Say something...

I needed to say something.
To you.
It has been a minute.

There has been a lot going on, and I have been dying to talk to you, but I couldn't. Sometimes, I would just talk to you in my mind. I want to. But sometimes, it is too much of a hustle, or I am tired, or I have a house to clean and a baby clinging onto my hip.

I don't know how good my writing is anymore. I am certain that my writing could be better, worthier, cleaner, etc, but I am in a different place right now. I can't dwell on that right now. I am in transition.

Like, when I was pregnant, and sick, and I couldn't do shit. I had stopped doing those things that I love: writing, playing/performing music, poetry, and of course radical (socio-political) activisms. When I had the baby, I wanted to talk to you. To tell you everything. Every day. But I couldn't. I tried, once in a while I was able to sneak in some video logs, but not nearly as much as I would have loved.

Right now, I am coming out the other end of that tunnel. Baby is a lot less determined to dominate my attention all through the day, and I can get her distracted by putting on either Beyonce, Elani, Ubongo Kids or Tinga Tinga. I am keeping up a lot more, with showers, for example, and the dishes, and the
general housekeeping. I am at 60% efficiency I can say. Much of this I will credit to Kai and Akashi who helped me clean up and rearrange the kitchen and living room and get into a good habit of clean as you go, keep the visible areas clean and you won't get overwhelmed with the chores

...I really needed to say something...

I wanted to talk.
I needed to talk.

I wanted to tell you, that there is some great news! Through Baba Malik Yakini of DBCFSN, I have connected with a sister in New Orleans who is willing to host us for the full week, at her mom's mini apartment, for a nominal cost of $100. Give thanks!! New Orleans was the goliath! I could hardly find any African connections there, and the accommodation costs on cheaper websites like airbnb were about to cost me about $400.

New Orleans.
May my spirit be elevated in that place. May I find the nourishment, inspiration and affirmation to define and work as a lover of beautiful things, maker of beautiful colorful things, clothing, spaces, food, relationships and so much more.

New Orleans,
Rekindle my love for music, poetry, and self expression. Empower me to be me, and to be present in my voice, and my words. Empower me to be these wonderful things that I want to be. Empower me to do these wonderful things that I want to do.

Ashei.Ashei.Ashei.

I also was welcomed by a Kenyan family in Houston Texas- wait- multiple Kenyan families, and mostly women (how fantastic is that- hello feminism), following my sharing my story about my voyage on a Kenyans in Houston facebook group that I came upon.
The team in Houston is amazing. So much energy and generosity was out-poured following my request, and I was both awed and overwhelmed. I am looking forward to visiting. I think I would  love to live in Houston, seeing as there are so many Kenyans there that seem to be so close-knit and open to communing.

Can I hear an Ashei?
Ashei.

Just tonight, I was on couchsurfing.com, for the umpteenth time, looking for prospects in Dallas, when I came upon a Nigerian family that opens their homes to wanderers/travellers and quickly wrote them. In a few hours, BOOM! Positive response, and I was so excited, I am so excited, because I will be staying with a family, and families are generally safer, and more comfortable and familiar with the hustle of a young baby and her aspirational moms.

Conversation with Moses and Margaret, Hosts in Dallas

Ashei-o!

I have sent tonnes of messages on couch-surfing and through African associations in Chicago, for the past couple of weeks, looking for a place to stay too. I am very hopeful. I know something good will turn up.

Matter of fact, a Luo lady from Chicago already contacted me and offered me a place, but advised that she lives deep in the surburbs, and transportation to the heart of the city would be hectic. She is open to accommodate us, but I am keeping my options open because access to the heart of the city is essential for me, since I am not trying to be cooped up in a house, or spent out on public transit vehicles.

Well, there,

That is the good news.

Bad news is that we had a huge disagreement with our landlords, who haven't paid $3,500 taxes on our home, which is now, as a result, scheduled for foreclosure in March. Yes, this March 2015!|

They are also trying to sell the house to us for $10,000, in spite of the fact that they just bought it about 5 years ago, for $4000 via a tax auction.


