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| Joel Oyeleke, author of God Is a Poet |
Your visions will become clearer only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside awakes.” — Carl Jung.
In ‘God is a Poet’, the persona looks inside, he awakes, and then lives with the taste of the deity on his lips. The debut work of an emerging poet, God Is a Poet strikes an intersection between the commonplace and the spiritual. It teems with the excitement of a newfound voice, the awareness of a bird who has learned of the rarity of collision in the skies. It brings the deity to us and feeds them with our fallibilities—or rather reveals the original weaknesses they have masked in a name. The voice of Joel is a curiosity and an awakening, and this conversation intends to seek more of it.
Joel Oyeleke is a 2024 fellow of Nwokike Writers Workshop and Griots Lounge Publishers Mentorship, Canada. He's a widely published poet. Currently studies Literature in English at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Osun state. He's obsessed with God, teaching, music, dreaming and travelling.
ELISHA OLUYEMI:
Pleased to have your audience, Joel! The Nigerian literary stage continues to see a rapid emergence of fresh voices on the poetry scene. How does it feel to accentuate yours with a chapbook debut?
JOEL OYELEKE:
I feel elated. Elation—because this is my first real attempt at full-length poetry & not just any kind of poetry, the faith-kind of poetry. Crafting therapeutic lines that purge the deepest parts of our soul is not just what I ‘feel’—it is surreal. The 21st-century Nigerian literary landscape has not seen the sacramental kind of works my debut has to offer. It is a pleasure to contribute or pave the way into this phantasmagoric discourse. A discourse I hope would last for ages to come.
ELISHA:
Can you walk us through your creative process while writing your debut, God Is a Poet?
JOEL:
The work is a tri-divided text. The first part is where the idea started from. I found an old sixty-leaf note in my library. I picked it up and started. I did not know what I was writing. I just knew it was going to become something—‘a worthy thing.’ Writing this debut took four months. Some poems came while on transit, some at midnight, some in lecture halls, some at church services, some in between meditative sessions. Others came after I finished reading Okri’s The Famished Road. One strange poem came in the toilet. The first part, DRINKING GOD, tasked me to weave poems around water. The second and third parts were written simultaneously. Research helped in the process. Reading was a strong factor—from Oriogun to Tade Ipadeola to Mahmoud Darwish to Samuel Adéyemí to Sefi Atta to Rudy Francisco to Abosede Racheal to Dami Àjàyí, etc. Consuming their works shape-shifted my perspective(s) and style on the subject I wanted to write about. I wrote many drafts. Re-writing is one tangible essence that made the work what it is today. I wrote and wrote and wrote and re-wrote and re-wrote and re-wrote.
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| The Debut |
ELISHA:
God Is a Poet explores the intersection of faith and the ordinariness of life. And God is ubiquitous in your poems, not as an authority, but as a persona draped in the cloak of our shared sensibilities, as if to mean, God in the Realm of the Mundane. Would you say this was the idea behind that title? What exactly inspired it?
JOEL:
In one of the poems, I write: “The Lord dissolves into my mouth and I swallow”—this is the essence of God Is a Poet. De-constructing the far-fetched idea of Godism is why the work is all it is. I try to show, in the simplest of ways, God’s participation in our everyday existence, in our mundane narratives. I merge divinity and humanity. Creativity is thus a shared effort between the creator and his creatures. The subjective multiplicity of the concept of God in the world is made plain. Using Biblical, Quranic, and Traditional allusions, I create a spirit-physical world in my poems. The title came from John 1:1—if words from the very beginning, was, is, and will be, God, then, I, a mere mortal, can only try to create language. God is the actual poet and I am only a god imitating his prowess.
“...God says, ‘I, too, was lonely so I created heaven and earth.'"
— Joel Oyeleke
ELISHA:
The ‘Boys Are Not Stones’ Anthology (Poemify, 2018), led a sensational protest against the overwhelming societal expectations of the boy-child. Great to see you continuing this in your book. Allow me to quote you: “For boys treated as stones, home is wherever they learn eyes cannot produce tears…” This line ridicules the culture that romanticises masculinity. Can you comment on this situation, and to what extent do you think poetry can help sustain this critique?
JOEL:
The romanticization of masculinity is something I abhor. The human construct creates typicality for the male gender. Turning this gender into an emotionless entity. Males are expected to act out, without fault, the script of life. It is a dire situation. I recently engaged in an argument with a Muslim friend and she showed her acceptance of male behavioural expectations. That men must not ‘feel’—that they must go out and be the ‘man’; & being the man means carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and not showing your discomfort. It is why a man will not be heard in 8 out of 10 rape case reports. Females are not expected to rape males. Period!
This very dangerous mentality was further posited in a text I read for a literature course in school. In the text, the supposed feminist author writes: “Men are like bees—suck out the honey and throw them away.” I think poetry, in critiquing this abnormality, must be blunt, brutal, and as heartless as those supporting it. If men are bees, is it right to suck out their honey? Aren’t the real beasts those that exploit one’s vulnerability? Poetry, as a potent art form, transcends time. Even if the theme of my book is faith—I just had to find a way to show God’s displeasure in this conventional lie. To a large extent, literature has been a major factor in the continued existence of male subjugation (yes, I said it), exploitation, etc. Therefore, Literature will also be a huge factor in the gradual but sure de-construction of these ideas.
