Visitors at this year’s Biennale, one of the world’s most important international art fairs, will learn something rather strange when the exhibit opens on May 9: The exhibit’s Kenyan pavilion features almost exclusively Chinese artists.

The Biennale is an international contemporary art fair that takes place in Venice every two years. Over thirty countries, including Kenya and the U.S., have their own permament slots – so called pavilions – here. Most countries appoint a governmental committee that select artists for their respective pavilion. In Kenya, however, the government played no role. Instead, Paola Poponi, an Italian curator that has never set her foot in Kenya, was given free reigns to select artists as she pleased.

This inevitably poses a couple of rather unnerving questions: Why is Poponi in charge? Furthermore, why has Poponi selected artists that have, like her, neither been to Kenya, nor referenced Kenya in their artwork?

According to NPR’s East Africa Correspondent Gregory Warner, who has been speaking to Poponi as well as to other curators and artists, the reason remains unclear.

“Talking about art FROM ANOTHER PART OF THE WORLD during an art exhition can be useful for KENYA,” wrote Poponi in an email addressed to Warner, asserting that the exhibit actually features two Kenyan artists.

However, Yvonne Amolo, the only ethnic Kenyan artist at the Biennale, lives in Switzerland and has no ties to the contemporary Kenyan art scene while the other exhibited artist, Armando Tanzini, is Italian-born and lives in Malini – a coastal town mostly populated by foreign politicians and Formula One racers.

Tanzini has paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to get a Kenyan pavilion at the Biennale. The problem, he says, is that the money he used wasn’t all his. Some of it came from private sponsors, who, while Tanzini has never confirmed it, are presumably Chinese.

“The government of Kenya, they don’t know about this important exhibition,” he said. “Unfortunately, if I want to bring Africa, or Kenya, I must compromise in some way.”

In response to the absence of Kenyan artists at the Biennale, a Nairobi-based organization calling itself “Kenya Contemporary” has addressed a petition to the Kenyan Ministry of Sports, Culture and the Arts.

“Due to multiple failures in our systems, local and international platforms where Kenyan artists and our socio-creative infrastructure can gain capital have been poorly managed, misrepresented and outrightly appropriated,” reads part of the petition, which refers to the Biennale as an exhibition of “profound global significance.”

“The Shame in Venice 1″ by Michael Soi, shared on his Facebook page.

Nairobi-based visual artist Michael Soi recently shared a series of satirical paintings entitled “The Shame in Venice” on Facebook, offering his take on this year’s Biennale.

“Misinformation, corruption and lack of information regarding the participation into the Biennale itself,” Soi told a reporter from OkayAfrica when asked about what he thought could explain the artistic misrepresentation at the Biennale. “And of course, lack of government support towards having a proper Kenyan pavilion.”

Instead of the current Kenyan roster, which comprises six Chinese and only two Kenyan artists, Soi said he would much rather have seen contemporary artists like Wangechi Mutu, Naomi Wanjuki Gakunga, Peterson Kamwathi, Paul Onditi, Richard Kimathi, Jimmy Ogonga and Jim Chuchu.

“The list is as long as the Great Wall of China,” he added.

Nairobi culture in five words

Sheng, sun, writing, matatus, genge.

Sound of the city

Beeps from security wands and metal detector machines are the norm in Nairobi, because of the compulsory security checks at every major building, mall, event locations and some buses in the city. In short, security checks are everywhere. Individuals are required to put their bags and phones in trays while they walk through the metal detector machine and in some places security guards also frisk people.

Everyone’s tuning into …

The Trend, NTV’s hit show, chats with popular and polarising personalities that people in Kenya are talking about on Twitter: from pop stars to skin-bleaching socialites.

Best current venue

Kuona Trust is a vibrant and accessible arts space in the Hurlingham district of the city. It’s a great place for discovering local painters, glass artists, visual artists, sculptors and photographers, who showcase their work there at regular exhibitions and installations, events, workshops and community outreach programmes. Kuona markets many Nairobi-based artists. Recently, director Sylvia Gichia spoke out about the Venice Biennale scandal, which sees Chinese and Italian artists representing Kenya instead of local artists, for the second time.

What’s the big talking point?

Digital migration – three leading private TV stations operating on analogue platforms were switched off for three weeks in February for failing to migrate to digital. The conflict caused Kenyans on social media to swap memes making fun of the situation. Now that all the stations are back on air, Kenyans are required to purchase set-top boxes to watch local channels, unless they already have satellite TV.

Who’s top of the playlist?

Fena is a solo singer-songwriter whose take on the urban-soul genre is swaggy and relatable. She is proudly African, from her dreads to her lyrics she stands out as a positive,“fena-menal” woman. The artist recently shared a stage with the legendary South African singer Yvonne Chaka Chaka.

What Nairobi does better than anyone else …

Tusker beer is made in Nairobi, and is popular with Kenyans and tourists alike. Locals often drink it with nyama choma (barbecued meat). Now that police are on the look-out for drunk drivers, Kenyans are doing their best to enjoy their alcoholic beverages responsibly and avoid failing the “alco-blow” tests.

Best cultural Instagram

A photo posted by @lyraoko on Mar 23, 2015 at 7:24am PDT

Artist and content creator Lyra Aoko’s Instagram account is a good representation of the arts scene in Nairobi.

Cultural moment from history

Nairobi National Museum had its 100-year anniversary in 2010. It was a great moment for the city because the renovated museum holds impressive and culturally important artefacts. World-renowned paleontologist and Time Magazine cover star Dr Richard Leakey spoke at the grand celebration, which also featured an art exhibition. Some of the world’s most prized artifacts are housed at Museum Hill, including a homo erectus boy.

Best street art

A photo posted by Bankslave Cave’in (@bankslave) on Oct 20, 2014 at 3:00pm PDT

Bankslave is a socially conscious graffiti artist. His work ranges from a massive portrait of Lupita Nyong’o to screaming faces with active pipelines coming from the mouths. He calls these “screaming souls”.

He recently honoured the world’s oldest primary pupil Kimani Ng’ang’a Maruge on a wall in Kariobangi. The famous Kenyan started his primary education at 84 years of age, and is the subject of the film The First Grader.

Favorite local artist

Scared school children walk past a police dog during a crackdown on Mungiki sect adherents in Kosovo slum, Nairobi. The sect is blamed for a string of recent murders and beheadings. Photograph: Boniface Mwangi

Boniface Mwangi is a Prince Claus Award winning photojournalist or “photoactivist”, as he calls himself. His work focuses on socio-political issues affecting the nation, especially corruption. He used to work as a photojournalist for a national newspaper (The Standard) but left the profession, frustrated with watching politicians mislead the public. Mwangi is known for organising protests, including the Occupy Playground which made international headlines earlier this year.

Comedy gold

“Shaniqwa” (Kevin Mwangi), is an entertainer best known for mocking the socialite culture currently sweeping Nairobi. The phenomenon sees beautiful (bootiful) young women who appear in music videos and on reality shows enjoy a lavish lifestyle (mostly documented on Instagram). Depending on who you speak to, these women have aspirational lives or are dubious divas.

The comedian dons pumps, a weave and makeup while cracking jokes in Sheng and English.