The house is old, and was in disrepair just before we moved in. Among other structural issues that have been addressed or are in process, its roof is almost in shambles, and our water isn't even legally
turned on. For a long time after we moved in, deep into the winter, we did not even have a working furnace for heat. Most of the financing for renovations have been footed by my husband, Lorenzo.

We have lived here for abut 19 months.

The most unfortunate thing about this is that the landlords are my in laws.
Family drama galore.

There is a whole load of bullshit that I had enough of.
I was absolutely incensed and I went at it with Lorenzo's dad earlier this evening.

It is ridiculous to talk about securing family dynasty and running game on your own kids.
We have refused to pay any more rent until they pay their long overdue taxes, or work out an arrangement to do so, before WE are foreclosed on and evicted by the city of Detroit.

We have been meaning to buy the house from them for a long time now, and have had numerous discussions on it, which stalled because of unreasonable price quotes, once which was $20,000.
The most recent was $10,000 cash upfront.

The inlaws own at least 6, maybe more other properties, different from the one in which they currently reside in. Most of these were purchased dirt cheap, and are also in disrepair.

Several are also at risk of foreclosure, this March.

Drama dot com.

I am trying to find the good in this mess.

Well, this is all I can say for now.
I might have about 10 minutes more to myself before baby wakes up to 'nyo'.

"Nyoooooo"

"Onyoooo"

I never thought about breastfeeding when I was baby-feverish.
Its like a fulltime job.
And she can turn up like nobody biznas if you try deny her.

Goodnight.
Yo!

To my sisters I call this

I want to be naked to you
Open, honest and available to you
Pure in intention
No skeletons with you
New born love child, I want to be
Innocent with you, purity
Sinless with you
No layers, just me, just you
No judgement
Just wisdom, just truth
The luxury of reliving my youth
Day one
Can I be reborn with you.
Before the fabrication
Before the stories, before the lies
I want to be with you, who I was in the skies.
-Kai Sa'Rah

I never thought I would connect meaningfully with African American sisters.

Kai Sa'Rah

Much of the beef between Africans and African Americans, in my circle of friends involves African American women. Sisters were hardly accessible to me, even though I never ever had any conflicts with them.
I had tried repeatedly, to connect with them during the early days of my freshman year at Michigan State. I would join their tables, in Case Hall cafe: "excuse me, is there anyone sitting here?" and plonk down as soon as anyone of them signaled in the affirmative, perhaps more so to keep in line with anti-discrimination rules rather than preference.

It hardly ever was worth the trouble. After reluctant salutations, the conversation at the table would continue as if I wasn't even there. I can't imagine what's worse.

Brothers saw me though. Brothers saw my body. I wasn't invisible to them, at least.

I d.e.f.i.n.i.t.e.l.y saw brothers.

Case Hall, my hall, was the hall that accommodated the Spartan football team. Lord have mercy.
Matter of fact, there was this one footballer,a delicious brother, half African American, half Belizean, with whom I had got quite chatty. Chatty enough that he was in my room one time with his shirt off showing me his tattoos.

Lord have mercy.

Haaaaaa!

Sisters that I could call sisters, have been few and far between...until Detroit.

Sheheriana

Tonight, for instance, I just had an absolutely amazing time, at an impromptu cook-out and dinner with Akashi, Kai ( both of whom are sisters, and have been visiting with us for a couple of weeks) and some new friends, Kemet and Sheheriana.

Kemet

It was the intensity of the energy, the sincerity and sisterhood, this evening, as we bared ourselves to each other, that compelled me to reflect on black sisterhood in America, and the latent conflict that exists between sisters from murikah, and those fresh off the boat.

I don't even know if I have the energy to do justice to the evening that was.

Between the vegan/raw-food chef Akashi's sensually massaged, delicious red cabbage salad, the nori and fresh collard leaf rolls, sauteed onions, mushrooms, broccoli and zucchini we had a feast!