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| author of God Is a Poet |
ELISHA:
In another of your striking attempts to poetise God, specifically in the poem, Atonement for the Oyelekes, we hear the deity engage loneliness as their motivation for creation. Isn't that from a deep place! Can you elaborate on the theme of loneliness or longing as a motivation for creation?
JOEL:
I first encountered the theme of loneliness in Oriogun’s diaspora poetry. Home is a strong motif in GOD IS A POET. & If you read my book, you will not find what you want, but if you read hard enough, you’ll see that every piece comes from a place of longing—whether for love, faith, peace, glee, etc—the poems are pilgrims journeying towards anti-loneliness. I wrote Atonement for the Oyelekes at a very critical time in my life. A time when I withdrew almost completely into myself. It is this longing for some sort of camaraderie that leads me to employ an apostrophic rendering where God says, “I, too, was lonely so I created heaven and earth.” For me, creativity thus becomes an escape from what is missing—something (o, anything) I can hold so dearly. Being that my poetry now takes a more confessional approach, what I write is what I was, am, and hope to be. It is not just from a deep place. It is the deep place itself.
Creativity is thus a shared effort between the creator and his creatures...
— Joel Oyeleke
ELISHA:
Through the juxtaposition of ‘ilé’ (house) and ‘ilè’ (soil), your poem, Language Hurts explores the struggle of carrying ‘strange communication’ on your lips. We both share Yoruba ancestry and I deeply resonate with the challenges posed by our polynyms: in my case, ‘ìyọnu’ (favour) and ‘iyọnu’ (plague). Say, how does this ongoing struggle with language impact your sense of belonging especially when surrounded by other native speakers? And does God have a place in this discourse too?
JOEL:
I spent the first seventeen years of my life in Southern Nigeria. Consequently, there is a disconnect with my Yorùbá heritage—in culture, language, etc. When I eventually moved, through studies, to Ilé-Ife, I became more interested in dealing with the anguish of becoming who I ought to have been. In Rudy Francisco’s “My Mother’s Accent,” he writes, “...my mother’s accent is a kitchen, each time I walk in, I hope I use the right ingredients…” My friends tease me, often jokingly, with the inadequateness of my grasp of Yorubaism, & it alienates me. Makes me aware that my attempt(s) at becoming Yorùbá might after all end futile. I try to learn. To understand the juxtaposing inferences of my father’s language. To know and appreciate the day-to-day conventionalities of the land. But “when I walk into a shop of natives, the shop walks out of me”—something betrays me. In poems where I try to evoke this issue, I always bring God in because I know that he understands my deficiencies. I know that he accepts me even if I may be a victim of urban migration. Even if I am “a failed descendant of Odùduwà.” Hallelujah!
Poetry is like cold water to a thirsty man. The ecstasy that comes with gulping this liquid cannot be explained.
— Joel Oyeleke
ELISHA:
Are there any African poets or literary figures who inspire you?
JOEL:
I grew up reading all of Chinua Achebe’s books (thanks to an uncle’s library). Others like Elechi Amadi, Ngugi Wa Thiongo, Chimamanda Adichie, George Herbert, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and Birago Diop were some of the earliest literary figures I read and looked up to. Early last year, I began to read contemporary poetry, and the likes of Sadiq Dzukogi, Chinua Ezenwa Oheato, Warsan Shire, Pamilerin Jacob, Ernest Ogunyemi, Dennis Brutus, Rudy Francisco, Joshua Effiong and Tares Oburunmu has spurred me to do more.
Prof. Gbemisola Adeoti is one person I must appreciate too—I am really motivated by his encouragement, close mentoring, and willingness to let me feast on his library.
ELISHA:
How about describing poetry in the most visceral way you can think of?
JOEL:
Poetry is like cold water to a thirsty man. The ecstasy that comes with gulping this liquid cannot be explained.
Elisha Oluyemi is a Yorùbá writer. Winner of the 2023 Brigitte Poirson Literature Prize for Short Story, the 2023 Ikenga Short Story Prize, and the Lagos-HCAF Short Story Award (2022), he was longlisted for the 2024 Isele Short Story Prize and shortlisted for the 2022 YWC Award for Short Story. Elisha co-curated the crime anthology, Nightshade (IfeAdigo, 2022). He serves as a mentor in the SprinNG Writing Fellowship. His writing is (forthcoming) in Strange Horizons, Lolwe, Mystery Tribune, BAM Quarterly, Dawn Review, Mukana, Isele Magazine, The B’K, Sledgehammer, Terror House, and elsewhere. He’s contributed to forthcoming anthologies: Mukana Anthology of African Writing (2024), UNBOUND: Anthology of Nigerian Poets Under-40 (Griots Lounge, 2024), & Witsprouts Anthology (2024). For fun and relaxation, Elisha learns Korean, listens to classical music, and studies criminal minds. Tweets @ylisha_cs. Website: https://elishaoluyemi.carrd.co
