I missed him yesterday, and I will miss him tomorrow

He is such a delicious man.
I miss him already.
I missed him yesterday and I missed him Monday morning, when he walked out the door.

He is in Athens, Georgia for the week.
Work.
Gogo, our cat is at Greg's.
The house is cold and empty now.

Save for the mice and squirrels in the rafters.
Scratching occasionally at the drywall,
Nibbling,
Dropping something,
Hobbling between cramped dark spaces.

A generous application of mothballs didn't deter them. And we learned, after the fact, that they are carcinogenic. Oops!

I was thinking about him,
The way I used to think about him when we first met.
When things were uncertain,
But magical,
When time spent together felt like eternity.

Dancing late at night after work,
In his bedroom,
In that raggedy house on Kensington.
We danced almost every night.
We danced to Gregory Isaacs, Beres Hammond, Freddie McGregor, Marley,
And we would melt into each other,

Tug at each other's bodies,
Whirl each other across the room,

Laughter,
Silence,

Magic.

I remember.
Everything.
The first time.
The second.
The third.

Rocking.
Knocking on the bed and the walls.

He is such a delicious man.
I miss him already.
I missed him yesterday and I missed him Monday morning, when he walked out the door.
And I know I will miss him tomorrow.

Leo ni Leo, Msema Kesho Ni Mwongo

Leo ni leo, Msema Kesho ni Mwongo.
Today is the day. he who says tomorrow is a liar.


I am thrusting myself into the unknown.
There is nothing else left to do.

A college degree is nothing.
I bemoaned it the other day.
Buried it.

4 years and almost $200,000 and for what?
Where will doors open for saying I got a degree in Political philosophy and constitutional demagogy?
What does that even mean anyway?
I was so naive. So gullible.


Firstly, I know now, all degrees are not equal. Even though they are often (over-)priced the same, or almost the same.
I also know, that unless you are doing very technical courses, or you can piggy back your way through college on scholarships, college is only as useful as the relationships and experiences on and around campus.
You are paying $50,000 per year to commune with white folk, black folk, latino folk, chinese folk, and if lucky, pick up a few critical thinking skills.
I am opposed to industrial education's monopoly over education.
I would encourage any young fella, including my own proginy to think critically about the societal nudges towards industrial education, all the way from kindergarten and preparatory schools to higher-ed.
There is too much out here that we miss out on.
By the time we realise it, we are in too much debt, we have taken whatever white collar or blue collar was available, and are slaving away through the rest of our adult lives.

There are so many ways of learning, and so many alternative models of very credible educations.
I am learning about these every day, as I connect with worlds of people and professions that were alien to me.

Acirema has a lot of hidden gems.Perhaps this was the perfect place to build momentum for a lifestyle that is non-mainstream.

I am building a nest here, but I know I can't only nest here.
But I am here now.
Life is happening here now.The voyage begins tomorrow.
Chicago.Dallas.Houston.New Orleans.Detroit.
I have been preparing for this voyage for 2 months, and probably my whole life.
My intention is sunshine, rejuvenation, and rest. I am opening myself to new connections, places and possibilities, as i prepare to lunge into the work that I am passionate about (outside of mainstream employment).
I need to get out into the world.
I needed to crack my back.

Get out of the house and feel some sun on my face.
Purge this stuffy,stagnant energy threatening to cripple even my imagination.
To breathe.
To stretch my arms out and walk down streets.
A reason to dress up cute.
A reason to feel good.

Sometimes, you have to leave.
I have been needing to leave.
For a minute.

Chicago?
Chicago?

Give me energy Chicago.
Give me love Chicago.
Give me energy Chicago.
Give me love Chicago.

Acirema.
America.

Feels so alien to me.
Here I come.
Ashei.
Let it be.

Lawd, I met a brother!

This is a great metaphor for the relationship I have had/continue to have with Lorenzo. Right off the bat, the relationship was intense, fiery and naked.

Keyword: naked*
giggles!

Lawd, I met a brother!

Children can drive you nuts!

Just saying,

Sometimes the whining is unbearable.

Sometimes the neediness is unbearable.

They just take take take from you.

I need a break too lil mama.

I need my body back too lil mama,

I need my own time too lil mama,

But she doesn't understand,

That she almost drives me nuts!

Sometimes!

And I get so frustrated,
Because it only makes me want my mummy.
But she is '000s of miles away.
Over a great evil sea and continent away.

I don't think I want to do this again.
Having children,
Coz children can drive you nuts!

Detroit is sticky

I don't want to get stuck.

Detroit is nice, most times, but not now, I need to get out.

I will go crazy if I don't.

