“Poetry truly transcends the limitations of time, but not perspective. It has many worthwhile purposes but to me, the truest purpose of poetry is honesty; not truth, but simple honesty”. – Tramaine Suubi
By Frank Njugi
In the African literary canon, certain countries stand as unique strands, each weaving their own history, language, and cultural experiences into the larger, interconnected fabric of the continent’s collective literary creations.
Uganda has historically been a luminous beacon of African literature and intellectual vigour. It has produced exceptional and notable contemporary African writers, such as Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi and Goretti Kyomuhendo, who have stood at the forefront, preserving its legacy as one of the world’s foremost centres of literary creation and innovation.
Among Uganda’s notable writers is Tramaine Suubi, a writer born in the country and raised in the United States. She is a quadrilingual, multi-hyphenate Bantu writer who currently serves as the managing director of Writivism, the home of three prizes for emerging contemporary African literature in short fiction, creative non-fiction, and poetry.
Tramaine Suubi’s debut poetry collection, Phases, recently released by the Amistad Press imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, is written with the ferocity of Rita Dove’s groundbreaking classical memoir, Thomas and Beulah. The collection explores a wide range of emotions, from anxiety to ecstasy, mirroring the phases of the moon.

In an exclusive interview with Afrocritik, Suubi discusses her debut collection, her work as a curator, and literature in general.
Congratulations on your debut book, phases, which just came out. The collection has been described as one inspired by the moon—its ‘phases’ effects on water, the Earth, and our bodies. What can you tell us about the collection and what drew you to explore this symbolism in the debut collection?
The poems in phases were initially written just for me. They were written out of profound yearning—for intimacy, for precision, and for truth. The oldest poems were written in 2016, and I did not consider these poems as a collection until 2018. I have been inexplicably drawn to the skies for as long as I can remember.
All my favorite science classes revolved around astronomy, and I have a distinct memory of learning the phases of the moon at school when I was only twelve years old. I was entranced and I still haven’t recovered—I hope I never do.
My last science course was a two-week, intensive astronomy course in the Pahá Sapá of the Lakota nation. I completed this life-changing course in 2016. I think I was subconsciously influenced by that course to shape this collection in the spirit of our ever-changing moon.
I was also drawn to this symbolism because of my femininity and feminism, which is tied to the moon in many cultures across the globe. I am deeply influenced by and fascinated by the women in my life, and the enigmatic concept of womanhood.
Phases is also termed as one written with the ferocity of Rita Dove’s groundbreaking Thomas and Beulah, the collection of 44 poems — half from Thomas’s perspective and a half from Beulah’s, that form an unpretentious, funny, and poignant classical memoir. What particularly intrigued you about Rita Dove’s work and made you draw from its intensity? Do you think modern writers intentionally look to history for inspiration?
I think Rita Dove’s Beulah reminds me so much of my late grandmothers. I never met my late grandfathers, but they probably have more in common with Rita Dove’s Thomas, than my parents would ever admit.
The intensity of Thomas and Beulah is painfully resonant across the Black diaspora. I was particularly intrigued by the tenderness, honesty, and sleight-of-hand storytelling of her book. While I often fall into a historian role in my familial relationships, I think most modern writers do intentionally look to history for inspiration.
Many of the critically and commercially successful books of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries are reimaginings of canonical myths, fables, and epics. Most dystopian science fiction pulls directly from our worst histories—think Octavia Butler and Margaret Atwood.

Plato, the ancient Greek philosopher is known for his quote that, “Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history”. Do you agree that while history recounts events as they happened, often bound by time and perspective, poetry truly transcends these limitations? What do you think is the true purpose of poetry and its limitations in capturing the complexity of reality and human life?
I was a philosophy major and a French major for my undergraduate degree, so I have many thoughts on this. In a rare moment of alignment, I wholeheartedly agree with the quote from Plato.
However, I strongly disagree that history recounts events as they happened, and I think the events that are described are more often bound by prejudice and power, not time and perspective. Time itself is a manmade construct that increasingly ignores our biological rhythms and the Earth’s natural movements—the definition of time is subjective and has changed throughout history.
That said, I do agree that poetry truly transcends the limitations of time, but not perspective. It has many worthwhile purposes but to me, the truest purpose of poetry is honesty; not truth, but simple honesty.
There are many limitations for poetry, in capturing the complexity of reality and human life: lack of self-awareness, lack of humility, lack of empathy, growth of disinformation, erosion of shared language, and erosion of human rights, are the first ones that come to mind.
You serve as the current Managing Editor of Writivism, the home of three prizes for emerging contemporary African Literature in short fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry. What do you think is the purpose of prizes in literature as a whole? And also, what is the purpose of prizes in advancing African literature specifically?
The central purpose of literary prizes is to affirm the power and necessity of creative writing. If we consider the most prestigious prizes in African literature, they are often named after white Europeans, funded by white Europeans, and were initially juried by white Europeans. This system ultimately defeats the purpose of advancing African literature, which is empowerment and liberation.
Writivism is based in Uganda, your home country, which has in the past stood at the forefront of literary creation on the continent, producing an array of works that shape and influence the continent’s narratives. What are your thoughts on Ugandan literature at this moment and in its current state?
Writivism was founded in Kampala and did flourish there, but sadly, it is no longer based in my hometown. I am humbled to know and contribute to Kampala’s literary legacy, especially from the 1960s before Idi Amin’s dictatorship.
At the moment, I think my people’s literature is fighting to survive because of the erosion of human rights such as freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, and freedom of petition, and most importantly, freedom of the press.
As a result, I think nonfiction has suffered the most, followed by fiction, then poetry. The silver lining here is that our poets in the diaspora, such as Dr. Stella Nyanzi, Ber Anena, Mildred Barya, and Arao Ameny, are publishing influential works.
I am also following Dr. Jennifer Makumbi’s award-winning fiction, which has canonised our most popular folklore and creation myths. And of course, Davina Kawuma, one of our Writivism finalists, shows great promise. I am baffled by the present lack of male writers in our creative writing, but I nonetheless celebrate our rising female stars.