Five to Follow

Baz Matters

UP Nairobi

iHub

2Many Siblings

Electrique DJs & The Beat Parade Band

Article by Josephine Opar

If you were to do a Google Image search for Nairobi, a majority of the pictures that show up will most likely depict the Westgate terrorist attack or the Nairobi National Park. Photographer and Nairobi-native Samir Dave wants to change that.

“That is not Nairobi,” Samir said of the monotony in the global perception of our capitol. “Nairobi is a bright, vibrant and upcoming African city echoing the hopes and dreams of its inhabitants.”

It all began when Samir discovered photographer and designer Mutua Matheka over Twitter. Mutua is principally known for co-founding the “I’m a City Changer” campaign – a United Nations-supported photography project that aims “to change mindsets of people in [African] cities.”

“Mutua was showing Nairobi in a way the world had never seen,” said Samir, who, after enrolling in a photography class that Mutua was holding, founded an Instagram collective by the name of #NightBandits. “It went on from there to here.”

“Here” is a community of avid Instagram users that under the joint leadership of Samir and Mutua aims to put Kenya and, particularly, Nairobi on the global map as a place of happiness and culture.

Together with 14 other photographers, Samir and Mutua have been showcasing the beauty of Nairobi to the rest of the world. And it was the formation of Kenya’s thriving Instagram community in the mid-2000s that allowed for them to recruit members.

The group used to primarily shoot from rooftops across the city, producing breathtaking panoramic pictures of its skyline. However, after noticing a surge in copycat photographers, the group began to reconsider.

“We take appropriate safety measures when accessing these rooftops,” said Samir, adding that he always seeks permission from building owners prior to shooting. “Most…do not. All it would take is one unfortunate incident to jeopardize all future access, not to mention loss of life.”

Although #NightBandits are downplaying their rooftop presence, the group is still regularly presenting stunning photographs that depict the diverse beauty of the city of Nairobi. Below are three examples, shot and explained by Samir Dave himself:

I zoomed in on the City Hall Clock tower, as it is a prominent landmark within the CBD. The juxtaposition of the time on the clock and buildings one either side with lit offices goes to show we are indeed a city that never sleeps.

This is an aerial shot of Nairobi showing dawn approaching from one side lighting up new and old buildings. There is a sense of growth through the evident construction sites.

Lonrho House is another prominent building within the CBD. The twilight had lit it up with hues similar to those of a peacock. The virtues of a peacock echo that of our city: pride.

Anyone who loves to party knows what a task it is to find the perfect bar. As much as we all want a restaurant and bar with the right kind of music, variety of drinks and awesome food or bar snacks, other details like décor and ambiance make a big difference. When your favorite hangout joint has all the above, and it is set on a rooftop allowing you picturesque views of the city in the night, then you know you have a winner. A good number of establishments in Nairobi have invested in bars and restaurants on rooftops and terraces. We present to you 8 best rooftop restaurants and bars in Nairobi. If you haven’t been to any of these rooftop bars, its time you did. You just might find your new perfect joint.

1. Sarabi at Sankara

Sankara Hotel is a luxury hotel in Westlands and it has a lot of facilities that places it above the rest. Foodies get the best of local and international foods in the restaurants and those who love their drinks are spoilt for choice. The luxurious furnishings and embellishments all around confirm that no expense is spared to ensure that guests at Sankara get only the finest of amenities.

You will find Sarabi restaurant and Supper club on the rooftop of the building that hosts Sankara, right adjacent to the swimming pool. The atmosphere at the lounge is calm and relaxing, the décor is chic, and there’s a cool breeze that seems to breathe life into the place. Views of the city from the rooftop are spectacular especially in the night; the kind that help you forget your worries, albeit for a moment.

Those who frequent Sarabi are mostly the business types, both young and old but mostly affluent. The Champagne bar features an eclectic list of champagnes and there’s a decent selection of wines, whiskies and cocktails to choose from. The awesome music, sometimes from live bands, only adds to the things that make Sankara’s rooftop one of the best nightlife spots in the city. Visit: Sarabi, Sankara Hotel

2. The Nest at Tribe

The Nest, located at Tribe hotel’s top floor is another amazing spot to spend your evening. The Nest comes highly recommended from those who frequent it, with a wide selection of food and drinks available at fair prices. Shisha is available and the martinis at the NEST are arguably the best. The exclusivity makes it a great place to host parties for small groups. Visit: Tribe Hotel

3. Level 8 at Best Western Premier 

Level 8 Ciroc Bar is located on the rooftop of Nairobi’s Best Western Premier Hotel. It is small but swanky, and its location by the pool brings an aura of relaxation. The views of the city are outstanding as well, as is expected of any rooftop bar, and many working types drop by after work to take repose. The music is good, the volume is just right, and the variety of drinks and food is decent.  The signature cocktails, especially the Ciroc bases ones, are a must try. Level 8 has hosted some awesome parties and events in the past. Visit: Best Western Premier

4. Tambourin Rooftop Lounge & Bar at Villa Rosa Kempinski Nairobi 

Villa Rosa Kempinski is one of Nairobi’s best luxury hotels and it is located on Chiromo road in Westlands. The Tambourin Rooftop Lounge & Bar adds to the list of food and drink joints at Villa Rosa, with the others being 88, LUCCA and Cafe Villa Rosa. Tambourin is a perfect place to relax after work as you munch on scrumptious snacks and down your favourite cocktails. It is posh, and there’s enough space to host large groups for parties and events. Visit: Tambourin

5. Clarence House Nairobi

Clarence House is located on 8 school lane Westlands and the hotel has an elegant rooftop lounge that is ideal for cocktail parties.  Cloud Nine restaurant, the rooftop restaurant is set beside the swimming pool and diners get to enjoy amazing views as they have their meals. The bar is well stocked, the food is good and the ambiance is serene. Visit: Clarence House

6. La Maison Royale

La Maison Royale is a business hotel in the Westlands area that has a rooftop bar with breathtaking views of the city. The bar is a great entertainment venue and a cool spot to hang out with friends and family or host small parties. Unlike many other rooftop bars, this one can be used even when it rains since there are canopies. The restaurant at La Maison serves African, French and Mediterranean cuisines so food is in plenty and the selection of drinks is decent. Visit: La Maison Royale

7. Khweza B&B

Khweza Bed and Breakfast is located on Ngara road and it has a modest rooftop bar and restaurant that is frequented by locals. There are great views of the city from the rooftop and a wide range of food and drinks can be enjoyed while there. Visit:Khweza Bed and Breakfast

8. Cloud Hotel and Suites

Cloud Hotel & Suites in Nairobi also has a cool rooftop restaurant. Breakfast can be  served at the rooftop restaurant by the pool on request, and the morning breeze and breathtaking views make for a great start to any day. Drinks can be served at the rooftop as well. Visit: Cloud Hotels & Suites

Have we left out any great rooftop bars? Do let us know in the comments section below.

Source: Travelstart

As part of an objective to shed light on the oftentimes-overlooked beauty of our capitol, photographer Mwangi Kirubi has shared a few of his complex compositions with us. Based out of Nairobi, Mwangi, like our recently featured Instagram photographer Samir Dave, has made it his goal to alter global perception of Kenya as well as of Africa at large. And he uses Instagram to do it.

Mwangi got into photography in 2004 but told us over email that it was not until 2009 that he started to take his work seriously. As a member of African arts collectives One Touch and IG_Africa he is today a full-time photographer and travels across both Africa and the world in pursuit of imagery.

