America’s workers face a crime epidemic—one in which the criminals are rarely even made to pay back what they’ve stolen. The crime epidemic in question is wage theft:
Fully 64 percent of low-wage workers have some amount of pay stolen out of their paychecks by their employers every week, including 26 percent who are effectively paid less than minimum wage. Fully three-quarters of workers who are due overtime have part or all of their earned overtime wages stolen by their employer. In total, the average low-wage worker loses a stunning $2,634 per year in unpaid wages, representing 15 percent of their earned income.
And enforcement? Forget about it. At the federal level, there’s just one agent enforcing wage laws for every 141,000 workers. More than half of the states have cut wage enforcement staff in recent years, and some states have tried to eliminate those positions entirely. For instance,
In 2010, Missouri’s labor department collected $200,000 in restitution for minimum-wage violations and $500,000 for prevailing-wage violations, and issued 1,714 citations for child-labor violations. Yet [Republican state House Speaker Steven] Tilley charged that investigators were being “overzealous,” particularly in prosecuting complaints of employers cheating on prevailing wages.
For many Republican politicians, crimes committed by employers against workers don’t really register as crimes at all in our political environment. And while the Obama administration hascracked down, the back pay it’s collected is just a drop in the bucket of what workers have earned that their employers have taken.
Synopsis: A pre-teen migrant farmworker attempts to rebel against the status quo with unintended consequences for herself and her family. Both a coming-of-age story and a window into the world of child migrant farmworkers in the U.S., TO THE BONE is an intimate film about one family that represents the struggles of so many.
STARRING Naomie Feliu, Jaime Alvarez, Carlos C. Torres, Maria Elena Laas, Eliezer Ortiz Directed By Erin Li Written By Silka Luisa and Erin Li Produced By Ella Franklin Line Producer San-San Onglatco Director of Photography Christina Carrea Editor Susumu Kimura Composer Dan Mufson
FESTIVALS / AWARDS: Slamdance Film Festival, Los Angeles Film Festival, Hammer Museum – Best Drama at Open Projector Night, MiniCinema TV 2013 Finalist, Film Independent Project Involve Showcase at AMPAS
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UCLA alumna debuts at
Slamdance Film Festival
Courtesy of Jaredt Robinson / Ella Franklin, alumna of the UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television, premiered her film “To The Bone” at the 2013 Slamdance Film Festival in January. The movie tells the story of a young migrant worker who rebels against her circumstances.
On a tour of the Universal Studios soundstage for the film “Apollo 13,” 6-year-old Ella Franklin was blown away by the chaos of heavy fog and astronauts that seemed to burn alive. As she watched this story being made right before her eyes, she wondered how it would eventually be portrayed on screen. A desire to tell stories was born.
Now a producer and alumna of the UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television, Franklin still believes in telling stories. Her most recent work, “To The Bone,” which premiered at the Slamdance Film Festival in January, tells the story of a child migrant farmworker who rebels against the status quo of labor oppression she is expected to accept.
“When I read the script, I knew I would do anything to be able to produce it,” said Franklin. “It just seemed like a story that needed to be told, the story of the situation of child labor.”
Franklin recalls walking past protests at Kerckhoff Hall about AB 540, a state bill that allows undocumented students to pay in-state tuition to California universities, and the California Dream Act, legislation that opens up state-funded financial aid to undocumented students. These protests remained in the back of Franklin’s mind when she read the script for “To The Bone,” making her feel the need to make the film happen.
“It’s a very endearing story about a family figuring it out,” said Nikki SooHoo, a UCLA alumna and actress who has worked with Franklin in the past. “It challenged you morally but in different aspects between what you would do to protect your family, and what you would do when it looks right but the law says otherwise.”
“Ella doesn’t work on a surface level,” SooHoo said. “She loves to challenge people and make them think about things differently.”
