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What An African Woman Thinks
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16:08
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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It's ten after midnight.
I'm still at my desk.
I've just finished working on a project that has a deadline of tomorrow, noon. I had ample time, really, but I procrastinated.
And so, here I am. It will not do.
I'm hungry and tired. My eyes are red from staring at the screen.
So I'm posting this stick-it note here to remind myself how I feel right now.
How faint I felt when I tried to convert the final document into PDF half an hour ago and Word said it couldn't open it. Twice.
And how all this needn't have happened this way. Really.
I know better. I'm annoyed with myself mostly. And disappointed.
Have an organised weekend.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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12:42
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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Ok, I was trolling in cyberspace looking for something, anything to distract me from this most urgent thing that I really ought to be doing and I found this quote by Josh Marshall over at Talking Points Memo: We seem to have arrived at an equitable compromise: Sen. Clinton is staying
in the nomination race while Sen. Obama drops out to move on to the
general.
Cute. And Clever. Made me smile. Ok, those of you who called to wonder at my ode to Clinton, does this absolve me in your eyes?It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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10:25
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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You know, sometimes I feel like the only way I'll get into heaven is by hanging onto someone else's coat tails and refusing to let go.
Faulty theology, I know. Let's not get into that.
Those of you who know what I do for a living will find this a tad ironic. Just so you know, I do too. I think my life is living breathing walking proof that God has a sense of humour. At least, I laugh. And somehow I think God let's out a chuckle or two too.
To segue in a different direction:
Anyone in their late thirties out there? If there is, are you increasingly experiencing the 'blurt effect'? (© R, 2008.)
You know, where you find yourself expressing thoughts you used to think but wouldn't allow yourself to share? And no, this is not a euphemism for rude. It's just, you know, a growing tendency to call it like it is.
I tell ya, these are the best of times.
(I'm high on I don't know what, and I still have a termpaper to complete. By tonight. Yikes.)It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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3:50
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I’ve been pro-Obama in the US presidential race. I will continue to be overwhelmingly pro-Obama. Not that it matters, of course, because I do not have the right to vote in the upcoming elections, being a Kenyan citizen, resident in Kenya. Still an opinion is an opinion and I have one.
But I have to say that I’ve developed a healthy respect for Hillary Clinton. She is a very intelligent, very formidable woman. Such grit. It is not easy to be her right now but she’s doing it with courage and dignity. I cannot remain unmoved when I watch her stand wearing her best smile before a crowd on whose faces she can read a sense of resignation, of futility. Here, where the clichéd rubber meets the road, this woman has substance, is substance.
Hillary Clinton is an incredibly gifted woman, and no one can take that away from her.
Besides, I cannot 'do a moving hope speech to galvanise a generation in the tradition of Obama' to save my life, not to mention the lives of my (yet unborn) children. In the public space, I would come off, in many ways, a lot like Clinton. I see me in her. I cannot help but empathise. (I also see my challenges of identity in Obama’s struggles, but that is not here.)
It’s been hard for me to distil the thought processes and feelings of African American women during this prolonged nomination process. Because they’re the point of intersection between Clinton and Obama. I think there’s been a lot of churning going on in the private place that hasn’t poured out into the public space. Or perhaps I just haven’t known where to look.
It’s been interesting to see African American women who are “women’s women” like Oprah Winfrey and Maya Angelou throw their weight behind Barack Obama. What does this mean? Is anybody talking about why it is and what it means? You get the strong sense, (especially in Oprah’s dipped ratings), that there’s a sense of betrayal in some quarters. Is this being tackled squarely or is it being sheepishly swept under the carpet?
I can't wait for this stretch to be over, and for women (especially African American women) to begin to narrate their stories retrospectively, as they slowly come to terms with what this historic race between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton has taught them about themselves.
And I agree with the Clinton supporter who said the nomination race is "a marathon and she should be allowed to finish." Even if she isn't going to be the first to cross the finishing line. Let her finish. That's the kind of woman that she is, and I admire and respect that. Because that's the kind of woman I'd like to be.
Space, people. Let the woman do this on her own terms.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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2:07
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I found this article in the New York Times very eye-opening. Especially this: "...don’t bother trying to kill off old habits; once those ruts of procedure are worn into the hippocampus, they’re there to stay. Instead, the new habits we deliberately ingrain into ourselves create parallel pathways that can bypass those old roads..."
That definitely catalysed an Oprah Aha! moment for me. It made me realise that I'd been focusing precious change energy in the wrong direction. Instead of trying (with limited success), to block off "the old roads", I ought rather to be concentrating on building "new parallel pathways". Instead of concentrating my efforts on not doing things the old way, I should in fact be expending my energy imagining, inventing and learning new ways of doing things. And then there's also the bit about the three zones of existence: comfort, stretch and stress:
"...Comfort is the realm of existing habit. Stress occurs when a challenge is so far beyond current experience as to be overwhelming. It’s that stretch zone in the middle — activities that feel a bit awkward and unfamiliar — where true change occurs ... Getting into the stretch zone is good for you ... it helps keep your brain healthy. It turns out that unless we continue to learn new things, which challenges our brains to create new pathways, they literally begin to atrophy..."
We live, We learn. (I so love that we get to do that.)It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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0:54
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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So, I've a confession to make:
All this blogging business is really about expressing my wannabe novelist-ness. Well, OK, not all of it, but at least some of it is.
If my high school had a yearbook in my day, under my photo(in which I would have been smiling, I have a great smile and don't I know it), would have been the caption:
"most likely to write a novel someday."
Seriously. Back then, yours truly and (almost) everybody I knew thought I had a novel buried in me. It now turns out that the treasure was buried far deeper than anyone could have imagined.
Sigh.
Maybe I peaked in high school. Maybe I raised expectations a tad too high and the last decade or so has been a subconscious effort to lower the bar. Maybe.
Or maybe the novel will come to me in my seventies. There are people who have written their first novel in their seventies, you know. And it's turned out splendidly for them, I think. So why not me?
