Saturday, August 29, 2009

only if i could just show you instead of tell you...

I’ve been in transit for the past week, so haven’t had time to blog, or write or do much apart from eat sleep and shuffle about…even if I had the chance to steal a few minutes of my cyber time, I wouldn’t know where to start, what to mention and what to leave out…I tried, but after typing out a decent sized paragraph I would backspace it all…perhaps if I had another medium other than writing…

If I could film the past few days and add a video post onto this blog I would post one of those first person view scenes (but my torso, legs, arms and hands on this laptop would still be included in the shot, okay unless I was eating or something, but it would still remain in the shot somehow…after all, it is portable…lol) and this would remain constant, like a frame, but everything else would be moving and happening in fast forward and the backdrop ever-changing but less fluid than the foreground, more like stop motion…

It would go from my unusually empty bedroom in Uganda in the begging of the scene, semi packed luggage spewed on the floor and it’d be raining outside (it really was when I left). I would start typing something then get interrupted by background sound of the car to the airport hooting and my mum shouting about missing the fight…

Fast-forward through the journey in-between, a kaleidoscope of airport scenes from the lake fly infested Ugandan one to the dazzling lights and aerotrain (in the freaking airport) in Malaysia, not forgetting the 2 day stopover in U.A.E, the road trip and changing colour of sand between Duabi and Al Ain… till it slows down to this very moment:

Seated in the living room of my semi furnished messy apartment, stack of cardboard boxes of DIY furniture and kitchen appliances in the back, 2pm, Malaysia, raining outside. (it really did, and it felt sort of eerie because the last time it rained I was at home in Uganda, now I’m at my new home, in Malaysia…felt somehow significant…)

(Note to self: I really should get a camcorder…)

P.S. Cant believe I almost forgot to mention, I live in a place called Cyberjaya (its like a student town, with a suburbia-like feel…shall blog about it later), and the apartment estate I live in is called Cyber Heights…seriously…CYBER HEIGHTS …*Delighted LoL*…can’t get enough of saying that!

Cyber Heights…


Saturday, August 8, 2009


Some sins sometimes feel too big to forgive. With chronic consequences like Adam and Eve…

How do you begin to explain or justify the inexcusable…

Or tell someone that you didn’t mean to break their heart, it will be okay and the bleeding will stop one day; when you dropped their heart, watched it slip without flinching or trying to stop it from falling and shattering into a million pieces?

Make it look like I was framed when reality is that I set myself up, and fell for it too.

It wasn’t premeditated but preventable…I guess it doesn’t matter if it all ends up the same way!

How do you explain (even to yourself) that you weren’t thinking when you did it yet you were sober as a priest?

Shit happens…when you let it.
Why, now that’s the unexplained part…

How do I always end up the heartless bitch yet I started off with good intentions?!

How do I say sorry when it’s too little too late?...or are those who cheat on loved ones confined to a doomed fate?

Now I know why the conservatives encourage youth not to get into relationships (especially sexual ones) at a young age, (but my big headed smart ass had to find this out-well more like confirm since I was warned-the hard way ) and not to date a lot but rather settle down with one person quickly…experience in love is scaring.

Growing pains perhaps…or battle wounds?

Either way it fucking hurts, and leaves a mark too…

Friday, August 7, 2009


Guess what y'all?
I heard this from the Normzo :
Did you know that today August 7, 2009 at 12 hours 34 minutes and 56 seconds the time
The date will be: 12:34:56 07/08/09
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
This will never happen in our life again!!!
The immense significance of this fact is too much for my tiny female adolocent brain to comprehend...
Go figure!!!

WHY wont they GROW !?!

I started growing my dreadlocks January this year (actually already had my first twist last week of December last year), and it’s now midyear and they're not as long as I hoped they would be by now...I thought hair was meant to grow faster in dreadlocks?!

I’ve read up on maintaining them and all, got the non-residue shampoo and wax, wash once regularly and attempt a palm roll when they get messy and when they get too messy I go for retwisting (doing it all by myself would take ridiculously long!)...maybe I’m missing a step or something? Or just need to be’s just disappointing where I’m at with my hair.

I want to get them a bit thicker, fuller and even (what’s up with the 'knotty bump/lump' after the retwist that marks sort of the last time I twisted them-is that normal?)

