True Ease in Writing comes from Art, not Chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance. - Alexander Pope

Culture

Travelogue

 

Recently I had the chance to do a transit in both Dubai and Senegal on my way home, and spend time in places of waiting in both countries. In Dubai I couldn't leave the airport, a place built for just such an eventuality, a sealed-off World filled with everything a transit passenger might need: numerous bathrooms, prayer rooms, food courts, a smoking room, lots of chairs everywhere (though, sadly, no beds), movement maps and info displays, stores selling everything from perfume to electronics. In Senegal I did not spend much time at the airport; yet getting off the plane, something subtly changed my mood - was it the weather? the people? the language I could now fully understand? perhaps a combination of the above, making me feel once more like an African in Africa...

Planter's Joy

 

I

 

It was a cool September night as they sat on the sofa after dinner, catching up on the day’s activities. It was amongst their favorite things to do after a hectic day. He would usually go on about work and she would about life in general.

 

He said to her that night with excitement running up and down his face, “The soil of this nation is all one needs to be rich you know. I wish I knew this a long time ago.” He continued with his examples of one retired civil servant here and there who has since retired to farming and is now living in ‘sutura’ and peace and a few others who have been making a living off our soil; especially women farmers who take care of their families with the soil’s reward.

What happened to Banjul? – My Story

 

Banjul was never a beautiful city, but it had character and charm. The architecture was poor, but the atmosphere was magnificent. It was dark half the time at night (GUC), but it had a bright spirit. Banjul was fun!

 

During the colonial era, Banjul was relatively clean and well maintained. The Board of Health (aka bodorfell) that was set up had strict health codes that were regularly enforced. Health inspectors routinely inspected homes, and fines were handed out to those who were found to be in violation. Inspectors were general unforgiving, and that forced Waa Banjul to be on their “cleaning toes” at all times. Nervousness filled the air in every home, as home inspections drew near. Even drinking water stored in “Ndals” were inspected, and the "Kamas" too. The inspections were thorough and the sanctions were stiff. Waa Banjul definitely had a legitimate reason to be nervous.

Location

 

Lampedusa Early August 2010.

Damaso pulled away from his mother’s clutches, and ran towards a shaggy little doll that would later be labeled ‘fetish’ by Marian, his Italian grandmother. The shaggy doll rolled over his tiny toes as they touched the edge of the waves that washed the doll ashore, scaring and mesmerizing him simultaneously. He withdrew his toes from underneath the foreign object, stepped back and carefully eyed it before deciding to pick it up for further investigation.

Renaissance

 

It was Latirr Carr who in his essay “Red Black Nonsense”, divided us into three generations. From his essay I quote: “for the purpose of this essay and this essay alone, Generation Y refers to all those born between 1975 and 2000; Generation X refers to all those born between 1962 and 1974;The Baby boomers are born before 1962 (or can easily remember what Independence day felt like”.

 Now by this definition Xmyls would belong to generation Y. I recently saw him at the Fiila Restaurant with Binzy and co talking “Lend a Hand” A youth group that has made its very positive mark on many a youth leader/entrepreneur in this country. Xmyls and co were discussing an up-coming event that they were to stage. With my passion for youth work, I halted my match to the Fajara beach and decided to sit-in on their meeting.

Crawling to Happiness

 

As young girls, we are socialized to play mother and wife from time immemorial.  The female’s supreme role of being everyone’s keeper has been ingrained in her psyche even before she utters her first words.  She is bought dolls to nurture and coo to sleep; toy pots and pans to make pretend meals; and Barbie dollhouses, or a scrap play house to tend.

 

Read more »

Gaamo (Part 1)

I greet you my good friend with a sublime salutation befitting a descendant of the Meccan Kuraish and Hashim!

I am no oustass but I can also share a few thoughts on the above subject. It is about that time of the year when the Gaamo fever grips the nation.  I write on Gaamo and in doing so I honour you, for you are a sheriff and I am told that your kinsmen are the direct descendants of the Prophet of Islam. The enfant terrible mocked your turban likening it to those of the Taliban but he didn’t know you had been turbaned well before the bad boys of Jalalabad hit the headlines. It is the custom of sheriffs to wear turbans.

To start with let me make some passing reference to your essay Epiphany where you try to debunk so many myths surrounding the birth of the Prophet (Sallallahu alay-hi wa sallam). But hey, don’t you know that sheriffs do not debunk myths.

New Eyes

 

I left Africa when I was six and a half years old, destination London. To say London was unlike anything I had ever seen before is a vast understatement; it was a completely different world, one in which I was alien. I did not look like anyone, I did not walk like anyone, and I certainly did not talk like anyone. Gloom permeated London; it was in every pavement, crack, and cranny. It invaded the lives of people like an unwanted visitor, dressing them head to toe in black. It dragged their heads and made them walk with unsmiling eyes cast downwards, heading hurriedly to a destination I did not know. It filled the air, making it heavy and painted the houses and streets gray. The gloom that permeated London also found its way into my heart and infected me with a condition called SADD or Severe African Delusional Disorder.

Best of Balafong Ebook

As part of the anniversary celebrations, we have put together an ebook containg a selection of pieces from our first year. Download it, email it or print it out and share with your friends - consume it any way you like. 

Nov 20, 2011

Nigeria: A Scattered Travel Log (Part 2)

 

 

Read more »