So, why were you crying during Black Panther?

I have waited three long weeks to write this — that’s how long I needed to sort through my emotions (jk, not really). This is going to be entirely about why I cried from about five minutes of the movie to 20 minutes after the movie. There are lots and lots of great think-pieces and twitter streams out there about Wakanda’s feminism, isolationism, Freedom in the World score, etc. That’s not this piece. I’m going to do that thing I’ve occasionally said I hate when women writers do — I am going to cannibalise on my own feelings — though I will have links to some Black Panther-related pieces I have enjoyed at the end.

Some context:

1. I cry a lot. One of my friends while pregnant described herself as “more emotional than Wendy and Pi (another friend) combined.”

2. There will be spoilers — I can’t do this properly without them. I tried.

Now hang tight as I unpack ten years of baggage!

1. “We’re home.”

Everybody’s favourite General, Okoye, announces this to a googly-eyed T’Challa and a comforting Nakia as Wakanda comes into view from the aircraft-spacecraft thing-a-ma-bob Royal Talon Fighter. The sun is rising over the horizon, and we are introduced to some Wakandan citizens. For a quick moment a shepherd boy waves at the RTF flying over his sheep and the dusty grassland. Boy did the tears fall hard during this scene! I was crying because when Okoye said “we’re home” she wasn’t only talking to T’Challa and Nakia, she was talking to me. My grandparents’ town is a dusty red thing not too dissimilar from what we saw. In that moment, I felt as if someone I knew was receiving me. It wasn’t simply the familiarity of the scene; there was a certain loving quality to that shot, an intimacy, an understanding. In any other movie about Africa, the audience would perceive that scene with contempt — pity the poor Africa country that cannot feed her own people — and this is the outside world’s view of Wakanda at various points in the movie. But for us insiders, those of us going home, we know there’s more. This was the first of many parts of the movie that I felt seen in a way I never thought I could in a movie theatre in the US.

Besides that, I was crying for 18–23 year-old Wendy, who struggled to convey this complexity to her classmates who only knew Africa for its ails. I, like many other African international students, have done a pretty good job of adding to the view count on that Chimamanda single story TED talk. It was the most I felt I could do to make my friends see my home was more than what they thought it was. I cried because I wished I had that scene back in college.

I cried because I still remember a time really early on in college while answering yet another slew of ignorant questions about Africa, I flippantly told someone “It’s beautiful. You should come,” and was quickly received with a “Me? Go to Africa?” and a look whose best approximation is the response to “Here, lick this shoe.”

Black Panther certainly isn’t the first time I get to see this. That scene is every Safaricom ad (here, here, and this project) and it is that iconic Kenya Airways ad. I have seen work portraying Africa in a positive light — but a lot of this was us having conversations with ourselves . I felt overwhelmed not only that other people would listen in on the conversation but that they would almost see it the way I do. As Danai says in this interview, this depiction of where I’m from “is like a salve to those wounds.”

2. Africa is cool!

Somewhat related but also not is the experience of seeing your home or aspects of your home be considered “cool.” Again, back to college, where I was the kid with the weird accent, weird mannerisms and weird taste in food — coupled with the baggage of being from a dirty, poor place.

I said “multiplication” funnily and some kid sitting right across from him laughed and felt no shame.

My shoe obsession and collection (RIP) was a thing of fascination because, “Heels? But you are from Africa...” Those two things are mutually exclusive.

[Here’s a fifteen-minute documentary about “The Division” at my college. I’m in it. I look a hot mess, and there’s a lot I would want to say or respond to differently, but if you’d like more context about college.]

I certainly worked to fix my Africanness. I changed the way I speak to make it easier for others to understand me. I modulate the way I act. Interestingly now —being in a more international space (a huge chunk of my current classmates have spent a significant portion of their lives outside the US) and also having been in Laos, where I learned I was closer to the culture as a Kenyan than a pretend American — I find that I have reverted to be in some ways even more African than I ever was (I hold my right elbow with my left hand when shaking hands with people these days — what??!). BP was a temporary moment of seeing what I’ve long fought to say is cool be accepted as a cool thing. I wish I had this movie back in the day, if only to have at least one globally recognized comeback .

