Places From Which We Look Out At The World And what we see, and choose not to see.

In Photography, Writing
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Someone from the local literary community asked me if I used any of the large language models masquerading as artificial intelligence in my writing process.

I said I did not.

They went on, quite enthusiastically, that they found them useful in the “ideation process”—that they were pretty handy in generating ideas and plots for short stories.

“Cool,” I replied as flatly as I could.

“Seriously, dude, they are amazing. Why don’t you use them?”

“Because I am a good writer.”

It has been weeks since we last spoke. And I would like to keep it that way.

***

For the most part, I have been spared the odious task of having to write about large language models and generative software because other sufficiently skilled writers and agile thinkers are doing the important work of highlighting how and why these Silicon Valley simulacra of intelligence will not work in rapturous or utopic ways. Like not having to write a review about badly crafted books, films, albums, events, or other pieces of art that do not meaningfully interrogate or elevate the form in which they are created, I remain relieved that silence is still considered an answer.

You have to understand my desire to distance myself from large language models: they were built using stolen intellectual property. The Eternal Audience Of One and Only Stars Know The Meaning Of Space, alongside works produced by friends, colleagues, and heroes of mine from the literary industry, float in their code without our consent, unreliably predicting what a user might want to write next, and presenting biased canonical answers to queries. Because of the theft, I consider the roots of the coding to be rotten, the tree to be diseased, and its fruit to be sickening beyond taste

For many who use these kinds of software, the person from whom the foundational intellectual property was stolen is an unknown writer, photographer, musician, illustrator, or painter from somewhere. 

But I am not unknown.

I am him.

And I am not somewhere. 

I am here.

I am the ghost in the machine.

***

I think the places from which we look out at the world play a role in what we are drawn to. 

From balconies, up above the crowd, shielded from next-door neighbours by high rent prices and falls that break necks, one starts thinking that everyone, surely, has the same view of the sunrise and sunset. The air up there becomes so rarefied it makes one hallucinate.

On the street, though, amidst the din and the hustling and haggling and shoving and day-by-day living, what you see, hear, smell, touch, taste, think, and worry about changes. The sunrise might be cursed, and each sunset might be the kindest end to another day spent struggling. 

The snakes are on the street, the snake oil is sold to those who can afford to look down upon them.

***

Places From Which We Look Out At The World, Stone Town, Tanzania, 2023. © Rémy Ngamije.

Places From Which We Look Out At The World, Stone Town, Tanzania, 2023. © Rémy Ngamije.

Places From Which We Look Out At The World, Stone Town, Tanzania, 2023. © Rémy Ngamije.

Places From Which We Look Out At The World, Stone Town, Tanzania, 2023. © Rémy Ngamije.

***

I am not interested in large language models. 

I do not care to know how other people use them because no one who does has made anything worth remarking about.

I think people are mistakenly enamoured by these advanced models of predictive text; that first-crush fervour has made so many people willing to relinquish their critical thinking skills to an irresponsibly programmed algorithm that flattens complex context into quotation.

I think that all of it will go up in smoke. 

If not soon, then later.

But preferably sooner.

***

There is an unhealthy nihilism when it comes to the acceptance of large language models. That simply because they exist they are inevitable—that merely because they can be used, they must be used.

I do not share that view. 

I still believe in the wonder of the human spirit: in its aptitude to question, discover, and make things; in its ability to see through bullshit propaganda that perpetuates systems of control and apparatuses designed to blunt and stunt critical thinking, to starve, maim, and kill, and to denigrate and degrade; in its capacity for kindness. 

Because I believe this, I cannot support anything that diminishes the human capacity to create.

***

I wonder: if someone was better at meditating than you, or stronger and fitter, would it make sense to let that person also meditate and exercise for you?

***

I think about how special Hayao Miyazaki’s films were because of their distinct animation style, how long it took to make them, and all of the skilled and passionate animators who were involved in their production. I think about how, overnight, there were more Studio Ghibli rip-offs than actual Studio Ghibli drawings. So few people have watched Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, or Howl’s Moving Castle, but they have seen the slop produced by generative software.

***

When I said I was a good writer I did not mean it as a burn or a hot take. I neither have the time nor the inclination to dunk on people.

It is just that the requirements for being a good writer are so low that using large language models feels like a cop-out.

I said I was a good writer because I have a cornucopia of dreams and assorted nightmares floating in the soft mush of my brain—snatches of dialogue; traces of plot lines; scenes and visions that blur and then occasionally spring into sharp focus; and ideas that drift apart or gravitate towards each other with the passage of time and the understanding that comes with it. 

I am a good writer because I question the importance of the things I think about and whether they are worthy of the time I will expend in bringing them to the world, or someone else’s time when they encounter them. 

I am a good writer because the gap between my writing skills and the things I want to write is, oftentimes, chasmic. Despite this, I am willing to sit and struggle with language, to find the right words, the correct sequence of sentences, the preferred order of paragraphs and pages that will best communicate some of the things that preoccupy my thoughts. If I succeed in my writing craft, I might receive some praise or acclaim—if I am lucky. But if I fall short I will most certainly have to shoulder the burden of responsibility for using language in a frivolous or destructive manner.

Mostly, though, I think I am a good writer because I am willing to fail in the process of writing. Success, if it materialises, is ephemeral. But it is the constant process of not quite hitting the mark, but striving too nonetheless, that is the essence of writing or creating any kind of art.

POSTSCRIPT: “Granddaughter Of The Octopus” has a Latvian translation: “Astonkaja Mazmeita” in Punctum, a literary magazine from Latvia, thanks to Linda Mence who also provided me with an interesting conversation about its writing “Stories Are Survivors” which she generously translated into Latvian as well.

Oh, and I have been fortunate enough to be invited to attend some literary events in Johannesburg, Cape Town, and Berlin in August and September.

Johannesburg, South Africa

Open Book Festival in Cape Town, South Africa

  • “The Soundscapes Of Masculinity” with Sven Axelrad, Nthato Mokgata, and Koketso Sachane on Friday, 05 September at the Homecoming Centre in District 6.
  • “Created In Africa” with Bibi Bakare-Yusuf, James Murua, and Mervyn Sloman on Saturday, 06 September at 14h00 at the Homecoming Centre Workshop in District 6.
  • “Facing Death” with Foluso Agbaje, Sarah Uheida, and Erin Bates on Sunday, 07 September at 12h00 at the Homecoming Center’s Avalon Theatre in District 6.
  • “Writersports 2025” with Alistair Mackay, Lesedi Molefi, Paige Nick, Zibu Sithole, and Sue Nyamnjoh on Sunday, 07 September at 16h00 at the Homecoming Centre’s Avalon Theatre in District 6.

International Literature Festival in Berlin, Germany

  • “Ngamije: Only Stars Know The Meaning Of Space” with Alexander Wells on Friday, 12 September at 18h00 at Haus der Berliner Festspiele, Schaperstr. 24.
  • “Connecting Literary Festivals” with Marta Czarnecka, Govind Deecee, Frederico Eisner, Lavinia Frey, Yuliia Kozlovetz, and Wolf Iro on Saturday, 13 September at 16h00 at Haus der Berliner Festspiele, Schaperstr. 24.

If, dear reader, you are in any of these places, it would be wonderful to meet you.

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