We were in the kitchen prophesying great futures, liberated futures, and rebuking deferred dreams.





Sheheriana explained that her intention was to create space for communion and engagement: in kitchens, in homes, through interpersonal contact and exchanges and through other artistic and literary mediums.


 Startled, I shared that I had just updated my online profile, reflecting my own intention or mission, and it read just about the same!

My beloved sister, Akashi Journi

Kemet also happens to be planning her own get-away, a get-away from Detroit for her own transition and rejuvenation, incentives which have been at the core of my intended journey South to Texas and Nawlins.

We are on such similar journeys, and we were all ready. We are all ready. Ready to claim our right to live our dreams. We are doing it already, Kemet pointed out, that my kitchen, and home had become that space, where we were converging energy, love and sisterhood.

I met Akashi one night on a bus from East Lansing to Detroit, as I came back home from a hectic day of my senior capstone classes and, of course, expressing breast milk on a tight clock for my baby boony Ominira.


Madamest was adorned in beautiful ankara, lavish Africana jewellery and had lay a selection of crystals and herbs on the stowaway tray, which we would share.

I had to say hello.

"Who are you?"

It has been wonderful to have know Akashi and to have had the opportunity to host her and her (our) dear friend Kai.


They leave for Atlanta next Wednesday, and head on to Jamaica, for much of the same thing, really. Winter is drab. The sun brings abundance, healing and revitalization.

Head south if you can!


So many stories to share.
So little time.
But kidogo kidogo hujaza kibaba.

Ashei.

POVERTY IN AMERICA

When you think about stratification by class, America is like an hourglass. A bloated wealthy class, and a bloated class in poverty. The middle class, contrary to political rhetoric, is marginal, and shrinking. My professor, C.Stokes, at MSU would always talk about how so many Americans, too many, think they are middle class, when all reasonable statistical indicators showed they lived in poverty. But then, how could they be poor, when they had homes, and multiple cars, good clothes and time for leisure? I answer this using my observations and experiences of poverty in Detroit.

Because the black struggle is an African struggle

Que Selma soundtrack GLORY ft John Legend and Common

I want to be black with you,
brother,
I want to walk this Amerika with you,
brother,
East-side Detroit down Jefferson all day with you,
brother,
I want to talk about everything with you,
brother,
From Stokely and X, to Biggie and Wayne with you,
brother,

I want to be black with you,
brother,
I want to be black when the doors shut on you,
brother,
I want to be black when they cursin you out,
brother,
I want to be defiant with you,
brother,

To organize with you,
To march with you,
To set up blockades,
To abdicate,
To pick up arms with you,
brother,

So when they come at you,
I will fight for you,
I will die for you,
Brother.

        I want to be black with you,
        brother

If my right to partake in the black struggle was not granted solely by the fact that I am a black African, then the fact that my baby and my husband are black should suffice.

The black struggle in America is an African struggle. It is a global struggle too.It is a relentless struggle against colorism, racism, capitalism and poverty. A struggle that I engaged in firstly during my post-highschool educational experience at the African Leadership Academy in Johannesburg,

where I was spurred into Pan-Africanism by the powerful comradery that existed among our inaugural class.


It is the black struggle that led me to then question the pedagogy that underpins the curricula and management of the aforementioned institute, that I had once so sincerely exalted and appraised. Give thanks to the ALA for teaching us, above all, to be critical and inquisitive. For were it not for their liberating me to use my mind, and to have the confidence to question authorities, I would not have even been able to reflect on my own experience at the institute, much less raise the alarm on issues that I think starkly compromise the Afro renaissance agenda.

With the Activist, Filmmaker and Writer M.K. Asante Jr,
At the Annual Black Power Rally 2011

It is the black struggle that led me to seek communion between the African Students Union and the Black Students groups at Michigan State University, to meet and connect with my P.I.J partner in justice , to move to Detroit, to build, to farm, to re-imagine my identity, my place, and my value in this world.