3. Africans vs. African Americans

The scene between N’Jobu and T’Chaka was obvie the first moment I started crying. Some background: I barely remember talking about the human cost of the Triangular/Transatlantic Slave Trade in high school history lessons. There was a quick mention that the Africans who were sold were enticed with beads, mirrors and other gifts; some were kidnapped; some were prisoners of war sold by rival kings. As far as I remember (and Mrs. Sum’s students, correct me if I’m wrong) that was never tied to US history and the black struggle on this side of the world. I don’t remember learning about slavery or segregation in the US — the Triangular Trade somehow stopped a little ways into the Atlantic just off the waters of Senegal and Ghana (again, people, correct me if I’m wrong). Maybe I was a dense kid and needed it spelled out. It wasn’t until later, probably while learning about slavery in Latin America,  that I made the connections. “Wait, those black people we said were sold, those are the people who ended up there?"

At the same time, the US was the first time I realized that just because someone looks like you doesn’t mean they would understand where you are coming from. And this goes both ways between Africans and African Americans. It’s sad to realize how our view of each other is so dictated by racism. “Black Americans are lazy.” “They don’t want to work.” “Africans are dirty.” “Africans smell funny.” Eveeezy, a Kenyan-American YouTuber, made a video in 2015 about Wakanda (as in Africa) suddenly being cool, in which she talks about the playground taunts she endured as a kid of African immigrants in America. While my experience would be much closer to her parents, it was still relatable and expanded a lot on what I experienced.

Watching Killmonger and T’Challa be the embodiments of this debate was emotionally overwhelming. I needed them to hash it out and reconcile. I cried because it was a little uncomfortable — did we Africans really turn our backs on our people?

I know I wasn't the only one thinking this because I had a conversation with an African American friend after, and as we discussed Wakanda’s isolationism she asked: “I was thinking like, is that how it is in Africa? They don’t really think of the others that were taken away and now live this worse life because of it?” I guess, it’s more a Wakandan thing because they also neglected other African countries, but...?

4. Seeing yourself

First, I have spent a lifetime consuming media about people whose lives are so entirely different from mine, I don’t need characters to look like me to empathize with them. I’ve heard that there are people who don’t go to watch movies with people of other races because they can’t identify —such a sweet existence that has to be. Still, there is a lot to be said about being able to see yourself in someone else without pulling mind tricks. Lupita has certainly been that for me. We really don’t have much in common besides growing up in Nairobi and stanning for the same band (why did I never get a picture?!). Here is this Kenyan girl (fine, and Mexican, too). The same Lupita I saw on a Kenyan show. Lupita at the Oscars. Lupita with Janelle Monae. Lupita with Angela Bassett and Forrest Whittaker!  All these people who otherwise live in my TV. Here she is in this space that was inaccessible to me, that I thought was inaccessible to African girls like me. Nothing's changed about its accessibility for me, personally, but still it’s mindbogglingly weirdly pleasant. It’s such a sweet feeling. I cried because I was so happy! I even re-watched her Oscar acceptance speech because I could finally let go of her first Hollywood role being a slave.

Would you believe me if I said this was the shortened version?! The thing that has struck me the most about this movie is how layered it is and I keep discovering new brilliant things about it (the score has been a trip!). I also have the worst case of pop culture withdrawals and that lingering feeling of wanting to live in Wakanda has not yet passed (three weeks later!). Please send me links to videos and articles so I can keep this fantasy alive. I think for starters I'm going to watch Fruitvale and Creed because (and I know I am late to this party) producer Ryan Coogler is a genius!

Further watching/Further Reading

Letitia Wright, Lupita Nyong’o and Michael “Bae” Jordan at BBC 1Xtra — Lupita for president!

Lupita Nyong’o and Danai Gurira on BlackTree helped me get over their accents

Africa’s a Country has been doing a lot of stuff:

- America’s Wakanda

- Africa is a Country in Wakanda

- I have a problem with Killmonger

Buzzfeed’s See Something Say Something Podcast | JoJoba Oil in the Wind

Chadwick Boseman on Fallon made me cry again

BET wants to remind you that they had a Black Panther cartoon series way back when

The Superior Feminism of Black Panther

#globalperspectives

It's been a month of being in an environment where my educational background actually matters (I mean it's always mattered but here "Tell me about yourself" really isn't about me trying to complete my language bucketlist. I'm learning every time I meet a new person to respond to the question, "What is your background?") And I've noticed a trend in reactions from Europeans when I talk about my college experience. "Oh, so you have that American liberal arts thing" (paraphrased). This is a shocking revelation, because up until now, I thought a liberal arts degree was a good thing. Well, except that one time the receptionist at the Ministry of Water in Nairobi laughed out loud when I told her what I was studying.