“What gives me the greatest joy about photography is the ability to change perceptions and share truths because the camera never lies,” he said. “My impact may be small but I hope it inspires other photographers to do the same so that the impact can be greater.”

Beyond scenic and perception-altering projects, Mwangi is involved with many social and political causes. Most recently, he undertook a project commenting on the outlook of public transportation in Kenya. Exploring the interior and exterior beauty of a deserted Routemaster double-decker bus that he found in a wooded area while in Kangemi last week, Mwangi produced a stunning set of pictures that you can view here.

But that’s not all. Below are three picturesque shots of Nairobi, explained and taken by Mwangi himself.

I regularly use Nairobi’s Globe Roundabout for my commute into town. I’d always wanted to shoot it especially after the overpass was constructed. The opportunity presented itself last January and thanks to the management of Paramount Plaza, I and friends from Onetouch were able to shoot Nairobi from this vantage position.

This was shot in 2014 from Kimathi House. It was the background for a documentary I was shooting and when the sun was just perfect, we took a break from filming to click away. The building has some significance in our family. Currently occupied by CFC Stanbic, it used to be a hotel and Torr was its name. Some sources say it was Nairobi’s first brick building, put up by Ewart Scott Grogan.

My grandfather was employed by Grogan as a labourer during its construction. So good was he at his job that he got hired as a waiter when Torr Hotel opened its doors. One day, when faithfully executing his duties, a white man called him “Boy.” He became livid, protesting at the disrespect he had been shown and quit his job. The management begged and pleaded with him to stay. Not even an apology from his insulter would do. He moved to Molo where he became head waiter at Highlands Hotel.

 In 1956, Torr Hotel became Ottoman Bank, which was nationalised in 1972 and named Grindlays. On 19th June 1974, my mom joined Grindlays Bank as a clerk, working in the same building her dad had helped construct.

Stanbic Bank took over Grindlays in 1992, three years after my mom resigned from the bank.

One of the comments I got about this was that it didn’t look like Nairobi but Dubai. It is a compliment for Nairobi and also worrying that not many people see the beauty that our city holds. That’s why I and other photographers will continue shooting to showcase Nairobi’s beauty.

Recently acclaimed for “The Caged Bird Sings,” a musical on African-American poet Maya Angelou, Kenyan playwright George Orido is now current with “Obama: Dreams From My Father” – a musical production inspired by Obama’s biography by the same name.

The musical will go up in July at the Kenya National Theatre in Nairobi as part of a plurality of activities welcoming Obama during his first visit to Kenya as U.S. head of state.

Check out our previous coverage of the president’s much-anticipated July visit here

Orido, who is a writer for The Standard, is also the director of “Obama, The Musical” – a politically relevant musical that was put up in Nairobi just days before the 2008 U.S. presidential elections. Just like Orido’s first musical about Obama, “Dreams From My Father” celebrates political and social diversity as well as the American president himself.

George Odiro

“Since we all know Obama was elected president in a country where blacks are a minority, the message is crucial to Kenyans who have used ‘Tyranny of Numbers’ politics to discriminate a great section of society,” Orido told Daily Nation earlier this week, referencing Mutahi Ngunyi’s hypothesis concerning the 2012 Kenyan elections.

“This is just the beginning,” Orido told BBC about his first Obama musical in 2008, asserting that a sequel was not at all out of the question. Now, we have the result.

“Dreams From My Father” will feature original compositions and performances by Ohanglaman Makadem, Evans Mbinji, Nicholas Moipei, Suzanna Owiyo and Claire Etaba, among many others.

When you stand before one of WiseTwo’s (real name Bhupi Jethwa) graffiti murals you might be impressed by the sheer amount of detail that has obviously gone into the piece. To WiseTwo himself, however, you can be certain that the mural is about much more than just aesthetic detail.

“It’s very therapeutic, a medicine of sorts for the soul,” WiseTwo said. “I’m constantly rediscovering the purpose of life through graffiti.”

A few months back, we had the opportunity to sit down with the Nairobi-based street artist when he was visiting New York to work on a few projects. Back then, WiseTwo told us about his Bruce Lee-inspired attitude towards style and shared with us his ideas behind the reoccurring theme of masks in his pieces.

“SAVA,” one of WiseTwo’s most recent pieces in Toronto.

Since then, WiseTwo has been traveling across the globe, building up a network of contacts while adorning the walls of the world with his talent. Most recently, WiseTwo visited Toronto where he represented Nairobi at the first-ever Youthful Cities Global Summit.

“I was only commissioned to do one mural, but I ended up painting two and I also took a trip to finish a mural in Rochester, N.Y.,” WiseTwo said of the summit, which operates in 25 cities worldwide and has as its goal to actualize the ideas of global youth.

“Underneath the Sun, Cool of the Night” in Toronto.

When asked about the backstory to the pieces in Toronto and Rochester, WiseTwo explained that words are unable to describe the spiritual process that instigates while he is painting.

“It is my way of expressing the verbal into a more visual alchemy that only I can understand,” WiseTwo said. “I got in to graffiti art as a form of rebellion, a form of art that comes from within rather than without.”

“Resilience of the Soul” in Rochester, N.Y.

WiseTwo, who is currently preparing for a group show in Tunis on June 5, explained that he always aims to reflect the prime source of artistry in his work: wisdom. Even his pen-name plays on it. But just as the spiritual process of painting, WiseTwo claims that wisdom can never be completely mastered or explained.

“Wisdom is infinite, thus the ‘wise’ from wisdom,” he said about the meaning behind the name WiseTwo. “The ‘two’ represents a sign of humility, no one can ever be number one.”

Check out this recent footage of WiseTwo working on a piece in Brooklyn:

Nairobi-based satirist and visual artist Michael Soi spurred a wave of controversy with “China Loves Africa” – a cartoon-esque series of paintings depicting China’s neocolonial relations with Kenya. With a magnificent critical eye, Soi is once again relevant with another series of controversial paintings depicting yet another issue that many feel too uncomfortable to address: Nairobi’s sex trade.

Entitled “I Love Nairobi,” Soi told FADER Magazine that the series “is about the denial that sex work doesn’t exist here and the fact that Kenya buries its head in the sand on matters pertaining to the trade.”

“The Miracle Worker” by Michael Soi.

Soi also noted that a majority of his work is almost exclusively inspired by Nairobi. But even though Soi’s artwork reflects the realities of our capitol it has begun to gain substantial international recognition, which Soi himself correlates to the global relevancy of his topic matters.

“Any one 40 or 50 years from now can look at a book of my art and see what Nairobi was all about back then,” he said. “I just document moments that I am sure most Kenyans wouldn’t want to talk about because it revolves around commercial sex work, poor governance, corruption and the life of Nairobi after dark.”

“Omari’s Dutch Visa 2″ by Michael Soi.

Soi, who has been an artist for over two decades, further explained that “I Love Nairobi” is not just an aim to expose the underbelly of Nairobi, but also an attempt to break “the myth that all men who go to the strip clubs are perverted.”

“What a lot of people don’t know is that the pervert is your brother, uncle, dad, kid, your expatriate friend, your banker,” he added.

Don’t forget to check out more of Soi’s artwork here.

After countries like Nigeria and Uganda passed explicit anti-homosexuality laws, Nairobi-native Wangechi Mutu felt the need to do something. She couldn’t just idly stand by and give up without a fight. So she decided to utilize one of the most powerful pacifist mediums of all: art.

