Music first:
2. Me by Badu
Greetings good people. I cannot believe that I’ve been here for three months now! When I posted the last time, I shared the why. Now, I'd like to focus on “the what”. What, I hope will breed excitement but also dismiss single-lensed views of Nairobi. And while reading, I hope that I don't come across as overly optimistic, judgmental, or frustrated. It was very difficult for me to write this. In many ways, it is a massive compilation of connected and unconnected reflections about the last few weeks. And I still feel frustrated and defeated by this post. I hope you read with the understanding that everything is everything. I tried to research the origin of that phrase and found two distinct meanings (though there's an argument for a third complicated Nation of Islam and Five Percenter meaning, I won't begin to even think I'm competent to unpack or explain that meaning). Everything is Everything can mean all is well or all is going according to plan, at least in my people’s words. Take, for example, Donny Hathway's Everything is Everything or Diana Ross' Everything is Everything.
But there’s another powerful meaning: contrasting everything is everything against everything will be everything. By that, the phrase can mean, “it is what it is” but that doesn't mean that it will always be that way. Sasa, let’s tune into Lauryn Hill’s Everything is Everything. At first, Hill seems to start with the idea that change will happen but it's beyond our control. “After winter must come spring” she sings. Perhaps in 1998, she didn't realize the impact of global warming and that sometimes after winter comes summer, but that's beside the point. She shifts, however, sharing that we are powerful, we can be courageous, we can love ourselves, with dedication our seeds will grow. We can change the negative into a positive picture. I went back and looked at the video, NYC as a record on a vinyl player, and felt more confident that her meaning of the phrase is that despite overwhelming pressure from those in power, we can also create change. If we use a record (a symbol for the script or status quo), we can scratch the record, flip it, stop it, or even change it. Everything is everything!
So as I share these observations, remember that in my short journey this is what I'm seeing and feeling but that may change and I'm intentionally trying to change my initial perspective by looking closely for the positive and sharing with the understanding that it's all from my incomplete and imperfect point of view. And with every observation, I become overwhelmed thinking about the similarities in experiences with other Blacks from the Diaspora. Those disruptors or activists who have made similar transitions, Stokley Carmichael, Walter Rodney, and other Africans who connected that their own anti-colonial struggles were far too similar to others in the diaspora to ignore them. I am talking about people like Kwame Nkrumah and Julius Nyere. But then, I sulk with the omission of voices of black women who have done the same, I know they exist, but very little do I really know about women like Binti Kupara (whose life seems strikingly similar to Fannie Lou Hammer), Hawa Tako, or Mabel Dove-Danquahs. Though I am disappointed in this post, I write because our society so often silences the voices of black women. One thing I know is that when I am looking for honesty and transparency, I listen closely and trust the truths of black women. Though I do not enjoy writing, I recognize that if we do not document and share our perspectives, others will do it for us and likely from an incredibly dangerous angle. With so many observations and developing reflections, I am owning that it is up to me to decide what my reality is and to document it, as frustrating as it may be. With all that context, here is what I have actually been thinking and feeling.
Seamless Nairobi
Nairobians are incredibly adept at finding seamless solutions to large scale problems by leveraging technology. It takes minutes to get a cab, seconds to send or receive money, and the blink of an eye to get online. Sure, they haven't figured out how to solve for the crazy traffic and urban slums, but they are working on solutions. You can zip through traffic, and perhaps risk an injury by ordering a boda-boda on over four different apps. There are hundreds of social entrepreneurs in Kibera making financial and educational opportunities for young people and children. I’m in love with Nairobians because so many of them are aggressive in their resolve to solve problems with a high degree of efficiency while honouring community.
Recycling or Stifling?
Some people try to overcome poverty by selling. I cannot, yet, bring myself to do mitumba shopping at places like Toi Market. I buy second-hand goods in the U.S. a lot. I donate clothes and household goods to thrift stores, consignment shops, and local charities quite a bit. After watching True Cost and struggling to find locally-designed and produced clothing at an affordable price, I wonder whether these markets do more good or harm to local economies. There are many incredible designers in Nairobi, I’ve gotten to know one bad-ass designer who operates Embody Accessories, winner of the 2018 Kenya Fashion Award Jewellery Designer of the Year. She creates fabulous jewellery through upcycled materials. I wonder what happens to businesses like hers and hubs like the Designing Africa Collective when we can buy dresses for 30 bob (.30 cents). Does second-hand clothing stifle local creativity and business? A bigger question is where do we put all this clothing when it becomes trash? And what is the message when the global north sends its rejected second-hand clothes to the “developing world”? I understand there are many solid arguments in favour of mitumba and I understand that I continue to expand landfills when I shop at places like Marshalls and TJ Maxx, because if you know me, you know I love a sale. But for now, because there seem to be far more damaging effects than benefits, I will try to stay away not only from Toi but also from other fast fashion.