I bumped into Binyavanga some time ago. He doesn't know this is me, just so you know. He gave me this sage advice:
"You know what you need to do if you want to be a writer? Write."
Oh bummer. No way around that then? Because I find writing in a particular direction in a sustained way so ... tedious. I tend instead to follow my goat as she grazes and sort of bump into things to write about. Or write about things that have bumped into me. I'm very opportunistic that way.
Besides, all I want is a hefty advance, to be sort of famous, and to do a book tour or two.
Oh, and to have people crease their brow when they pass me on the street because they think they recognise me from somewhere but they can't quite tell where. That tickles me, it really does.
Do I need to write a whole book for that, or will a few chapters do?It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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4:11
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I was at a talk by Bitange Ndemo, Permanent Secretary Ministry of Information and Communication, the other day. He closed with a very interesting thought.
He reminded us that you can only win the lottery if you buy a ticket. And he went on to say that he believes that we are poor in Kenya because we don’t have a culture that celebrates the people who try, even if they fail.
Instead, we vilify those who fail and cause those who would also try to hesitate.
Not Good.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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4:06
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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We were so unabashedly ambitious that it made some people wince. From the very beginning, we were not afraid to say that we wanted to be the best, and to say, also, that we believed we had it in us to be the best.
We learned not to feel the shame of being small and wanting to be big, of being behind and wanting to forge ahead. We refused to let others tell us who we were, but instead, boldly declared what we knew we were in the process of becoming.
And O' look what we have become.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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3:18
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I’m suffering from a serious bout of exam-phobia.
I think the Commission for Higher Education should overhaul its exam requirements for postgraduate qualifications. They are rigid and archaic.
I’ve really been enjoying interacting with new knowledge and ideas, learning, being stretched, growing, and all that other jazz. Truth told, I’ve probably been on a learning high. Now the looming threat of exams is interfering with my learning experience. I’ve morphed into a semi-crammer. I hate me as a semi-crammer.
What’s with lecturers who think their role is to help you come to terms with how stupid you are anyway?
Why now?
Pssht. Byaggh.
I love books, but exams make me dread the thought of reading.
I hear you Darko and Harriet-I just need to learn how to relax.
But hey, you know me. What are the chances of that happening?It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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0:57
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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President Kibaki has just announced an extremely bloated cabinet. So bloated that it'll probably have trouble getting up and walking. It'll probably just waddle painfully about for the next five years. Oh well. I'd already pretty much given up on expecting a government that would deliver any outcomes favourable to me in any reasonable way. I would be content for this government to stay out of my way and let's me get on with it. But, pessimistically, I expect a great deal of fuss and interference and showmanship. One thing though: I've read a few online pieces whose authors have expressed ambivalence at best, and even disdain, at the appointment of a minister for Vision 2030. I too think our cabinet should have no more than 20 ministries. But, I think one of those ministries should be a ministry for Strategic Planning and Vision 2030. If it were up to me, I'd assign that ministry to a minister of state in the office of the President. I'm an unabashed Vision 2030 enthusiast. I love the way it boldly envisages a globally competitive and prosperous Kenya. It's visionary, it's daring, and it's very energizing. I think it oughtn't be languishing somewhere in the background, but rather, that it ought to be front and centre all the time so that it becomes part of our school curriculum, part of our everyday conversations, part of our national psyche. It should inform the strategies, plans and programmes of all the other ministries. We're not going to get anywhere if we're so focussed on today that we're not thinking deliberately about the future and planning strategically for it. Vision 2030 enables us to do that.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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0:31
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I'm sitting here missing long, winding, unlaboured conversations, on nothing and everything, to everywhere and nowhere, with people who really know how.
Conversations on Kenya, on life, on books, on love, on exotic places, on quirky ideas, on differing opinions, on the way we used to be, on what we dream of becoming.
Sigh.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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2:25
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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Ok, this is all the political commentary I'm going to make:
If it is true that we get the leaders we deserve, then someday, somehow, somewhere, we must have done something really really awful.
We're sorry. We will never do it again. Promise. Just please, can we return them? We don't even want our money back. Seriously.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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10:17
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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Ian Jack of the Guardian (UK), appears somewhat disconcerted by some of the revelations in the authorized biography of VS Naipaul by Patrick French. Describing the “uninhibited disclosure” as “bewildering,” he wonders what would motivate Naipaul to allow such a revelatory biography to be published in his life time. French, the biographer, calls it “at once an act of narcissism and humility” but adds that it might also be motivated by a desire to have his life dissected in the present so that readers curiosity can be sated and they can then “return to the importance of his work.” At the end of his column, Jack strikes a philosophical note: “Be grateful, if you must remember his shuddersome life, that so much selfishness has given us such great books.” Time ago I had a conversation with some people I do life with. I expressed the opinion that is unreasonable to expect someone of my age not to have a skeleton or thirteen in her closet. Really. (If I stand on the tip of my toes and stretch out my hand as far as I possibly can without detaching my arm, I can brush the big 4 0 with the tip of my middle finger.) The nature of my particular pile of skeletons is not up for discussion. Suffice it sing ‘oh to grace how great a debtor, daily I’m constrained to be.’ Because we’re human, we’re all going around collecting skeletons and shoving them into our closets. You, me, and yes, Mother Teresa. But that’s not where I was going with this. I was going to say that I wonder if there might be something else there, for V S Naipaul. I wonder if sometimes he looks at the V S Naipaul that is the figment of other peoples’ imagination and feels that deep, unparalleled loneliness of not being known. I’ve been down this road before, I know. I know. It is a subject that preoccupies me, the craving to be known, quirks and all, the desire to be known yet loved. I think most of us carry around some degree of fear that people only love us and accept us because they don’t know all of who we are and all that there is to be known about us. Doubtless some at the extreme end live with the dread, every waking hour and sometimes in their nightmares, that when their beloved discover some of what they are and all of what they’ve been, they’ll suffer rejection. And, if you ask me, the fear of rejection is no less painful than rejection itself. I think this is the fundamental reason why I am a Christian. I struggle with different aspects of my faith in countless ways all the time. Ironically perhaps, now more than ever. But one thing remains true: when this African woman stands alone before God, she knows herself to be utterly and completely known, and totally and unconditionally loved. It’s impossible to trump that. And, it’s impossible to walk away from that. Known, yet loved is the safest place I know. I’m incubated right now in a context where I’m rubbing shoulders with an acquaintance regularly, whereas previously, our contact and interaction had been very limited. That is to say, I’m interacting on a regular basis with someone who I previously only knew as a friend of a friend. Recently, she made a very flattering observation about me to our mutual friend. In the beginning, I was quite flattered. But soon, I started to do that thing that I do so well: fret. What she said wasn’t all of how I saw myself. I could see how she could come to that conclusion, because, certainly, I can be that way. But only half the time. Just as often, I’m almost the exact opposite. So off I went to navel-gaze before one of the beloved who serve me as a mirror. So and so said such and such, I said. Is this the way she saw me, I asked. She said yes. Really, I asked. And then I said, but you also know this other side of me, what about that? She said, yes, but you seem to have learned to go away and be the ‘other person’ in the private place, so more and more these days, the person people interact with is this (flattering) side of you. I said, ‘oh.’ I got it, I think, although it still niggles an itsy little bit. Because it made me wonder whether those with only this perspective of me really know me. (You can see once again that I can drive myself crazy, but better me than you, right?) For those of you who are working your active imaginations overtime, I don’t exactly have an illustrious past. But, like I said, I’m skipping along happily toward 40. I’ve lived. I've got baggage. There are things that I would do differently, given the chance to do them all over again. And who I am is as much about all the things I’ve gotten wrong, as about all the times I've gotten it right. So I can sort of, maybe, perhaps, understand V S Naipaul. And Mary J Blige. And... you get my drift.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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11:20
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I was browsing the New York Times and came across this. Three hundred thousand whooping thingamajigs. Wow. I want. So now how? It’s enough to get you blogging again. Well, almost. So what do I have to do to get noticed anyway? Life is back to a new kind of normal for me. I’ve picked up the dreams about leaving this daily slog and moving on to the next thing where I left off, sometime mid-December. If ever there was a sign that normal is back, there it is. And, I’m back to school with Bata. At my age, school is hard. What was I waiting for, a bell? But, hard aside, I’m enjoying it. Imagine it. Believe it. I have the funnest classmates in town. And the lecturers aren’t half bad either. I’ve been known to walk out of courses I’ve paid full fees for because I thought the lecturers were (fill in the blank). So far, these ones are almost worth the fees I’m paying. In other non-news, plus ça change, plus c’est la meme chose. I hear there’s bickering about Cabinet Posts. I couldn’t say for sure because I’ve officially banned me from watching the news or reading anything even remotely related to Kenyan political news. For the sake of my mind. I've only one you see, and I'm intent on not loosing it. It's interesting to see though, that despite the fact that the political class has not got much of its act together and there’s hardly much governing going on except by the perennial civil servant class, things seem to be chugging along just fine. It would seem to me therefore, that the role of politicians in Kenya ought to be confined to “staying out of trouble and letting Kenyans get on with our business.” Full stop. Constitutional lawyer anybody? In the meantime, our once again mundane middle class lives have been set abuzz by the Safaricom IPO. The people, they are liquidating assets, I tell ya. And me, I'm with the people. Gotta get me a slice of that 10 billion-share cake.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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2:09
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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No, I haven't rolled over and died. I keep meaning to come back here and say something, but then I find that I have nothing to say. Or, perhaps, I don't know how to say what I really want to say. I'm trying to go back to the blogger I was before the "Sixty Days in Kenya" happened, but I find that I can't. Not yet, anyway. True, the dark cloud that was hanging ominously over my head is gone and the tight knot in my stomach has loosened somewhat. I'm getting a decent amount of sleep at night. Well, ok, it may not be decent but at least it's not undecent. Oh the things we take for granted. I cannot tell it all. For the most part I'm pleased at the efforts being made by both Raila and Kibaki. I'm privileged and proud to be a part of a proactive church community. And at least I have the hope of a Kenyan identity to cling to again. So things are unbad. But every time I'm tempted to rest on my laurels, I hear something that reminds me that there's still much to be done. What about the internally displaced people? What about the relatively high level of tension in certain parts of the country? What about the land issue? What about the new constitution? I can whatabout myself into a state on any day of the week and three days in between. I know I really ought to let go of all of it and quit fretting. What, after all, can this one african woman do? Still, I fret. I will not be comforted. But, I will be distracted. I came out of my two-month long daze to find that life had been hurtling along at its usual breakneck speed. I'm still trying to catch up and I'm breathless for the effort. Until I do, I will not be in these parts very often. So I suppose you could say this blog is on hiatus. Although, as before, I reserve the right to change my mind. Tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that. Keep well. And thanks for coming by.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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2:45
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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... Of working on a petition to rename Processional Way, the new road from State House to Serena, Annan Way.
The idea is not original to me. A friend mentioned that she read it in the newspaper or some such.
But, I love it.
So, how to go about this? Any ideas? Any takers?It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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23:32
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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THE PLUTOCRAT
In my wanderings I once saw upon an island a man-headed iron-hoofed monster who ate of the earth and drank of the sea incessantly. And for a long while I watched him. Then I approached him and said, ‘Have you never enough; is younger hunger never satisfied and your thirst never quenced?’
And he answered saying, ‘Yes, I am satisfied, nay, I am weary of eating and drinking; but I am afraid that tomorrow there will be no more earth to eat and no more sea to drink.’
***
WAR AND THE SMALL NATIONS
Once, high above a pasture, where a sheep and a lamb were grazing, an eagle was circling and gazing hungrily down upon the lamb. And as he was about to descend and seize his prey, another eagle appeared and hovered above the sheep and her young with the same hungry intent. Then the two rivals began to fight, filling the sky with their fierce cries.
