the writing nib

Tag: life

  • All I do is try, try, try

    When I was in high school, I told my friends I wanted to become president of my country one day (This is extremely hilarious because I‘m from Tanzania). A step above what I had told my dad a bit more than a decade ago that I wanted to become a minister…of what? I don’t know. I was ten. I was just patriotic.

    In my last two years of schooling, I attended one of those fancy international schools because I was a smart kid™. My O Level grades were not perfect, but something to boast about back then: I had four As, including in MATHS! (thirteen years later and I’m still shook. I only got Cs and Ds in my tests). I wrote a great application essay for a scholarship at the school that would later become my school. I passed the written exams which were algebra (ugh) and writing, and the interview in which I had conversations with seven people for ten minutes each. I somehow managed to convince them that I had big dreams worth investing in and that I believed in my ability to achieve those dreams one day.

    At 29, most of those dreams I had have either faded or been crushed by the brutality of capitalism and forces beyond my individual power.

    The first dream to fade was that of becoming a doctor, although I’m not even sure I can call this a “dream”. I didn’t even want to become a doctor, but a miscommunication during a conversation with a family member led to “Nibwene wants to become a doctor” being repeated at family gatherings for several years. I was good at Biology and excellent at O Level Chemistry. So, I thought, why not? Doctors make decent money. In my first year of the IB program, I got a 4 (a solid mid in the IB grading scale) in my Chemistry HL (higher level) final. I wasn’t even bothered. I was just happy I got a great grade in History HL. I enjoyed learning history as much as I did in my O Level education. Adding to my knowledge of African history, I learned about the tensions in Western Asia since 1948, the Cold War, the civil rights movements in the Americas and democracy in India and South Africa. I even wrote a paper on the rights of Indigenous People in Canada. We regularly watched historical dramas and documentaries in the school’s cinema. Our history teacher, the Australian globe-trotting Argentinian-tea-drinking Mr Hunt, shared interesting articles in politics and history on a Facebook page he had created for the class and, I think, he was a communist.

    By grade 12, I wanted nothing to do with STEM. I was set on studying political science, international relations, or even writing (gasp) in university. I decided to give it a shot and try getting into the IR world. I ended up studying IR (and political science, I guess) and history for my bachelor’s and international affairs and EU governance for my master’s.

    With only an IB Diploma to my name, I got an internship at the United Nations Climate Change (UNFCCC) HQ in Bonn, an experience that changed my life (overall positive). I went on to do internships and student jobs at other prestigious dreamy places yearned for by IR students: the International Renewable Energy Agency, Germany’s GIZ, the Research Institute for Sustainability and the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research. I grew my network and collected experience for work in the climate and energy sector. For five years, I was laser-focused on building myself for a full-time role in the sector, somewhere in Berlin, where I am, Bonn, where I previously was, or Brussels (*laughs in my non-EU passport*), where I now know I’ll never be. I even co-founded a student club for African Policy and led a cool week-long event with great speakers, lots of in-person and online guests, and great food! My graduation was at the Berliner Philharmonie on a beautiful summer day in 2024. I fully believed that the future was mine. In other words, I was delulu.

    graduation at berliner philharmonie (2024)

    And then the mass rejections came.

    I had received rejections before. This time it was too much for my frail little heart. At the same time, I was taking note of the nepotism and blatant discrimination in the hiring process in this particular field. It was sad because these are the same people who claim to be for fairness, human rights, sustainable development bla bla. I got all my previous positions by applying for them, so I thought it would always be that straightforward. I never knew anyone in the teams I worked in prior to joining, but now I heard that it’s all about “who you know”. Someone even told me not to apply for jobs if I don’t know anyone in the team/office hiring. Huh?

    In my unemployment era, which started exactly a week after the Eras Tour in Hamburg, there were several periods when I felt completely detached from reality. This can’t be real, I thought. I was the girl who had turned down an interview for an internship at the Green Climate Fund just four years prior because I had a better offer. Now, I was in people’s inboxes, both E-Mail and LinkedIn, desperately asking them if they had a job, any job, for someone like me. I got a total of two positive responses. One invited me to a chat that led nowhere, probably my own fault because I glitched when asked a technical question, and the other was encouraging and acknowledged that I’ve got “a really strong CV” in the areas they work in and that I should apply when positions are open. I had, in fact, applied for four positions just a few months prior, and, each time, I was ghosted.