Investing in our own
It makes sense at this point to dive a bit deeper into money and self-development. I love that almost everyone I know here are entrepreneurs or have many side-hustles even if formally employed. Certainly, limited access to high-paying jobs has a significant role to play in this. But, the beauty of being in places of stress/hardship, often means finding opportunities to innovate and focus on personal development. So many people around me are doing just that. More inspiring, is when black nations start doing this. I shared last time that President Kenyatta was on his way to Jamaica, well, he also visited several other Caribbean nations. I’m excited to see what could happen when nations in the diaspora start investing in each other. I watched a beautiful interview a few weeks ago, Breakfast Club with Jidenna. First, don’t judge me for being a fan of the show, a little bit of ratchet enriches the soul. Second, ignore or just laugh with Lenard “Charlamagne tha god” McKelvey and his silly comments, there’s some depth under all the coonery (I think). Seven minutes into the interview, Jidenna shares some wisdom from his Nigerian dad: you can’t inflate a balloon from inside the balloon. You must inflate it from outside. By that, he meant that the diaspora must take money from outside and put it in Africa and Africans must invest it in the diaspora.
And that is exactly what seems to be happening when Prime Minister Mia Mottley of Barbados encouraged Bajans to invest in Africa and what Kenyatta is doing when he gets specific with supporting CARICOM nations to learn and leapfrog from Kenya’s expertise in mobile banking. He shared areas where diasporans can invest in Kenya. And they aren't just talking, a couple of weeks ago Barbados and Kenya signed a south-south cooperation agreement (read this for an introduction on the importance of south-south cooperation), creating opportunities for healthcare providers to intern in Kenya, greater research and faculty collaboration between the University of the West Indies and Kenyan universities, and sharing in communication and information technology. Imagine the possibilities if black folks intentionally invested across the Atlantic! When a few European and Arab people did it centuries ago, it fueled the industrial revolution and the wealth of several nations. We know they did it with free labour and stealing land, but there are abundant opportunities in education, healthcare, logistics, tourism, and technology that we haven't begun to tap into. I love that Kenyans and our Caribbean folk are being intentional in inflating their own balloon!
Too much safety?
We protect the things we value. And you will feel that protection in Nairobi. Before you actually get the warm “Karibu!” when entering many homes, stores, or office buildings, there’s first the important stuff: “Madame, please open.” You'll get the signal to the backpack or purse. I’m sure living through the Westgate attack was scary. Many of us remember what it was like after the attack on the twin towers. I can’t help but think that these entry searches are nothing but an illusion. Can you really tell that I don’t have weapons from a two-second scan? As annoying as these searches are, the askaris are almost always pleasant and there is usually a male and female guard so at least security companies are hiring people? I'm trying to find the positive angle friends.
Speaking of security, I need to profess my new love of my neighbourhood police station. I even gave them four stars through a Google review. Remember that fundi, yeah, I had to take him to the police station where he promised to pay me back. That was seven weeks ago and he still hasn’t paid, OK, he did pay exactly 1/16th back, but the silver lining is that I feel seen, heard and valued by the POLICE. Who would have thought that I could walk into a police station, not have an anxiety attack, and see officers who smile back?
Misplaced Fears & Trust
I can appreciate that perhaps the police were more inclined to support me because I’m an expat and Kileleshewa is a generally safe and middle-class neighbourhood. But these same police officers were also feeding a homeless woman and trying to sober up someone who appeared to be dangerously drunk and lost. They cared for each of us. I started writing this post with the intention of exploring duality in Nairobi: the layers of privilege and unease with the constant catering to whiteness and foreigners (I will get back to this another time). But on the other side, there’s a deep caring for community and others here. It is not lost on me that almost every street beggar who is physically handicapped is also accompanied by a helper. A big concern is why do so many people need to beg on the street, but the beauty is that they too are seen and supported by others. Even in trying circumstances, people show love and humanity.
There’s a lot to unpack in the small observations navigating through Nairobi traffic. But then the attacks in South Africa happened. I should have published this article in the first week of September. My stomach is still in knots from trying to process what is happening. My immediate reaction was, why aren’t they burning Woolworths or Mr Price? I can empathize with some of their frustrations. When you're told the economy is getting better and there should be more opportunities, it is natural to question why you aren't seeing that success in your own life and in the lives of those you care about. It's delusional, however, to think that destroying the small livelihoods of your neighbours will make your own life better. Julius Malema and Trevor Noah are absolutely correct, the fear and mistrust of rioters are aimed at the wrong people. If we indulge in the anti-Pan African argument that a black person in Africa should ever be considered a foreigner in another African country (country lines drawn by wealthy Europeans), and these foreigners leave, how much will their lives improve? Malema warns us about what will happen when they find no improvement in their circumstances after banishing their neighbours: Zulus will begin fighting against Xhosas instead of the 4,000 white families that control almost all the wealth in the country.