I don't know why I am surprised that Europeans, Germans especially, would disapprove of my American education. I mean, it's not like I've been listening to two hours of a Freakonomics podcast about whether college (implied, in the United States) is worth it.

*****

Updates: I moved to Laos for a fellowship with an environmental conservation organisation. I had to make a career move. Here's a link to my blog while I'm in Laos. I'll still maintain this one about career/growing-up angst -- which is separate from traveling to another country and experiencing a different life for a year... or is it? :)

Wow.

I had one of those moments in which you realise you can't simply talk about all the things you wanna be when you grow up, instead you actually have to take steps toward that thing. Why does this leave me feeling surprised (and maybe a little overwhelmed)?

In what you are doing right now, I am curious, at what point did you realise it was more than talking about what you wanted to do in 20 years, 10 years or 5 months and instead that there were/are other actions involved with getting you where you want to be? Has there ever been a need for that realisation?

Recycled | "You Speak Good English" and Why I Should Take it as a Compliment.

I wrote this in September of 2011. Recent events have brought it back to memory, and I decided to edit it a little and post it here.

"You speak good English!"

Someone paid me this "compliment" in the middle of a conversation earlier this week. I understand that she meant it as a good thing, something that would lead up to other good things as concerns my trying to learn other languages, so I'm not particularly holding her to fault. But at the same time, immediately she said it I could hardly wait for her to get to a pause so that I could clue her in.

"No, I don't remember the first time I heard someone speak English."
"We speak English in Kenya. No, not as a second language. Many people are bilingual (and tri-lingual, etc) and if they aren't, it's because they speak too much English."

Yes, she hit a raw nerve. There are so many times I've heard:

"You came to the US in 2008? But your English is so good!"

To be fair, it doesn't always come from the stereotypical ignorant American. That last quote was from a Peruvian cab driver.

I was watching the Hague proceedings this morning. There were all manner of nationalities represented. French, German, British and US were just the ones that stuck in my mind. These are relevant because while I was watching, I thought, "Uh, she has good English" and "Oh, his English is not so good."

How do we judge "good" English? Is it vocabulary? Diction? Fluency? Is my English "good" when I use fifteen-letter words in place of five-letter words? Is my English "good" if I don't roll my R's? Is my English "good" when, even though it has one accent or another, it's my first language? Is it fair to misjudge the German judge (ha!) by his fluency and diction when his vocabulary is bigger than I can imagine?

I once joined a Facebook group, "I judge you when you use poor grammar," because I do, or used to. My feelings toward the group changed a little when I learned that because I have an unfamiliar accent, people are inclined to immediately shut out what I am saying. It sucks when you can see it in their eyes, too. It's as if the lights went out, and there's no one home anymore. It's as though, by virtue of having an accent, no one waits to find out if my grammar is on point -- it was drummed into me for 12+ years of school, it better be! And more importantly, they immediately assume that they will not understand me. Or I'm just about to ask for something that's so culture-specific, they are sure they don't have it at their store or whatever. Basically, I am judged, and dismissed, by my accent.

Back to the point, why I should take it as a compliment. In China, in Japan, in France, in Germany, in Spain, in Mali, in Senegal, in Brazil, in Peru, and all manner of non-Anglophone countries around the globe, the economy, the school system, life, everything - or almost everything - runs without the need for English. While in Kenya, that you don't speak English implies that you didn't go to school -- because that's the language of instruction -- and hints at you being illiterate, it is hardly the case in any of the other countries I mentioned before. So when someone says, "Oh. You're English is so good!" it doesn't always mean, "Oh, you are not as dumb as I thought!" Though it might. It's more a recognition of "Oh, look at you! You have such a good grasp of this language for which I assume, aside from speaking with me right now and your school work, you have no use." Which has its own world of implications.

