Views from my evening run trough Murgwanza. Its so beautiful, I’ll never get used to this view being outside my window. Just like I never got used to walking by the White House everyday in DC or whizzing by the Eiffel Tower on my way to class in Paris.
Some things are meant to slow you down.
She is the leader of one of our Artisan groups. I just sweat her, when she comes to the office I drop everything I am doing and hug her and speak my sad Swahili to her. She will hug me and rock me back and forth and say “ohhhhh stephania, my stephania”, yall know I love it!
She is tall, regal, and beautiful…clearly. She’s a mother, a genocide survivor, and an example to the rest of our artisans of what a leader, a good leader should look like.
Props to her.
My parentals. 1970’s Abidjan.
What an amazing time to be an African in Africa? Like Cote d’Ivoire was newly independent, we had such a bright future in front off us! Young people like my parents were buzzing with anticipation at life after colonization, realities were changing and nations were forming.
Sigh, if I could go back in time, it would for sure be West Africa in the 1960’s/70’s.
The American idea of racial progress is measured by how fast I become white.- James Baldwin
During our monthly route week to see our mamas! We were in Benaco, TZ.