I was in Uganda when several stories were shared about Ugandans killed in SA during the attacks. There has been such a frenzy of misinformation over social media that I do not know how true the reports were. Doesn't help that I watched The Great Hack recently. I do know that a day after seeing those posts, Mandela’s statue at The Mandela National Stadium in Uganda was covered in plastic bags. It was not covered a day before the incidents were reported. Perhaps they were preparing for construction but my sense is that it was related to the attacks. And it made me incredibly sad.
I was talking to my mother about feelings of disappointment and disillusionment. She made me feel worse. Worse because she can recall the Pan-African hopes of unity through greater trade via the well-hoped for African Union of 1963. Two years after Jamaica’s independence, watching the dreams of collaboration, cooperation, and cooperative trade go down the drain, she reminds me that self-hate and divide and rule is and was the most effective of colonial and neocolonial strategies. She continued, what did we get independence from? She promised that the NGO industrial complex is sitting back waiting to step in with aid so that the world sees whiteness as saviours. And I know she’s right in so many ways.
I really hope that there is a silver lining from all of this, I have to believe that the African Union working together, instead of against each other, will push the continent towards self-reliance and unity. I have to hope that workers and poor people will benefit from the African Continental Free Trade Agreement (AfCFTA). I have to hope that in other parts of the continent we closely check our biases against our neighbours. I am truly worried because almost every Kenyan I know have shared they are “worried about” Somalis. Sure it is easy to launder money in Kenya, however, we cannot seriously think that people escaping poverty and instability are all agents of Al Shabab. Fortunately for Somalis, Kenyans value their intricate and efficient trading networks. If you want something shipped to Kenya, you can trust a Somali trading company to get your goods to you in one piece at an affordable price. We seem to respect others only when we can appreciate their worth. When will we as black people demonstrate that worth to the world?
I’m writing this closing extremely disheartened. I’m still trying to make meaning of Mugabe’s death, process what’s happening in SA, and recoup from the most uncomfortable interaction with an immigration agent at the JKIA. I have never felt unwelcome in Kenya, but I certainly do feel that way as I write this paragraph. Maybe I’m overthinking things, but I feel that xenophobic attitudes are spreading.
I don’t know why I feel the need to share this but I will. I remember when our Religion teacher, Mr. Ennis, introduced us to karma. At 11 or 12 years old, my immediate connection with the belief was “oh, so when are white people going to become slaves?” I don’t think I said it to Mr. Ennis, but I remember sharing with a classmate. She chuckled and ignored me. How sad is it that an 11-year-old thinks like this? How sad is it that at my age, I still wonder why we aren’t directly attacking symbols of whiteness and exploitation?
I write every morning, just for myself, and I usually feel hopeful and purged, ready to take on the world. I still feel heavy after writing this. Maybe that’s ok? All in all, everything is everything in both senses of the phrase: it's going according to plan (sometimes even to the oppressors’ plan) and I'm still so hopeful for the future and the changes to come. I know it's up to me to shape that future. I'm loving access to amazing hikes across Kenya, my Kikuyu name, Wanja (thank you Ageless Fitness for naming me, I just need my Luo and Luhya name and I will feel complete), and meeting so many amazing, warm, and smart people.
I’m getting so much inspiration from a short visit to Rwanda and learning about Gacaca, pronounced ga-cha-cha, from the post-genocide healing process. I was surprised that I never knew about it after so many courses in international law and conflict resolution. A new friend, Sande, explained to me “in the beautiful love language of Kinyarwanda and in our culture, we have our conflicts on the grass, in the courtyard. Gacaca means grass. We don’t bring it in the house. Truth has to be exposed and in the open before healing can happen.” I don’t think anyone believes that the healing process in Rwanda is complete or was perfect, yet I wonder what would have happened if we had Gacaca after slavery, Jim Crow, indentured servitude, independence from European colonies, findings of unfair housing policies, police brutality, systematic unequal access to healthcare and education. I can go on and on. What if South Africa had open truth-telling? Things are not perfect, but everything is everything and I’m growing so much from reflecting on it all. Maybe these posts are becoming my grass.
Love and liberation,
SD
PS--I give up on trying to make these posts short. Read more!
And are you reading about conduction in The Water Dancer?