Nibwene

Pineapples Remind Me of the Place I Call My Home

It might be both a good and a bad thing to attach meaning to things. I was just eating pineapples for dinner and was reminded of the place I call my home. How in the evenings my father would bring a pineapple or two and I would groan (when he’s not around, of course) after being told I had to cut it into pieces so everyone could enjoy it.

Most pineapples in Germany don’t taste as good as pineapples taste back home. Also, some pineapples back home don’t taste as good either. So, when a pineapple I’m having is a bit less sweet than it is supposed to be, I feel cheated. I feel like the meaning I’ve attached to it, home, is a lie and not as sweet as I think it is. Sadly, this is the reality.

Most of the time I enjoy while in Tanzania involves things that don’t require me to interact with anyone. I enjoy walking along Kivukoni Drive in the evening and just looking at the Dar es Salaam harbor or riding a Mwendokasi bus back to the city after a long day and seeing myself being swallowed by tall buildings. To me, that feeling is almost the same as when I eat some very tasty chicken Biryani.

But there is a sourness to home. Something that can be seen by everyone and almost similar to a pineapple that is a little bit too sour to be enjoyable, as my father would put it when he realizes that he bought ‘the wrong one’. While being mindful of the community you live in is a good thing, shaming and beating up a woman just because she wore a skirt 2 or 3 inches above her knees is not. The worst thing is that this doesn’t happen to tourists or people who just seem wealthy, because “they were probably brought up THAT way”. These are people who have seen the pineapple-maybe when it was being bought, but aren’t part of the “family” so they weren’t there at the house to eat it.

And yes, you’re not forced to eat a pineapple just because you’re part of the family, but you don’t really have a choice on what fruit to eat if that’s the fruit your father chose to bring home that day.

Tanzania is my home, but (many people who live there and I) are not comfortable with the unwritten “customs and traditions” and “morals” that some people throw at others each time something that isn’t the norm is done. It’s an unpleasant situation, much like eating a bowl of sour pineapples.

February 9, 2019

#SantaIsOverParty

Recently, I came across this tweet:

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I actually never thought of it that way, ever, until just a week ago and I felt that this tweet has so much truth in it that I needed to write something on it. So let’s get on with it.

Before anything else, I’ve never watched this Grinch movie. I did watch one episode about the Grinch on The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, but that was a long time ago. I don’t remember most of the details other than the Grinch turned out to be Mrs. Claus. Obviously, the Grinch was an antagonist in this episode and I assume he/she has been one in many other makes of Christmas movies.

So, of course, watching too much Western Cartoons (and I mean way too much) as a kid, Christmas became a thing I loved. Somehow it never felt like Christmas back in Tanzania because we don’t have snow and for some time I wondered why Santa never brought me and my siblings any presents. Then I grew up and unlearned all that Santa bs and Christmas, to me, got a different meaning. I’m really glad it did and I shall explain why below.

The North Pole is supposed to be at the North Pole. It’s cold, snowy and I’m pretty sure they don’t have YouTube over there, based on the general/dominant assumption from TV and movies. Mr. and Mrs. Claus are old and live in a nice warm house in the North Pole. Mr. Claus aka Santa Claus has a factory where his elves make toys for good kids. Santa has a list of all the kids in the world and they’re grouped based on who’s been naughty or nice that year. How does he know how to do this? He stalks them using God knows what ways meaning he invades their privacy.

There are about 2 billion kids in the world right now so according to this, Santa’s elves have to work day and night for a whole year (and way more) just to produce toys (really good toys that require a lot of work and intelligence to make) for a billion kids assuming half are nice and half are naughty (and this is me being very pessimistic about the world’s balance of good and evil). So basically, Santa’s elves are his slaves and here’s why; they’re overworked, they’re all dressed in hats and green uniforms and most importantly, the fact that elves are shorter, smaller and have pointy ears already establishes a physical difference between Santa (and Mrs. Claus) and the elves. We can just go ahead and say this promotes racism since the same logic of physical differences was used to justify the slavery of black people in different parts of the world, most notably the United States of America. The fact that absolutely no one administers the North Pole makes it worse because then Santa can do whatever he pleases, including enslaving poor elves. Also, do elves know that the ILO (International Labor Organization) has existed for 99 years now?

