Exploding Dreams

By Celmali Jaime, Poetry in Kenya


This video is from the Poetry class but is not of Winfred

Her tribe name means “One who never saw her mother.” Winfred’s mom died when she was only a baby. Usually she was quiet, and distant. In a room of more than twenty people, it seemed as if Winfred were alone.

She rarely opened her mouth in our spoken word poetry class. Even in pictures she showed no teeth. But the lines of her poems spoke loud and clear. I flipped through the pages of her poetry book, and I witnessed her pay homage to the woman in her past she never knew. But in these pages, she also revered a woman in her future. Winfred wrote about the woman she hoped to become. Her metaphors were powerful.

One day I asked for a volunteer. I saw a reluctant hand raise. It was Winfred’s. I had her stand on one side of the room and drew an imaginary line on the other. I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. “An actress,” she whispered. I wondered how someone so quiet would be able to flourish in such a vocal field.

As a class we discussed obstacles that could defer her dream, and listed choices that would help her dreams become reality. As we discussed options, it was Winfred’s job to step forward or backwards, until she reached to finished line. I believe it was on that day, in that dark room, that Winfred began her transformation into actress.

I saw her the next day, at the celebration performance. She used her body to represent the lines of Langston Hughes’ “Harlem.” Truly, Winfred’s dream was far from deferred. There before my very eyes, stood an actress. She was speaking; not in the way I expected, but in her own, and yet very valid way.

At first I wondered if the power of poetry ever reached Winfred. But as I read over her strong words, thought about her consistently perfect attendance, and marveled at her ravishing final performance, my doubts disappeared. Winfred was quiet, yet sharp. She never had to answer the question posed by Langston Hughes: “what happens to a dream deferred?” Instead she used poetry to explode her dreams into existence.

Winfred's Anaphora
I see people laughing, playing, cooking, and singing.
I see smart houses.
I see beautiful trees growing.
I see bright flowers.
I see people painting walls.
I am like Rose Muhando.
I am an actress.
I am a bright sun.

-Winfred Ajwang