Next time someone tells me I speak good English, I'll take it as a compliment because they imagine -- with some valid although inapplicable evidence -- that up until 3 years ago, I had no use for the language. And consequently, they imply that I can get by (fully) on Kiswahili or Luo. They assume that I could comfortably read a book in Kiswahili, or that my mum and I converse in Luo, or that at a funeral, I don't have a 9-year old translating what the preacher is saying. All good things of which English has gotten in the way. Yes, next time someone tells me my English is good, I'll smile before I add:

"I wish I could say the same for my mother tongue other languages."

Year 5

May 12, 2013

365 days to the date since I received my college diploma.

"I confer the degree of bachelor of [Arts] and be admitted into the company of educated men and women."

I've spent the past week trying to remember what I did during my last week as an undergrad. Everything is a blur except graduation day and the day before it. Oh, and the day after graduation is surprisingly vivid given that I hadn't sleep at all between the morning of May 12, 2012 and the evening of May 13th, 2012.

I've been listening to St. Louis' Wild 104.9 because the last half of the semester has been spent getting to know the people that I call my friends, and many of those moments we shared together have been underscored by pop music. For the next few months poppy music is going to be very sentimental.

I have worked in the same office, with mostly the same people for the last five years. Everything I know about writing, and especially about revising and editing, I owe to these people. This also includes most of what I know about baking from scratch, smiling through the worst of days, being an individual part of a team, and creating a family among your colleagues. :) (PS: That means that all grammar mistakes I ever make are not because I did not have a strong team teaching me better.)

It's interesting that I have grown to love the greater St. Louis area more in the last 9 months than in the four years before it. More interesting is how much I will miss this city. I spent four years trying to get out, and now I'm all sad and mushy about it. I look forward to being back.

365 days after graduation. I have learned, and I have grown. I made a few mistakes, and built stronger relationships. I failed some, and I won some more. Here's to the hopefulness of summer, and to another year as a post-grad.

xoxo

My Happy List

I've been inspired by this video to make a happy list.



Here go a few that I can think about right now.

1. The perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream and crunchy cone on a chill Sunday afternoon
2. Pandora playing Macklemore's "Thrift shop" while I'm at Goodwill on the day that I committed to spend 20 bucks and only 20 bucks.
3. Listening to people talk about the things they love.
4. Taking a tangent on Whatsapp and ending up at a deep convo and then going back to cat video commentary.

Happy New Month/I'm Going to Be Funny

It’s new month resolution time -- albeit seven days late. This month, I am making a conscious effort to be funny. If not funny, engaging. Yes, the space in my head where I spend most of my time is all-accepting and unconditionally-loving. Everything I say up there (i.e. think) is acceptable and patiently dissected for maximum understanding. But if I’m going to share that stuff with you and expect you to engage with it, I have to make it worth your while, yes? Glad, that’s settled. :) Cheers to conscious efforts!

In unrelated news, it's been three days since the general election and Kenyans still do not have a new president. Oh, the wonders of the democratic process!

My Undergrad Regrets

Alright, now that that piece of mind-blowing advice is out of the way, I have to say that there are many things that I wish I did differently in college. I’ve found myself going over them more and more these last few weeks. And as much as I recognize that there's no good that can come out of reliving the past, I would like to note a few of these lessons in the off chance that someone who’s about to go to college will see this -- or even for my future self if ever I’m trying to repeat past mistakes.

1. I wish I dived right in.
I tend to be a cautious person, and I like to weigh my environment. Before jumping right into things, I need to study people, figure out their story, know how well we work together and what not. I don’t think this is necessarily a bad habit to have but I have a tendency to spend too much time on this part of the process and let myself be in the shadows too much -- the problem? I let too many opportunities pass me by! So anyway, for future me, it’s good to get to know the kind of people you have around you, but it’s great of you get more involved with things.

2. I wish I went on an abroad.
This is probably my biggest regret, and it kinda ties in with #1. I was so scared about how to set up an abroad (how complicated the visa process might have been for an international student, for example), that I never even tried to submit an application. During my four years, there have been abroads to New Zealand, Peru, Brazil, Japan, Nepal, India... Given how much I am dying to have someone stamp my passport right now, I think these would have been great opportunities. Additionally, they would have all been such enriching experiences -- but yeah, I let them slide. So for future reference, I’m looking for any loophole I can find to get myself onto a plane and across a border. For anyone in school, being a student is one of the best excuses that embassy officials take. I learned this too late.