“To The Bone” premiered at Slamdance Film Festival, a festival for innovative filmmakers created as an alternative to the well-known Sundance Film Festival. Franklin went last year, but this year marked her first time attending with her own film on the program. The film played twice to favorable critical reviews.
Almost the entire crew of “To The Bone,” including Franklin and director Erin Li, met at Film Independent, a fellowship that works to cultivate independent films and support diversity in the entertainment industry. Franklin met Li when both were accepted as fellows in Film Independent’s Project Involve, which works to aid rising filmmakers from groups that are traditionally underrepresented through one-on-one mentorship and by giving filmmakers a community with which to create collections of short films.
“I think what was great about ‘To The Bone’ (for Franklin) was getting the experience to work with other multicultural groups of people,” SooHoo said. “It’s always a challenge to all work together to find what the final product is, and I think Ella is really great at understanding the big picture of a project.”
Ellie Wen, another Project Involve fellow who worked with Franklin at UCLA, got a glimpse of Franklin’s producing style while they took a class together at Film Independent.
“I’m always really impressed by how much she knows about everything. At first I only knew her as a producer, and then I learned she’s also a director and an editor,” Wen said.
Franklin started doing music videos while still at UCLA in order to gain experience in directing since she was unable to study both producing and directing. In her spare time, Franklin still works on music videos, which she uses as a way to explore different forms of narratives, for her friends.
“You read something with a fully realized main character and the other characters are all human, and the story has all the elements that make it compelling or entertaining,” Franklin said. “There are arcs where there’s supposed to be arcs, and there’s trauma. These things that are supposed to be there that make a great script great.”
African photography is on the rise. From street to art photography, conceptual and documentary to fashion photography, homegrown photographers (not only in the Francophone-African countries) are increasingly stepping up to show their world what they see when they look through the lens, following decades of photographic misrepresentation, or reduction, by observers from outside the continent.
In this fortnightly series, This is Africa will spotlight some of these photographers. This week: Emeka Okereke from Nigeria.
Not only is Emeka Okereke (1980) one of the Nigeria’s most high profile contemporary photographers, he is also the founder of Invisible Borders, an artist-led initiative that brings several upcoming African artists together for an annual road-trip in order to question the photographic representation of their continent. ’A photograph is a window and not the view. Don’t photograph what you see, photograph what you feel’, he tells the participants. That’s what he does himself and it’s an approach that allows him to explore questions of co-existence, otherness and self-discovery. Okereke’s work often includes subtle references to socio-political issues, which he also addresses by non-photographic means: poetry, video and collaborative projects.
For Okereke, Africans don’t have to justify themselves to anyone. Nowadays, African artists and photographers are forced to take a stance and make a big deal out of what they do, he says. ’Where we actually should take the freedom to show or tell what we want, be creative and try to find the right balance. It’s almost a cliché, but somehow Africans don’t see that they can investigate their own position and that way be active without getting boxed in to a issue. Because if they divert, they won’t get noticed anymore. We’re not free to do what we want yet.’
Singles, Lagos (2007 – 2010)
Part of the reason why Okereke has such an outspoken opinion about the status of photography in Africa is because he’s been part of the Depth of Field collective (DoF) for over ten years. Just two years after he came in contact with photography in 2001 and not even five years after he first touched a camera to capture his siblings going to church, he became the assistant of another Nigerian photographer, Uche James-Iroha. Uche was one of the founders of the group of six professionals in DoF and being around him every day eased Emeka’s way into the collective as the youngest member. ’It was like the school I never had. Not just a project, but a way of life. DoF is a group of friends actually, who when they get together talk solely about the photographic portrayal of Africa, aesthetics and their subjects.’ Together with colleagues like Kelechi Amadi-Obi and Akinbode Akinbiyi, Uche created a sort of a radical environment for Okereke. It quickly resulted in honour and praise, with Uche winning the Best Young Photographer award at the Bamako Photo Festival in 2003.