The sheep looked up and was much astonished. She turned to the lamb and said:
‘How strange, my child, that these two noble birds should attack one another. Is not the vast sky large enough for both of them? Pray, my little one, pray in your heart that God may make peace between your winged brothers.’
And the lamb prayed in his heart.
****
And, one of my absolute favourites from Khalil Gibran:
A sense of humour is a sense of proportion.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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12:39
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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So, about those text messages that were spreading hate with impunity: apparently, the government has compiled a list “more than 1700 contacts of individuals who created or forwarded SMS messages to incite ethnic violence,” and it’s “sitting on the desk” of the Permanent Secretary in the ministry of Information and Communication, according to an article by Tim Querrengesser in Saturday’s Nation. The government’s dilemma is what to do with it. Bitange Ndemo, Permanent Secretary in the ministry of Information and Communication, laments that “there’s no law governing hate speech over mobile phones, radio and television.” However, according to the article, Civil Society groups, led by the Kenya National High Commission on Human Rights, drafted a Content Bill last year that would have made hate speech illegal, but although the proposed law was submitted to parliament before last year’s election, it was “shot down.” Kamanda Mucheke, a Senior Human Rights Officer at the Kenya National High Commission on Human Rights still hopes that “once the dust settles” the content law will be passed. Although the government allegedly banned live broadcasts in Kenya on account of the “hate speech, misinformation and rumours (that) flowed through the airwaves,” the text messages kept flowing. There are an estimated 9 million mobile phone users in Kenya. The path to sending SMS messages is a fairly easy one, with the biggest hurdle being that of obtaining a mobile phone. The prices of these continue to dip, and there are now some available in the market for circa 40 US dollars. A mobile phone SIM Card will cost you 1.50 US dollars over the counter and you are not obliged to provide any personal information in the transaction. You can literally buy one for every hour of the day and discard it promptly after use. And once you have a SIM Card, all you need is prepaid credit. Again, all this entails is cash over the counter transaction. SMS messages cost in the region of 5 US cents to send. To do the math is to realize that the cost of broadcasting hate behind a wall of anonymity in Kenya is fairly low. Nonetheless, although there was pressure to ban SMS messaging at the height of the crisis on account of its potential for misuse, in the end, pragmatism prevailed. The truth is, the same medium that was being used to spread hate was also being used to save lives. It was often the only way for internally displaced people fleeing for their lives to communicate their whereabouts to their relatives and to receive news of where danger lurked. Had it not been for timely text messages warning of trouble, it is conceivable that the death toll would have been significantly higher. Unfortunately, sometimes, at least temporarily, you have to take the wheat with the chaff. As Mucheke is reported to have said: “The stakes are high with SMS. The technology is great at spreading hate, but (it) has also become an everyday part of life for Kenyans.”It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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0:43
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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Everybody in my parts is wishing everybody a Happy New Year.
So, Happy New Year.
Today is when 2008 begins for us.
I read from Oyunga Pala that Dr Frank Njenga, probably Kenya's most reknown pyschiatrist, had listed 'not being able to stop talking about politics' as one of the symptoms of post-election trauma in Kenya.
Well, then, Traumatised Are Us.
But now, we have a deal. Sigh.
The journey to healing can begin.
There's much to be done to resettle the displaced, to disarm militia, to rediscover or invent nationhood. Building what we've destroyed will be a long and arduous task.
I worry that we have at the helm leaders who are not up to the task. But, they're all the leaders we have for now so they'll have to do. And they deserve some credit, at least, for getting us to this place of compromise, even though it should have happened much sooner.
I worry also, about loosing the momentum. I do hope we're not deluded enough to imagine that we can now just go back to 'business as usual.' And I pray that we have the courage to resolve the issues that have boiled viciously onto the surface these past couple of months.
I don't want to ever come back to this place again, so I'm willing to spend a little more time here, this time around, poking and probing, trying to get to the bottom of the matter.
Someone reminded me the other day about a prophecy that did its rounds in the Christian circles in Kenya in the late nineties: that Kenya was destined to be a great nation in the 21st Century; that we would be amazed by where we would go and who we would be.
Everything that happened these past two months seemed to fly in the face of this prophecy. But perhaps it was about the seed dying so that an oak could grow out of it.
I'm with June Jordan, Alice Walker and Barack Obama:
We Are The Ones We Have Been Waiting For.