3. Be less afraid.
The biggest reason behind why I didn’t do things in this list is fear. I was scared of coming across as pushy. I was scared of not being able to see my abroad plans through. I was/am scared of meeting new people, or scared of people in general. I was scared to switch to my second major sooner. There have been lots of times that fear held me back. Going forward, I'll keep that fear impulse in check.

4. Realize that I can begin anywhere.
After realizing all the chances I’d blown by being afraid I spun myself into a spiral of I wish I did this better without actually doing anything about it. But the awesome thing about life is that you can begin anywhere. There’s no set time to do something even though that’s what we are told. Want to learn a new language but you aren’t seven anymore? Who cares?! Wish you made better choices with you majors? What skills have you learned from your other majors that you can apply to a life with your new academic interests? Find them and apply them! (This is directed at me personally) Wish you were more open to people around you? Hey, are there not people around you right now??! And so on and so forth -- basically, you wanted to do it then, what can you do now to get you there? Okay, now go and do it!

5. I wish I sought more help.
Given that my undergrad transcript is set already, this final one may be a sailed ship. It might help somebody though. I wish I made more use of the resources available to me. Why? I sit at my office for four hours each day twiddling my thumbs waiting for someone to come and ask me for help with a paper or chat about ideas for a paper. And you know what? Not too many people do. Once in a while a professor will suggest that students come and see me and then they will. See, if this is how teachers/professors and writing tutors spend their days, i.e. longing to help anyone who seeks it, I should have been more willing to ask my professors questions after class or talk with tutors. Since I plan on going to grad-school, I need to remember this feeling and tap into it. For anyone still in school, seriously, people are paid to be there for you. Actually, it’s your money, make the most of it! (But also don’t be rude about it.)

I think that’s everything that covers my undergrad experience. Eventually I'll write up the things I definitely wouldn't wish to have done differently.

Do you have any regrets lessons to add to this list? Would love to hear them.

A Whole New World

I've been listening to a lot of Disney lately. Every once in a while I need to silence the outside world and focus on the task at hand and days like these I listen either to rap a la this, or to Disney sing-alongs a la this.

The thing that I am learning now, listening to music that I did when I was five, six, seven and what not, is how much the themes of cartoons match my life! As someone who's had to defend my cartoon-watching in adulthood on numerous occasions, I didn't expect to identify with cartoon characters beyond entertainment.

Let's take Pocahontas, for example.



To be safe, we lose our chance of ever knowing
What's around the river bend
Waiting for us just around the river bend
...

Why do all my dreams extend
Just around the river bend?
...

Should I chose the smoothest course,
Steady as the beating drum?
Should I marry Kocoum?
Is all my dreaming at an end?
Or do you still wait for me,
Dream Giver,
Just around the river bend?

Quarter-life crisis, anyone?

I'd argue that to fully understand Pocahontas, you need to have graduated and taken a gap year so that all your friends essentially get a head-start. Then you'll need to figure out whether to apply for a job, go try your luck getting a job in Kenya, or maybe some other country where you know no one, or take the "safer" option of applying to grad school, in which you have to figure out, which grad program matches your interests, what your interests actually are, where your best chances of being accepted lie... And so on and so forth. And this is as a single person, because if you are married you have to figure out whether or not the relocation is an option -- how good are job/grad school prospects in your vicinity? If you are in a serious relationship/heading toward marriage then you have to question if the decision will affect that... sigh.

What I have learned while watching Disney, which I'd essentially forgotten, is that these lyrics, these stories are written by grown ups, who've probably experienced this at some point in their life. They aren't written by kids, so I shouldn't be surprised at how much I identify with my favorite Disney characters. And Pocahontas was just a start.

Bonus: I think I played the song a little too loudly. I can hear my neighbour whistling it in the hallway.

On the rare occassion that my politicians make me feel proud to be Kenyan...

I figure if I'm going to whine about our politicians being useless, I definitely ought to give credit where it's due, right? This post is a follow up of this one in which I urged all my US citizen friends to go out and vote. I also called Kenyan members of parliament pigs -- this is the part that I would like to follow up today.