Maputo, 2008
‘Photography is a powerful tool and I do feel that I have a task to fulfill as a photographer. Sometimes situations that cannot be explained, can be shown. My pictures are not merely images, something static. They’re windows to possibilities, can be read and interpreted differently, lending themself to the flexibility of shifting contexts.’ Okereke, who has exhibited in biennales and art festivals in different cities around the world, is constantly looking for answers, not paying heed to received wisdom. He just wants to see Africa anew by experimenting within his own reality, with history as his guide. He is optimistic, and why wouldn’t he be? ’There is a lot of energy flowing through Nigeria when it comes to the future of photography. The audience is positive about our work. Young people are very interested in new directions to follow and internet gives them a stage to show their images to the world. And all over the continent female photographers are stepping up, watch that!’
Ordinary/Extra-ordinary, 2008 – 2010
According to Okereke, the rise of African photography goes hand in hand with the growth of an entire ecosystem. ’There have to be people writing about photography, galleries showing it, videographers willing to cooperate and bloggers spreading the work’, he explains. ’It’s a new generation of students and young professionals that is concerned with this, all to create a better understanding of the work of photographers. Education within these sectors is therefore a very important factor.’ This explains why he organises projects with artistic interventions, promoting exchanges that cut across indigenous and international platforms. He led the first ever photographic exchange projects between a school in France and one in Nigeria. ’I tell these students that they can photograph anything; there are no boundaries. If they diversify, the complete story will come out. You need to see the potential, be sensitive to talent and give people room to grow.’
Sao Tome, 2011
Wherever he is, Okereke’s photography is African. He doesn’t feel that he has to explain why his work is African, because he is one himself. The moment he starts to fight that, he says, he’d box himself in again. ‘It’s just a different context. What is going to change the perspective of Africa is not what you do or how you do it, but what influences you and what you show the outside world. I allow myself to change and let myself become an embodiment of that change. My photography will reflect that and hopefully affect others and their perceptive.’
Much is known about Muhammad Ali’s triumphs as a boxer — “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” The Heavyweight Champion of the World, “The Greatest” — but a new documentary focuses on the trials he endured as well.
“The Trials Of Muhammad Ali,” the latest documentary from Chicago-based Kartemquin Films (“Hoop Dreams,” “The Interrupters”), explores the boxer’s life as he was transitioning from Cassius Marcellus Clay, Jr. to Muhammad Ali — much of which happens during Ali’s time living in Chicago.
(See more photos of Muhammad Ali’s life in Chicago below.)
Siegel said in a recent interview “Trials” explores a part of the Ali’s life that’s often glossed over in sports documentaries, the exile which he calls “the most important period of his life.”
Ali met both his first wife (to whom he was married just 18 months) and his second wife, Khalilah Ali (nee Belinda Boyd), in Chicago.
Ali’s second wife, a Chicago native born into the Nation of Islam (she changed her named after their marriage in 1967), was a deeply influential figure in Ali’s life despite being almost a decade younger when she married him at age 17.
“Trials” follows Ali’s life from a Kentucky boxing champ to a follower of Nation of Islam leader, Elijah Muhammad, to his battle with the U.S. government over his conscientious objector status that ultimately led to the Supreme Court.
In addition to revealing an intimate look at Ali’s life living in Chicago’s Woodlawn neighborhood, “The Trials of Muhammad Ali” mines long-forgotten slices of the legend’s past (including his stint as a college speaker and the star of the Broadway play, “Buck White”).
The overall effort is one of trial — and ultimately triumph — that shows with sadness, rage and grace the defining years of one of the greatest athletes of all time.
“The Trials of Muhammad Ali” is playing in select theaters across the country. The film debuts in Chicago Nov. 8 at the Music Box (sold out) and will show at Chatham 14 Cinema (210 W. 87th St.) and ICE Lawndale 10 (3330 W. Roosevelt Rd.).
