Born and bred as a village boy at the Bukulumi village of Bukulumi Butula constituency, Busia county, Antony Wesonga Oduori first set foot in Nairobi City, Kenya’s capital, courtesy of Lenana School for his secondary education.
“I had a frugal childhood, but it never bothers me… I don’t feel sorry for myself. In fact, I despise people who carry their weight around, demanding validation in every forum and space. We don’t exist in a greenhouse where you can tweak conditions to your liking.
It’s not fair; it is injustice, but that is what we’ve been served hot. The attitude is that if you are a son of a nobody, remain a nobody, something I’m working hard to change,” he said during the interview.
He majored in Linguistics and Literature at the University of Nairobi for his undergraduate studies before returning to the same institution for a master’s degree in International Studies.
A retail banker with Standard Chartered Bank Kenya Limited for nearly two decades, he has developed an aptitude for observing human nature while still retaining a passion for his first love, literature.
“My first love, literature and life, have horned my aptitude for processing human behaviour,” he confirms.
For the love of something is like a wizard thought, like a marked curse on a person’s forehead, Oduori and Literature are inseparable, which I can only quote in Nicholas Sparks’ words:
“I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I’ve led a common life.
There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough”― Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook.
In his literature journey, he authored different books: Jam on Our Faces, first published in 2014, and 327 Thousand Feet High in 2019, and also contributed to The Griots of Ubuntu: An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry from Africa, a poetry anthology by 150 African writers published in 2022.
His debut novel under the title The Book of Judges, due later this year, 2023, is in the works.
And on his inspirational poets and writers, he finds the works of Charles Bukowski, a German-American poet, Kwei Amah, and Wole Soyinka, among others, stimulating to read from.
He is also a motorcycle enthusiast, living his life in the richness of blissful moments.
Unlike any other writer I may know, Wesonga is a social man who finds it pleasurable to share ideas, visions, and achievements with his fellows.
This is a virtue not so many people exhibit.
How he reaches out to the upcoming writers is palatable, something I can only relate to the famous Chinua Achebe’s saying:
“A man who calls his kinsmen to a feast does not do so to save them from starving. They all have food in their own homes. When we gather together in the moonlit village ground, it is not because of the moon.
Every man can see it in his own compound. We come together because it is good for kinsmen to do so,” Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart.
Upon asking his opinion about contemporary literature and advice to young upcoming writers, here was his response.
“The quality of literature in Kenya needs a different approach. I don’t prefer simple plots, weak and unsophisticated themes, or underdeveloped characters.
That’s why I write about wormholes…, light years and exoplanets, higher consciousness, and metaphysics. Writers should be like water, be formless, and let their work speak for them, not their networks and connections,” he says.
He adds that what authors share with the world should stand out in their name since they expect to be paid, urging writers to ensure their wares (books) are interesting and a good read.
He says that would save readers and snatch their loyalty.
In the spirit of shared purposes, he participated and contributed to the Kistrech Poetry Festival, where his poems “Clean Bills” and “Real Estate” were featured in the Annual Kistrech International Poetry Festival magazine’s eighth volume.
He is also a goal-oriented enthusiast with incredible leadership abilities.
His curiosity about global concerns has earned him a position as Program Advisor at the Bleeding Ink Global Writers society, a forum bringing together writers and poets from across the globe for brainstorming and mutual growth.
A taste of his works can be snatched from this poem; I’m sure it’s delicious:
THE WAY OF THE LADY
A tale marathons back
Into my childhood
a disciple of the federation;
Childish imagined sport. WWE
Grown men look forward.
It doesn’t matter your so-called successes
Your triumphs or what the truth is
What you project to the rest of mankind
– however base-
is the way of the lady
This is the life anthem.
My intellectual bunnies broke my heart,
All the hypothetical reading refused to show in their verdict
they;
argue same, laugh same
even dress same
All the widely-read train a grandiloquence
I feel like my kin who perished after attending everyone’s funeral
full of life, up-beaten.
Mournful,
until the reaper came calling
Witchcraft she said; cancer they said, and
You cannot be prepared for this death of reason
akin to our death, man’s death.
For a ludicrous reason was used to crucify workers
us, here they told us; ‘Leaders are chosen by God’
and that their excellencies as excellent
‘the patron is god’ nonsense
as the client abused the keyboard, and relished
pulling out our hairs, the CEO’s wrath unleashed
Smiling all the while
Inflated food prices, poker-faced
Sharing out public roles like manna from right here in Kenya
In fact, from here, in the governors office
Leaving a trail
My duvets. My shoes. I have two hundred pairs.
Imelda Marcos!
She had two thousand of those. Pairs of shoes.
It must feel heavenly,
clever most times, a hand used to the cookie jar
cements the theft into a pillar. A truth, their church.
YOU CAN ALSO READ: POETRY: Lone: An Anthology of Metered Verses
Four decades ago, on an evening, I had a square meal and slept soundly.
and the village beauty was mine.
Now, I can’t even remember how she smelled.