And, our time has come. Time not to celebrate, but to roll up our sleeves and get to work.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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10:41
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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Speaking of prayer: I wrote a post about the response of the Church in Kenya to the unfolding political situation some many weeks ago and then didn’t post it. Can’t find it now so I’ll try a do over. A couple of days after the chaos started, I received a text message from one of the leaders in my church community. It reported that Church leaders in Nairobi had met and had decided to take a four-pronged approach to addressing the situation that arose out of the disputed election. Four sub-committees were formed to oversee each of these approaches. There is a Spiritual Committee that deals with rallying Christians to prayer and fast. Behind the scenes, away from view, there's a great deal of prayer going on. There are plans for overnight prayer all over Nairobi on 29th of February and a week of fasting for Christians thereafter. Early in January, there was a praying meeting at All Saints Cathedral where Church leaders from different ethnic communities across Kenya came together repenting for the sins of their respective communities and asking forgiveness from one another on behalf of their communities. I did not make it to this prayer meeting, but some who went told me it was an extraordinary time. There is also a Social Response Committee that deals with the emergency response and rallying Christians to show compassion to their neighbours during this crisis. Out of this has come the Msafara, the caravan of hope that will see several Pastors from various denominations traveling Kenya spreading the message of hope and providing vital supplies even as they preach peace and hope to wananchi. Then there’s the Political Committee whose role is to try to influence leaders on either side of the political divide to act for the good of all Kenyans. You saw some of their efforts early in January as they made statements on behalf of the Church to Kibaki and Raila. Recently, a group of church leaders appeared on television asking for forgiveness from Kenyans for not having risen above the ethnic divide in the days leading up to the election and in the early days of the post election crisis. That, I think, was exemplary. Anyone who had just even one eye groggily open could clearly see the divisions within the Church in the beginning. I think it was an act of courage to come forth and say, we've done bad, we should have known better, we will do better going forward. And there’s the Communications Committee whose aim is to spread a positive message through the media and beyond and to influence the tenor of the media message. I’m afraid I’m less familiar with the activities of this committee than I should be. I understand Pastor Gowi Odera is one of the people responsible for its activities. On 14th of February, he and his wife were interviewed by Julie Gichuru of NTV about what their experience has been in their interethnic marriage at a special event organized by Kenya’s Fashion Community to raise funds for those affected by the post election violence. I don't know if this was part of the strategy or was just a coincidence. Still, I think it's interesting to see that the church is determined to be proactive even in this respect. One of the most memorable times we have had recently was at the a dinner hosted by Life Ministry for Christian leaders in Kenya at which Victor Koh from Singapore told the amazing story of Singapore’s journey to become a successful first world nation in just one generation. Those of you who’ve read “From Third World to First World: The Singapore Story: 1965-2000" by Lee Kuan Yew will be familiar with this story. In the midst of all the doom and gloom, the excitement, the sense of possibility was palpable. The venue was filled to overflowing and makeshift arrangements had to be made to accommodate guests over and above the numbers that had been anticipated. From a Kenyan perspective, the Singapore story does sound somewhat incredulous so along with all the excitement was an accompanying sense of “you’ve got to be kidding me, how now?” as well. And there was a great deal of debate around tables and on serving queues about where exactly Singapore went right and where we went wrong. Those were interesting discussions to listen in on and participate in. Because once upon a time, circa 1976 or so, Kenya and Singapore were at par. And that’s hard to swallow. Whereas the presentation by Victor Koh was thought-provoking, the ensuing discussion was the most uplifting part of the evening for me as it reminded me what brilliant thinkers we have within the Christian community in Kenya and what potential that portends. One comment I took away with me, although I forgot the name of the gentleman who made it, was that equity is more, much more than redistribution of resources. According to him, we will know we have achieved true justice when a crime by a rich man always attracts the same penalty as the same crime committed by a poor man. He may have been inspired in part by Victor Koh’s description of how corruption and white collar crime is dealt with in Singapore, but I suspect that he’d been ruminating on this for some time before. It stopped me in my tracks, it did, because it forced me to look at an old term in a new way. In many ways, then, I think the story of the Church in Kenya mirrors the Christian narrative, what we might call the Pilgrim’s Progress. We’re far from perfect, and we’re painfully aware of that, but we try our best. Sometimes, oftentimes even, we stumble and fall, but when we do, we struggle to get up and determine to continue to forge ahead. That’s all a Pilgrim can do. Most importantly though, there are Christians all over Kenya praying fervently for this country at this time in our history. In some ways, I think that it is these prayers that have kept the bottom from giving way under us. So if you’re one of those who’s been praying, don’t give up just yet. For more, read what one of my favourite Pastor's has to say here. And yes, I'm an unabashed promoter of his blog. Also see the Msafara Blog.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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15:58
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I'm seated here, twiddling my thumbs and shuffling my feet, unable to sleep.
And praying.
My prayers continue to be remarkably inarticulate.
But flourish is not fervour and words are not always heart.
Kenneth Copeland reminded me the other day to simply pray the desired end result.
Dear God please.
Peace. Justice. Mercy. Prosperity. Healing. Reconciliation. A great nation rising out of these ashes. Opportunity for one and all.
If ever we needed a miracle as a nation, we need one now.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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15:11
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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23:51
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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"I'm beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel." Kofi Annan.
Well, I'll BE!
Music to my ears.
And, in response to a special request by yours truly, the Daily Nation on Friday included the word 'Hope' in their frontpage headlines.
Good people, at the tail end of a down in the dumps week, I'm almost smiling. Almost, I said. But give me a couple of signatures on the dotted line and I'll be dancing the night away. Or some such.
Mutula Kilonzo who's on the PNU negotiating team says it's "a balanced deal that won't please everybody." Compromises all around. That's what we've been talking about. Ego and ambition sacrificed at the altar of the national good. Amen.
Can we almost get on with our lives already?
Because I had plans for 2008, I did.
But then again so did the circa 350,000 Internally Displaced People around the country who only have tattered lives to show for it now.
That's the thing (there's always a thing you see): the signing of a political deal is not the end, it is the beginning. Still much to be done in the days, months and years ahead.
I worry about the level of mistrust and suspicion between the two sides of the political divide and what that will mean going forward. But maybe I fret unnecessarily. Martha Karua and Sally Kosgei were seen chatting amicably enough at the end of yesterday's session. Perhaps they might all yet overcome their sharp differences and work as a team to move this country forward.
We're scraping hope from the bottom of the barrel, and believing they can because they must.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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3:13
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I’ve been advised to delete the last but one post because well, in brief, “the cracks are showing.”
Sigh.
Thing is, I can’t. Or, more accurately, I won’t.
First, I’d like to be able to look back at this blog in a year or two and remember my ups and downs and sideways at this crucial time in our country. So even if I feel differently tomorrow, I felt what I felt when I blogged what I blogged.
Second, if my cracks are showing, it’s because, well, I have cracks all over the place. Seriously. You don’t know the half of it.
I wasn’t happy with Condi’s speech. I thought her tone was disrespectful and unnecessary. She has a thing or twenty to learn from Kofi Annan who is rumoured to bang tables and do drama behind closed negotiating room doors but who, whenever he appears before the Kenyan people, addresses us with respect.
But, I recognize that she had been handed the ‘moral right’ to say what she did on a gold platter by our leaders as they seem to be incapable of sorting out this mess that they created without outside pressure.
So seriously, I’m not taking any of that back.
Just so you know.
