William Letford: Reel Iraq

William Letford, author of the acclaimed debut, Bevel

Reel Festivals believe that working in small-scale, manageable projects can have a large impact and create sustainable opportunities for people in need. They believe art and culture are the best way to break down barriers and increase communication. Previous events focused on Syria, Lebanon, and Afghanistan, through the medium of poetry, music, and film.

In December last year I received an e-mail inviting me to Iraq. I would travel there in January to help translate the work of four Iraqi poets, take part in some events, then showcase the work during the nationwide Reel Iraq Festival which ran from the 21st to the 25th March. I accepted the invitation.

Shaqlawa is a town in the Kurdish region of northern Iraq. It's inhabited by twenty-five thousand people and sits beneath the Safeen mountain. We arrived late in January. The goal of our first four days was clear. Translate poems. There were four Scotland-based poets: John Glenday, Krystelle Bamford, Jen Hadfield, and myself. There were four poets based in Iraq: Ghareeb Iskander, Awezan Nouri, Sabreen Kadhim, and Zahir Mousa.

Technically these translations should be called versions, and we would move these poems from one language to the other with the help of three bridge translators: Lauren Pyott, (who had provided the literal translation of every poem), Dina Mousawi, and Hoshang Waziri. Hoshang would also help with translations to, and from, Kurdish. Taking overall responsibility and lending a hand whenever asked were Dan Gorman and Ryan Van Winkle.

Photo by Ryan Van Winkle

We had a literal translation in front of us, and the poem in its original language. We also had the poet, right there, at our mercy. Whenever a question was asked, through the bridge translator, something could be gained from the way the poet answered. Hand movements, intensity of language, the caution of their reply, or even laughter. The bridge translators were working hard and each lent their personality to the poems. 

The work took place in a conference room, but the décor was unusually grand, I remember chandeliers and a tremendously high ceiling that created so much space. If I looked up, people would be in various states. Quiet and studious, excited and animated, nervous (the responsibility of re-making someone’s work was not lost on us). This was a good time. Barriers of language were being broken down. Borders were being crossed.

Photo by Ryan Van Winkle

Zahir Mousa was translating a poem and had trouble with the idea of asparagus as an aphrodisiac. In fact he had trouble relating any food to increased vigour. Surely there were aphrodisiacs he could name? No, the idea was foreign. So we decided to come up with fruits or vegetables that were sexy by some other means. Butternut squash (?), strawberries by connotation, pomegranates whole or halved, and on and on but none worked in context. Any ideas would still be welcome, answers please to Eleanor or Okey at Carcanet.

After four days in Shaqlawa we moved to Erbil, one of the oldest inhabited cities in the world and the fourth largest city in Iraq. The citadel at the centre of Erbil has been inhabited from the 5th millennium BC. In any cultural exchange between Iraq and Britain the heavyweight would surely be Iraq. The events we participated in were part of the Erbil Literature Festival. One event was a panel discussion in the Tea House at the foot of the citadel. When we arrived a microphone was being passed around the audience. People were singing. The songs were rhythmic and powerful. Kurdish and Arabic are so rich the effect was hypnotic.

Photo by Ryan Van Winkle

The microphone swung our way. 'We have talked and we think one of the Scottish poets should sing.'

I’ve got one song in the tank. It’s an Al Jolson number. I looked at the floor. Jen Hadfield accepted the microphone. She sang in Scots, and she sang beautifully. I watched the audience. The difference between the languages was wonderful. The song seemed to come from very far away.

The audience, and panel members, were then handed radios and earpieces. Two translators (housed in booths to my right hand side) were on hand to instantly translate any question, answer, or comment. All you had to do was switch channel.

Photo by Ryan Van Winkle

The Tea House was busy and not everyone was there to attend the discussion. Background conversation was constant. The tea is served in small clear glasses with metal spoons to stir up the sugar at the bottom of the glass. Bells were ringing everywhere, three languages were being spoken and translated and there was the song. Something about singing at the beginning of the discussion had changed my perception. I had been transported.      

One objective of Reel Festivals is to correct the media centred image we have of other countries. The poems I heard and helped translate were about living, love, and history. None of the media buzz words we hear were in there. The second leg took place in Britain.

Dumfries, London, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Stirling. In each event local poets were asked to read poems on the theme of Iraq, or bearing witness. Unfortunately one member of our group wasn’t present to experience this welcome. Sabreen Khadim was refused her visa. A successful journalist, poet, and, as Krystelle Bamford put it, wonderful dancer, she was deemed a flight risk. We read translations of her poetry at each event. This was a poor substitute for her presence.

Ten years after the war, I travelled through Britain with three poets from Iraq. We talked, I listened to their poetry. We kept working on translations. I also watched them work with Jen Hadfield, Krystelle Bamford, John Glenday, Ryan Van Winkle, Dina Mousawi, and Lauren Pyott. The last event was in Stirling. Selfishly, I had the pleasure of seeing my home town through everyone’s eyes. We finished up in the Settle Inn. It was a jam night. There was singing. A different experience to watching the news.

Photo by Ryan Van Winkle

A publication of the translations will be forthcoming. Information on the festival and future events can be found at http://www.reelfestivals.org.



Becoming

After work my grandfather would wash his hands in the kitchen sink

Bevel

He would use Fairy Liquid as lather, and as a boy I’d watch him scrub stains
from his skin, clear dirt from his fingernails. Where have these hands been
I’d wonder, what is out there? Now, after each working each day I stare
at my own hands in my own sink. It’s a powerful sensation. This mixture
of pride and sadness.

from Bevel by William Letford

William Letford has worked as a roofer, on and off, since he was fifteen years old. He has received a New Writer’s Award from the Scottish Book Trust and an Edwin Morgan Travel Bursary which allowed him to spend three months in the mountains of northern Italy helping to restore a medieval village. He has an M.Litt in Creative Writing from the University of Glasgow. Bevel is his first collection.


'The pleasure I have gained from William Letford's poems... will, I am confident, stay with me for ever.'
Nicholas Lezard, Guardian

'William Letford is the future of Scottish poetry.'
Mark Buckland, Cargo Publishing