I am constantly looking for yet another reason not to write.
Baby names and book titles.
From the producers of Nairobi Halflife comes
their latest premier Veve.
The film will be showing at local cinemas and is set to premier on September 5. Veve is a fast paced political thriller that follows the lives of multiple characters trying to find themselves in a world of…
Looking forward to this
Last night, I had a dream that Aisha was twisting matutas on my hair and a former lover came with a scissors and cut off all my hair.
'I am beginning to understand what it means to be black and an artist, I am beginning to understand the difference between an artist and a black artist. I guess that is why I like black and white because it is so simple, but what I am discovering is not.' - Patricia Ellah
It’s a weird thing - hearing the sound of your own laughter. I know how I sound like when I cry, but I am not sure about the sound of my own laughter.
When one laughs in the presence of others, laughter gets absorbed into this presence - people, spaces, obstructions, walls, gesticulations, actions - and the echoes of it, if any, are barely audible to you; or perhaps one is too busy laughing to play audience to his/her own laughter.
Last night, I accidentally caught myself laughing alone in a room. It was a weird sound that I could almost recognize, like the face of someone familiar I’ve never met before. For a very brief moment, I thought there was someone else in the room with me. Someone who laughs like me, even though I do not know how I sound like when I laugh.
The mission now is to try and trap the sound of my own laughter and commit it to memory.
It bugs me that there is a large chunk of our African history that is lost to us. The history we learn in school for the most part begins with the white man’s colonization of the the continent. Our historical narrative is centered on his exploits, successes, failures during that period and how…
After Robin Williams death, a lot of talk about the importance of ‘having someone to talk to’. As if this is a thing you wake up in the morning and decide to have. Or something you can go buy in the supermarket. We underestimate how impossible ‘talking’ is, even when we are talking. And what secrets we can be to each other, not because that’s what we want to be.
"How does it feel like … being inside me? How does it feel like when I’m done and you’re done?"
"It feels like sadness"