On February 11, 2013, Kenya held its first presidential debate. Now, I'll admit that I was not planning on watching this for a number of reasons:

a) I have felt an increasing amount of apathy since the fateful day I called the Kenyan Embassy in DC to inquire about diaspora voter registration and was directed to a Facebook page "for more information."

b) The whole presidential debate thing felt like a sham. Politically, we have a tendency to ape the United States, whether or not it is applicable in our country. This felt like it would result in a poorly-executed, half-thought-through event.

c) Six candidates were set to be on the podium! And then by the morning of, Kenyan time, two candidates who'd taken to court over being excluded were added to the line-up. Eight politicians! Yeah, I figured I had better things to do.

Thankfully, I was guilt-tripped into watching it. More like, I felt ashamed to allow such a momentous political circus pass me by.

Now, I would like to go on and on about what went on, what points were handled, and which were ignored, maybe even hand out a score card to the politicians. But I would also like to keep this short. (You can watch a video of the debates here, here's Gado's impression of the debates, and this is what The Standard had to say.)

Here is why I was happy with the production.

1. Linus Kaikai. The man was a star! He was obviously paying attention during the US presidential debates. Many of the complaints about the moderators of the US presidential debates revolved around them either not doing their job, or doing it too well in favor of one candidate. Not this man! He was strict with the timekeeping -- when time was up, time was up! He asked the right questions, kept the candidates on track, followed up with more questions when they tried to wiggle themselves out of it. He knew he had a job to do and he had come to do it.

2. The candidates were respectful to each other. With 8 politicians on stage, I was convinced that no one would be able to get two words in. No such thing! People spoke in turn and candidates were very respectful of each other. Even though she was the only female candidate, Martha Karua received the respect due to her. I am so proud of my politicians!

3. People talked issues! One of my biggest grievances about Kenyan politics is its emphasis on regional politics and party affiliations. There was some of that, but they did a better job than usual of focusing on ideology. Perhaps the pressure of national viewership and the need to impress donors (I'm sure there was a little bit of that) forced the candidates to do their homework. Everyone brought their A-Game. Even Dida, who progressively made himself the clown of the act had valid points to bring to the table.

I came out of that session feeling extremely proud of Kenya. I know I definitely was not the only one!

I thought I was the only one who felt peculiarly excited & proud of this country after the debate. I'm glad I have company. #KEDebate13
— Mugambi Nthiga (@ItsMugambi) February 11, 2013

So, do you guys think that this feeling will last us a month, and maybe beyond the elections?

For The Day I Move into My Own Apartment...

Now that I've graduated and I'm trying to figure out what next, the thing I envy most about being settled down is the ability to decorate my place as I would like it. A little paint here, a framed picture there. I find myself looking more and more lustfully at interior design magazines and tumblrs. I'm calling this part of  my life the research phase since I am internalizing all the information on the internet for future use. Yaaay!

Here's a post about a room I crave. Somewhere deep down, I'm a minimalist -- deep, deep down. I tend to be a little cluttered -- but Einstein's desk was a little cluttered too so... *shrug*. In a way, I see the appeal of minimalism as having something to do with my half-buried desire to be a better neater person. How else would you explain my being cluttered but loving that clean, free look?

Recently, I came across the very simple-looking bathroom of writer/stylist/social media manager Samantha Hutchinson. As far as I can tell, from the little that she showed, it's all monochrome with a splash of pink. Perfect! Her blog is aptly named Could I Have That. I stole some of her pictures to show them on here. I particularly adore the black and white rug.


 

Finally, happy new month! January feels like it's dragged on for ages! But I'm not particularly complaining. I tried to put the extra 60 days of January into good use.

"The Unwritten Rules"

This minority thing is still kinda new to me, after all, it's only been four years. Where I come from, everyone looks like me, speaks like me, eats the same food that I do, and so on, and anyone who doesn't is the weird one. In college, I got used to being the strange one, but given my college's high international student enrollment (my freshman class alone had 13 Kenyans) there were plenty other people with whom I could be the "strange one". As I move into the work place, I know that things will be different, especially while I am still in the States. It's quickly becoming time for me to get used to being the only Kenyan, the only African, or the only person of color in certain environments.

