Dak'Art2016 Saturday, 30
the dog ate my headphones, original iphone earphones. hm, really disgusting. i forgot them the other night when we were chatting outside.
today, they are telling me he also eats shoes and trousers. once i saw him carrying diapers licking the baby's stool. his name: Tito. actually, it is a sterilized female. there's also another dog: Spike. a sterilized male. he is not eating our belongings, at least. but shitting everywhere with preference on the tiles at our front porch. life is rough and rude. but as far as i can evaluate the situation my daily life won't be much more pleasing in future. or let's say that's my worry. no, i left the comfort zone - that is for sure. nevertheless, i try to change things, but people often don't understand and make it more expensive for me. however, without their support i can do nothing. not their mistake as they tell me the system is wrong. them, they are all broke, they live from hand to mouth - an impression they convey by asking for money always. a heavy load to feed them all. yes, sometimes i get desperate - for all of them, and for my humble self...
going through my books, meeting up with A Hip-Hop Story, givien to my friend, who loves hiphop and who told me about a man she liked who wore a ring at every finger... took the opportunity of sniffing through it when i visited her home:
To any and everyone, from street corner
to street corner in all of the boroughs
of the world, who has ever picked up
the pen and dared to rebel; dared to dream,
to see the big picture to take over the world.
This is for you, stay true, keep on spittin'.
Now, Bull is the first to bat - An' I'ma kill this shit right here - Because the beat is fat - I'ma eat this track - When I'm done, nothin' left - No leftovers for leftovers - Eating the beef - And the hors d'oeuvres - I got no table manners - I was raised by panthers - Born and bred in boroughs - Where you got rivers, we got gutters - So we stay rippin' shit - Niggas take what we can get - Get rich quick - And die with our gats.
Heru Ptah, A Hip-Hop Story, 2003 Thursday, 21
it looks like i don't have a chance - i have to give in, surrender. i am an African. while the rain is washing away vanity, basic needs become more visible and clarify superficial wishes. coming to ground means removing the filter that protected my former identity. no more fear of being naked. Wednesday, 13
At a colloquium I was invited to a while ago whose title Can one be alive in Africa? announced the organisers' basic premise, I expressed surprise at such a naive, or perverse question. To my knowledge, Africa does not have the world's highest suicide rate. To my knowledge, in a continent where daily reinvention is a necessity, men and woman laugh, dance, love and give birth without knowing if all their children will outlive them. This is scandalous indeed. Africa refuses to hide itself. It wouldn't be able to even if it wanted to. In Cairo or Kinshasa music spills out of bars onto pavements and no-one is surprised to see people dancing in the streets. Laughter and voices ring through the neighbourhoods and children run down streets paying no heed to cars. Horns blare constantly. Life is lived outdoors, with no uncalled-for shame, and nothing that goes on behind the walls - non-existent in poorer neighbourhoods - is a secret to anyone. It is this inevitable 'scandal' in its physical, social or economic aspects, that constitutes the very essence of Africa. Modesty, for it does exist, is found elsewhere - in all that is not said, in all that is kept for your nearest, your dearest and gods.
Simon Njami, Chaos and Metamorphosis, Africa Remix, 2005 Tuesday, 12
finally i am living in Africa as a permanent resident. i realise that when i was here in the past for a certain, confined period i always chummed up and made advances to people in order to be accepted, integrated, liked, as i am a stranger. now i am doing differently. i am about to find myself a new identity of self-confidence and self-respect. i don't always need to give a present just that people talk to me. i've stopped explaining myself, screening every step. yes, i am able to walk alone. i am the driver and i am proud to have eventually placed a personal milestone. i love my new life. of course there are ups and downs like in every daily life, but there is a sweetness here i want never miss. Monday, 4
Yesterday I showed my blog (diary) to my friend Sarjo, who lives in Brufut not far from the compound, where I am living. She is an English teacher and made some corrections. But most of all she asked for a possibility to like and to comment. She said it would be more interesting if people could add their ideas. And I agree absolutely. I have had the idea of a comment box in my head since long time. Now, that someone definitely talked about I had to find a solution indeed. The like-button I actually don't need. In case somebody wants to like what I write can do it within a commentary. Anyway, your comments are welcome! don't be shy!! Sunday, 3
i made a mistake complaining about the dirt around the house. the fact is that our compound is kind of public house, kind of social institution. people from the village come to fetch water every day. once a woman was filling ten containers whereas i worried how that woman could carry all that heavy load. her man was waiting outside with a carriage, they told me later. it is about a custom one launched as soon as the house was completed, or even before, i don't know exactly. nowhere in the village they afford water for people like here. them wouldn't even think about. they would chase the people away. opposite us a very nice two storey building, where nobody dares to fetch water. the saying is they don't have a pump - a rumor to keep them away, i guess. how is it possible that such a comfortable looking house doesn't provide running water? nevertheless, they chose our compound to take for granted. it seems like they laugh about us being so munificent. they have, but a bland smile for me, or a suspicious glance. they take and don't help. their arrogance is what makes me upset. i know their compounds; they are tiny and clean while ours looks run down. at their places they control who enters, we do not. what was once introduced as free water for everybody is now an irreversible status. but at least we are talking about special opening hours to preserve a certain amount of privacy... coming back to my mistake. in the wet season everything looks dirtier than during the dry season, because the rain washes the dust from trees and houses. that is Africa. a bit of a jungle feeling mixed with a growing technology.