A bit of adorable for you

From the book I Am Because We Are: African Wisdom In Image and Proverb, by photojournalist Betty Press

Quick Question: If media articles on maternal health in Africa began with a photo like this, would donor funding dry up?

 

 

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Found Objects: Street Art Kampala

We have short memories here. Part of it is self-preservation and desensitization, how else do you explain reading about our money being misappropriated and stolen every single day in the newspaper and feeling nothing?

We have had a long and bloody time in our short history as an independent nation and therefore it is necessary to re-forget every day that our President is a war criminal, that our cabinet is full of thieves. That way we don’t have to consider our own role in creating, nurturing and enabling these leaders we choose every election cycle.

Because there are levels of war criminals and degrees of genocide and there is distance between me and you and Kampala and Gulu and Kigali and Darfur and Port au Prince and the Bronx and time does not heal all wounds but we keep going anyway.

Chimamanda Adichie, who reminds us that when it comes to Africa Many Stories Matter, has a short story collection called The Thing Around Your Neck, my favourite of which is The Headstrong Historian. It tells the story of Nwambga, a widow who protects herself from her in-laws by giving her son to be educated in the ways of white missionaries, and her granddaughter who grows up to write a reclamationist history of Nigeria.  I love this story because how many African stories are blessed with the continuity of both pre and post-colonial history. How many of us know the multigenerational epic that is our own family history?

If the damage that colonialism did to our history can be compared to complete retrograde amnesia , then not only must we go back and relearn our past, we have to keep reminding ourselves of the present. We must force ourselves to see the malnourished kids on Jinja road as if seeing them for the first time. Art has a role to play in making us see and feel the same images again, differently.

Remember this image?

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Where is the best place to sit in a taxi?

Check out my badass MS Paint skillz: Click to enlarge

I hate the middle front seat. I got my wallet and cellphone stolen and was dumped in the middle of Meatpacker’s because of that seat. Plus, half the time you sit there, the driver feels up your thigh every time he changes gear.

This handy diagram is here to help for those times when doing complicated algorithms (= n- x/y where n is the number of people you will have to step over to exit, x is the number of people who will have to step over you to exit and y is the number of people who are likely to exit) just won’t cut it.

Of course none of this is really relevant because 90% of the time you don’t have a choice…. but I have too much time on my hands.

the view from the afternoon

In the town where I grew up there was a wide lovely road called Kabelenga.

On one stretch of the road, at a particular time of year (Jacaranda season), the trees around would burst into a royal canopy of purple flowers.

These elegant and ostentatious flowers are originally from South America, and are actually considered an invasive species in some countries because they can prevent the growth of native plants.

They can be found all over the world, but I will always be reminded of that one road in the town I grew up in…