Home > Interviews > Issue 57.2 Teaser: Get to Know Djamila Ibrahim

Questions by Kyla Jamieson
Photo by Dana Jansens

Get to know writer Djamila Ibrahim, whose poems “Bloodletting” and “Brine” appear in our winter issue 57.2. If you don’t have the issue yet, have a sneak peak at “Bloodletting”, which we published online a few weeks ago (and then go get yourself a copy of 57.2!). Also consider subscribing to PRISM, so you’ll never miss an issue! 


What’s happening around you—either right around you or outside of where you are?

It’s a cloudy December afternoon in a quiet corner of downtown Toronto. All the grey outside my window is making me sleepy despite the espresso I just had. I’m writing on my laptop and my cat is pressing herself against me, demanding I make space for her on my lap. If she perseveres, we might end up taking a nap together.

What’s your morning routine?

Ideally, I’d wake up feeling rested, put on some inspiring music, have a healthy breakfast, go to the gym then start writing while sipping on a nice cup of coffee.

This almost never happens. Unless I have a deadline coming up, I’m rarely productive in the morning. I might spend an hour in bed reading the news or checking social media, then eat breakfast while reading a lot of random things on my phone or chatting with friends and family. Then I go to my desk and read more of the same for a while before I realize it’s noon. On good days, I spend my mornings taking care of non-writerly tasks or doing research, writing outlines etc.


What are you looking forward to this week?

I’m looking forward to seeing Mickalene Thomas’s Femmes Noires at the Art Gallery of Ontario this weekend.


Do you have any “vices”? What’s the relationship between your vices and your writing?


So many but I’d say procrastination and sweet tooth might top the list. I always feel I’m just one piece of custard cake or butter cookie away from an inspired and focused writing session.

Is there a public space you’re fond of? Describe it.

This might be a cliché but I love small, second hand bookstores brimming with books. Books on the floor, on chairs, desks, and stepladders. The more disorganized, the better. I feel like I’m on a treasure hunt. I also enjoy big, open spaces like deserted beaches for how they make me and my problems feel small. Oh, and outdoor concerts.


What advice would you give a young writer?

Write. Plotting stories that sound perfect and important in your head is easy. Making time to sit down and write one draft after another is harder. If writing is what you really want to do, don’t give up. Join writing groups and be open to constructive criticism. Also read widely. When you feel like you’ve read a lot, read some more.


Is there any advice you like ignoring?

I usually pay attention to people’s advice for what they teach me about myself, the person who gives the advice and how they perceive me or the world we live in. It’s easier to dismiss condescending advice or those intent on erasing my voice but others are less clear cut. Sometimes people who care about us can provide harmful or useless advice too. It usually comes from a place of fear. They don’t want us to get hurt. In this case, I’ll consider their words more carefully.


Do you have a favourite word? Or a least favourite word? What is it and why do you like/dislike it?

One of my favourite words in English is harmony. The softness of the syllables, the balance and peacefulness the word implies. It’s all soothing to me. I love the word EhitAlam in Amharic, my mother tongue. It can be translated as “my sister, my world.” There is so much love, gentleness and solidarity in the word. Its shorter and more modern version, Ehit, which simply means sister feels, in comparison, dry and detached. Another one I love is the literal translation of the Amharic word for fiction: LibWeled which is “birthed by the heart” or “the heart’s creation.”

What’s the first story or poem you remember writing, and how does it relate to your current work?

As a kid, I used to write my parents letters when I was upset with them or when I felt we needed to revisit our agreements concerning my rights and responsibilities around the houseI was big on fighting for my rights.

I don’t know how it started or when, but the first one I remember writing dates back to when I was about eight-years-old. I wrote my dad a letter about something my mom did to me (or didn’t do for me) so that he could intervene on my behalf. When he was done reading my letter, my dad said he’d talk to my mom, but instead of the outrage I was hoping for, what I saw on his face was amusement. His lips twitched from restrained laughter. I felt misunderstood and judged. Did I not clearly lay out my arguments? I wanted to snatch away the letter I had painstakingly written and go hide in a corner for all eternity. How does this relate to my current work? Writing is still my favourite form of communication and I’m as sensitive about my writing as I was when I was eight.


 

Djamila Ibrahim‘s debut short story collection Things Are Good Now was one of Now Magazine’s 10 Books To Be Excited About in 2018 and has made several CBC lists of Books/Writers To Watch For in 2018 as well as being reviewed favourably in many other publications. She was formerly a Senior Advisor for Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada. She now lives in Toronto and is currently working on a novel  based on the last story in Things Are Good Now titled Heading Somewhere. In Heading Somewhere, Sara and Omar are childhood sweethearts who realize their life prospects in their home country, Ethiopia, are limited. When Omar meets Marianne, a Canadian foreign service officer, he sees an opportunity to a better life in Canada. He promises Sara the marriage is a sham. Sara travels to the Middle East to work as a domestic help while she waits for the sponsorship papers Omar has promised to send her. The choices they make through the years and the secrets they accumulate threaten their relationship but when Sara finds herself caught in the Syrian war, Omar sets out to do whatever it takes to save her.