Sikiliza

On being enough, Sikiliza, 2021. I had a regrettable experience where I politely listened to some warped perspectives of a self-righteous homophobe. I say regrettably because I work exceedingly hard in life to sidestep giving airtime to people who look down on others…be it based on their sexuality, gender expression, ethnic community, religion (or lack of) and whatnot.  From a young age, the idea of ‘othering’ people did not sound ok.  Many years back, I blogged about my time at Nakuru’s Flamingo Nursery school, where my teacher Mrs Raja detained me and a few other 4-year-olds from recess to forcibly convert us to be right-handed.  We had these tiny wooden chairs, and our left hands would be tied and restrained to the back of the chair, crayon and paper in front of us and sharp orders to write.  Mrs Raja stood around the table with her colleagues waiting…and to motivate the process, there was an ominous threat of a hard smack with that famous yellow wooden 12-inch ru...

  I recently visited a bookstore in Nairobi browsing away at their collection. I settled for two books.  One an anthology of African poetry, a blast from my high school literature past. The second, a newish publication of a ever popular genre of new age self-care stuff.  It occurred to me at the time that my past and the familiarity of stories retold were as potent and vivid to me as the novelty of present day narratives. Both co-exist in their entirety, whether in contradiction or in strings of continuation alike.  In my observation however, sitting comfortably with this co-existence is not as widespread as I previously imagined. It turns out some people  reject old as outdated, while others wary of newness. To elaborate my point, I want to symbolise our lives as tapestry. The motions, the ‘ins and outs’ of life much like weaving new threads with old…all touch, complicating, defining and creating an impression of the many facets that we are. This tapestry compr...