It is the black struggle that has allowed me to move freely and safely in the US.
It is the black struggle that has allowed me to even consider pursuing my dreams in this place, and to work to materialize them.

It is the black struggle that gives me energy to live and to confidently embody my black form, to love it and to share it globally.It is the black struggle that has embraced me, here, as I am, has healed me, inspired me, and transformed me into a more conscious advocate for love and justice.



It is day to day here in Detroit,
the black struggle is,
resilient.
the black struggle has,
come a long long long way,
and yet still has a long ways ahead.

More power and gratitude.
All power to all people.

At the memorial ceremony for Mama Charity Mahouna Hicks, activist and farmer from Detroit 

Ashei.

*excerpt above was written by Atieno Nyarkasagam. For more of my poetry, click to visit ATYENO

There is no death

I have learned to use the language of 'energy' when I think about and talk about our existence, and our way of engaging with our circumstances, with other humans and other beings of the cosmos.

According to most scientific definitions, energy is the ability to do work.
Energy is power, strength and vitality.

The law of conservation of energy states that energy can not be created, and neither can it be destroyed. It can only change form. Further, the total amount of energy in the universe is constant.

We cannot create new energy that is not already present in the universe.

Now, let's substitute "energy" above with "the ability to do work"
Meanwhile, work is basically the ability to effect material change.
Let's also substitute "work" with "the ability to effect material change".

The law of conservation of energy, therefore, states that the ability to effect material change can not be created, and neither can it be destroyed. It can only change form. Further, the total amount of the ability to do work in the universe is constant.

We cannot create new ability to effect material change  that is not already present in the universe.

Ok.
Enter my hypotheses on spiritualism.

1. Reincarnation exists.

 Whatever energy anyone, such as a new born, brings into the world, has existed before. Their [enter synonyms of energy here : vitality, vibrations, chakras, air, presence, spirit etc] has existed before, somewhere in the universe, in some form or another.
According to the laws of conservation of energy, the total energy in the system of the universe, is constant, so there is nothing new evolved in a new birth of a child, for example, other than form.
Perhaps then, we can also suggest, that we too, are old souls in new skins. We have all been in this space of the universe before, in some type of shape or form, doing some kind of work or another.

2. There is no death

We just change form.  Our energy/vitality/ability to cause material changes never ceases, even when we die.

3. There is power in calling on those who have transitioned beyond the human form.

As above, the energy of the deceased never ceases, and neither does their ability to cause material changes. So why not reach out?

4. We shouldn't obsess about the human form

The form of the body is fleeting, so why get too attached? Make good use of it, nurture and enjoy it while you have it, but remain conscious that what is enduring is only energy, and that could manifest

in so many different forms.
Think about how we receive others too, check on our prejudices associated with bodies.

5. Commune with and nurture the different forms of matter on the earth/in the cosmos

Hey, who knows, that roach that you are just about to fumigate with some RAID or DOOM might be your great, great, great grand uncle Opiyo.
Perhaps, that patch of grass over there, or that bush of bougainvillea or that crop of cow peas are new forms of your own ancestors or friends.

Perhaps we ought to relate with the soil, the flora, fauna in our environment a lot more intentionally, and lovingly! Have you tried talking to your garden? Giving thanks before you slaughter or eat anothers' meat?

6.Harness energy from different tangible and intangible beings, to boost our own human energy

I am very big on aesthetics, and can speak from experience that the set up, decor, orderliness or cleanliness of a space that I'm in significantly influences my energy, and my performance.

I also intentionally work to boost up my energy by designing/decorating spaces that I live in or work in usually using artifacts, rich colors or textures that are meaningful to me. Music is also a very powerful energizing tool, and I have a range of songs, as most of us do, that I play on different occasions depending on whether I want to turn up or to chill out and relax. The same is often said of experiences at hair salons, spas and barbershops.

Food is another critically important source of energy, we can all agree, but we might not be sensitive to the impact that the quality of food, process of preparation and presentation my have in the food's overall energy value. Imagine a plate of delicious super-ripe deep fried plantains plated gently on a milky, white ceramic saucer and laid on a lavish and colorful ankara mat for a picnic outdoors.