But I will add that, beside the tough words, Condi came bearing, ahem, “gifts” or had we rather call them "incentives" in the form of promises of aid to our leaders should they finally do the thing that we elected them to do which is ‘to lead.’
Knowing Kenya’s paltry placement on the Transparency International Corruption Index, I wonder whether it was a case of if you can’t beat them, bribe them?
I wonder also, if it will it be a good thing or a bad thing for Kenya if this promise of a basketful of goodies serves to finally persuade the opposing sides to strike a comprehensive deal.
But then again, we want them to come to a reasonable understanding so that we can get our lives back, no? And sometimes, the ends justify the means, right?
Sigh. I bet you’ve gathered that I’m stark in the middle of a cynical phase here.
I don't know how I got here. I'm struggling to get to the other side. See you there. When I get there.
I need me an infusion of hope.
Barack Obama, where are you when a homeland needs you?
(Off to watch that will.i.am video on youtube again.)
We can get out of this mess, right? (YES WE CAN. BUT CAN WE REALLY?)It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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6:39
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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He got me with “Dreams From My Father.” It was hard to believe the parts about Kenya were written by someone who’d not been brought up in Kenya. So authentic. Neither raw nor overdone. Just right. I loved him then. And then, "Audacity of Hope" sealed the deal. I like.
Last June, I remember being in a car in Johannesburg, driving from point A to point B. There were four of us, from four different countries, two Africans two non-Africans. From a discussion on the global economic climate, we segued into a discussion about who could would might be the next US President. Hillary Clinton got a fair amount of airtime. We tossed pluses and minuses back and forth. Rudi Giulliani also came under scrutiny. I attempted to insert Barack Obama into the conversation. Everybody laughed. I mean, chortled. Nobody else in the car thought he was worth considering.
In the next couple of weeks, at least three of us will get together again. I can’t wait.
Also, I’m ‘up to here’ with Kenya. Enough. I’m off to bury my head in the sand. DO NOT DISTURB.
Just one more thing: ahem, has anyone else noticed that drought has checked in? Mom told me some weeks ago the harvest was very poor this year, and that set off the first warning bells for me. But of course there's plenty of news jostling for mind space so I stashed that away absentmindedly. Then yesterday, there were cattle being herded along Mbagathi Way. That's usually a sign that there's trouble in the land.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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7:27
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I’m very cross with Mwai Kibaki, Raila Odinga and their respective hardline surrogates today, for putting us in this position where the “International Community” have all the excuse they need to swagger into our sovereignty and order us around.
Because Condi, Milliband, and that tall German whatsisname guy with an unkempt moustache would not be all up in our faces being patronizing if Kenya's erstwhile leaders just left their mountain-sized egos outside the negotiating room and got their acts together already. We want back our country and our pride. Give us back our country and our pride.
Seriously, today: Me. Cross. At these so called leaders of ours.
Wincing and squirming and cross.
* edited for toneIt's my window, but I don't own the view.
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21:01
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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Kofi Annan’s statement yesterday about the ongoing mediation process was noteworthy as much for what he said outrightly as for what he only alluded to.
First, he acknowledged that the process was unfolding slower than he had initially anticipated it would. With a sigh of resignation, he said “the caravan has to go at the pace of the slowest coach.” Then he added, almost muttering under his breath, that the only other options would be to repair that coach or replace it.
I’m hazarding that semi-censure is directed at the government side for being slow in coming to terms with the reality that in the short term, there will have to be some form of government of national unity to bridge us into the future.
Annan says that a grand coalition assures the government a two-thirds majority in parliament and therefore ensures that the legislation to effect “far-reaching constitutional and structural” reform would be passed in a timely manner.
I just think that we need to stop pretending that this is ‘business as usual’, loath as I am to borrow from the British and the Americans their language of threat.
Reform Term. Reform Term. Reform Term.
The current challenges have brought with them unprecedented opportunity to go back to the drawing board and work together to design the Kenya We Want. Let’s work the detail, make this deal happen and move along to the next thing already. There’s much to be done, momentum not to be wasted and all that other that.
At the tail end of his address to the press, Annan hinted that there might be those who were looking to unnecessarily extend the mediation process in the hope that they would frustrate him into leaving. He reiterated that he has essentially unpacked his bags and taken up camp. He isn’t going anywhere until he delivers to the Kenyan people the comprehensive political solution they deserve, and he's categorical about not being “frustrated or provoked to leave.”
So there.
Hear, hear Kofi Annan. So, what avenue are we going to rename in honour of this amazing man, do you think?It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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7:29
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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I salute what David Kobia is trying to do with I HAVE NO TRIBE. He has catalysed a useful discussion, especially in the wake of what I hear the Mashada forums had deteriorated to. To be Kenyan at this time and in this place is to go over your raison d’etre with a fine-tooth comb: to search your soul, deeply. We have been forced to revisit our presumptive identities, to unpack who we always thought we were, to grope for definition(s). I for one have been unearthing childhood memories and dusting them off in an attempt to isolate the spaces that shaped me into this person that I have become. And there have been interesting (sometimes heated) discussions about the place of socialization, values and ideas in the current crisis and about the nuanced standoff between individualistic and collective cultures as witnessed between certain ethnic communities in Kenya today. I have given as much as I have taken in these debates. There’s still much to give and as much to take. Today, I acknowledge that I belong to a specific ethnic community and that that belonging speaks to where I come from in vital ways that I will not disregard. But. I AM NOT MY TRIBE. At the top of my voice, defiantly, and somewhat breathlessly, to the tune of India Arie’s I Am Not My Hair, I am singing: I Am Not My Tribe, I Am Not This Name,I Am Not Your Expectations, No. This has become my mantra. My ethnicity speaks to me and to you about where I have come from, not to who I am nor where I am going. And I will not allow it to dictate my choices and my affiliations nor to set my limits for me of who I am and what I hold to be true. I have said before, if we are to forge a Kenyan nationhood, we have to find a new way of being. We cannot pass on this fractured nation to the next generation. We’ve battered and grievously assaulted what we’re meant to be holding in trust for our children and it is unconscionable to pass it on until we have restored it and set it on a path to where it ought to be going. And one of the most painful things that we must face up to, to a large extent, is that this is a journey that the generation before us will be neither able nor willing to take with us. In many ways, we will have to let go of our ‘parents’ in order to take hold of the future for our ‘children’. We were raised to hold our elders in the highest esteem, to listen to them when they spoke, to consider their words carefully, to trust their judgment. But, we cannot do so when they insist on speaking the divisions of the past as we strive to forge the bonds of tomorrow. We must find the strength, the courage and the vision to say: “Mum, Dad, _____, _______, you know I love you to the edge of madness, but, enough.” Enough. We are the ones who must find common stories of nationhood to coalesce around. This is our moment, and we must seize it or be swallowed up in it. *********** For a Christian leader's take, see Pastor M's post on the subject.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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6:27
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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Right now, I'm loving Annan so much that it's threatening to become a cult.