I hear 27th comrade has that true? How long did it take for you to grow them to shoulder length, or to hold a puff? Did u have knotty bumps in them too after retwist? What twist technique do you use to touch up on them when they get messy? What saloon do you go to for retwisting???

My mum is always bugging me to get my dreads out and get a perm like "other normal girls". I'm not normal. And I’m determined to show her that dreads can be just as elegant as permed hair! ts proven to be quite hard (no one told me they needed this much maintenance!), but I’m not giving up on it!

It’s not that I’m being difficult or rebellious in any way. That’s not why I chose to lock my hair instead of perm it.

I chose dreads because frankly its one of the most real and healthy hairstyles one can have! I've tried most other black female hairstyles before (apart from weaves or extensions), and had some issues with them:

My biggest problem with perms is the chemicals, that stuff burns and makes hair thin and break at a certain length and smells nasty (or so according to my experience with it). Plus it just doesn’t feel right...African hair is meant to be thick, textured...not flat and limp...and since I’m light skinned, this particular hairstyle would not help my "muzungu reputation" which I try so hard to smother! LoL!

That automatically kicks out weaves for me, if I already feel fake (and bald) with straightened hair, imagine how being in a weave would be like! Hot and itchy (or so I’ve heard). The worst weaves tho are those afro ones…seriously, if your black, an afro comes easy, you don’t need to get a fake afro weave?! WTF?! And as for hot combing intense heat is not got to apply to hair…I’ve never been comfortable with that smell of burning hair! Plus it doesn’t last very long…if you want to straighten your hair, do it right…its like if you want to kill yourself, don’t cut your wrists and think a little blood will bring death, blow your brains out!!!

Which takes me to braids. Now these are pretty cool, and I had my hair in them a lot before…its just that I hate how every braider always wants to do the tiny sized ones (even if you ask them to do it big, they never do them that big) and oh my goodness does it hurt like hell! Not to mention that it takes ages too! Too much braiding also thins hair. There’s a time after braiding my scalp and hair line broke out in tiny painful bumps…it looked horrible and hurt too but it was just my scalps way of saying that my braids were too tight , my body was rejecting my hairstyle. So I listened and never did them again…

Had short hair too but it just gets boring…that’s when I decided on dreads…no chemicals, its not tight, and its my natural hair, which knots naturally anyways if I leave it!

I know that being black is not about kinky hair and head wraps or wearing African print and traditional outfits....but hell, it sure does help!!!

Seriously, that’s just what people who have never been called muzungu in their lives say to console confused souls like us(me?) much as we would like to claim we solely define who we are, society, environment/situation and media also affect the shaping of our identity (more than we would like to admit)!

Since self-image/ the way we present ourselves is meant to be a self reflection of who one is, not to mention its all the rage these days; why not use it to strengthen our identity and define who we are?

There’s a time in my life when I didn’t care what I looked like, (Tomboy days) but now I realize that that was oh so na├»ve! I’ve learnt not to underestimate image, psychology proves that non verbal communication which includes image as well as body language is several times stronger than verbal communication! I’ve actually witnessed and experienced this now and can testify to it. Its not so much how they look physically but the way someone presents themselves, that matters a lot, and also says a lot about them.

Since people can’t see who you are on the inside, you have to find a way to translate it on the outside, and to synchronize your interior with your exterior is the true art of living peacefully and at one with yourself A.K.A the art of keeping it real…A bit like feng shui (pronounced ‘fung shway’)- arranging and rearranging yourself till you’re in touch with your inner Qi (pronounced ‘chi’) and hence achieve a sense of balance, peace and positive energy ! *Chinese monk like Gong sounds in the distance* LoL!

Anyways, I just feel like the whole straight wanabe-white hair thing is fake, a side effect of colonization, like why is straightened hair more sophisticated and classy than natural kinky hair? Why is it considered more difficult? Because keeping African hair straight also has its problems…maybe the reason African hair is difficult is because we keep treating it like white hair?! It really annoys me! (like the whole light skinned African woman phenomenon).

Our aesthetics have really been molested by the west! I’m not saying that those of you African women with wanabe-white hair are fake (no offense intended), just victims of conditioning…or perhaps it’s just me being a ‘teenager’ trying to define boundaries and being extreme as I’ve very often been told by ‘adults’. (this means you can’t pull this comment btw, I’ve just blocked and countered it. BOOYAH!)