There is an argument against this conclusion. Based on the movie Elf, that elves choose to work for Santa and working at Santa’s toy factory is what elves love the most among other “elfisms” that include baking cookies and making shoes at night. This makes me think of slavery in the United States and how some slaves preferred to be house slaves-NOT because they liked being slaves, but because most times they had no choice, but to be there and working in the house seemed far better than working outside, also considering how escaping meant death. We don’t know why the elves are in the North Pole. They have nowhere else to go and because it’s the North Pole it’s mostly dark and cold and covered in snow and with their small bodies it wouldn’t be very pleasant to walk around, or even escape. Where do they even go? My assumption is that elves are natives to the North Pole, Santa is an outsider, he is an invader; a colonizer who set up his factory at the North Pole and forced its natives into slavery. We’re told elves are happy to be working for Santa, but is that payment? No. You can’t have these poor elves working day and night (for the North Pole, it’s mostly night) and then say that they get rewarded because they’re happy to be serving the colonial administration that is Santa and his wife. This is not right. Just the simple idea that elves have a limited handful of options for work at the North Pole already violates every human right I can think of because everyone is free to choose what they want to do and how they want to do it and nobody should be limited by a few options just so that Santa can have his glory. Santa should be in a retirement home somewhere in his home country and he and Mrs. Claus should’ve left the North Pole and given independence to the elves a long time ago when all the other colonizers were doing it.

Now we move on to the issue of the reindeer. The dominant assumption is that Santa is big and old (why he hasn’t died after all these years, no one knows). How is it fair that he makes 9 reindeer fly him around the world in something close to 24 hours considering different time zones (and still having time to eat cookies and milk)? This is animal torture and it’s wrong to teach kids that you can just make animals move you around for however long you need for whatever cause. This has to go.

Finally, I want to point out the fact that somehow this Santa fantasy is mostly (if not completely) based in Western Societies. Elves like Buddy (Will Ferrell in Elf) always end up in New York or some Western town. Imagine how this impacts the minds of children in Western societies; instead of educating them and exposing them to what other societies are like, Santa literature teaches them that the only world that matters is the Western world because that’s the only place where Santa cares enough to visit in every story. The media in my country is obviously based in my country and the societies within it, but it still acknowledges the existence of other places in the world such as Europe, USA, China, India and most importantly, other countries in Africa. Imagine if filmmakers without advanced technology as that you’d find at Walt Disney Studios or wherever can make their viewers aware of a world outside the one they’re confined to because of mostly economic incapabilities then how is it possible that big studios in Hollywood and elsewhere act like these parts of the world (such as the one I come from) don’t exist or even matter enough for this “good man” Santa to visit and reward kids with presents?

I’m also going to go on a tangent here and mention that most of the time countries like mine get mentioned in Western TV and movies is when the topic is disease or war. Just a few days ago I watched an episode of Modern Family where the characters mentioned that they had a friend in Tanzania who they feared had become a warlord. I felt insulted because my country has always been a peaceful place without wars and neither do we have “warlords”. Imagine how unexposed people somewhere outside of Tanzania swallow this bs and of course, how kids in the Western World become indoctrinated with the evil ideas that this whole Santa narrative presents.

Christmas should be about family, no matter what religion you are or what society you live in. Decorate if you want to, but if you’re going to tell kids about in Santa then think of a better story to tell because the one that exists now doesn’t contribute to a better society. Tell kids a story that promotes human rights (including elf rights), animal rights and most importantly, love.

December 1, 2018

A Very Short Time in Kampala

It must be amazing to go to bed after seeing a view like this (sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not a professional photographer). From the fourth floor of a building in Bukoto area in Kampala, I almost dropped my jaw. I had never seen anything like it, honestly. The part of Dar es Salaam where I’m from is just next to the ocean so it’s pretty plain. So when this photo was taken I realized how “plain” my life had been (I’m so sorry for the pun).

The city looked back at me on my first night in Kampala, Uganda. I’d spent the day walking around Bukoto area with my friend, who’s also Tanzanian, looking for places to eat. We came across a certain restaurant called ‘Cheese Shop…’ on the way to Acacia Mall for pizza (I’m not a super fan of pizza by the way. Fight me in the comments, or not. Please don’t). Anyway, it was at that restaurant where I had Chips and Chap for the very first time. Chap is Ugandan; very tasty! Unfortunately, I never asked what exactly was in it (I can still google) or took a picture, but egg is the one thing that was noticeable at first sight.

