A monument I visited last month in Stone Town, Zanzibar commemorating the selling and shipping of slaves from Tanzania to the West Indies in Zanzibar’s infamous slave market.
The faces of the sculptures were so powerful, I got an eery feeling that took a while to shake.
“You’re not an African because you’re born in Africa. You’re an African because Africa is born in you. It’s in your genes…. your DNA….your entire biological make up. Whether you like it or not, that’s the way it is. However, if you were to embrace this truth with open arms….my, my, my….what a wonderful thing.”- Marimba Ani
White slaves masters raped black women and turned their backs on their offspring. They are the original dead beat dads.- A woman on the DC metro.
I spent hours going through old family photos today, mostly of my ridiculously interesting parents. They both have traveled the world, from Korea to Portugal, from Ethiopia to Nigeria, between the both of them they have seen a huge chunk of this globe.
And to be a couple of kids from Cote d’Ivoire traveling around in the 1970’s was big shit.
I haven’t driven for 7 months AND my license is expired, but who else will drive me to get this new Rolo Mcflurry from McDonalds?
On a better less pathetic note, I have a couple of job interviews this week so I can stop being the unemployed reality show watching mooch that I have been since getting back from Africa last week.
AND I have an upcoming weekend filled with reuniting with my friends in DC! I’m staying at my parents house an hour and a half outside of the city so I have not seen too many people since getting back so this is exciting indeed.
Stellenbosch, South Africa, May 2012.
“Remove the kinks from your mind rather than your hair” -Marcus Garvey
So before I left for East Africa at the end of May my boo Tatenda and I sneaked (not snuck but sneaked) into Open Forum 2012 in Cape Town. It is a huge conference bringing together the leading social justice, feminist, African leaders of our time.
I mean women who I have been citing in my papers were there like my mus Bibi Bakare-Yusu! I didn’t know what to do when I realized she was sitting in front of me, so I tapped her on the shoulder and did my usual Stephanie rambling. Sigh, hot mess.
But I did meet the beautiful Minna who runs the amazing African, Feminist, Fashion, Diaspora blog called Ms. Afropolitan. Her articles really speak to me, especially on the issue of whether or not Feminism is “un-African.” So I spoke to her briefly about becoming a contributor and she was so open to the idea!
Soooooo….as soon as I figure out what I am going to write you may see me featured on her website 🙂 Excittttiiiiinnnnggggg.
My great uncle Assoi Adiko was one of the most known and celebrated African scholars of pre-independent Cote d’Ivoire, he wrote a book about indigenous West African cultures and languages that my family has been looking for for years.
My mother found it almost 15 years ago at a library and stole it, but karma got her and she lost it years later. And my brother found it on Amazon! OMG, I am so excited, I got a bit teary eyed.
This man was the cornerstone of our family, he was the one who sent my mother to Paris for school in the 1970’s and supported so many people as he was one of the first Western educated men to come out of our region.
I’m so proud.
When a white person asks you if you speak any DIALECTS, please let them know that Yoruba, Kiswahili, Attie, Twi, Sotho, and others are indigenous African LANGUAGES. Why must our speech be deemed as a mere dialect, like an extension of our own make believe civilizations?
No damn it, My language is as profound and historical as French or English, especially since it has survived through the dehumanization and murder that was/is colonization.
Driving through Abidjan last week, I can’t believe how beautiful my city is. After traveling to other African cities, I’m sorry Abidjan is the best.
I know, I know, I may be a bit biased.
Me: But I only want to have one child mother
Mommy: NO!! Don’t say that, you have many children inside of you that need to come out!
Me: Gross mother, anywho lets take pictures
Mommy: Yes! Put me on your internet, and make sure you show my hair it looks good today.
Shots at the Nairobi National Museum.
Of course I wasn’t suppose to take photos, and a guard asked me to stop a couple times, but I’m the same person who tried taking pictures in the Vatican Museum (successfully I might add), so whateves.
Shots of me feeding Rosy the giraffe in Nairobi, I must admit, her long ass strong ass tongue scared the poop out of me at first, but then we became “friends” (check the pre-teen low key making fun of me in her head).
Then I went to the Nairobi National Museum which was cool (a bit unorganized, but look I’m not one to gossip) they had an awesome exhibition on Kenya’s Mau Mau Rebellion, and a nice overview on the path to Kenya’s independence leading up to Jomo Kenyatta becoming President in 1963.
The rest of my trip after this day involved all drinking and dancing, at least I got some educational experiences out of the way in the beginning 🙂
“Come, my love, we have oceans to sail.”- Saul Williams