Cooped up inside all day, because we too broke to pay, to prove to the state,

That I deserve to stay,

Green card process stalled indefinitely because we live below US poverty.

I am not allowed to work here. I am not allowed to make a dime.
 I cannot contribute, so how can we multiply ?

Income... meet requirements, and legalize my presence?

Its all about cash money here.

There is no love for the poor here.

But are we really poor here?

When we have homestead, grow food, and birds, and abundance of love here?

When we have framily all over the city and all over this nation supporting us here?

I don't know what to do, though, beyond what I have done, to seek out a suitable and willing sponsor. Its tricky when extended family is poor too. When the state requires us to  demonstrate an annual income of $30,000 as a family in order for me to be able to live in the light, but still won't give me a job, makes it impossible for me to work. Paradox.

Where are human rights in America?
Where are immigrants' rights in America?

Racists. Classists. Xenophobes!

But we are here.

But I am here.

I am here because of love and circumstance.

And if I am here, I deserve the right to live right.


It is my right to seek out employment or to make money through my own.

It is my right to move freely,

It is my right to belong.

But I cant.

Not legally yet.

Anyway.

Chicago, here I am

I have been to Chicago about 3 times before.

Downtown Chicago is wonderful. I am a big city girl. I thrive in the presence of people. I want to walk down streets filled with people...all sorts of people, that hustle. That Nairobi-like hustle.

If I can't have New York, I will take Chicago, gladly.

Down-town Detroit is good too. But not as good. Not as accessible on foot. Not bustling enough. Not too many colored folks running the show down there either.  Plus there is just too much bad press about Detroit, that holds people back from being in open space. People don't seem to just walk around downtown to walk. Everyone is going somewhere.

I enjoyed taking matatus downtown in Nairobi. No. 48 took only 20 minutes from our back door to the stage at Odeon, in the heart of the city,  except of course for rush hour. Two different matatu kanges' (ka-ngey-z, meaning psv conductors) were infatuated with me, and so they would wait on me when they saw me approach, clear out the best seats, and make sure I never paid my fare. I never thought I would be that girl getting favors from matatu kanges. I neither beckoned nor encouraged it, but I wasn't one to be rude or cold to conversation prompts with wananchi on the ride to town or back home...Besides, the brothers were young like me, and one was really cute.

I certainly hoped that I would never get on a mat chaperoned by any of my crushes while with my mum. Kanges' have the worst rep, only second to Mpigs (dishonorable members of parliament) back home...and I had been the head prefect of Alliance girls...goddess forbid I be known to be dating a kange. I did not need any more drama.

There is nothing that compares with matatus here. Nothing with that level of chaos, culture and convenience all at the same time. Public service vehicles, in East Lansing, Lansing, Chicago and New York are closely regulated and run on tight predefined schedules. Matatus and buses at home, in Nairobi are the complete opposite, but they have their perks too, since they are able to take liberties with their routes and pick up or drop off sometimes as close as your front door- instead of a designated stage.There must be abundant literature out there about how matatus have been central in the creation and the modulation of much of Nairobi's culture: the good, the bad and the ugly. Of particular interest to me is the appraisal of local hip hop and pop music, which I have come to appreciate so much more during my time in America and, on a darker note, the misogyny, violence and masochism, expected of an informal industry dominated by young, under-educated, under-employed men with a lot of pent-up sexual frustration, and perverse moral conditioning.

I would dare to compare matatus with public transport in Detroit, if only for a minute, but almost argue that Nairobi has it even better. Detroit's transit system is inadequate for the size of the city, is hopelessly unreliable in most lowerclass neighborhoods, and features some of the rudest black folk working you will ever meet this side of the Atlantic. So unfortunate for the city that delivered the automobile to the world to be one of the worst places to own ( highest auto-insurance costs in the nation) and use one.

Chicago though.

Chicago meant Oprah for the longest, and then Obama, and then...

I am not sure what Chicago has to offer me.

But Chicago feels good.

It feels very good.

I have connected with a number of sisters and brothers whom I will either live with or meet during my stay, who are invested in "healing" work and the work of rebuilding communities around collective spaces, sustainable urban agriculture, art and transcendence.

I connected with Elisha today, for instance, a brother whom I now know through my wonderful friend Crystal, a badass capoeira/marshall arts/yogi/ healer in Detroit. He has three children, the youngest being 13 months, only a few behind Omi, and is working on a housing collective project in Chi town, that will do some of the things we have been doing at our own homestead in Detroit- hosting and accommodating peoples interested in all aspects of earthship, social justice, communing and transcendence.

Jessi from Freedom Freedom Gardens had also generously opened up her own space to me, where she lives when she is teaching- apparently she is a professor- a couple times a week in Chicago, then she comes back to Detroit to build, to farm, and to commune just a couple of streets, a few blocks up the road from us.