Aside from a nice experience at the restaurant, having a nice man who help me get my sandal fixed after it broke in the middle of the road and the sight of very many Bodabodas in the streets of Kampala, I enjoyed feeling very welcomed. I believe it is common in East Africa to welcome people from other countries in a friendly manner. People are always curious to know why you’re there. The guy who took us to Bukoto from the airport and back was very happy to help with little things, like directions to places to eat, when he found out that my friend and I are from Tanzania.

This is the kind of treatment everyone should be getting all around the world. It shouldn’t be that people look at you with scowls on their faces or call police on you when you’re busy doing normal human being things, or you know, hold parades aimed at promoting racist ideologies (“races” don’t exist by the way). If people in Kampala were like this then my friend and I would’ve gone hungry that day, because it was kind of obvious that we weren’t Ugandan, and neither would I have been able to walk back because no one would’ve wanted to fix my sandal.

Overall, it was a nice experience and I wish everyone had nice experiences in the places they travel to. Also, I hope to go back again someday so I can eat chap and take a photo of it.

Lake Victoria can be seen in the featured image. Taken on the way to Entebbe International Airport, along the Entebbe-Kampala Expressway.

September 15, 2018

The Perks of Reading The Perks of Being A Wallflower

I remember when I was in high school. I hated every moment of it. I told myself I would try hard to “participate” while in university. And I am trying. Trying.

In The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky shows us how challenging it can be to “participate”, especially when you’re what most people call “weird”. The book is about Charlie. It’s a story about friendship and how powerful and helpful friendships are, especially during the worst of times. It also shows what goes on in the mind of a teenage boy, and I guess every young adult ever. In one incident Charlie asks himself, “I don’t know who decided these things”. Because I also don’t know who decides things like who’s cool or weird and beauty standards and what music is considered to be “great taste”.

Written in the form of letters, The Perks of Being a Wallflower almost makes the reader feel as though she/he is Charlie or as if Charlie is a real person and the reader just found his stuff lying around somewhere and decided to have a look. But I strongly believe that Stephen Chbosky wanted it to be that the reader is the ‘friend’ who would “listen and understand”. He writes letters to an unknown “friend” throughout the book; about his joys and sorrows as a high school freshman. I think it’s okay to say that most of us can relate to Charlie’s experiences. For me, high school was tough, especially the last two years and I think university has been too-to some extent, except that there aren’t any adults to order me around now and give me curfews and all that.

At first, I thought I wouldn’t get as many quotes from the book as I hoped to, but I ended up getting way more than I ever thought I would from any book of similar length. All these quotes have significant meanings, even though here they stand alone. Some are just funny, others are sad and others possess the kind of wisdom a young adult needs in order to get through life. All these meaningful quotes are the ‘perks’ I reference in the heading. They added something in my life and, in some instances, they changed it for the better. I hope they impact you in a good way too.

I would recommend the book to everyone, not just kids in high school and university. It’s a good read and if you’re into films, you can check out the movie adaptation written and directed by the author himself. It’s a great film!

Here are 64 quotes from The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.

Honestly, I don’t like doing dishes.

I think it’s nice for stars to do interviews to make us think they are just like us, but to tell you the truth, I get the feeling that it’s all a big lie.

It would be very nice to have a friend again. I would like that even more than a date.

The thing is some girls think they can actually change guys. And what’s funny is that if they actually did change them, they’d get bored. They’d have no challenge left.

And I wonder if anyone is really happy. I hope they are. I really hope they are.

Sometimes people use thought to not participate in life.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

I feel infinite.

You see things, you keep quiet about them. And you understand.

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

So, I guess Zen is a day like this when you are part of the air and remember things.

I have decided that maybe I want to write when I grow up. I just don’t know what I would write. (ME TOO)

I just think it’s bad when a boy looks at a girl and thinks that the way he sees the girl is better than the girl actually is. And I think it’s bad when the most honest way a boy can look at a girl is through a camera.

I don’t know the significance of this, but I find it very interesting.

They talk about books and issues and kiss in the rain.

