I had never heard of Chris Abani until last week, when I was wading through video lectures on TED.com. The site has the best of the best: innovators, scientists, and even storytellers. On TED.com’s theme pages, they break the talks down by category. When I saw “Master Storytellers,” I knew I was set for the day. I plugged in my laptop and scanned through a couple of videos before landing on Abani’s talk.
At first his stories seemed, well, boring is the first word that comes to mind, but it’s not the right one. They’re understated and stripped bare. They don’t flash or glimmer, and while some of the stories he tells are funny, he himself doesn’t seem particularly witty. Although, I do have to point out, his story about helping his English-speaking mother talk about vaginas and reproductive health with women in Nigeria makes the feminist in me laugh out loud.
The Art of Storytelling
In reading Chris’ bio, you’d find that he’s been through a lot of heartache and his story is actually quite tragic. He was a political prisoner and put in jail three times for his words. Keep that in mind while watching him in “Telling stories of our shared humanity” on TED.
Storytelling is an art. The ability to interpret and transform how others hear, and teach them how to listen to the poets, musicians is a true gift. Chris transitions with ease between storytelling and poetry, and his recitation of “Libation” by Lucille Clifton is almost musical. Reading it in written form, then hearing him interpret it in spoken word transformed the poem for me.
Here’s the poem Chris Abani recites to compare it in writing with his spoken word.
I offer to this ground, this gin.
I imagine an old man crying here,
out of the sight of the overseer.
He pushes his tongue through a hole
where his tooth would be, if he were whole.
It aches in that space where his tooth would be,
where his land would be,
his house, his wife, his son, his beautiful daughter.
He wipes sorrow from his face,
and puts his thirsty finger to his thirsty tongue,
and tastes the salt.
I call a name that could be his,
this is for you, old man.
This gin, this salty earth.