    My ego was bruising faster than my bank account was depleting. I applied for a mentorship program for young women from my region (SADC – Southern Africa) in climate and energy which was supposed to be a year-long thing, but I terminated it after 8 months. I was in a dark place. I had started to fully spiral some time in the summer of 2025 after not getting a job following the only interview I had that entire year. That Monday, several hours after receiving the rejection E-Mail, I went to see Tyla at a club and allowed myself to dissociate as the same Amapiano hits were replayed every hour while the MC strung us along saying, Tyla is on her way, until she actually showed up at almost 1 am. Tuesday morning, basically. The ticket was 16€ so maybe I shouldn’t complain too much.

    Tyla at Maaya (Berlin, July 2025)

    My last proper job application was on 01 January this year. I sent what others and I thought was a very strong application for a position with an old employer. It was the perfect role for a recent graduate who was familiar with the specifics thanks to having worked in an adjacent team not too long ago. I even tried the who you know thing and asked an old colleague to put in a good word for me. After a long search, it finally felt like things might be working for me. An interview? I hope. A job? Let’s not jinx it, but OMG it could finally be time (some thoughts in my head from at that time).

    I got the rejection E-Mail a week later while I was at a Lidl with my partner stocking up for several snowy days ahead. Grocery shopping is one of my top 5 all-time favourite things to do (seriously), but after reading that E-Mail I wanted nothing more than to abandon everything we had in our cart and go home so I could cry until I passed out.

    Then, two months ago, I made this poster on Canva and said fuck it and posted it on LinkedIn.

    hire nibwene.

    You might have noticed the pattern if you made it to this point: rejection, crash out, try again. Believe me, I hate myself for it.

    The response to my poster was very positive. Don’t hold your breath though; I did not get a job offer simply because I couldn’t bring myself to apply for most positions that were shared with me because of the ridiculous requirements for experience and videos (wtf?!). Or maybe that’s just what I’ve been telling myself to avoid applying for anything. Staying away from the application process for nearly five months has helped me heal a tiny bit or, at the very least, kept me calm and untriggered long enough to feel okay and stop regretting my life choices. Who knows what another “we regret to inform you” might do to me. I know I have to get back into it at some point soon.

    To end this very long entry on a positive note, I did get one promising lead for a freelance gig because of my poster. Someone I didn’t know at all actually reached out to me after seeing it. In a different time, I would be scared to even mention it on the internet out of fear of bringing bad luck. But this is 2026 and not many of the established ideas and beliefs make sense anymore. To quote a famous songstress, I ain’t gotta knock on wood. This also made me realise that I want to be a freelancer for now so that I can continue to have the free time to explore my other interests and craft new less delulu dreams for myself. Without a doubt, my new dreams won’t involve politics (seriously, I don’t want to end up dead) and will be fully in line with the saying secure the bag.

    I’m still a believer and I don’t know why (mirrorball, Taylor Swift)

  • Trad wife fantasies, Girlboss realities

    A trad wife is a married woman who makes it a point to live according to traditional gender norms. Essentially, a housewife, but with a religious fundamentalist attribute. Trad wives, including trad wives of colour, tend to be politically right wing. Another thing that makes them “trad” is that they are usually based in societies where they don’t really have to do all that, i.e., places where women’s rights are a thing in the law, among society and, to a large extent, properly enforced.

    I started thinking about trad wives two years ago when they were popping up on my Instagram reels. I blocked them everytime. I remember when I felt I had had enough after seeing one African American trad wife’s TikTok about picking cotton and her saying that it was part of her DNA. I wish this was fiction.

    In the last few months, i.e. in these tough recession times in Germany (yikes), I’ve been wondering what my life would be like if I hadn’t chosen to pursue an academic-adjacent career path. The rejections, the constant feeling of not being enough and non-stop grind has been exhausting and demoralizing. So, naturally, I have been questioning my career wants and wondering why I didn’t dance on TikTok during lockdown.