I always thought it would be fun to have “glory days”. Then, I would have stories to tell my children and golf buddies.

Maybe these are my glory days, and I’m not even realizing it because they don’t involve a ball.

Old pictures look very rugged and young, and the people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are.

I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.

I don’t know if it’s better to have your kids be happy and not go to college. I don’t know if it’s better to be close with your daughter or make sure she has a better life than you do. I just don’t know.

I hope the people who wrote those songs are happy. I hope that they feel it’s enough. I really do because they’ve made me happy. And I’m only one person.

“write about me sometime.”
“I will”

It was the kind of kiss that I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.

And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn’t.

And this one kid Mark at the party who gave me this came out of nowhere and looked at the sky and told me to see the stars. So, I looked up, and we were in this giant dome like a glass snowball, and Mark said that the amazing white stars were really only holes in the black glass of the dome, and when you went to heaven, the glass broke away, and there was nothing but a whole sheet of star white, which is brighter than anything but doesn’t hurt your eyes. It was vast and open and thinly quiet, and I felt so small.

This one time when it’s peaceful outside, and you’re seeing things move, and you don’t want to, and everyone is asleep. And all the books you’ve read have been read by other people. And all then songs you’ve loved have been heard by other people. And that girl that’s pretty to you is pretty to other people. And you know that if you looked at these facts when you were happy, you would feel great because you are describing “unity”.

It’s like when you are excited about a girl and you see a couple holding hands, and you feel so happy for them. And other times you see the same couple, and they make you so mad. And all you want is to always feel happy for them because you know that if you do, then it means that you’re happy, too.

Everyone is always comparing everyone with everyone and because of that, it discredits people.

It was a movie smile in slow motion, and then everything was okay.

I decided to do my math homework, which was a mistake because math has never made any sense to me. (ME TOO!)

“do you guess or do you know?”
“I guess.”
“good enough.”

You should tell her how nice her outfit is because her outfit is her choice whereas her face isn’t.

Because if you force her to do something she doesn’t want to do, then you’re in big trouble, mister…

And to tell you the truth I don’t want to be exposed to all these great things if it means that I’ll have to hear Mary Elizabeth talk about all the great things she exposed me to all the time.

I would give someone a record so they could love the record, not so they would always know that I gave it to them.

Maybe this is the way things are supposed to be, but it doesn’t feel right.

My father got a raise, and my mother didn’t because she doesn’t get paid for housework.

Things get worse before they get better because that’s what my psychiatrist says, but this is a worse that feels too big.

I look at the teachers and wonder why they’re here. If they like their job. Or us.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep going without a friend.

It’s much easier not to know things sometimes. And to have French fries with your mom be enough.

There’s nothing like the deep breaths after laughing that hard. Nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons.

It’s just hard to see a friend hurt this much. Especially when you can’t do anything except “be there”.

I love that expression. College of my choice. Safety school is another favorite.

I never even knew she liked movies, but I guess she does. She calls them “films.”

I think the idea is that every person has to live for his own life and then make the choice to share it with other people. Maybe that is what makes people “participate.”

And I was happy because they were happy.

Everything was as good as it could be.

And I think everyone is special in their own way.

And there it is. The city. A million lights and buildings and everything seems as exciting as the first time you saw it. It really is a grand entrance.

Then, we were quiet for the rest of the song. She held me a little closer. I held her a little closer. And we kept dancing. It was the one time all day that I really wanted the clock to stop. And just be there for a long time.

She wasn’t bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.

You can’t just sit there and put everybody’s lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can’t. you have to do things.

It’s just that I don’t want to be somebody’s crush. If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don’t want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it, too. And if they do something I don’t like, I’ll tell them.

But right now I’m here with you. And I want to know where you are, what you need, and what you want to do.

I’m so sorry that I wasted your time because you really do mean a lot to me and I hope you have a very nice life because I really think you deserve it. I really do. I hope you do, too. Okay, then. Goodbye.

So I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we’ll never know most of them. But even if we don’t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.

I think that if I ever have kids, and they’re upset, I won’t tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn’t change the fact that they were upset.

And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn’t really change the fact that you have what you have. Good and bad.

Maybe it’s good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there.

Because it’s okay to feel things. And be who you are about them.

And I just thought how great it was to have friends and a family.