“The recent criminalization of gays in Africa is making it dangerous and impossible for many simply to exist,” reads the 24-year-old Brooklyn-based visual artist’s mission statement. “Africa’s Out! is our sincere effort to counter this with joy, support and celebration.”

“You Are my Sunshine” by Wangechi Mutu was exhibited at the event.

Africa’s Out! is an artistic platform that aims to raise awareness and money for the struggle of homosexual youth in East Africa. To kick off the initiative, Mutu invited her wide spectrum of artistic friends to donate their works for a fundraiser event at the Gladstone Gallery in Manhattan on June 5. Solange Knowles, Beyonce’s little sister, was one of many that attended the event, which donated all of its proceeds to Uhai Eashri, an activist fund supporting LBGTI and sex worker rights in East Africa.

“She was one that stood up and said ‘yes!’” Mutu recently told Essence Magazine about Knowles, who performed at the event. “I knew that we needed someone of her name popularity because she is that wonderful person that floats between the art world, entertainment and fashion. She’s been so generous.”

“After Identity, What?” by Hank Willis Thomas

Other artists that attended and exhibited at the event included visual artists Kehinde Wiley and Mickalene Thomas as well as contemporary photographer Hank Willis Thomas. The donations allegedly poured in and the fund, which is directly donated to Uhai Eashri, remains open.

But Mutu doesn’t want to stop there.

With dreams of turning Africa’s Out! into “a platform for change through culture, through beautiful events, through radical ideas,” Mutu says that this is only the beginning.

“I thought ‘I’m going to call it Africa’s Out! because it will be about…you know, what is out,” she said. “We’re here and we’re all over. We’re out of the bag. We’re confident, we’re capable, we’re evolved, we’re full and we’re ready. So, Africa’s Out!”

Want to know more? Check out this video, which further explains Mutu’s vision:

“I don’t it is a time to preach peace. It is a time to preach justice and equality,” says Shabu Mwangi, a Nairobi-based visual artist with an unbreakable passion for creating beauty out of what appears to be misery.

Mwangi is from one of Nairobi’s roughest slums, LungLunga, and while his upbringing was categorized by poverty and hardships, he never gave up on his dreams.

“I always wanted to do something; to change something,” he says. “Maybe I could write or I could preach, but I chose art as a medium to express what I feel. It is a responsibility, not a choice.” 

The Hamptons, Long Island – home to some of the richest people in the world – is most commonly associated with excessive wealth, stardom and larger-than-life property. So it might come as a surprise to learn that Nairobi-native and progressive visual artist Wangechi Mutu was selected as the Featured Artist at this past weekend’s Art For Life Benefit Event in Bridgehampton.

Art For Life is hosted annually by the Rush Philanthropic Arts Foundation, which aims to raise money to establish and fortify art programs for inner city youth. This weekend’s event was the 20th anniversary and featured a roaring 1920s theme, welcoming celebrities and business moguls from across the globe. According to Rolling Out Magazine, some $1.5 million were raised during the event alone.

Art For Life’s founder and director Russell Simmons

Mutu was honored alongside legendary comedian Dave Chappelle, art collectors Michaela and Simon de Pury and critically acclaimed screenwriter Ava DuVernay. Mutu, who was the event’s sole Featured Artist, was selected with a motivation emphasizing her “skillfully executed multi-media works [which] ask difficult questions about wastefulness, cultural hierarchies, cruelty, gender and femaleness.”

Dave Chappelle expressed the importance of programs like Art For Life, noting the fact that he benefited from similar programs himself, as always, with his tongue in his cheek.

“Programs like this actually did save my life,” Chappelle said. “I went to an arts high school…and I found out about this arts program and it changed my life in ways that I couldn’t even imagine. And now look at me today, here I am in the winner’s circle and the Hamptons, I have The Great Gatsby hat under my seat. I’m on of these weird guys that’s as famous for what he didn’t do as I am for what I did.”

A few months after the Second World War officially came to an end, a large number of intellectuals, activists and delegates from across the continent and the West Indies met in Manchester to discuss strategies for political and economic liberation in Africa.

John Deakin, Jomo Kenyatta, 1945. Courtesy Getty Images. © John Deakin/Picture Post/Getty Images

This meeting was dubbed “The Fifth Pan-African Congress” and was attended, among others, by our first president and founding father Jomo Kenyatta. Following the meeting Kenyatta, as well as several other African leaders that attended, went on to form and execute successful liberation struggles.

John Deakin, an English news photographer, covered the meeting and, for the first time ever, a curated selection of his previously unseen photographs are being exhibited at the Autograph ABP Gallery in London.

“Although the British press scarcely covered this pivotal meeting, extraordinarily Picture Post magazine commissioned celebrated Soho photographer John Deakin to document the event,” reads a recent Autograph ABP press release. “This is the first time these rarely seen photographs are shown together as a body of work.”

The exhibition, which opened on July 16 and runs through Sept. 16, marks the 70th anniversary of the Pan-African Congress and is curated by Autograph ABP director Mark Sealy.

This is a tremendous opportunity to delve into African heritage and learn about what our ancestors made possible through their collective struggle. So if you happen to be in London, make sure to check this free exhibition out. More info can be found here.

Africa is technologically on the rise.

That is at least the case according to Jake Bright and Audrey Hbury, the authors behind newly released tech business book, “The Next Africa.”

“The Next Africa describes a future of a globally connected Africa where its leaders and citizens wield significant economic, cultural and political power,” Hbury said of the book during its launch party at iHub on Tuesday. “A future in which Americans will own African stocks, work for companies doing business in Africa, buy African hits from iTunes and learn new African names.”

Aubrey Hruby, flanked by former Secretary of Information and Communication Bitange Ndemo and iHub founder Erik Hersman, during Tuesday’s event (All Photos/Lizzie Farida).

With chapter titles like “The Rise of Silicon Savannah,” the 280-page book takes readers across the bold tech plains of Africa, pointing to both the challenges and opportunities at hand for local as well as international entrepreneurs.

A variety of creative-minded people were invited to speak at Tuesday’s event and with President Obama’s approaching visit, the overarching theme was African technological development and how it may benefit from American investment.

Bright, who is American, was unable to attend Tuesday’s event but resonated his co-author’s sentiment over email.

“We saw that it caused the most curiosity in Americans,” Bright said about the choice to focus on tech business. “We strongly believe tech could end up playing a more impactful role in Africa than anywhere else in the world.”

Blinky Bill and Mbithi from Just A Band were among the attendees and both spoke warmly of how they benefited from technology as young artists. Recalling the widespread success of the video to “Ha-He,” Bill and Mbithi said that they wouldn’t have been able to reach the type of audience that they have today without the help of the Internet.

Blinky Bill taking questions during Tuesday’s book launch.

“I absolutely love Just A Band and so does Aubrey,” said Bright. “[They] are on some super creative, artistic level I am not sure people quite understand yet. Kind of like a modern form of those album masterpieces that came out of Rock and Motown in the 70s that people still unpack today but didn’t get when they came out.”

But despite the apparent success – artistic and otherwise – that technological development facilitates, Bright admitted that some public opposition is inevitable.

“While writing we had some people point out negative things as a way of saying that ‘your main thesis is wrong,’” Bright said of critics claiming him and Hbury to propagate dangerously rapid technological development. “There will continue to be negative headlines and trends because that’s just how it is. Africa is not a straight up or down proposition and complex just like other regions.”