Khalilah Ali (far right) is served lunch with fellow graduates after graduation ceremonies at the Nation of Islam’s University of Islam Temple #2, Chicago, IL, 1965. The former Belinda Boyd took the name Khalilah Ali upon marrying the boxer Muhammad Ali. (Photo by Robert Abbott Sengstacke/Getty Images)
Muhammad Ali strikes up a tune on the piano at his Chicago home shortly after being presented a bronze sculpture by artist Jesse Richardson, Feb. 12, 1979. When asked what he could play on the piano, Ali answered “Boogie” – and did, with lyrics. (AP Photo/Larry Stoddard)
Close-up of American boxer Muhammad Ali (born Cassius Clay) (left) and Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan (born Louis Walcott) as they listen to a speaker during the Saviour’s Day celebrations at the International Amphitheatre, Chicago, Illinois, February 27, 1966. Farrakhan wears a Fruit of Islam uniform, a subset of the Nation of Islam. (Photo by Robert Abbott Sengstacke/Getty Images)
World heavyweight champion Muhammad Ali, second from right, and Sen. Charles H. Percy (R-Ill), far left, lead all the participants of the New World Patriotism Day Parade down Michigan Ave in Chicago, July 4, 1979. Ali is the grand marshall of the parade. (AP Photo/Charles Knoblock)
Muhammad Ali reflects a mood of happiness with a neighbor?s young child at his home in Chicago, Ill., June 4, 1968. (AP Photo/Charles Knoblock)
A thirty-eight bullet blotch on my left knee. A twenty-five-cent, quarter-sized, raised, keloid on the back of my left shoulder from falling out of a tree when I was a pre-teen and a piece of cut branch pierced deep into my flesh. An eight-inch-long appendectomy line diagonally crosses my lower abdomen. Plus, there are other scarifications I’ve picked up along the sixty-three-year life-way I’ve traveled.
And, of course, a series of stories accompanies each mark. I could narrate my autobiography just by relating the tales of how each wound came to be.
For example, there is a cut on my left hand. I was fighting with my brother when we were both young. If I remember correctly we were in junior high school. The two of us were tussling over one knife. He grabbed the handle, I ended up with the blade. You can guess what happened. You know the skin between your thumb and your pointing finger, that elastic part? That’s where I was sliced. I remember I could see the flesh inside my hand. Although it hurt, I was really fascinated by examining the inner workings.
That altercation happened over fifty-some years ago. Although the physical scar is still there, the slicing did not produce any psychological scars. I am not afraid of knives or fights. I don’t hate my brother, nor did I hold a grudge against him.
Although my body reveals the violence I have encountered, my deepest scars are not visible. Indeed, one of those invisible markings runs the length of my mental and will never disappear. I will never forget how seriously I stabbed myself, severing my budding self-esteem.
I was standing in the Manhattan street holding down a parking spot. A car came up. The horn blew. I ignored the sound. The driver blew again. I remained steadfast. The driver lowered his window and shouted for me to move. I didn’t respond nor did I move.
This was in the seventies, four or five of us were headed to The Beacon Theatre to experience a double-bill of Herbie Hancock’s Mwandishi group and Pharaoh Sanders. As we drove around looking for parking spots, the brother who was driving spotted one on the other side of the street. He told me to get out and go stand in the spot until he could turn the corner and double back. I did as I was requested but I didn’t feel good about doing so.
I had tried to assuage my guilt by rationalizing: maybe that was the way they did things up in New York. I hoped no one would come along before my friend got back. The night was warm. New York City. Anything could happen. How would I handle it if the police came along? Suppose someone jumped out and wanted to fight—not that I was afraid—but as I stood guard the myriad of possible scenarios playing on the screen of my consciousness was interrupted when that young black man drove up.
After I ignored him, he pulled up next to where I was standing and talked to me through his window. It wasn’t a long speech, nor was he cursing at me or even shouting. He was calm and accurate with his words, “Alright, brother, but you know you wrong.”
