I attended a reading at independent bookstore Black Garnet Books to remind myself that writing is alive. Fresh from her Minnesota Book Award win for this year’s best novel and short story, Zambian author Mubanga Kalimamukwento sat down to talk about her book “Obligations to the Wounded” (2024). “Obligations to the Wounded” is a short story collection that explores the joint expectations and challenges faced by Zambian women and girls.
The event was part of the Minnesota Writers Off the Page series by the Minnesota Humanities Center, a non-profit organization dedicated to bringing marginalized communities impactful humanities programming. The series connects readers with local authors and their latest released books through casual live interviews.
The Twin Cities house a large literary community and independent press publishing houses. Here, books are written by real people, for real people, and our interpretations and questions are valued just as much outside as inside the classroom. We are fortunate to be nestled in such a vibrant, creative scene that has weekly readings and book releases. You have access to groundbreaking new authors, often for free or at a low cost.
Kalimamukwento, for one, has won the Dinaane Debut Fiction Award, the Drue Heinz Literature Priz,e and the Firecracker Award, among other accolades. She has also published work in outstanding literary journals like “adda” and “Kweli,” and is well known for her 2019 novel “The Mourning Bird.” Kalimamukwento practiced law in Zambia until 2019 and earned a master’s degree in Fine Arts from our very own Hamline University.
In conversation with celebrated writer Mono Susan Power, Kalimamukwento spoke of writing through intergenerational trauma, resilience, and the deep-rooted knots that bind families and cultures together, especially through the dislocation of emigration. They spoke of the unique power of fiction and short stories — a form that, as Kalimamukwento described, pushes the writer to be responsible for telling their characters’ stories gracefully and in earnest.
“Fiction is my mother tongue,” Kalimamukwento said. “A lot of my writing is about asking if someone is a certain way, what made them that way.” In doing so, fiction can faithfully mirror the complex inheritance of a people that other genres naturally achieve.
Art should not exist in a pristine vacuum, divorced from the writers’ struggles and injustices that fueled its creative curation. Kalimamukwento’s mother had a significant sway in her storytelling, for example.
“I approach genre differently the older I get and the more information that I have,” Kalimamukwento said. “I recognize that my mom has flaws and I acknowledge that, with her absence, she doesn’t have a direct voice.”
Writing has the unique power to inspire us to listen deeply and speak authentically to the unknown, too. I see it as a chance to participate in the very thing literature promises: a deeper understanding of our world and each other outside of our comfort zones. Kalimamukwento shared her disappointment with editors editing authors out culturally.
“Translate yourself less, ”Kalimamukwento said on the best writing advice given to her. “You’ll still appreciate a conversation with someone not of your culture. It doesn’t mean the conversation won’t be just as rich.”
After the event, I understood more about history, more about culture and more about the experiences of Zambian people and other marginalized voices outside of my own identity. It opened up a door to thinking about my writing in a new, explorative way and brought me together with others who share my love for supporting our bright literary community.
Hamline can easily be a protective bubble, but your world cannot be the loop from your dorm to the classroom to Bishop’s Bistro and back. Chasing novelty makes the whole terrifying prospect of being a writer, or a reader or an uninterrupted enjoyer of your quirky imagination feel wonderfully possible. Your future self (and your writing) will thank you ten times over for the anxiety that holds you back. That night, I bought the book. I got in line for it to be signed and to have a dialogue with the talent that wrote it. And afterwards, I felt more cemented to why I am at Hamline in the first place.
In a wounded world so surely built around digital saturation and political unrest, such obligations are to be welcomed, and most importantly, necessary to the fabric of our education.
The next Minnesota Writers Off the Page event is scheduled for October 9, 6:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m., with memoirist Bronson Lemer at the Minnesota Humanities Center.