You are a graduate of Wheaton College, the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, a Yellow Arrow Writer-in-Residence, and the 2022 Tin House Summer Workshop. How has going through all these programs been relevant to your development as a writer? Such foreign programs have been said to be the established route to definable success, especially for African writers. As someone who has gone through them, what are your thoughts on the notion that “workshopping” creative writing is the optimal route to success as an African writer?
My experience with those first two programs warrants their own memoirs. My overall experiences there were complicated for very different reasons. The second two programs were overwhelmingly positive experiences that I would recommend to other African writers.
They developed my writing network and knowledge of the publishing process. I actually think they made me a better editor, more so than a better writer. My undergraduate program developed by multilingualism and led me to my first publication in a literary magazine.
That program also introduced me to my friend, the wonderful poet Marisa Tirado, who was a major influence in the pursuit of my graduate program. While the Iowa Writers’ Workshop significantly developed me as a writer and is arguably the most prestigious creative writing M.F.A. in the world, I want to clarify several things.
First, I feel indescribably privileged that my application was accepted there and that my writing flourished there. There are hundreds of applications that have been rejected since 1936, which fully deserved to be accepted.
My thesis adviser sternly shot down my imposter syndrome on the very first day by stating that every accepted applicant also deserved to be there. That said, prestige is inherently deceptive and subjective; it is rooted in colonialism and white supremacy.
The etymological roots of the word “prestige” literally mean “to trick” or “to delude.” There are plenty of other M.F.A. programs in both hemispheres that can offer similar, and healthier development, for African writers.
Second, not every writer will flourish during an M.F.A. program. Some of them have graduated and vowed never to publish a book, or attend a workshop ever again.
These programs can be a trial by fire. Perhaps, this is where the African writer is different from the average M.F.A. student in the Americas. Many of us forged our writing in the fire, and our writing is a way out of the fire.
We cannot afford to pursue writing purely for its own sake, because our families and cultures demand success from any time-consuming pursuit. We were not born with the privileges that many of our white, native, cis-gendered, heterosexual, able-bodied, financially secure, counterparts were born with.
Even I had some privileges with my U.S. citizenship, application fee waivers, and a supportive partner. Ultimately, I believe that the potential positives of a fully-funded M.F.A. program outweigh the potential negatives—specifically for first-generation Africans like myself.
Success is quite subjective. During my M.F.A. degree, there were more first-generation and second-generation African students, than Afro-American and Afro-Latino students.
Three of us African poets are publishing our debut books this year: Adedayo Agarau will publish The Year of Blood and Othuke Umukoro will publish Fenestration. Both of them have won ten literary prizes combined.
We are preceded by several African alumni who have published books with both critical and commercial success. Poets are systematically taught not to aspire to commercial success, and yet we publish with fervor. Therefore, I believe that “workshopping” is not the optimal route to success, but that it is the most efficient route to success.

What advice would you give to early career and emerging writers?
No matter how ingrained they can be, write through your people-pleasing and perfectionism. Delete all social media accounts except for the one that is the healthiest for you.
Read all your drafts out loud, slowly, to yourself, before you submit them for publication. Print all your rejection letters, keep them in a folder, and treat yourself to a gorgeous dinner when you reach one hundred.
Master at least one other language besides your native tongue, and practice writing in that language. Read all your emails out loud, slowly, to yourself, before you send them to agents, editors, publishers, and teachers.
Write a love letter to yourself at least once a year, and read it out loud, slowly, to yourself, the following year. Forgive yourself, as often as you can and as quickly as you can. Go to a professional psychologist for at least six sessions in-person, if you can.
Volunteer to be a reader for a literary magazine for at least a year. Read chapter one of All About Love by Bell Hooks, at least once a year. Go to as many free readings in-person, as you can. Read at as many free open-mic events as you can.
Do not date other writers until you have known them for at least one year. Save every single draft of your writing in labeled folders on a cloud drive and a hard drive. Be as honest with yourself as possible, with as little judgement as possible and as often as possible.
Buy a domain in some variation of the format “www.yourfirstnameyourlastname.com” as soon as possible. Get a library card and use it, as often as you can. Write by hand, as often as you can. Write at least one sentence a day.
Your second forthcoming book, also as a full-length poetry collection titled stages, will be published in January 2026 similarly by Amistad. Alongside stages, what further can we expect from you in terms of your literary output and curation perhaps?
I am currently writing my first novel, and my first play, at the same time. As for curation, I recently served as a guest editor for Yellow Arrow Publishing and I loved the work. So after I complete my pending work with Writivism, I would love to guest edit more poetry issues and anthologies. Until then, you can find future updates at tramainesuubi.com.
Frank Njugi is a Kenyan Writer, Culture journalist and Critic who has written on the East African and African culture scene for platforms such as Debunk Media, Republic Journal, Sinema Focus, Culture Africa, Drummr Africa, The Elephant, Wakilisha Africa, The Moveee, Africa in Dialogue, Afrocritik and others. He tweets as @franknjugi.