As always, YouTube is my go to for these kind of intimidating, never-have-I-ever-experienced-this-before-what-should-I-do? experiences. And even without actually looking for it, I found this web-series, "The Unwritten Rules" that speaks to the rules of decorum that black people find themselves having to follow within the work place. It's comical and mostly satirical but already with my six-months of post-grad working experience I can related to the episode about hair.




I found one of the later episodes, about the party particularly intriguing. Why are black women viewed as anti-interracial relationships? Where did this come from?

Thanks to the guys at InkSpot. I may not need to apply their advice, but I can laugh about it and maybe use it as an ice-breaker about those tense race-related topics if they ever come up at work? Maybe.

Recycled | Random Thoughts pt. 3

I was just thinking about this rant. It's from a little over four years ago, when I was applying to college and trying really hard to convince my mum to let me go to Europe for university. It's interesting that all my reasons for wanting an accent still stand (but my perception of a US accent has definitely grown). I haven't edited it -- although I should -- I wanted to preserve my 18 year-old voice, comma errors and all.

I really should come up with a proper title...

I am shopping for an accent/twang (yes, the word is ‘twang’ – I looked it up in the Oxford English Dictionary). Of course not the kind that suits me like a pair of purple contact lenses, which if you have, I'm sure look good on you and which BTW I am still going to get, just the sort that when I open my mouth to talk, any of the following happens:

1. I get a job at one of our bigger media houses, noticed how lately anyone in the media has at least an accent or a twang? What really blows my mind is the inconsistency of the pronunciations. The Kenyan-twang is a mish-mash of all available accents: American, British, Australian, French, Mandarin- you name it. Basically, what yours sounds like to others depends entirely on what phonetics you choose to borrow from whatever region.

2. I get prompt service at Java, especially the one in Adam's. What's with them? Do I have to look foreign to get service? And you wonder why I sit for several hours, use your free internet and leave without ordering anything- you owe me at least that much, you biased people!!! It’s not so much as to get prompt service, than it is about gloating. Clearly, being that the colour of my skin is very far from not-black, I would still get ignored. However, I would derive so much pleasure out of complaining to one of the waitresses in my foreign tongue- make her feel the pinch of losing that forex money, and make sure her manager feels the same pain, only three times more.

3. People try to remember my last name if I had introduced myself, try to learn it if otherwise, or befriend me because you never know what MP, Minister, Ambassador or other prominent person spawned me and paid ridiculous tuition so that I attend school in a foreign country. Even though on further exploration of the fact, there exists a miracle known as Financial Aid, which means that the tuition need not be expensive but who cares? It is quoted in dollars and pound sterling! There are added benefits to this get-to-know-you-better; complimentary tickets and invitations to lavish parties, where I have to sit through another session of mixed up twangs. On that note, I love those people who twang with a shrub. I mean “Wow W, tharr is such a rovery dress. I should nget me one of those sometime.”

So as I shop, I wonder, Kenyan English with a hint of British? Because granted, Europeans have more class. Ama I go for good ol' American and sound like I watched too many movies and listened to too much Hip Hop? Note, the point is not to come off as a fake but a more 'polished' form of myself.

Obviously, as with everything there are downsides to all this adaptation. It isn’t all too glossy. Because once I take on my new talk, I am bound to lose a few “friends”. People that are obviously cut from the same judgmental cloth as the new crowd that I will be hanging out with. You know the guys that claim I am not “down to earth, anymore” or those that think, “she feels hot and snubbish, nowadays”. Why would the way I talk change anything about the experiences we would have shared so far?

While I'm at it, I need a whole new wardrobe. What's the point of having a ka-accent if I lack the fashion sense of my peeps from whom I borrowed the accent?

I was so much funnier when I was younger. He he.

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY U.S. CITIZEN FRIENDS

For what it's worth, your country has a democracy that works. With all the bickering and Washington drama, I know it doesn't seem that way. But (I'm about to pull the "I'm from an African country -- pity me" card) I come from a place where, erm, our politicians really are pigs. So much so that we call our Members of Parliament, MPigs. Because they are only after their own interests. Indeed, that is what politics is about, but your politicians at least consider their constituents. Sure that might be big oil and not the farmer in Idaho, but at least they care for other people besides themselves and their bank accounts.

