From Nigeria to Starkville: MSU assistant professor talks poetry, working through grief
Growing up in Minna, in Niger State, Nigeria, Saddiq Dzukogi remembers loving to play soccer. He loved table tennis. He loved picking fresh mangos and fruit off of the trees with his friends.
And for as long as he can remember, he also loved writing.
While he never imagined he could make it into a career when he was younger, today Dzukogi works as an assistant professor in the Mississippi State University English department, sharing his passion with others.
He also shares something else through his book “Your Crib, My Qibla” – the story of the daughter he lost.
“The book was as a result of trying to wrestle with what that means, losing a child, and trying to understand the grief of that moment. And trying to understand what it means to continue in the world without that beautiful angel that adds so much meaning to your life.”
Dzukogi came to the United States in 2018. But he grew up going to Nigerian schools, where he met his wife, Saadatu. The pair met in the equivalent of middle school in 2002, but stayed friends until after high school, when Saadatu called Dzukogi and told him she was in love with him.
“I was like, ‘really?’” He said. “I was being such a boy. It just made sense. It was like someone had turned on the light. Because why else does the wind sing when this person is close to me? Why does my heart flutter when they’re close to me?”
Dzukogi started pursuing higher education, getting a bachelor’s in mass communication at Ahmadu Bello University, before marrying his wife in 2013. A year later, their oldest son Rahan was born. By 2016, their daughter, Bahrah, was born.
When Bahrah was born, Dzukogi was working an office job doing development work in Nigeria. His daughter’s birth spurred him to pursue even more education to continue building his career for a better life for his daughter. He started applying to creative writing programs in America, including the PhD program at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.
But two days after he submitted his application, Bahrah passed away unexpectedly. She was 21 days past her first birthday.
“She was the reason why I wanted to come,” he said. “I wanted to be better for her, to be a father that can protect her in this world. And I figured the best way I can do that is to build myself up. So when she passed, it was difficult to come, because she was the spur of that decision. But ultimately, I decided to come, even if she wasn’t here, because I felt that maybe that was the whole purpose of her coming into this world, to hand me this light to be more and be better than I am.”
Dzukogi started a daily ritual of writing journal entries about his grief and his daughter while still living in Nigeria for seven months. He briefly paused the ritual to move to Nebraska, and then resumed for another few months once he was state-side in 2018.
These journal entries eventually became the poems in “Your Crib, My Qibla.” Working with Ghanaian poet Kwame Dawes as his editor, he went through a difficult revision process to create the book as it exists today. By 2021, the book was published by University of Nebraska Press.
The Arabic word “qibla” literally translates to the word “direction.” Dzukogi called his daughter a powerful energy and a light in his life.
“Ultimately, the purpose is to immortalize her in the world, and to give the world the opportunity to meet her,” he said. “When the original poems were published in journals, it was difficult. But that was just the price to pay to keep her bounded in this physical world in some form.”
He spent four years working in the PhD program at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, and he and his wife had two more children, Farid and Ilhan.
In 2022, Dzukogi was offered a job as a faculty member in the Mississippi State English Department. He said he has always felt “drawn” to Mississippi, and he was excited to take the job.
Dzukogi said he loves the natural world in Mississippi, and he takes daily walks around the city, through the MSU campus or at the Memorial Rose Garden. Those walks feed his writing. He always carries a notebook in hand, in case he comes up with a line or two of poetry to write.
His family, he said, has adjusted well to living in the South, though their kitchen, music and other entertainment is still “pretty Nigerian,” as he hopes to pass along aspects of Nigerian culture to his children.
“America and Nigeria share the same boundary in my household,” he said. “That’s just wild, because Nigeria is like 7,000 miles away across the sea. But that doesn’t make any difference because there’s a real proximity and a familial proximity in my household between Nigeria and America.”
STORY BY ABIGAIL SIPE ROCHESTER
PHOTOS BY J.C. LONG