Have you ever stopped and wondered why you wear certain things in a certain way? Or why you like certain things? Sometimes the answers you come up with are…controversial…uncomfortable to admit true…or just bring up more questions (like in my case)?!

Either way it’s always enlightening.

Check this out, got it from Malcolm (without the X) LoL.

Monday, August 3, 2009


And now a chaser of logic for my previous double shots of religion/spirituality....

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Salvation (part 2)

One of my life mottos has been that I will try anything, at least once. This has consequently made my bucket list pretty damn long! But it has also provided me with opportunities to experience so many things that have undoubtedly scared as well as enlightened me.

I’m only 18. I’m not claiming to have ‘been there, done that, got the slovenlier T-shirt’, but the few years I’ve been alive have definitely been interesting…

Sticking to the motto, I thought I would give getting saved a try. I know most peoples reaction to ‘getting saved’ is a cringe they often (unsuccessfully) try to conceal. I was like that too, because we’ve all heard the stories of crazy jesus freaks and saved fanatics who went over the edge of sanity, we’ve heard of the pedophilic pastors molesting young boys, we’ve heard of the corruption and misuse of the church money, we’ve heard of (seen and know) the hypocrites who live sinful lives but still attend church every Sunday as well as those who are condemning and ‘holier than thou’ …its enough to make one lose faith in the church, Christianity, God even!
But I’ve tried drugs and other things often shunned upon by society, so getting saved wouldn’t be much different, considering what I’ve tried in the past!

Plus if religion is the opium of the masses, and reality is grim and stained, I would quite frankly prefer to be high and deluded off religion than sober and somber !!

There is a reason religion is likened to a drug. And I’m not just meaning Christianity. There’s just something so uplifting, peaceful, inspiring and mind blowing about it. I believe being high is a beautiful thing. So far, there are two ways I know how to get into this blissful slice of hevean. The first is drugs. The second is a spiritual relationship with God (who ever he is to you, to me the Christian God).

The only reason it would be more advisable to choose the latter not the first is: Drugs may take you to that level, but it doesn’t last, and the more you use, the father away you get from it…you start to having ‘bad trips’, and the biological/physiological/psychological/social side effects start to kick in, then it becomes hell! It’s all fake and illusion…But with God, it’s real, and can last forever. Although it does have its side effects too, just look up II timothy ch1 vs 8, II Corinthians ch1 vs 6, Romans Ch8 Vs 18 ( where did I get all this? The brilliant concordance at the back of the amplified bible, its like a mini biblical exycolpedia which refers you to relevant parts in the bible. I recommend it!)

I’m yet to reach a constant high in Christ…will let you know and compare if my hypothesis is right. (^_^) LoL

The whole experience of getting saved was pretty cool. Although it was at first a half conscience decision. LoL, actually what happened was that they told us to close our eyes and bow our heads…then raise your hand if your not saved. Being the smartass I was I didn’t, knowing that they were gonna call em up to get saved…then they asked those who had lost faith and basicly thought church was full of bull…I did…then they told us to stand up and come to the front. I thought about just seating my ass back down but since by now everyone was looking, I thought I would just go. I’ve never gone up to the front of the church (I have a permanent seat at the back row) so I thought it couldn’t get so bad. So I went.

Closed my eyes the whole time, because it would have been scarier to have them open. My heart was pounding and as I was listening to what was going on, a rise of mummers began to build. Everyone was I guess saying their own prayer to god (for us?) …no music or instruments, just voices…some dude was saying incoherent things near the front (tongues?)…the someone came to me, held my hands and prayed over me. He told me to focus only on his words…it all reached a passionate climax then slowly faded, the voices, the prayer…It felt pretty awesome. The only way I can describe it is as ‘an energy’. Like at a concert, just as the performer comes on stage…that build up mummer of voices…excitement…everyone’s attention and focus on one thing…a collective energy.

It was the first time I had ever felt something at church (apart from drooping eye lids, sleep induced from utter boredom and irritation at sitting for long hours in a crowded place – the reason I don’t go to church on big holidays like Christmas or Easter).
For the first time I felt something . The presence of God? My first dose (more like taste) of a spiritual high? Salvation?

I think I’m on to something…do u??