peacefordespair:

I read Okwiri Oduor’s short story that won the Caine Prize and have been mulling over this since:

Everyone has people that belong to them.” 
The old man laughed. “Only the food you have already eaten belongs to you.”

I sometimes think we are obsessed with belonging. With owning (people… things…). I truly wonder why. 

(via ndinda)

her-macushla:

Yesterday the police shot and killed five thugs right outside where I work. I found myself mourning Odidi. Their bodies were splayed out on the road and I wished Akai ma would return for her children. #Dust

i heard they were shot by vigilantes? 

The settler’s work is to make even dreams of liberty impossible for the native. The native’s work is to imagine all possible methods for destroying the settler.

The Wretched of the Earth, Frantz Fanon (via ard-al-burtuqal)

aah, my IR lecturer recommended this book. 

(via barongreenback)

Let me tell you: one day you will renounce your exile, and you will go back home, and your mother will take out the finest china, and your father will slaughter a sprightly cockerel for you, and the neighbours will bring some potluck, and your sister will wear her navy blue PE wrapper, and your brother will eat with a spoon instead of squelching rice and soup through the spaces between his fingers. And you, you will have to tell them stories about places not-here, about people that soaked their table napkins in Jik Bleach and talked about London as though London was a place one could reach by hopping onto an Akamba bus and driving by Nakuru and Kisumu and Kakamega and finding themselves there.
You will tell your people about men that did not slit melons up into slices but split them into halves and ate each of the halves out with a spoon, about women that held each other’s hands around street lamps in town and skipped about, showing snippets of grey Mother’s Union bloomers as they sang:
Kijembe ni kikali, param-param
Kilikata mwalimu, param-param
You think that your people belong to you, that they will always have a place for you
in their minds and their hearts. You think that your people will always look forward to your return.
Maybe the day you go back home to your people you will have to sit in a wicker chair on the veranda and smoke alone because, although they may have wanted to have you back, no one really meant for you to stay.

Caine Prize Winner Okwiri Oduor’s My Father’s Head 

(via franticcurls)

splendid writing, well deserved win. applauded and celebrated.

- kenyancoffee 

(via lifefiction)

mandisarro:

White rice with raisins x stir fried veggies x beef in garlic & ginger soy sauce #MissMandiThrowdown

do you eat the corn with the cob ?

mandisarro:

White rice with raisins x stir fried veggies x beef in garlic & ginger soy sauce #MissMandiThrowdown

do you eat the corn with the cob ?