Those words scalpeled deeply. He was right. I was wrong; so wrong that I could barely enjoy the music because I continually questioned myself: why had I done something I knew was wrong?
That happened close to forty years ago but it indelibly mottled my memory, resulting in a sort of psychic scar. Ever since, whenever I’m asked to do something I know is wrong I don’t just go along with the situation just because it’s a good friend making a seemingly innocuous request, nor do I swallow my moral sense and do a jig because the outcome would be of some immediate benefit to me.
With me, the outcome really doesn’t matter as much as does the process. What am I doing? Why am I doing it? Especially, why am I committing an action I know is wrong?
Sure, we enjoy pleasure. We like getting things, consuming things. Let me be specific: we men like sex, crave power, being in charge, in control, but I constantly ask myself: at what price? Can I—my sense of being a man, an honorable human being—can I afford to be the boss if the cost of attaining power is knowingly doing wrong?
Physical pain rarely deters me but the psychic pain of doing wrong terrifies me. That is the pain I learn from; not just on a Manhattan street blocking a parking space but every day of my life, I do my best to avoid the pain of doing wrong.
So, although I have a high tolerance for pain, I have a low threshold when it comes to my personal behavior. Regardless of what anyone else may think of what I do or don’t do, what I think of myself is my compass. What’s ok for them, may be anathema for me.
The scars on my body, hey, that’s life. Life is a knife. Or a gun. An accident, a fall. Hot grease burning the skin in a cooking accident. The unanticipated pain of a hand slammed in a car door. The tooth chipped by a baseball unintentionally thrown in your face. The residue of childhood chickenpox or an allergy to a food you didn’t know would cause severe rashes. Life, in all its complexities. Life, the myriad of petite disasters that challenge our personal morality and leave behind indelible indications of each encounter.
While we cannot avoid the inevitable markings of life, we don’t need to tattoo our souls with self-inflicted graffiti. My body may be scarred, but I try to keep my soul unblemished.
Regardless of the scars you may or may not see when you look at me, what you don’t and can’t see: my internal moral wall—that is where is posted the most important lessons of my life. Inside of me is all that I have learned. And I guess you can say that I’ve studied myself deeply and tried my best to take note of and respond to both the pleasures and pains of my life.
That New Yorker taught me a key lesson when he told me, brother, you know you wrong. Even after over 350,000 hours of living, that wound remains tender.
Knowingly doing wrong is one pain I just can’t stand.
The Kenyan contemporary urban music scene has pretty much recovered from the low point in the early nineties when piracy devastated music sales and made it less than worthwhile to record at all, and you now have a new generation of artists working successfully in a range of styles – R&B, pop, reggae, hip hop, gospel, Afro-fusion (indigenous African sounds and instrumentation merged with beats from around the world). We rarely hear about jazz, though.
There are a handful of working jazz musicians in Kenya, but whether or not it’s populated enough to be called a “scene” is another matter. Nonetheless, we remain curious, particularly as we discover more upcoming young talents like Christine Kamauand Kato Change, so we decided it was time to find out a bit more. We ended up chatting with Kato, already one of Kenya’s premiere jazz guitarists, and one well on his way to developing a truly distinctive sound.
TIA: You’re a self-taught jazz musician, but Kenya isn’t particularly well known for jazz, so how and when did you discover jazz and develop such great chops?
Kato Change: My dad was an avid jazz listener and fan, so I grew up listening to jazz, along with rock, hip hop, neo soul, R&B, new jack swing and classical music, but I didn’t fully appreciate jazz until I was in my mid teens. That’s when I picked up the guitar and started learning to play jazz. It simply fascinated me.
TIA: The guitar; we hear it’s the most dominant instrument in Kenyan popular music. Why is that?