Still, having just released a book that predicts financial and social success edged on by tech business, Bright remained optimistic.

“However things play out, tech has a huge role to play in Africa for a long time,” he said. “In the U.S. tech has reached a kind of outer limit. In Africa, tech seems to be in this stage where it can have monumental impacts to both businesses and individuals. And these are early, early days.”

Find the tech-savvy book here.

With additional reporting by Lizzie Farida 

Lupita Nyong’o, Miriam Makeba, Alek Wek, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Wangari Maathai are just a few of the dynamic women featured in Ruramai “Rudo” Musekiwa‘s Sibahle poster series. The Zimbabwe-born, Johannesburg-based artist and activist created the collection to acknowledge the contributions made by both well-known and unsung heroines from the continent in time for South Africa’s National Women’s Day last week.

“The Sibahle Poster Series is an ongoing body of work paying tribute to phenomenal African women,” Musekiwa said in a press release. “The statement it seeks to make, is that our young girls can and should find inspiration right here, within the continent, within our context as a people. Women are the pillars of our society and it is imperative that we pay homage to inspirational women that not only radiate authenticity and passion within their respective crafts, but also understand how their purpose is connected to others (Ubuntu).”

Featured in the collection are Lira, Mpho Sebina, Albertina Sisulu, Winnie Madikizela Mandela, Noni Gasa, Simphiwe Dana, Claire Mawisa, Lebo Mashile, Lufuno Sathekge and Nandi Mngoma. “These are some of the most exceptional and influential African women of today,” Musekiwa

The posters are part of Musekiwa’s larger Sibahle movement.

I am an Assistant Professor of English at Cornell University, a published author, a father and a husband. But to Donald Trump I am a problem he derisively calls “anchor baby.” If elected he promises to try and end birthright citizenship while indiscriminately deporting 11 million undocumented people. But people are born in this country, to non-citizen parents, for all sorts of reasons. Each of them has a unique story.

My story starts innocently enough. My father, Ngugi Wa Thiong’o, then a young and rising Kenyan writer, was offered a temporary teaching position at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois in 1970. Leaving my elder brothers and sister behind in the care of my grandmother, my father and mother made their way to Evanston, where I was born a year later. Shortly after his appointment was over, they made their way back to Kenya, with me in tow. With all things being equal, I would have lived there my whole life.

But the United States, in a bid to stop a communist domino effect in Africa, was giving financial and military support to the growing Kenyan dictatorship of Jomo Kenyatta. My father, led by his conscience, lent his pen to calling out the contradictions of what a soon-to-be-assassinated politician called a country of ten millionaires and ten million beggars. Kenyatta threw him into political detention in 1977. When Kenyatta died in 1978, the new President, Daniel Arap Moi, in a gesture of new beginning, released all the political detainees. But he too grew repressive. Eventually Moi forced my father into exile in 1982. I did not see my father for eight years.

Ngugi Wa Thiong’o

The hardships that come from being a pariah political family followed: threatening phone calls in the dead of the night, my father being denounced and his effigies burned on live TV, political thugs breaking into our home in the middle of the night, economic hardships as my mother, suddenly the sole breadwinner, tried to feed, clothe and educate her family in the midst of fear, silence and uncertainty.

None of my siblings, all born in Kenya, could get Kenyan passports – the government essentially saw them as hostages. But I walked into the US embassy at the age of nineteen, showed my birth certificate, and in two or three weeks had a US passport that the dictatorship could not confiscate. In 1990, I was the first of my siblings to leave Moi’s Kenya. Inundated by all this talk about anchor babies as usurpers of the American dream, these memories have flooded back.

The proud Kenyan writer was forced to leave his country because of national and international politics not of his making. And it was international politics not of our making that rescued my family, along with millions of others, when the Berlin Wall fell in 1989. With the specter of communism gone and a disintegrating Soviet Union, the US could finally withhold financial and military aid to the Moi dictatorship. International and internal pressure forced him to slowly allow for democracy. By the time I was graduating college in 1994, most of my siblings, armed with Kenyan passports, were in the United States to further their studies.

There were costs. I was not there when my mother, who stayed behind, died. Or when later my grandmother, uncles, aunts, and friends died. My head knows that my presence would not have stopped people from suffering, or dying, but my heart has no way of knowing it. Had I been in Kenya, at least there would have been a finality, a torturous coming to terms with the finality of it all. In my dreams my mother is always alive.

Mukoma Wa Ngugi

This is not to say my life stopped when I came back to the country of my birth. After college and working odd jobs (dishwashing, mail sorter, waiter, truck loader, adjunct teacher etc) for a number of years, I went to graduate school. I got married, had a child, and became a professor. In other words I grew roots here, in the country where I was born. This is my home as much as Kenya is, and there is no way of changing that.

And yet that is not to say life here has been perfect for immigrants and for the 45.3 million people living in poverty. To put the US poverty rate in perspective, Kenya has a population of 44.35; the American poor equal the whole population of Kenya and then some. And then the racism; the police violence against black people and poor whites that has led me to carry the ACLU police app on my phone, ready to record any meeting with a police officer. A fear that is very reminiscent of the fear I felt whenever I came across a Kenyan police officer.

But at least the poor birth right citizens, poor blacks and poor whites have some protection, if only in theory and always after the fact, from the law and constitution. Undocumented workers are the most vulnerable because they are not shielded, no matter how thinly, by the law. And if they loose the empathy and goodwill from American citizens, Trump, even if he does not win the presidency, will have lost the battle but won the war. Without the American people defending the humanity of the undocumented workers and their children, walls will be built and millions driven from their homes. National and international politics will have, once again, come calling for millions of families in the form of xenophobia.

What Trump and his supporters will not acknowledge is that they are adding trauma to people who are already traumatized in small and big ways by tragic events in their countries of origin. And that they are adding a sense of insecurity to a group of productive citizens and non citizens who already feel a tenuous sense of belonging because their name, religion, accent, or how they simply look or dress, marks them as outsiders.

Trump is right – the American dream is turning into a nightmare – but it is because he is the one haunting it.

Mukoma Wa Ngugi is an Assistant Professor at Cornell University and the author of Mrs. Shaw, Black Star Nairobi, Nairobi Heat and the forthcoming poetry collection, Logotherapy.

Source: ThisIsAfrica

He was a well- respected man. Revered. Anyone who talked to him was in awe of him. He spoke with a quietly. He was very articulate and had an air of dignity about him; the kind of air that made you want to know more about him. His manners were as fine as cognac, as instinctive as breathing. 

I met this man on a warm spring afternoon five years ago. It was an interview. He wanted to know a little bit about me. He had a very direct look, a look  that made you want to tell him everything hoping that somehow, he would be able to resolve your issues or ailments — after all, he was a doctor. He must have liked my personality since he hired me. I was to start my job the following day. Over the course of the years, I learnt so much from him. An appreciation for golf was one of the few things that stood out to me. In the past the Golf channel was one of those stations that I quickly flipped past when trying to find something to watch. I now know what five under par means, a fairway and putting. I even know how to tee off. The first time he taught me about golf he reminded me that I would have a quiz the next day. After noticing the quizzical expression on my face, he chuckled and said he would always be a teacher. He had been the Dean at one of the U.S.’s most prestigious medical colleges. 

