two incidences defined my understanding of blackness in the world. the genoicide in rwanda and the embassy bombings in nairobi.

put everything aside. my schooling. my love for music and why i love my mom. why sunshine is my bliss and snow the dreaded kryptonite.. that i am the 2nd in my family to go to college. why my grandfather was detained in the mau mau camp. fuck everything... it doesnt matter who, what. why i am the way i am. i know im b.l.a.c.k . to many, the response to the hurricane by the government is amazing. there is shock. disbelieve. a tale of two americas.

come to africa my friend. we are not blinded by the fact we are b.l.a.c.k..thats why as variations of blackness, we cannot , cannot let others define our existance. we are from a people of rich heritage. a proud past. build on self reliance and ujama.

before i come to the states, i envied black america. with what ever images that filtered through the media, what was not to love about it... the richness of material and history. i envied every thing black america represents. the revolutionary process. the rebels in music and culture. the abundance and don't give a fuck, i'll rise again and again.

i understand though, that we in africa are not illusioned by the notion of government that will support, sustain, protect us. no.. perhaps that the separation between us. i'm not raised to believe that goverment owes me anything. i dont hold to the fact that paying taxes means my child recieves medical care. or walking through the streets as a woman, i'll be safe. i have no expectations, which equals to less dissapointment and perhaps an extra zeal to commune with others who support the dreams. at the end of the day, as my father used to say, we are black.