Fried plantain

Now, imagine the same plate of delicious plantains scooped and plopped onto the same saucer, and shoved harshly onto your chest, "shika!" "Take!". The former experience uplifts you/your energy a lot more, because of the warmth and love that was used in the entire process of delivering the food to you.

Even though the nutritional gains are the same, in the hypothetical case above, the energy gains are different. And if we think that our inner person/soul/spirit/energy is more significant than our body, we ought to rethink EVERYTHING: how we relate with each other and with the earth, in order to truly uplift each other's energies and empower each other to effect greater material changes in this space.

Perhaps, we should also consider reaching out to intangible beings, such as people who are no longer present in the human form, to energize us...Perhaps we need to remember the deceased differently, not as past, but as present, but in different forms, working in different spaces, but still full of energy, and still connected to us meaningfully.

This makes sense to me. Even though I identify as an atheist, for purposes of differentiating me with the more dominant, popular and powerful religions of our time, I remain very open, inquisitive,  and willing to explore possibilities of alternative ways of being, living and navigating the earth in the human form.

Hmm...

My American experience has been central in my coming to birth. Plug. Majorie Oludhe Macgoye. Besides the existence of an arguably liberal culture, at least among communities of scholars at University, the opportunity to bump ideas with so many dissenters (against status quo: heterosexuality, patriarchy, religiosity racism, misogyny etc) allowed me to break with a lot of the dominant religious ideals and protocols that defined my life in Kenya, to question everything, and to freely re-imagine my 'spiritual' identity.

By the time of my graduation, though, I preferred not to indulge notions of spirituality, even those that came from communities of people that, like me, had unsubscribed to the language, philosophy and culture of Abrahamic faiths. I kept it simple. I had had it with anything too dogmatic, and anything that organized spiritual expression or monopolized it. I tried to keep it very scientific. I knew what I

knew, and what I didn't I didn't. Science can neither affirm nor deny the presence of 'spirits' or 'souls' for example, but can confirm the existence of energy. Scientific process allows us to hypothesize about the unknown, but we cant can't confirm something to be true or false without rigorous and repeated testing.

At this point in my life, however, I am open and leaning into this world of energy work and transcendence. I am still questioning, and wary, but willing to indulge this new world of thought, for a minute.

I need some help ..

Aiii Yai Yai!
Planning our trip to Chicago, Dallas, Houston and New Orleans has me at my wits end!
Surely, [the ability to live one's dream] can't be dependent on access to money.
It can't be about the money!


Because of a combination of early booking and providence, I bought my megabus tickets for the first leg of the trip for a total of $5.50.
I am not even kidding! That is a deal of a lifetime in itself, and a trip of this distance, by bus, should cost about $200.

How could I resist?

I bought a flight back home, on Spirit airlines for a $100 because I expect that baby Ominira will be tired of long bus journeys by then, and I will probably be tired of her too.

I chase my shot of radicalism with a sip of prudence.

I don't have much money.
I have $1000 available in my coffers, and I am selling as much of the household furniture, clothing and jewellery, I can do without, online on craigslist and etsy.

3 weeks, is a long time. An expensive time too, it turns out...as I work out the logistics of the trip.
Bombaclut!

On average, if I am unable to get a host family/home, I must expect to spend $40 per night in the cheapest motel or airbnb (a popular program that enables home owners all around the world to lease rooms for short periods online, cheaply). Not to mention travel expenses within the city, and groceries.