Kato Change: In a lot of Kenyan styles, the guitar is indeed the dominant instrument. I think that Kenyan popular music is influenced a lot by Congolese music, like the Seben [the break in a song that allows musicians to cut loose instrumentally] which is driven mainly by the guitar. However, this type of music is appreciated more by the older generation. The younger generation’s music is influenced a lot by the Western culture/music, such as hip-hop, where the drum and bass are featured more.
TIA: You just opened the Sierra Jazz Festival, where you played alongside Christine Kamau and Incognito. What was that like?
Kato Change: It was a brilliant show! My band and I had a blast on stage. Christine Kamau held her own and had a very tight set of beautiful original pieces. Incognito is a brilliant band, one of the first jazz bands I listened to on a “Jazz Moods” album. Their hard work, experience and brilliance over the thirty-something years they have played together showed in their performance.
TIA: You were also recently on a month-long tour of the States and got to perform with jazz, hip hop and pop greats like multi-award-winning trumpeter and composer Dave Douglas and Greg August, A Tribe Called Quest’s Ali Shaheed and producer Joel Hamilton (Blakroc, Elvis Costello, Tom Waits, Justin Timberlake, Sparklehorse). How did that come about and what was it like playing with these musicians?
Kato Change: I feel extremely blessed to have been selected to be part of a musical program called One Beat. It is a new international cultural exchange by the U.S. Department of State and Found Sound Nation that celebrates the transformative power of the arts through the creation of original, inventive music, and people-to-people diplomacy. I had the chance to meet with 32 exceptional young musicians from around the world, and we spent time writing, producing and performing new music. Together, we held engagement events with local youth, collaborated with master-class musicians and developed strategies for using music to make a positive impact on our local and global communities.
TIA: Man, that sounds like a valuable experience. So what was the difference playing with the jazz artists versus, say, Ali Shaheed?
Kato Change: When playing with jazz artists, I felt there was more room for improvisation. The musicians could blend, exchange and feed off each other’s energy. Hip-hop was more of a set 3-part, tight groove, that provided more of an opportunity to please an audience and showcase individual skills. I think
TIA: That makes sense. And what’s the difference between playing for American jazz fans versus Kenyan fans?
Kato Change: I think the appreciation for any type of music comes with exposure. American audiences have a deeper appreciation and understanding for jazz, making them more receptive. For example, in an ensemble performance, the crowd in the States would clap after every solo. But at home, the reception is different in most cases. I feel many events featuring jazz performances [in Kenya] seem to be viewed more as socializing platforms.
TIA: What you play on “Sta.ka.to” sounds almost Malian (love the video, by the way). Other times one detects some Latin elements in your music. What other styles of music inspire you, and do you draw on any particular Kenyan or East African styles when you play?
Kato Change: Thank you! That song draws on the sound of an instrument called the Nyatiti, from Western Kenya. I also love the sound and rhythms of the West African Kora. I try to incorporate elements of these diverse styles into my music.
TIA: Ah, the Kora! Fabulous sounding instrument. That’s why I detected a bit of Mali in there. How much of what you play is improvised and how much is composed?
Kato Change: It depends on the ensemble I’m playing with. For example, in The Change Quartet, we have a structure for the songs we compose. However, when we get on stage, we allow ourselves to be creative; anything can happen. [Kato Change is a member of The Change Quartet, an instrumental band that fuses acoustic jazz with classical music, funk and African music.]
TIA: You know better than me how many sub-genres exist within jazz, and that they don’t all overlap; there’s smooth jazz, fusion, straight-ahead jazz, modern mainstream jazz, avant-garde jazz, post-bop, vocal jazz, trad jazz, improvisational jazz, semi-improvised jazz, free jazz, modal jazz, etc. Most of the time, though, when African jazz fans talk about jazz, they seem to talk only about smooth jazz, Grover Washington, Kenny G, Earl Klugh, Paul Hardcastle, etc. as opposed to people like Dave Douglas, Lionel Loueke and Keith Jarrett. Why do you think that is?