    One night a few months ago, I wrote a text in my notes app with the title of this post. The title was inspired by another article whose title used similar words and style. I thought it was a smart way to summarize opposing perspectives of the same situation. This text was my way of writing out my feelings at a time when I had doubts about my chosen path in life. I also thought of the “girlboss to trad wife pipeline” and whether my mind was going that route. (It is not lol).

    Screenshot of me texting my friend in January

    The note went like this: In another universe, I had trad wife fantasies early in my adulthood. I pursued them and now live in a nice house, paid for by my husband, with my 3 kids. I am happy because my husband is loving and I have everything I need. In that world, I don’t dream of being a girlboss. I don’t have to network over hot beverages, or embarrass myself in people‘s inboxes. I‘m just me and that‘s enough to be a wife and a mother. I love to cook and play with my kids. In that world, I don’t spend 9 months of my life scrolling through LinkedIn and obsessively checking my emails everyday, waiting for something that’s not there, chasing after a career not meant for me. In another universe, I just know better. In this world, I am who I am: a girlboss at heart. I feed off the self-pat on my back that I’ve done a good job. When others say they love my work, I love that too, but it doesn’t make or break me. I’m a bad b*tch and I know it.

    A girlboss is “an ambitious and successful woman (especially a businesswoman or entrepreneur)”, according to Merriam-Webster. First, I need to say that, depending on who is using it, I think the term girlboss can be somewhat misogynistic. Calling a grown woman a “girl” can be disrespectful, but I don’t see an issue if we call ourselves that (maybe I’ll change my mind about this one day). I like this Merriam-Webster definition because it’s broad and doesn’t paint all ambitious women as mean girls who “gaslight” and “gatekeep”, unlike other interpretations of the term that I read elsewhere.

    Some might say that a trad wife can be a girlboss, but I don’t think this to be true. Yes, online trad wives are, in fact, working as content creators and chasing after fame and followers; they make money doing what they do. However, I think being a trad wife or labelling oneself as such is a limitation: I have to dress a certain way, have babies, serve my husband, act a certain way, etc. When it comes to a girlboss, these limitations do not exist. She does what she wants to get what she wants. A girlboss, in my view, is not characterized by how she fits into the patriarchy-defined attributes of a good woman.

    I’ve been in the girlboss mindset for my entire conscious life. I never ever seriously believed that I needed to live my life as a woman according to what the culture around me or my religion told me. I had concrete career plans in politics and policy that are not anything new, but ambitious enough to characterize me as a girlboss. And I pursued them as aggressively as I could. In these trying times, however, when I’m not able to picture the path ahead in the way that I envisioned, I feel lost. Who am I outside of my political grind?

    A friend wrote to me recently, “I really feel like the universe is pushing you towards something you can do for yourself…” I feel this too, I guess. I decided to get serious about writing (which is why I finally got a domain for this blog and started a Substack). While I love to write and have never not enjoyed it, even in school or university, I vented to my friend about how I wish a detour felt more like my choice rather than a semi-forced path because I had no other options. Maybe this feeling of lack of choice is why I’m the opposite of a trad wife: I hate doing things because I am made to by tradition, a husband, society, the economy, etc.

    That is why, dear reader, my trad wife fantasies are just that: fantasies. Regardless of the circumstances, I stay locked in on all my pursuits until I get what I want or die trying. This is my reality as a girlboss. Here, I’m reminded of a quote from the movie Dolemite Is My Name, “shoot for the moon and if you miss it cling on to a m*****f*cking star”.

  • this is me trying

    this is me trying

    The title and section titles are lyrics of the song this is me trying by Taylor Swift.

    I’ve been having a hard time adjusting

    I started my blog in high school because I was very depressed with bad thoughts, no where else to express what I felt and no one to turn to. The blog became a companion as I navigated my early 20s with even more depressive episodes in a foreign country. I stopped posting a lot because I found joy in the real world and refused to dwell in my writing because it tends to bring out unwanted emotions. I am back now, but calmer.