So many friends and friends of friends reached out to accommodate me, I had to choose, and determined this by proximity of their homes to downtown Chicago. I don't drive yet, and would not want to be cooped up because of hefty transit costs.

I am going to Chicago.

I am going to absorb and to interact with the energies of the masses of people flowing by.

I am going to say, Chicago, here I am.

I am present.

I am going to look at Harpo towers and say, Oprah, I been seen you all these years on TV, and Now, here I am. I don't need to write you long distance letters. I am touching this space. I am worthy of this space.

I am going to take Omi to see Obama's house and tell her, nyathi, here it is, here you are, just like him. There is nothing to hold you back.

There is nothing to hold us back.

We are present.

We are ready.

From common cold to breast cancer

I was reading an article this afternoon, about how the stigma about women's menstruation, periods, is a cause of serious gynecological problems that many women experience further along in their life, in America.

As I was reading it, I remembered two things, the first being that I just had a dream last night, in which I was having my period, as I am now, ( I have a fullmoon cycle), and I jumped into a swimming pool at an evening party, and spread clots of blood in it. No one noticed, of course, until much later, when there was light. And no one could determine who had caused it, since it had been night time, but I knew, and I was ashamed, and disgusted, as I looked on at the streaks of blood running through the pool, shallow end to deep end.

I usually have very lucid dreams. In fact, Lorenzo really thinks I should try magic mushrooms, as a result, and tap into what could well be a natural gift- the ability to have tremendously vivid experiences in this alternate dimension we offhandedly call dreams.

The second thought crossed my mind, at precisely the moment i read the passage below, which talks about the significance of including men, and fathers into the conversation on menstruation.

"Malinski, who has also tried, with less success, to get men to sign up for a puberty workshop with their daughters, says that involving fathers in the conversation on menstruation is a key to erasing that unease. “Men being able to talk to their daughters about that would be incredibly empowering and normalizing.” -Lisa De Bode

I had told my dad that I had a persistent cold and needed to see a doctor. He obliged and soon we were at the Aga Khan hospital checking in, and I was in this pervy middle-aged man's office alone, while dad waited outside. The truth is I was not there because of a cold. I was there because of my excruciating menstrual cramps, and suspiciously long periods, and I needed to seek some professional assistance. Panadol couldn't do it any more.

The most absurd thing, besides the fact that I had to lie to my dad, about a very natural thing- periods- was that I left the doctors office with a diagnosis of breast lumps and urgent instructions to undergo further examinations and eventually even had surgery. Now....here i was, telling dad, I am going into the doc's for some sore throat/cold watchumacall-it...and I come out and have to tell him,
"Ok, eh, dad, so they found breast lumps and I might need surgery".

Dad didn't say anything, fortunately, but it was all on his face...how did things turn up from cold to possible breast cancer in minutes?????

Ahh...its all about that shame. That shame surrounding menstruation, periods, rolling, auntie flo, florider, and all the other names we have conjured to obscure the experience as much as possible from the rest of the XY population.

Now, as if matters couldn't have been worse, I was also feeling absolutely VIOLATED by that pervy doctor, who had a list of the lewdest questions to ask me when I told him that I was having irregular and painful periods, (digging incessantly into a sexual history that I didn't even have, and going only short of charging that I was lying). He was not content with me telling him that I was a virgin, and had some issues with my menstrual cycle. He was also trying to prod for some type of STI history....if I can recall correctly, and then out of the blue, he said, he needed to check me for breast lumps. I was reluctant, but he said it was protocol, and I was powerless.

Checking for breast lumps meant pressing and pinching fingers liberally over , under, into my breasts for what seemed ages.

I hated it.

I hated him.

He then said that he needed to do some type of swab in my vagina for God Knows What ...but for that procedure he would call a female nurse to be present.

It was still horrible.

This was my first really invasive medical procedure, and the doc had already acted suspiciously enough, and I only thought his old ass was being a pervert!

I just remember having to spread my legs further and further apart, and being urged to relax. Relax? How on earth could I relax?

Meanwhile, through all this, I had no agency, and no parental assist.

Dearest dad was outside in the waiting area, thinking all I had was a cold.

Mothers Need Help: Depressive episodes during child bearing and nurturing

This is to all my mothers out there, and the communities of people that go out of their way to help us, even when we are too shy/proud/worn out/ to ask for help. It is also a call to us, to be sensitive to mothers, and to be aware that they are very vulnerable, and need all the help that they can get. Birthing and raising a human being is supernatural work. It takes so much out of us, our bodies, and our energies, and we are sometimes left with too little energy/love/time/ for ourselves.