This is my budget for the trip so far:

Chicago: Feb 17th to 22nd
Airbnb for 6 nights: $40*6= $240
Cost of food for 1 week= $100
Cost of transport 1 week = $50
Grand total: ~$400

5 days in Dallas: Feb 24th to Feb 28th
Airbnb for 4 nights: $40*4= $ 160
Cost of food for 5 days= $75
Cost of transport = $50
Grand total = ~300

4 days in Houston: Feb 28th to March 3rd

Airbnb for 3 nights: $40*3= $ 120
Cost of food for 4 days= $50
Cost of transport = $30
Grand total = ~200

8 Days in New Orleans: March 3rd to March 10th

Airbnb for 7 nights: $40*7= $ 280
Cost of food for 7 days= $150
Cost of transport = $50
Grand total = ~480

Grand total estimate for the trip : 400+300+200+480
                                                    =1380
                                                    =~1400 to be safe.

Once I am done with my craigslist sales, I ought to have at least 1400, but I would like to limit my expenses for the trip as much as possible, by finding host families through my friends and networks, in those cities.
I am willing to buy and travel with my own air mattress, and sleep in the living room without a problem. I would just like a warm home, with trust worthy hosts, a kitchen, and good travel options so that baby can experience as much of the cities as possible.
I would appreciate the opportunity to visit with fellow Africans in the diaspora, more than anyone else, though. In Dallas and Houston, where there are tonnes of Kenyans, for example, I would be grateful to connect with women, or families who would be comfortable with accommodating us, and happy to throw in some money for their trouble.

I would love to have a very rooted, local experience in New Orleans too, and have both baby and I experience the potent intersection of creole, African and Black culture, through connecting with black sisters, brothers and families during our stay. I am reaching out. There aren't many brethren leasing space on airbnb or couchsurfing.com and I am working on calling hair salons, africanah restaurants, organizations and even churches if all else fails.

I mostly need assistance with accommodation.
If I could have that taken care of, I would not be pinching my pennies, and more comfortable in case of any emergency.

In this same breathe, I thought it wise to reach out to you, my friends and supporters, to contribute in whatever way you can to my journey, and my literary/flim project de facto.

This is my  list of needs:
1. Host families in Chicago, Dallas TX, Houston TX, and New Orleans. Also, any financial contribution to the expense of leasing housing space will also be welcomed and highly appreciated.

2. A Tablet device with a good camera.
Costs between $200 and $300 depending on the brand (I had a Nexus 7 but baby cracked mine, and it was perfect for taking videos of myself, by myself!!!)

3. A cheap but functional laptop.

My problematic laptop

 My laptop's entire keypad is out of order, and I usually plug in a PC keyboard to type. My battery is also no longer functional and I have to keep the machine plugged in to work. Any bumps on the bus can turn it off. This was the laptop I had since freshman year of college. Not good for a budding professional writer at all.

4. Double AA batteries.
 I will need tonnes. I am recording audio podcasts throughout the journey and will be interviewing Africans I meet about their 'pursuit of the American dream' or 'the pursuit of their own dreams in america'.  My journalist friend, Zak Rosen, who previously worked for Detroit's public radio WDET has been a very strong supporter of my work, and purchased an amazing recording device for me to use, and to interview conveniently.

My voice recorder

4. Any suggestions about people and places that I should visit in the said cities. I am particularly interested in people who are self employed, doing what they love, and/or living off-the-grid. I would be happy to visit with urban farmers, crafty artists, activists and organizers.

5. Any contributions towards travel expenses will also be appreciated. I would like to purchase abundant dried nuts, preserved fruit, and healthy snacks for myself and baby for the road.

Mixed bag of nuts, raisins, currants and cranberries.

If you are willing and able to make any financial contribution, you can do so directly to my paypal account through the email: imbuchiw@msu.edu
If you are not familiar with paypal or would like to contribute in another way, you can use Western Union or Moneygram.

You can contact me further at :
winnie.imbuchi@gmail.com
1-313-739-0989

I am a stay at home mother, with no legal authority to work in the USA, and have not been able to commercialize any of the work I do, to contribute to our family income. My Green Card application is in process as we speak, and it takes upto 3 months after they receive all documents, to grant me a new immigrant status, as well as a work permit.
As it is, Lorenzo, my husband is the sole breadwinner, and I am looking for all ways possible to ease the financial pressure of this trip, hopeful that the work I will be able to do, on myself and on my writing, will facilitate my entry into the work force, into a field that I love.

