WHEN HE STRUGGLED to process the grief that ensued following his father’s passing, Morset Billie turned to writing. Unknowingly, some of his works had the markings of poetry. But it wasn’t until a friend pointed it out that Billie, who had previously never been introduced to the art form, recognised it. His friend’s astute observation sparked an interest in Billie, then a sixth-form student, that further helped him face his feelings.
Billie delved into grief poetry, dark poetry and dirges, and what began as a coping tool soon blossomed into an outright love. He branched out first into reading social commentary poetry and later performing it. Today, he’s a published author of the poetry collection “When We Loved,” and he curates Word Kalcha, a free-with-donation, monthly spoken word event that invites seasoned performers and curious fledglings alike to share their craft.
Running the event can be daunting, said Billie, who also works as a creative enterprise consultant. Partly because he never knows what people are going to say on stage, but mostly because Word Kalcha is a nurturing ground for some.
“You’re preparing land for something to grow, which, how that thing grows is not up to you…It’s not scary in a bad way,” he said. “You never know what could be birthed from the platform, and it’s bigger than you,” he added.
When the director of the French cultural centre Alliance Française contacted Billie in 2023 to collaborate on creating a poetry platform at the institution, he leapt at the opportunity. For a while, Billie had been curating spoken word events at other venues, so creating yet another appealed to him. Months later, in May 2024, he and Alliance Française held the first gathering.
Word Kalcha usually takes place on the third Wednesday of each month in the theatre at Alliance Française, a dimly lit room that matches the cosy, underground mood typical of spoken word. On the stage, a single chair and microphone are in the spotlight. Billie sits in the wings, ready to introduce each new performer enthusiastically, and the audience is at the ready, offering up supportive finger snaps occasionally, as is customary.
Members of the public can sign up to perform during the open mic portion alongside a lineup of experienced artists. Billie discovered spoken word by attending a poetry performance event years ago. Similarly, he wants people who “don’t really know that they actually have it in them to also perform” to feel welcome at Word Kalcha. “You give them the platform, and you never know,” he said, referring to the open mic.
Since its launch over a year ago, Word Kalcha has reached corners Billie couldn’t have anticipated, with artists from outside Harare and even outside the country taking the stage. The event counts among its international headliners Cameroonian slam poet Marsi Essomba and Zambian artist Mwelwa On Cos.
The audience has grown, too, often outnumbering the available seats. During a recent event, Billie looked out into the audience and noticed that “no chair was empty, but still, there were people [standing] at the back.” He added, “For a poetry event on a Wednesday evening, that’s really big.”
He attributes the consistently strong attendance to a communal hunger for “platforms where people can express themselves, especially in an artistic way,” he said.
This thirst for self-expression is what drew Nakai Mhlanga to poetry and spoken word. At 17, she agreed to help a friend craft a poem about climate change. Her friend would handle the emotional content, and Mhlanga would contribute her knack for writing rhymes. A few months later, sitting with her sister’s laptop, Mhlanga found herself writing poems, seemingly out of nowhere. After searching the internet and coming across the likes of American poet Rudy Francisco, she was hooked.
“Poetry highlights the things that we overlook in our day-to-day life to help us maintain that sense of awe and wonder and just remind ourselves that there is magic everywhere,” said Mhlanga, 19, whose artist name is Tadana Nakai.
When she started writing poetry, she was “trying to find my place in the world” and make sense of it. Now, she tackles personal experiences in her art, as well as the interconnectedness of humanity.
Performing her pieces, rather than solely keeping them on the page, allows her to “accurately express the emotions that went into them,” she said. “Especially if it's something that I went through, I can convey the message better, because I feel as if I can tap into the emotion and paint the picture to the audience of what's really happening.”
This was palpable at the Word Kalcha event in May, where Mhlanga performed an untitled piece about “that moment when you fall in love with someone” with whom you have everything in common “except for the core belief that drives your lives.” Her heartfelt staging of the piece, delivered with a unique intensity and earnestness, was met with approving “hmms,” finger snaps and, once she was done, applause from the audience.
Word Kalcha is valuable, Mhlanga said, because it helps first-timers to the art with their confidence.
“The people there are usually very welcoming, and the setting is just intimate…And I think that attending Word Kalcha every single month, whether you're performing or whether you're not performing, just makes you stay in your artist mode,” she said. It has been encouraging, she added, to watch Word Kalcha performers, new and seasoned, develop their artistry.
Billie, the event's curator, has plans to take Word Kalcha international, but, for now, he appreciates what it brings to Harare as is: a safe, supportive environment for broaching challenging topics.
“There are some subjects in society that people might think are untouchable or difficult to talk about,” he said. “But you find that you give someone a mic, put them on a stage, they'll be able to articulate it in a way that, not only for them, but also even for the audience…opens up the space for people to talk about certain things that they wouldn't normally.”