On a random weekend a few of my friends had invited me to the golf course for a few swings and part take in the camaraderie. My swings were horrible and despite hitting the ball off the fairway numerous times, I couldn’t wait to tell him all about it. He had met my excitement with his usual quiet demeanor expressing how glad he was I had put the theory he had taught me into practical use. The football season was our all time favorite season. We frequently checked the newspaper to see the listing of the games. I even went ahead to find out what was going on within the Ravens team even though it was not my number one team. He loved the Baltimore Ravens, huge fan. I on the other hand was a die hard Giants fan but a good sport nevertheless.

He was such an avid reader. His apartment was lined with shelves upon shelves of books, and as the years went by and his eyesight became poor, he sought out books on tape. He was always learning. The one thing I will always remember about him was how dapper he made sure he was before he walked out the door. Even if he was to go out for brunch or a simple appointment, a jacket was mandatory.

He passed away three weeks ago.

It did not come as a surprise, he had been ill for quite sometime and a couple of months before his death I had sat with him and asked him if there was anything he regretted not doing. He smiled and stared at his bookcase, but I could tell his mind was going back in time.

“Japan,” he uttered.

“I would have liked to be able to speak Japanese, but I spent my time playing golf when I was stationed there for a year.”

“Well at least your golf improved.”

“That it did Anne.”

We both laughed. I smiled and looked at him while he gazed absently.

“I would have liked  to read more books but now I listen to my books on tape.”

Here was a man who had his apartment walls covered in books. I was somehow blown away.

“Who is your favorite author?”

“Mark Twain,” he said right of the bat.

We sat in silence for a few minutes then I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to add on. He had an unreadable expression on his face then he softly said:

“Travel Anne. Go to Japan, oh, and Austria. You will love it. See the world. I can’t at the moment because of my disease.”

He was talking about Parkinson’s disease — a degenerative disorder of the central nervous system. It affects the motor system and makes any form of body movement extremely hard.

As I took all this in, I glanced at his book case, and somewhere there was a section of photo albums bearing titles like Egypt, Peru, Japan and Italy. Here was a man that had travelled to many countries of the world but he still wanted to see more. Travel does that to you, it opens you up to the vast world we live in.

“Save,” he said breaking me out of my reverie.

“I hope you are saving Anne. Save up your money. Invest in something you believe in.”

By now we’d  crossed over to where he was giving me advice and as I leaned in to hear his words of wisdom he asked be about my future plans and goals. He mentioned how important it was was to be able to see beyond today. He had lived a good life but he too knew that his time was almost up. A few weeks after this conversation, his body started failing him. He always joked that if bodies were like cars, he would have traded his a long time ago.

_________________

I have been thinking of writing this piece for three weeks now. It’s a recent loss and with it being so recent, it slowly unfurls all the other losses I have gone through. The chapters of the dear ones I’d lost but not forgotten seemed to open up. I knew those memories would hang over me as I sat down to jot this piece. I wrote  words in my head, had a steady flow of how I wanted them to roll on each other but when I sat down and put my fingers on the keyboard, those words were frozen in my brain. My blank document page stared mockingly at me. I let the words marinate in my head for those three weeks. The reason the words couldn’t roll out precisely as I wanted is because I am writing about loss. Not the loss of a favorite lipstick or a favorite pair of shoes that I recently lost during my move from Baltimore to New York, but the loss of someone dear, someone special, someone who has impacted my life in more ways than I could ever have imagined.

It was a process unlike all the other posts I’ve written. My words were mixed with memories of my recent loss, the loss of my dad three years ago, loss of a dear friend’s mum, the loss of my friend who’s life was just starting. He was so young! Death! It’s not a topic we like talking or writing about, but sometimes things need to be said. I found strength in those memories. I chuckled at some, cried at others, listened to music that would remind me of them all while putting this piece together.

I have lost people this year, I have seen people I love go through grief because they too lost someone they loved. When my father passed away three years ago, it shook all of my being. It changed everything. The pain was unbearable. I felt the heartache straight through my bones. It left me numb. Luther Vandross’s “Dance with my Father” will forever bring tears to my eyes. That’s the worst part about growing up. The realization that you will lose people and that you too will die. People you love and cherish will come and go. You will be heartbroken and feel a pain deep down your soul that will gnarl and torment you every single day. It will hurt like hell; the absence of that someone who was once there.

Someone once said grieving is like broken ribs, on the outside you look fine but with every breath, it hurts. Here’s the thing with grief, you cannot control it. It is like the ocean, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All you can do is to try and stay afloat, tread or swim. No matter what people say about time healing all wounds, some sorrows never fade. They will always be there like a tattoo inked on your heart. The reality is that grieving is forever. It’s not something you get over, it’s something you go through. And as writer Elizabeth Ross puts it, you don’t get over the loss of a loved one, you learn to live with it. You will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole but never the same. How could you?

Earlier this year — late February to be exact — I decided to join my brother Dybby and his daughter Lisa for skiing. To be a good skier, you have to ski often for as with all sports, it’s all about the practice. You do it so often it becomes second to your nature. I hadn’t skied in over three years and I was worried my legs wouldn’t be able to handle it. Dumb right? I had two good legs but the voice in my head was just dishing out all the worst things that could happen. Perhaps I would break a femur, be in crutches for months, limping and hopping about. Worse, I could hit my head, get in a coma anad I hadn’t gotten to the business of writing a will. What if I became brain dead? Would someone have to pull the plug. Holy cow, as you can see I was going off on a tangent and watched too many seasons of Gray’s Anatomy. I sat down quietly trying to slow down my over active imagination by reading a book. Wrong thing to do! Words like fall, leap, crack, head, injury, dead, leaped out in bold size 36 font before my eyes. I slammed the book shut and called my brother with some flimsy excuse. My brother is a guy who has contingencies for everything. He has plan A and B down and if C doesn’t work the other letters of the alphabet are there for him to work with. Nothing fazes him. So I dish out my flimsy ass excuse that is somewhat similar to the one Kevin Hart dishes out on his stand up. Money shouldn’t be an issue. I can always pay my brother back. I sit there chewing my lip wondering how to get out of this trip.

Shucks! I was off work and I had precisely kept the day open for this ski session with my bro and niece, sort of a bonding session and here I was trying to bail out. Then my brother said something that later bothered me. He said it’s up to me if I wanted to join the ski trip, then he reminded me I had done this last year. You know, the bailing out last minute thing. I honestly didn’t remember about the previous year. I must have had a hot date or something. My brain is not the foggy kind but I do remember something “important” had come up.

Oh well, I have never been known to be a quitter. So I texted my brother told him I would see him on Saturday. “Bring those damn skis, I got this!” I told myself.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

Saturday morning, I was all suited up in my ski pants, warm gloves, beanie and my red North Face jacket. I was armored against the cold. I found my brother packing our lunch and I had brought some snacks as well. Twenty minutes later, we were on our way to the Liberty Ski Resort.

Liberty resort is a good two and a half hours away. I distracted myself by gazing outside as the trees and houses passed, chatting with my brother, asking Lisa about school and some other random small talk. Inside my head, no small talk was going on. It was a full blown pandemonium, a ruckus that got my poor heart racing like I had just finished a 100 meter dash. I took small steady breaths to calm myself — a trick I had learnt during my high school performance days. Nerves can be a tricky thing.

