The Inbetweeners

Hopefully, this won't be too long; although, I doubt it. In fact, the only thing I'm sure of is that I have nothing I would like to say. Nor do I have an opinion that needs to be explored by way of a post. Case in point:  The Melilla Massacre:  Bad. Everything about this is bad. It confirmed to me the disposability of black bodies, and the willingness to treat black migration with violence and fear. Contrast how these, African, migrants, and those from Syria, Afghanistan and Yemen, were treated to the welcome Ukrainian refugees and asylum seekers received; even though their motivations for leaving were, essentially, the same. Even though the justifications cited for curtailing the number of welcomed refugees/asylum seekers (i.e. the pressure these individuals would place on welfare systems and the bullshit argument that immigrants are more likely to commit crimes ) are equally applicable. And yet, the latter were welcomed with open arms, and pushed to the front of lines, whil...

I have given myself 10 minutes to write on a complex situation of structural racism and classism and the problems I have with clubbing culture. And I have a sneaking suspicion that I've bitten off more than I can chew here. Because the Alchemist situation is A LOT. So let's start at the beginning. For the uninitiated, Alchemist is a bar/club/restaurant hodge-podge in one of Nairobi's wealthier locales; Westlands. It is frequented by middle-upper-class Kenyans of various races, ethnicities and tribes. But this does not mean that class is an equalizer; in fact, the socioeconomic class may have exacerbated what happened the FIRST time. The first time Alchemist got in trouble was over a video alleging racial discrimination in the way patrons were organized. In an unnecessary throwback to separate but equal, the video shows two lines: one for Africans and a separate line for White/Asian patrons. When an African patron attempts to, literally, cross the aisle, a bouncer directed t...

When we think of blasphemy, many of us think of taking the Lord’s name in vain. But very few of us understand what this means. Taking the Lord’s name in vain goes beyond the occasional “Oh My God” and towards something more substantive. It is failing to take God, and his message seriously. It is a failure to afford, not just the name of God, but his teachings the respect they deserve. And this failure manifests itself in more than just a simple slip of the tongue. Sometimes, blasphemy means re-writing, not translating, the entire Bible to suit your needs. Christianity is replete with those who seek to re-write the Gospel and appropriate its’ moral authority to their own ends. A modern-day example is the Bible used by the Church of Latter-Day Saints (LDS) or the Mormons. In addition to their own text – the Book of Mormon which explains God's relationship with the people of the indigenous people of the Americas by placing one of the lost tribes of Israel on the American continent – ...

Anxiety is the reason I re-write a sentence a million times over; eventually abandoning my thoughts in favour of carefully managed silence;  I jump from thought to thought; afraid to commit to one out of fear that it will bind me.  I stare out at nothing, while every possibility, every fear, every hope flits through the open road of my subconsciouness, all at once in a chaotic sequence of order. I shut down when asked how I really am; because how can I unleash the flood of emotion on an unsuspecting innocent? How can I ask them to take on a burden I have neglected? How can I demand more of them, than I am willing to give myself? I can't believe in myself; why should I when there is always someone better than me, faster than me, smarter than me, more capable than me. Anxiety is the reason why I will never be enough, not even for myself.  I find comfort in sameness, routine and predictability; Anxiety is the reason why the search for these things defines my life. Anxiety is...

Hello! Before I begin, I would like to explain what I'm trying to achieve here. In essence, this is the literary version of a photodump; a 'thought-dump' if you will. Each of the topics I want to address is a work in progress. These are not my fully formed thoughts, in the sense of being able to write long, thought-provoking pieces on them each. Instead, treat them as insights into the conclusions I will, eventually, reach; like an ultrasound of my mental processes. I felt it necessary, to begin with, this context because too often we engage with perspectives as if they are in their final form , unchangeable and unmoving. And I understand this impulse because this is how I engage with many of the perspectives that challenge my understanding of the world and sense of self.  Anarchy : Granted, many of those perspectives actively call for the absolution of my human rights, but some do force me to think critically about the ideologies I subscribe to. For example, of late I have...

In my early 20s, I learned that there were only 6 or 7 original stories; everything else is a derivative of these basic stories. The lesson I took from this is that there is nothing original under the sun, and at the time, this was a welcome lesson. Facing the pressure to be original in my early 20s, I felt a great weight leave my shoulders. No longer would I have to create something brand new for it to be considered original. Originality is not a marker of novelty, but a marker of creativity and insight . To be considered original was to know how to use what came before to create something new. This lesson was reinforced through hip-hop. A genre known for its use of sampling, the early days of hip-hop were not so much about originality and novelty, but insight. It was realising that the breakdown in disco tracks was the perfect accompaniment for dance and poetry. It was finding new ways to share the music we had grown up with, with another generation. It was building bridges between d...

Is it really a midlife crisis at the age of 25, given the average life expectancy for women is 66 years old? Or am I experiencing a quarter-life crisis? Or, am I simply experiencing a crisis of being? The markers of success I was trained to strive for, are further and further away from my grasp; a feeling only heightened by the ongoing economic crisis. While I recognise that I am incredibly privileged, I also recognise that I have done nothing with this privilege. I feel as if, at every turn, I have failed to live up to expectations. Whether these expectations are mine or the world's are immaterial; for the world's expectations have become my own.  By 25, I expected to be on my way towards home ownership. By 25, I expected to be on my way towards a career, and not a series of jobs that more resemble a quilt of employment rather than a cloak of fulfilment. By 25, I expected to have been financially stable, or at the very least not experiencing financial anxiety every damn day. B...

I am exhausted by those that lament the changing values of the Church; not those who, disingenuously, argues that the Church has become "political" by - correctly - pointing out that Jesus' commandment to love cuts across all genders, races, disabilities and sexualities. But those who lament the increasing encroachment of the Prosperity Gospel - the idea that those with monetary wealth are the most blessed by God - as a trojan horse for a more capitalistic version of Christianity. It is a version that worships money and its privileges over the Gospel, despite what 1 Timothy 6:10 and Matthew 19:24  may say.  This critique of the Modern Church exhausts me because this is the way the Church has always been.  For as long as the Church has been ruled by susceptible men, and traditionally it has been men, afforded plenty of political and economic power by dent of their, often, self-proclaimed closeness with God, corruption abounds in the Church. Remember that, in the 16th Cen...