I love his grit and determination, his "I'm not ready to contemplate failure. I'm not ready to give up now."
Of all the people involved in this process, he's the only one I've been able to trust as not having come laden with a basketful of hidden agendas or worse still, having been lowered as a puppet into our circumstances by "vested interests."
I'm the people, and I feel as though Annan is looking beyond the shenanigans of both sides of the political divide, that he sees me, and that he is using me as a true north, to navigate his way to the Kenya That Ought To Be from this desolate place called Kenya Today.
Now he says that a political settlement will be announced next week.
It's looking to me like we'll have a government of national unity. I can live with a government of national unity. Especially if that government is charged primarily with bringing about the kind of reform that will ensure that we will never go down this road again.
Let this be a Reform Term, however long the term might be. Let it be clear that this is an Extraordinary Term, and that the 10th parliament's responsibility is to help us successfully build a bridge from the Kenya that was to the Kenya we want.
(Ohmygoodness. Could we really have finally turned the corner? Must be, with the ban on both live media coverage and holding of public rallies lifted. I can hardly believe it. Perhaps I should say I'm afraid to believe it, although I want to believe it so badly. ohmygoodness.)It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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6:26
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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My host tells me there are only two hotels in Kinshasa that meet international standards: Grand Hotel where I end up staying, and Hotel Memling. He tells me these are the only two hotels where I’ll be guaranteed water and electricity all day.
Where his offices are located, they’re guaranteed electricity only once a week. At all other times, supply is as random as luck. No telling if it will come, when it will come, and for how long.
This in the country that is home to one of Africa’s biggest rivers, the mighty Congo, across which the massive Inga dams has been constructed. The dams are on low output, having fallen into disrepair, and are at a mere 30% capacity. The government honours international contracts to supply other countries, and there’s little left over for local consumption.
This is only the beginning of a long list of things that will break your heart.
The people here in Kinshasa, I’m told, are steeling for tough times ahead. Kabila recently signed a mining concession with China worth billions of dollars. Apparently, the Chinese will loan Kabila billions of dollars, and in turn, Kabila will give the Chinese mining concessions to two very large mines. Western governments and multinationals are said to be seething.
They were his allies in his effort to consolidate power in the DRC. This is an unforgivable snub. How dare Kabila think he is free to work with whomsoever he chooses? Who does he think he is? President of a sovereign nation or something? Yeah, right.
His former allies have set out to prove to him who’s really in charge. They’re funding the opposition heavily now, stoking fires of discontent. So the Congolese are once again bracing themselves for hard times. Or so the story goes.
It is a curious city this. As everywhere else in Africa, prepaid phone credit is booming business for the small-scale traders and street vendors alike. So is the business of selling motor vehicle spare parts. This too does not surprise. I come from a country where ‘previously-owned’ cars far outnumber new cars on the road. Still, I am startled at how old the cars here are. But, they get you from A to B. And that’s the point, I suppose. I am told ‘the Nigerians’ control that trade.
What is puzzling to me, though, is the proliferation of, wait for this, pharmacies. I don’t get it. They’re on every corner. Sometimes two, even three to a street. I ask my host why this would be so. He says because you don’t need a license to open a pharmacy. I press for more. Aren’t there other businesses that don’t require licenses to start? Well, there are, but, you also don’t need a prescription to purchase drugs at a pharmacy in Kinshasa. Ok, we’re getting warmer but still not quite getting there. What else do you have, I persist, knowing full well I’m testing my welcome. He sighs deeply and then offers, the profit margins are very high as well. I’m not sure I got to the heart of the matter, but I gave myself an A for effort and wandered into other avenues enquiry.
I want to visit bookshops.
I am informed that all bookshops in Kinshasa are owned by Christian organizations although they sell general books and academic literature in addition to religious literature. I quirk an eyebrow. How now? OK the universities have academic bookshops, but that’s it, really. I visit three bookshops run by Eglise du Christ du Congo, the Salvation Army and Paulines Publication respectively. The range of available literature is limited and in many cases, outdated.
I have traveled enough in Francophone Africa to know that the reading culture in that part of Africa does not nearly approximate the reading culture in Anglophone Africa even as the reading culture in Anglophone Africa has quite a distance to go before it catches up to reading cultures in the West.
Still, it surprises me. I gather that street vendors command a significant share of the book trade. I meet an elderly gentleman who, among a long list of other things on his to-do-list that suggests he has 67 hours to his day, is trying to publish a magazine and some books in DRC. I rant about the challenges. He raves about the possibilities. I like him, I do.
Kinshasa’s roads are in a horrible state of repair. And I’m from Kenya, so believe me, my bar is set incredibly low. Sightings of significant buildings are few and far between. You get a choke in your throat to think of it. So much of this country’s wealth is making people the world over filthy rich. And nary a fraction of that wealth is being plowed back into the country. My host remarks that at least across the river, in Brazzaville, they’re using some of their oil money to develop a decent infrastructure. It’s better than Kinshasa, he says, although in many ways, we’re their big brother.