As we arrived at the resort, you could feel the excitement and thrill of the other skiers and snowboarders. It was palpable. It felt like everyone and their mothers were there. Kids of all ages suited up looking like mini tele-tubbies, tagging along their parents. The snowboarders hoisting up their boards chatting aimlessly, marching towards the slopes. A group of teenagers in skittle colored pants and jackets and fancy reflecting sunglasses on their helmets were in a deep discussion probably about the Walking Dead or Snapchat or whatever teens talk about nowadays. Signs all over the place aided this happy ski-ready mob to whatever destination they required.

We joined the line, registered, signed up and signed away our lives. The damn fine print be damned. We then attached the lift pass tickets on our pants and jackets respectively. The ticket allows you to use the lifts in the ski area. I was still thinking I could still get out of this. My niece who was beyond eager to get this party started was ten seconds short of tapping her toes. There was no way I was going to balk in front of my brother with my lovely niece looking up to me. Nope. We got on our Ski boots, which weighed a ton. They were as heavy as five bricks. Then picture strapping them on your feet and having to walk towards the slopes with your skis, ski poles and full regalia. It is a waddle of some sort, like a pig that ate too much.

We grabbed our skis and helmets and joined the rest world out on the slopes. That’s when I stared panicking. My hurt started beating, and I saw myself being rushed to the ER. My brother was putting on his headphones while my niece was joining the snowboarders. I was rooted to the ground as if a first grader on her first day at school. My brother looked up and noticed the uncertainty on my face. He asked if I was ok.

I gulped and told him that I was nervous and a little bit afraid. Then he said you have done this before, it won’t be too bad. “Just remember the basics.”

What I was about to embark on was Alpine skiing which is common in most Ski resorts. It’s going down slope. The basics involved making the pie with your skis, a nice acute angle now and then when skiing. The skii tips should be slightly kissing each other or just about to. If your skiis are parallel to each other, bend your knees and let gravity take care of the rest. If you need to slow down, create the pie. The pie was your brakes pretty much. The heel and toe of a ski boot should be firmly secured to a ski. In a nutshell my friends, that is skiing 101. The rest you learn as you go.

My brother hit the line to get to the swing chairs that would get him up the slopes. My niece was off to the opposite direction for a snowboarding session. Then there I was, standing on slushy ice crystals holding my skis, rocking heavy, uncomfortable shoes, in bloody cold weather.

It was now or never.

I got my music playlist ready, put on my headphones and marched towards the slopes. I put my skis down, stepped on them until my boots clicked. I felt so uncertain at first, like I was defying gravity. My helmet and fancy ski sunglasses were already on. Dybby had already had his first moment on the slopes and was ready for his second round. I was lazing around enjoying the tunes while I tried to pass time acting like I was doing an important task. He found me shuffling like an old lady with my skis — awkward and uncoordinated.

Nevertheless, I lined up on the lift pass, sat on the swing chair ready to tackle what seemed like a mini-hill. It would serve as my warm-up. I won’t lie, I was frightened, I hadn’t done this in aeons but I let my music soothe me into calmness. I was sitting quietly with two other ladies on the lift chair watching the lift go up, while the skiers below looked like tiny ants.

This mini-hill was slowly turning into Mount Everest. As we were getting closer to the top the lady at the end of our chair looked at us and asked if we were ready. I remember giving her that fake smile that doesn’t reach the eyes. A hesitant smile. A smile that did a poor job at smearing the trepidation off my face. If she would have looked deep into my eyes, the eyes would have told her so. But she didnt, she was getting ready to slide off the chair holding onto her poles.

Getting off the ski lift requires immaculate execution. All three occupants have to get off at the same time without tangling each other’s skis or boards. A little mishap can cause everyone to tumble down on the snow, compelling the ski lift operator to pause the lift so that everyone is back on their feet and the world is safe again. You might endure unfriendly side-eyes if you caused the mishap. My main goal was to ensure that I didnt fall as we got ready to get off the chair. Or tumble down the snow, period! I had endured that stage with some forbearance and at times, utter mortification during my initial ski lessons years ago. I told myself if I could accomplish that, then am sure the rest would go smoothly. I believe in domino effects, ok?

The lift got us off, and I slid down gracefully and made a stop. My partners looked A-okay too. Great, the first hurdle was over. I smiled at them, fixed my gloves, adjusted my headphones then checked to make sure my ski sunglasses were positioned correctly on my helmet and stable on my nose bridge. Any reservations I had earlier had completely disappeared.

I was ready to hit the slopes. Bring it on bad boy.

I secured a spot and used my poles to drive me forward, and down the slope I went. Boy oh boy. The rush that I had was beyond amazing. My skis felt as if they were bouncing softly in the white powder. I watched the panoramic views all around me as I carved the slopes. The views were spectacular from the top. My adrenaline was rushing, my heart was racing and I could feel the chill of the wind on my face as I sped down the mountain. I was skiing and gracefully at that. I made neat small curves behind me, which I would watch with pride. Those curvy imprints in the snow made me feel like I was leaving all my doubts, worries and cares behind with every foot of the mountain I had conquered. I felt like belting the eye of the tiger. As I got closer to the bottom of the mountain, I remembered the pie and veered off slowing down and came to a stop. I had done it. I turned back and looked at the slopes, then burst out into a smile. No a grin. I felt like laughing. I believe I did. I adjusted my gloves once again. The warm-up was done. I skied back to the lines by the lift chairs. By the end of that day I had tackled insane slopes that made you feel like toppling over by just looking at them. And, I never fell.

Here in lovely New York City, the cold wind is already in our midst, and summer is now an afterthought. I felt it straight through my bones this past weekend. It made me tear up, not because it moved me in any emotional way but at how cold it was. So cold it had me sniffling and tearing up as if I was watching “The Notebook.” Today’s post is not about the weather or the slopes or how to ski. It’s about tackling fears. That thing that stops us from being great or discovering our potentials. There comes a time where you will need to tackle your worst fears. Fears buried so deep that they seem to weigh you down, make you immobile. The truth about these fears, most of the time, are a result of your imagination. As humans we have an high inclination to focus on the negative. Give someone a compliment a thousand times, yeah, yeah! Critic them once, they remember it for a lifetime. That is why I think fear is the main reason why alot of thing’s don’t get done. Fear of the unknown, fear of change, fear of new experiences, fear of being wrong, fear of being fearful, fear of… the list goes on. I remember the fear that almost choked me up going up those slopes. The time I created all sort of scenarios. I was building walls that would only confine me. If I had listened to the voice in my head, I would be seated in the cozy resort reading a book while watching the skiers go down the slopes smiling and high-fiving each other. I would have missed out on the experience. The chance to immerse myself into the unknown and learn something totally new.

The same thoughts are in my mind at the moment. New city, new friends, new roommates, new workmates, new lifestyle: everything is new. I feel like I am starting all over again. It is a little bit nerve-wracking and daunting at times but I remind myself that the days I am most uncomfortable are the days I learn most about myself. About what I am capable of. This, my dear friend, is quite a revelation. When the lady on the lift chair asked us if we were ready, I didn’t know it would be a question that I would hear over and over again. Are you ready? I got asked this question so many times before I moved to New York City. The truth is you will never be ready. I think being ready is like waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect weather or the perfect scenarios. If you keep waiting, you will let opportunities pass you by. You can only grow if you’ feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new. Plunge into whatever you think you can not do. Fear be damned! Seize the day. You will come out of that experience, exhilarated, pumped, super happy, wondering why you never did it in the first place. So whenever you find yourself doubting how far you can go, just remember how far you have come. Remember everything you have faced, all the battles you’ve won and all the fears you have overcome. Go tackle your own slopes. Do not be afraid to fall — that is how you learn in the beginning, and don’t forget to enjoy the ride. It’s exhilarating!

