a voice to the grief of the world, to the grief of those who have nothing to show for being alive. It is quite pathetic that we find ourselves craving peace in a country governed by failed leaders. Think of the killings happening in our states. Think of people fleeing home because home is an abyss. Think of dead bodies left in the streets. Think of missing loved ones. Think of police brutality. If I attempt to flee from writing about grief, and how it affects us, it tells how frail I am to bear the burdens of others; how weak I am to project my voice where they need me. The manuscript emerged from the poems I wrote after my service year. I have always written about the country and the problems wrecking it. In 2012, I wrote a poem some days after a bomb blast in a market in Suleja. It was a haunting moment for me, and for those whose memories of some of these tragic times remain inerasable. As a writer, I perform the crucial roles of documenting, narrating, and offering empathy and sympathy through my words. The dastardly activities of the insurgents affected everyone. Every day, I would listen to the radio and watch the TV, the images of bombed loved ones staring at me. They could be us. They could be me. After the massacre perpetrated by Al-Shabaab terrorists at the Garissa University College, Kenya, I was devastated for weeks. In the news, blood littered everywhere. I imagined being at the gory scene of the massacre, my body counted as dead, pulled over for a mass burial. Growing up, I witnessed the roles played by women in our society. I grew up under the tutelage of my mother. Apart from motherly roles, there are other roles played by these women. During war, nobody is safe. Sadly, these women and their children are more vulnerable. This is not to discard their gallantry and courage in the face of war. They are always trying to make sure their children are safe. They sacrifice their lives for the sake of their children. In my poems, they occupy the space of love. They contribute to the growth and progress of the world. They need to be celebrated. Sometimes when I look at my mother, I see in her the scars of struggles and survival. Women like our mothers shaped us, groomed us, armed us, guarded us, and they still support us. Everything is temporary, even us. I have always believed in the power of writing in reflecting our stories and changing our society. Being shortlisted for Brunel encouraged me further to believe in the cause of documenting timely and important societal events. Before Brunel happened, I used to write daily. Even when responsibilities crowded my life, I still created time to read and write. I tell people that passion is the sea on which my ship sails. Winning prizes is essential but if it doesn’t happen, I wouldn’t change from being a writer. After Brunel, I realized that I haven’t changed from reading books. I read daily. I write more and I pay close attention to my poems. Editing has taught me the act of patience. Being a writer is a continuous teaching of patience because submitting your work and being rejected is unavoidable. You will feel the heat of rejections. You will thrash your work. You will experience weariness. Many things will happen to you. You will wake up one day to ask yourself if writing will save your life, or rescue you from poverty. The best thing to do is to keep moving. Don’t stop writing.