Kabila’s agreement with the Chinese is that they’ll build roads and schools and institutions with the billions of dollars from the mining concession. We wait to see.
You see it, you believe it: DRC is a country cursed with immense natural wealth. When I voice my indignation about all those who have ravaged and plundered and raped their country to my host, he shrugs.
He knows. He’s been there all along.
*****
In other random, nigh useless news, my Kenyan tongue, accustomed to our more bland cuisine, was tested on Congolese Chilli and, I'm smug to report, I won, I conquered, I nigh beat them at their own game. OK, I exaggerate. But only a little.
*****
So, Cameroon beat Ghana. They were my bet from the beginning. Not very original of me, I know. But, I felt sad for Ghana. They wanted it sooo badly. You saw it in the way the beat Nigeria. Nigeria, was the better team, Ghana wanted it more. And there was a lesson in there for anyone who cared to find it. You couldn't help but wonder how far the sheer will to win could propel a team.
And Cote d'Ivoire. Ouch. To go out like that. Sigh.
OK Cameroon, now do your thing.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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7:37
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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For a long time, this country has been rearing the monster that is our country’s growing numbers of unemployed, disenfranchised youth. They're deeply discontent, they are angry and they're everywhere.
And now our erstwhile politicos have, inadvertently or otherwise, unleashed this monster from its cage thinking that they can control it at the crack of their whip.
I fear they will not be able to do so.
Already, in the wake of the chaos a couple of weeks ago in Nakuru, gangs of youth have emerged there and have began to extort businesspeople and homeowners for what they’re calling a “youth levy.”
A young man approaches a businessperson and tells them that henceforth, they’ll have to pay a “youth levy” in order to secure the protection services of these youth should trouble break out. It’s not an offer, it’s a threat. The businessperson understands that if they do not pay this “youth levy,” then their business under risk of attack by these very youth.
A friend tells me that Kisumu is also being run by gangs of youth and that, to a large extent, the looting, stealing and damaging of property continues.
Elsewhere, marauding gangs of young people armed with crude weapons continue to set up roadblocks at will on Kenya’s main roads, extorting the motorists plying these roads. The best case scenario is when they extort money without causing any passenger any bodily harm. The best case scenario.
And a week ago in Kinoo, Uthiru and parts of Ngong, Mungiki dropped leaflets, warning those belonging to specific ethnic communities to vacate the region or face dire consequences.
The blame for the provocation and the incitement lies elsewhere for the most part. But, those who bear the weapons, those cause the destruction, those who kill, are the youth. Everywhere you turn, our young people are the hands and feet of the violence.
Good people, this, more than anything that is happening in Kenya right now, worries me.
I’ve said elsewhere that to look into the faces of our young people is to glimpse the future. To grossly understate it, I’m not particularly thrilled at this sneak preview.
I empathise with their plight. This country has failed them. We have marginalized them instead of integrating them. We’ve consigned them to periphery, unwilling to allow them penetrate to the centre of power, or participate in our economy in any meaningful way.
We have done this.
And we're soon going to discover that it is a lot more difficult to put off a bushfire than it is to light it in the first instance.It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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11:22
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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Just so that on the rare occasion when I happen to run into it, I can, you know, salute it or something.
I’m out and about once again, singing for my supper and looking for a patch where my goat can graze. So I’m reading all about Cyril Ramaphosa’s potential entry into the Kenyan mediation equation from a frustrating distance. And I’m asking myself what seem to be pretty obvious questions. Like: Does the PNU mediation team have any proof that Cyril Ramaphosa and Raila Odinga did any business together? If it does, what business? When? If it doesn't, what could PNU be up to? Why are they intent on blocking the participation of a person of his impressive qualifications?
Basic questions such as these which you'd think any newspaper intent on covering the ongoings in Kenya would assign a journalist to find reasonable answers to.
But, all that the media, both local and international, can come up with is that PNU allege it and Cyril and Raila deny it.
Well, alright then, moving right along. Not.
Opinion journalism seems to be all the rave:
i) pick a few random facts from a bowl of information;
ii) sprinkle them generously with personal opinion;
iii) add 3 ounces of preconceived notion;
iv) bake until it appears cooked (never mind that it is not cooked, it is the appearance that matters)
v) serve hurriedly and move on to the next thing.
Next we'll be wondering what we need newspapers for when we have blogs that run the gamut from well-researched reporting to delicately balanced opinion to unapologetically slanted propaganda.
So, why do we, anyway?
It's my window, but I don't own the view.
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8:27
From: What An African Woman Thinks
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The American Ambassador to Kenya, Michael Ranneberger, is fast becoming known as DJ Ranneberger on account of his frequent appearances on various TV and Radio stations in Kenya to speak about the ongoing crisis. At first it was difficult to distinguish him in the cacophony—it was all too loud, too frenzied, too much. To his credit, however, he’s continued to speak reason, moderation, resolution and reconciliation. Slowly I’ve began to distinguish his voice above the din.
I’ve been re-evaluating my stance on the role of the international community in helping resolve the Kenyan crisis. I’ve said before that I think that if we get our act together, we’re well able to cultivate a homegrown solution such as no one can deliver to us from abroad. I still subscribe in principle to this point of view. I have always been wary of the hidden agendas and ulterior motives of purportedly neutral parties. “Selfish political interests” do not suddenly dissipate into thin air when you flash a different passport.
But.
Ranneburger makes a convincing argument when he contends that although we theoretically have ample capacity to cultivate a homegrown solution in Kenya, that capacity has been compromised by a high level of mistrust between the opposing parties and that because of the nature of the issue at hand, every Kenyan is considered to be Either Or, there's little or no room in the middle.
Some people have made commendable effort to remain above the fray, but in the current impasse, rightly or wrongly, every Kenyan is assumed to have taken a side. It is nigh impossible to be neutral and harder still to convince anyone of your neutrality in the unlikely event that you are n | |