Thanks for stopping by.

Honorary Kenyan writer Laura Lee “Nkirote” Huttenbach lives in Miami Beach. She will be discussing and presenting her first book, “The Boy is Gone” (Ohio University Press, 2015), at Kinokuniya Book Shop in New York City on Nov. 11 at 6 p.m. For more information, please visit Amazon, her website or follow her on Twitter @llhuttenbach.

One day there were no mangos at lunch, and I asked for some. “Now is not the time of mangos,” the General told me. “We will get you a banana.” In America, where mangos don’t come fresh off the tree, I had forgotten the concept of seasonal fruits. Living on a tea and coffee farm in Meru, Kenya, I ate what the Thambu family grew.

I was in Meru to record the life story of Japhlet Thambu, known as “the General,” an 87-year-old tea farmer, retired schoolteacher, and businessman. He had earned the rank of general some fifty years before, while fighting against British colonial rule in an uprising that became known as the Mau Mau Rebellion.

I first met the General on a backpacking trip up the east coast of Africa in 2006, when I was 24. We’d become fast friends. His storytelling reminded me of my own Granddad, who’d died the year before.

On our first day together, the General took me to his tea farm and introduced me to his wife of sixty years, Jesca. She taught me how to pluck tea—two leaves and a bud. Following her lead, I carefully selected and snapped off a stem. The General and Jesca nodded their approval, and I placed it in the big wicker basket. “Ah,” remarked the General, “You are the best white worker we have ever seen!”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling flattered. “And how many other white workers have you seen?”

“None,” he said, “but you are very good.”

That first trip to Kenya, I only spent a couple days with the General, but I could tell that entwined in his life was the history of Kenya, which he delivered in an accessible, entertaining, and humorous way. When I got back home to the United States, I couldn’t get his voice out of my head.

In 2009, I returned to his tea farm with a tape recorder and notebooks full of questions. I was given a traditional Meru name—Nkirote, which means “a generous lady, a good manager, and someone who makes a home easily anywhere”—though most every stranger in the village called me by my common name, “Mzungu,” or White Person. At church, the General would scold the congregation. “Now we know this is Nkirote,” he’d say pointing to me, “Do not call her Mzungu. Call her Nkirote.”

Laura Lee Huttenbach

One week, the General took me and Juju Jesca to Isiolo to visit their daughter, Kaari. (I drove the General’s Subaru Forrester; which was like a race-and-gender-reversed “Driving Miss Daisy.”) Another friend, Reverend Nyaga, joined us for the safari to Samburu National Park. Jesca had never seen an elephant, and I had never seen a lion in Africa. (In fact I still haven’t.) About five minutes after entering the park, a Land Rover full of white European tourists was coming toward us. “Stop the car,” shouted Reverend Nyaga, flagging down the Land Rover through his passenger window. “Stop the car!” As both our vehicles rolled to a stop, Reverend Nyaga turned to me. “Nkirote,” he said, “Greet your family.”

Awkwardly, I said hello to the passengers who shared a similar level of melanin. “Is there a problem?” asked the driver of the Land Rover.

“No,” I said. “I just wanted to, um, greet you.”

Pleased with the “family” reunion, Reverend Nyaga directed Kaari to carry on to the lodge. (Later, when I shared this story with an African American friend, she goes, “I love that—you did the minority nod!”) Back at the rural village in Meru, I didn’t have to greet many fellow mzungus, because usually I was a minority of one.

After three months with the General, I returned to transcribe our interviews that eventually turned into The Boy is Gone: Conversations with a Mau Mau General—Mr. Thambu’s oral history—just published by Ohio University Press.

For Kenyans of the Diaspora, I hope that the General’s voice is familiar, that it calls to mind their old homes and jujus. For non-Kenyans, you get to spend these pages with a wise man from Mount Kenya, who wants to be understood for who he is and not where he comes from—yet of course he is shaped by where he grew up, as we all are. One of the nicest emails I received was from my friend Lindsay, an American attorney and a classmate from the University of Virginia, after she read the book: “Here is a man who has spent most of his life somewhat isolated in a remote region of the world many of your audience will never visit, doing work they will never do, having experiences they will never have, and yet his wisdom is wonderfully relevant: Forgiveness. Respect. Know when to let go. Trust your instincts. F*** the haters.”

For Kenyans in Kenya, there are currently three copies of The Boy is Gone at Bookstop in Yaya Center, Nairobi. I believe it costs 3,900 Kenyan shillings. I recognize that this is ridiculous. I’m working to get it published in East Africa so that the General’s story is widely available and affordable, in its home setting. Soon, I hope that you can enjoy knowing the General as much as I have—and in the meantime, I welcome any suggestions to make it happen faster.

As the General used to tell me, “We live to learn.”

The Boy Is Gone — Conversations with a Mau Mau General By Laura Lee P. Huttenbach from Mary Beth Koeth on Vimeo.

Just a few days before a series of synchronized terrorist attacks were carried out across Paris last month, a Kenyan graffiti artist was preparing for his first ever exhibit in the City of Light.

WiseTwo, otherwise known as Bhupi Jetwa, wanted to share, preserve and spread culture – the opposite of what the terrorists wanted.

And despite the horrors that plagued the city on Nov. 13, WiseTwo’s exhibit turned out a great success.

“Sun God”

“The mood was a bit different in Paris after, but life still went on and people were doing what they would be doing if such an attack never happened,” WiseTwo told KenyanVibe recently. “Paris is and will always remain a beautiful place with beautiful people.”

WiseTwo’s opening on Nov. 7 brought an abundance of art lovers to Galerie Itinerrance, fusing together a prestigious location with a diverse art form.

“The people loved the world I created for them with my art,” WiseTwo said. “The spiritual, the mystical and traditional essence of Africa was definitely present there, which also provided a serene balance of mind.”

Among the plethora of attendants was Shepard Fairey – acclaimed American designer of Obey The Giant – whom WiseTwo said he was thrilled to have the honor to meet.

Unknown and Shepard Fairey at WiseTwo’s Paris exhibit (Photo/Galerie Itinerrance).

“Fairey came to…where the after party was and we had a good time exchanging notes, experiences and many other stories about politics, life and art,” WiseTwo said, mentioning that Fairey had just concluded his “Earth Crisis” instillation at the Eiffel Tower.

Already traveling across the globe to promote his distinct graffiti-style, WiseTwo said that he is already looking forward to a future filled with “dope projects.”

“I took away lots of experience positivity and a strong drive to produce more work,” WiseTwo said of the Paris exhibit. “Hopefully the years to come will be full of blessings.”

Check out a selection of WiseTwo’s artwork exhibited at Galerie Itinerrance until Dec. 19:

“Deeply Rooted”

“Duality”

“Epilepsy”

“Fierce”

“Green with Envy”

“Infinity”

“Marashi”

“Meditation”

“Memorize the Sun”