    I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting

    Four years ago, Taylor Swift released the album ‚Folklore‘. It was the only thing I listened to that August. I was sharing an apartment just outside my old university in Bremen with a friend and essentially took over the smart TV so it only played the entire Folklore album‘s lyric videos from start to finish every morning to evening. I was very stressed back then. I had just graduated and was looking for the next opportunity. The previous month (July) had been tough, but August was starting to feel better. I did a written test which was the first part of the hiring process for an internship I wanted so badly. The waits in between the different hiring stages were excruciatingly long and at the time I wasn’t aware that this was normal. By the time September was around the corner, with no indication that I was going to the interview stage, I was in panic mode. So I booked a one-way 16-hour bus trip to from Bremen (Northern Germany) to Austria. My final destination, Leoben, a small city of less than 25,000 people somewhere in the Alps. I spent 5 weeks there.

    Most of the Austria subplot ends well; I got the internship of my dreams and made friends along the way. I had a great time and I felt like I finally had a foot in the energy sector‘s door. I was in. Things went uphill from there. After that, I worked at a research institute, a well-known international development organization, and another world renowned climate research institute. I thought my career in this sector was a sure thing, but it seems that the job market has other plans for me.

    So I got wasted like all my potential

    I look back at all these cool places I worked at and I can’t help but be grateful for the one person who hired me as an intern at the UNFCCC back in the summer of 2019 when all I had to my name was a high school diploma. That was my true „in“ and is what inspired me to want to work in some variation of climate action. I was just a 22-year old learning the ways of the world, drinking a little too much with my fellow interns after work, and having a life-changing experience. This is also the time one of this blog‘s readers, a stranger back then, reached out to me to discuss an article I wrote here. The stranger has become a very important part of my life *wink wink*.

    This past June, I graduated from my master’s program. There are a lot of mixed feelings about my experience, but what I can write here is that I learned something, I did cool things and I met amazing people even though this took some time. Strangely, the first thing I think of about this time is dancing in a club to Amapiano with my uni friends. Now it’s been almost 5 months since my last class. I‘m exhausted because I was delusional and I thought I had it in me to get a job soon after graduation (or maybe even before). It’s October and here we are. Again, I‘m in a small city in the Alps; this time on the French side – making friends and doing who knows what. I‘m trying to figure out why someone hated me so much that they told me to apply for a job and then rejected me without interviewing me and then hired someone way less qualified for the position than me. (OK, so I found this out because I did some digging on LinkedIn, the cursed website). Also, I’m paying for LinkedIn Premium LOL. I got a sweet discount for two months when I signed up via desktop. It lets you “InMail” people you’re not connected to. Probably annoying for those on the receiving end of these mails, but whatever to make you feel like you’re making the effort.

    I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying

    Rejection is redirection, they say. So I hope this phase redirects me to somewhere where I never have to deal with such bullshit things again. And, maybe the real find was the realization that the Alps are a place of refuge for me.

  • “You’re not the river, you’re the city” – John Green

    “You’re not the river, you’re the city” – John Green

    So it was a Friday morning. The weather was good and I left on time for work with my bicycle that I had bought just two days before. I cycled in heels, a mini skirt and my bag that says ‘boy bye’ was hanging from the left handle. To quote Thanos, ‘Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.‘

    I ended up cycling thrice around a park.

    For the first few days in Bonn, I had to live at a hostel because finding a place to I can sleep and eat comfortably at for a few months needed to be the most difficult thing. I stayed at a place called Max Hostel and the receptionists there are the nicest I’ve ever met. I was welcomed with a smile each morning. That was one of the two things that made the painful first week in Bonn bearable, the other being that I’m at the UN!!!

    The people in Bonn are very nice, foreigners and locals alike. The streets are beautiful, the trains and buses are packed in the mornings and evenings and I like it because it gives me that big city feeling. And maybe it’s just because it’s summer, but I love how a lot of people here choose to cycle instead of using cars and contributing to the horrific tale of global warming. (Me here wishing Dar es Salaam found a way to deal with the overflow of cars in the city). I still haven’t seen Bonn properly, but I have 6 months to do that and more and I’m really looking forward to all it.

    66456847_2363636970585418_975214410941333504_nHere’s the view from my room, you know, what I stare at when listening to the Jonas Brothers’ album Happiness Begins and thinking of ways to make friends in the city and not embarrass myself by getting lost every morning.

    Oh and the river in the featured photo is the Rhine 😉

  • 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.