I put my need and my desire into the universe.
With lots of gratitude in advance.

Ashei.

If I deuces so myself

Our (WC) water closet has been leaking. Leaking enough to warrant replacement. But we are not in a hurry. We are not interested in  sit down toilets any more.

The word is hemorrhoids. Hemorrhoids is the devil,

We were in the living room, talking about poop for hours. Akashi, our good friend, who is bunking with us for a minute, and her girlfriend Kai are preparing to go to Jamaica in a few weeks, where they will enjoy the natural pleasures of pooping in the great outdoors, forget outhouses! They will be in the bunduz somewhere in Portland.

Akashi was telling us about how she not only squats, but pops legs back and forth in eccentric yoga-like postures, during transmission. Bomboclat! She is a big girl too.

Apparently, egestion occurs most efficiently when we are either standing up, or squatting, but not bent over on a ceramic throne, the civilized way. In fact, sitting down has been shown to be a

significant cause and exacerbating factor for pre-existing hemorrhoids,  since it forces the body to strain tremendously to discharge bowel movements.

Repeat, Hemorrhoids is the devil.
Again.

"It comes out like a long snake!" Akashi celebrated. We celebrated. And then shared the lewdest poopy anecdotes we had.

I learned from watching Dr. Oz, that there are actual poop charts on what's healthy and what isn't.  That how your poop SOUNDS, looks and of course smells,  will tell you a lot about how your body is doing.


We are all about health and wellness up in here!


Mr. Man has resolved to PLD- Pop Lock n Drop in the basement, where he can not only squat, but compost it.

This is not novel in Detroit. It is not novel among communities of young folk who are into this off-the-grid living business. Like us.

I know at least 4 other folks in our friends circle who are actively composting their poop. It takes much longer for the compost to be viable for use on the land, but it makes pretty good compost, when it is done, so why not?!

I am not ready for that though.

I will squat, no problem.

Once we replace this here ceramic throne with a squatting pan, and a nice spigot to wash things off.
No more WC. No more toilet paper expenses and no more hemorrhoids

So far it seems we will have to call Larry Doo-wop  up the street, tear this muther apart ourselves and DIY with some cheap home depot supplies, broken tiles and grout.

All we need is a hole in the floor. Gravity will do the rest.

If I deuces so myself.

Ginger and lime tea

You would think a woman who underwent natural, non-medicated labor would be completely opposed to the use of painkillers for, such a flimsy thing as menstrual cramps!

I have been taking ibuprofen for relief, albeit reluctantly, but today I just brewed a hot tea of freshly juiced ginger and a squeeze of lime.

I cant remember which is more painful, labor or cramps.

I know that with the labor, i knew that I could send any medication straight into my baby's bloodstream and I was not down for that. Also, the kind of interventions that often begin with epidurals were unconscionable to me ( new buzz word). Very many labors that involve epidurals end up in C-sections. C-sections are more expensive than vaginal deliveries,  harder to recover from, and complicate future child birth processes.

Ginger and Lime tea. Sip.

10am and baby still sleeping! What!

I sneaked out of bed, about an hour ago, and she twisted and turned, as i crept along the floor, heart in throat. I am so surprised. This never happens. Almost makes me wonder if she is still alive.

Give thanks though.

I have had a moment to myself. Lorenzo has gone to work. Akashi and Kai are still sleeping upstairs. The house is in a mess. Dishes pon the sink. Breakfast to make. But I aint doing non' for nobody but myself for a minute.

It is nice to do this: type away in an endless stream of consciousness.

Often times I don't feel like I am in America.

America is New York. My America. That's what it's supposed to be, anyway.

Que Empire State of Mind- Keys and Jay

I live in a working class neighborhood in Detroit.
Everything is regular here.
So regular that I might as well imagine myself somewhere in Nairobi.

Poverty.
Poor Transport.
Neighborhood drama galore!

