chai cannot be made in a kettle

<p>In <em>chai cannot be made in a kettle</em> Juwairiah speaks of belonging straddling the gaps between cultures outlooks and worldviews and embracing the dissonance of her identity as a British Muslim Indian woman. Her verses explore the meaning of home as a multicultural and multilingual household. 'Some mornings/ I peep through the keyhole/ watch her and her father converse in Swahili./ I do not understand their language so instead/ I watch her tongue dance.'</p><p><br></p><p>She writes about her connection to her faith and community poignantly articulating the ways in which these are misunderstood marginalised and commodified in modern-day Britain and the verbal and cultural acrobatics involved in having an identity that bridges cultural and linguistic divides. 'We surrendered syllables so that we would fit in/ muted rhymes and rhythms so we weren't booted out.'</p><p><br></p><p>Scents and flavours evoke a lost heritage in many of the poems in <em>chai cannot be made in a kettle</em>. The rituals of community and faith create a background rhythm to Juwairiah's poems the ache of a wistful collective memory interacting with the everyday liminal realities of life as a British Indian woman: 'I heard whispers of brown sacred women/ who lay under darkness longing for their motherland./ A place where bodies bathe in sweet honey milk/ doused in ancient cardamom pods.'</p>