From thoughts into words

Miaka nenda, miaka rudi Tumekuwa tukitaradadi. Tumeelekea mbele, tumerudi nyuma. Kuzungukazunguka desturi yetu. Ramani waliyotupa tunayo mikononi Lakini yatuelekeza jangwani. Waliahidi kutufikisha mbuga za peponi. Leo twajikuta Jehanamu. Zi wapi hekaheka za madaraka na uhuru? Ndoto zetu zimekufa. Bendera zimecha kaa, zimeraruka. Tumeanguka, miguu imevunjika. Na bado twaimba nyimbo za kale. Eti twajivunia amani, uhuru na madaraka. Enzi za ukoloni zimepita, Lakini kujilisha, kujivisha tumeshindwa. Eti amani, uhuru na madaraka? Ndiyo. Amani, uhuru na madaraka; Madaraka ya vibaraka; Wanavijiji mafukara wa “Global Village”. Watoto wa bara wameamka. Urithi wetu hawautaki, mienendo yetu wanaikana. Lakini mwana wa nyoka ni nyoka. Wataujenga upya uafrika? This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License . Please feel free to use my writing for non-commercial purposes and do credit my name, Rose...

I am uncomfortable with the fact that society teaches us to pity those who we believe to be less fortunate than we are rather than to empathize with them. Pity implies an imagined sense of superiority over the other, so that we end up looking at an individual who was born without sight, for instance, and who has lived that way all their lives as having a less complete existence than a sighted person. I instinctively feel that this is wrong. But it’s far easier to recognize this wrong than it is to change it. Every aspect of my life is touched by my ability to see. Even the way I dream, think and imagine is directly related to my ability to register and to respond to colors and shapes. I cannot even begin to imagine how I would map the streets of my town, and the insides of buildings and gardens, relying on my senses of smell, hearing and touch to do so. All the same, I can’t help feeling that my blind friend sees my perception of the world as a completely alien experience. Many peo...

Once again, December approaches, and once more, “World Aids Day” arrives: the world’s attention is temporarily riveted to a health crisis. But why should the “remembrance” of AIDS be consigned to one specific day? Isn’t AIDS a daily reality for millions? Are we going to turn our engagement with HIV-AIDS and related issues into a once-a-year event during which we wear red ribbons, attend a rally, visit a gallery, sign a visitors’ book, and then take a deep breath and move on to a new chapter in our lives? Will December the 2nd be a new day with a new cause and with different concerns completely disconnected from those of the 1st of the month? It’s highly likely that for several people the answer to these questions will be “Yes”. After all, it is typical in this day and age for us to devote our full attention to a given issue for a short period of time before fatigue sets in and we lose all zeal for the cause. The question is, “Why do we behave this way”? The answer is probably that we d...

Due to my self-consciousness, I have never been a good speaker. This limits me very much, but I try to see it in a positive light. As far as I am concerned, "Shut mouth equals wide open ears". In short, I have proven to be an exceptional listener. Now I do have a friend, Sarah, who likes to talk. Fortunately, she has the gift of gab, so we make quite a formidable conversational pair. A while back, Sarah stumbled upon a group of topics that appealed to her, and she classified them under one broad heading that she baptised "Africology". I was fortunate enough to witness one of her ruminations on the subject. "My friend," she said, "I hate to generalise, but have come to the realisation that it's almost impossible to get anyone's attention without making sweeping statements. So here's my general view of "my people. “It's a favourite pastime of African scholars, students, and dreamers to imagine the potential that their continent ...

Once upon a time, when arms were limited to sharp blades and to piercing points, death was just as inevitable and as hard to accept as it is today. So we "progressed" from that era. And now, we have more efficient large scale-killing machines to show the "heights" that humanity has aspired to after centuries of self-enlightenment. How cold-blooded the minds that have perpetrated this! How do I even begin to describe the anguish that tears my heart when I read in a daily, 1 day after the fact and thousands of miles away from my home, that my people came under attack yet again? What about the families that lost their children and their breadwinners? And you have the nerve to tell them that their loved ones were blessed, that their death was a sacrifice in the fight for the greater freedom of a nation that never even figured in their minds during their daily struggles? Once upon a time, their voices rang clear across the streets, and their feet left prints in the ...