I'm sitting here watching jealously -- like a kid at recess who doesn't have toys, watching their classmate play with the flashiest Lego set -- how you have thousands of people engaged in the political process; how much, regardless of the left/right split, your politics are about more than just tribal affiliations and what part of the country the representatives are from; how much fun speeches can be because the people writing them, and the people delivering them, are extremely passionate about what they believe in.

This is me, as the kid who can't get the flashy toy, asking you, the kid with the awesome Lego set to please, please, please, build the living daylights out of that set. You have that privilege, use it to the max. Please, register to vote if you haven't. Register for an absentee vote if you aren't close. Please go out and vote on election day. (Heck, you guys have an electronic voting system!) You may think you don't care, please care. You may not realize it, but politics dictates even the air you breathe. Figure out who's closet to the values that are most important to you and go for that guy. Decide for yourself, don't let anyone dictate your choice, and please, please, go out and vote.

Signed,

Me and my Kenyan friends watching the election process enviously, and all other people around everywhere wishing they could go out and vote.

Currently Reading...

I'll tell you one of the biggest perks of being done with undergrad life is that I can finally get some time to read a novel or two without feeling even a wee-bit guilty. I set out to read a book a week for the summer and managed to get as far as week five before finally Obama's "The Audacity of Hope" and Saima Wahib's "In My Father's Country" slowed me down.

The first one is President Obama's recollection of his years in Congress and as an Illinois senator. I was a little fooled that the book would be a light autobiography. It has plenty of that, but it is also filled with discussions of the US constitution (he was a constitutional law professor after all) and policy recommendations for congress and so on. It's not the kind of book that I wanted to (or even could) breeze past in a week. Three weeks in, after only managing a third of the book, I put it aside for lighter reads. I've edited my originally ambitious plan for this book, I'll try a chapter a week so that I can unpack it.

The second I found in the book-giveaway shelf (yes, free books up for grabs) of another department of the place I interned for over the summer. It caught my eye because it is set in Afghanistan and I am generally curious about the Middle East -- in a "I'm probably never going to experience this for myself" kind of way. But it was really hard to read. I must say, I loved that the author painted a very vivid picture of the US Military efforts in post-9/11 Afghanistan. I benefited from reading about more than the casualties and the atrocities. Instead of a general US-Army good/Suicide bomber bad view, the account provides a more humanized complexity of the mistakes that the US troops make and the intentions behind them, as well as explaining from an Afghani and a Pashtun's perspective why these attempts of good-will are actually insults.

And finally, a friend of mine recommended (and later gave me) these next series of books after I talked about Saima Wahib's "In My Father's Country" and Khaled Hosseini's books. It's a mystery/whoddunit by an American author, Zoe Ferraris, set in Saudi Arabia. The book offers a different view of the region. Ferraris was married to a Saudi Arabian and lived in the country for a significant number of years and thus, I would like to trust she knows about what she's writing about -- but a few instances made me pause and have to remind myself that an American wrote the book. All the same, I rushed through the book I was reading between part 1 and part 2 of the series so that I could get to part 2 and be absorbed in the world of Katya and Nayir -- I'm trying not to give spoilers.

This is my attempt to get back to blogging about my life because I am awesome! Please, bear with me!

Introductions [Updated]

There are about 17, 000, 000 blogs created every day. That was January 2012. How many more are there now?

Welcome to one more.

My name is Atieno. I have a first name -- an English name -- by which most people know me. But I like the look of "Atieno" in text. I'll probably introduce myself differently if we ever meet. And I refer to myself differently within the blog when it applies. But calling me "Atieno" makes me smile. It's a novelty.

At the time I am writing this, I am almost a college graduate. I don't know how much further in the future you are reading this, but my hope is that that status has changed.

I like writing, although this should not be taken to mean that I write creative pieces. I learned early that my creativity can stretch only so far. I am passionate about self-expression. In writing. In speech. In art. I believe strongly in articulating the innermost corners of our mind in ways that can be understood by those outside our minds. So when I say I like writing, I mean, I am enthusiastic about articulately and accessibly conveying my thoughts. Or something like that.

To start you off with the cliches, I find myself in a situation that many others before me have experienced. I toiled 8 years in primary school, and then four years in high school and four more years in college, soooo, now what?

This blog is about that. And then some.