Did I mention how  a neighbor pulled out a gun on Lorenzo? Caused a huge scene early one Sunday morning, because my husband's parents' dog got loose , ran over to Jason's house, and apparently bit him.
Apparently is the key word.
 I had heard loud bickering, and thought a neighbor was putting his wife out only to step out of our door and in the view of other neighbors, see what I later learned was Lorenzo, being yelled at by Ms. Jocelyn's mid 30 somethin' year old son, with a gun pointed at him.

Gawwd Dayam!

Detroit.

Baby up.

Today we start potty training.
No diapers on all day- African style.

Ashei.

Because we all dream.

Baby is sleeping now.
I put her to bed about an hour and a half ago, and sneaked out of the bed, after I managed to wrangle my nipple out of the bite of her mighty sharp teeth. Painful. I was so upset.

I had to put together this blog, and I took much too long setting up the ambiance. I am an ambiance junky.
I am becoming very intentional about channeling my African chakras and applying said elements into my work. If there is any truth and power in gods, I would like my African gods to be on my side.
 I beckon old and new energy, vibrancy, creativity, when I lay out these materials in my space, and frame my experiences using fabric, patterns, colors, cultures that are so important to our peoples.

Last year I thought, I need to make 2015 a travelling year. I was thinking London, Toronto, Latin America.... After I got my chance to go home, to Nairobi, to my mum.

I need to go home.
I need help with baby.

I need to breathe.
I need to rest.
I need to not worry about what we are going to eat.

I have been meaning to go home.
To take baby home to meet Sam, Carolis, Muthesh, lilly and Ken.....
Before baby is no longer baby.

I was hoping to go home last October. To stay for as long as I could, in the sun and warmth, and escape the unconscionable cold that Michigan winters bring. But I got stuck here. My immigration application process got stalled- is still stalled- because of financial challenges. I have had to re imagine my place and my work this winter.

I cant quite remember what i was doing to occupy myself last fall. Besides minding baby and the house of course. I was just shuffling around, between bedroom, kitchen and living room, cooking something, or changing diapers, or putting on Ubongo Kids for baby.

I fixed up some old sewing machines that were recovered (free.com) by my father-in-law from some Detroit basement during the great August flood last year. I started out well, making my reusable cloth menstrual pads. But I bent or broke too many needles. I got tired. I got intimidated. I could use some help.

I picked my guitar up again. After an almost 2 year sabbatical. I never played after I got pregnant. I was just too sick and sick. It was only when Crystal came over, tuned it and played it as I tidied up my crafts room that I reconsidered.

I know I started. I started to work on these things. Music, Blogging, Podcasting, video shows: all of the things I want to be doing- talking about life and issues with people.


But why am I still on this hamster wheel?

Why do my calves feel warm and wobbly?

Why am I not making any MONEY?

Why, why, why ? (insert tinga tinga tales cartoon melody)


I need to get away from here for a minute.
I need to get away from this cold.
It sucks and I stay in the house all day as a result.

I need to go out and live my dream.
To dress up nice.
To draw my eyebrows, and apply some deliciously dark liner.
To walk into a coffee shop with a sense of self-importance.

I need to change something.
I need to leap into the unknown.

I  bought tickets two nights ago. Akashi and Kai have been living with us since Christmas, and they have gotten me psyched about getting out into the world, and building the kind of workstyle that you love, off the grid.

She was sitting next to me, and I was just looking to see if i could find any $1 tickets somewhere southward,  Atlanta or Alabama or Mississippi. I thought perhaps we could look at it like baby going to her ushago. 
I ended up rerouting to Texas though, because the tickets to Alabama were way out of my league (read $30) and I could get connections to Dallas and Houston for $1 each, and then perch in New Orleans, ideally at a nice hotel by the ocean, sipping shangri-la...

The catch is that the trip takes 3 weeks!
Three of course because I chose my travel dates based on ticket prices.

Ahh.
What have I done did now?!

Tired.

It is work.
Plus it is almost 2am.

Peace till the next.