Kato Change: This can also be attributed to one’s exposure. Few radio stations [in Kenya] play the different types of jazz. Many people form their perceptions from what another may tell them is jazz. In this case, it is often more mainstream and smooth Jazz. So [in the past] this was what many members of the audience expected when they came to performances. But that view is slowly changing because of accessibility to music online. I feel African jazz fans are becoming more open to hearing something new.
TIA: That’s good news, man, cos I imagine a deeply knowledgeable audience can spur artists on to greater heights. Where exactly is the epicentre of jazz in Kenya? And is there such a think as a jazz scene in Kenya, by which I mean enough jazz artists together in one city supporting and inspiring one another, as well as a large enough audience base to fill venues where jazz is played and push jazz musicians to keep developing?
Kato Change: The epicenter of Jazz in Kenya is definitely Nairobi, the capital. I do believe there is a jazz scene in Kenya. There are a handful of jazz musicians here who all know each other. The Kenyan audience is very unpredictable, though. In some cases, you may come across true jazz lovers. In others, people may attend gigs based more on the hype around the gig rather then the quality of music.
TIA: An interesting challenge, no doubt. So which jazz musicians working today do you admire?
Kato Change: In Kenya, Aaron Rimbui and Chris Bitok. Through their dedication, they have both moulded their names into brands. They are consistent with their international standard of good quality performances. Internationally, I admire Herbie [Hancock], Sylvain Luc, Esperanza Spalding, Lionel Loueke, Birelli Lagrene, Robert Glasper, the list goes on and on…
TIA: Some big names! Lionel is amazing. When you’re not touring and writing music, what do you listen to?
Kato Change: My playlist consists of a lot of urban gospel like Kim Burell and Micah Stampley; neo-soul artists including Jill Scott and Chrisette Michelle; alternative/soft rock like Coldplay and Kings of Convenience; African music by Richard Bona and Fela Kuti; and jazz such as Sylvain Luc and Marcus Miller. I also listen to modern house music from Swedish House Mafia and DeadMau5… in short I listen to everything I find positive. It depends on my mood.
TIA: Have you toured Africa yet, or do you plan to anytime soon?
Kato Change: I have not had the opportunity to tour the continent as Kato … yet! I cannot wait to do so! However, I’ve had the chance to play for shows in Zanzibar (TZ), South Africa, Rwanda and Ethiopia, backing other artists. I loved the experience and reception.
TIA: How about recording? Do you have an album in the works?
Kato Change: I do have an album in the works, which I plan on releasing mid-2013. Look out for it!
TIA: We will, man, and thanks for taking the time to talk to us.
Kato Change: It was a pleasure! Thank you for the opportunity.
A prize of $3,000 and possible publication in Ladies’ Home Journal will be given annually for a personal essay on a theme. This year’s theme is “the Best Decision I Ever Made.” The editors will judge. Submit an essay of up to 2,000 words by December 6. There is no entry fee. Send an SASE, e-mail, or visit the website for complete guidelines.
Ladies’ Home Journal, Personal Essay Contest, Meredith Corporation, 805 Third Avenue, 26th Floor, New York, NY 10022. Lauren Piro, Assistant Editor.
A prize of $1,000, publication by the Ledge Press, and 25 author copies is given annually for a poetry chapbook. Submit a manuscript of 16 to 28 pages with a $20 entry fee, which includes a copy of the winning chapbook, by November 30. Send an SASE, e-mail, or visit the website for complete guidelines.
The Ledge Press, Poetry Chapbook Competition, 40 Maple Avenue, Bellport, NY 11713. Timothy Monaghan, Publisher.
![Sao Tome [660x300]](http://www.thisisafrica.me/data/thumb/abc_media_image/7000/7798/w430.68de7.jpg)
Self portrait, Berlin 2012 © Emeka Okereke
