Single in the City-64, 44, 38, 16, 4


From my column in the Citizen Newspaper, thought to share it in MKEKA too...


Issue 64


It’s a very long story


Photo by Nicholas Calvin

And we jumped, caught the moon between our hands squashing it till dew drops dropped from our palms. Passionately engraving the taste of freedom in our senses, negating the shackles that say we can’t love, we are invisible. For there’s a limit to how much you can stretch me, shove me into places unknown constantly expecting me to mold myself to your view. 

This business of living in African cities as though we all have the same thought processes, as though my belief in God/dess is the same as yours. As though because you believe all gays, lesbians & women who wear thongs go to hell, that I give a calamari (for lack of a suitable swearword). I could care less if tomorrow you deign all of those who shave their armpits, go to hell too. 


As long as you realize that there’s a big difference between human rights and one’s spiritual/moral beliefs, enforcing the former by law is logical. As we all by virtue of being alive on this continent, deserve to be treated fairly. On the other hand there’s nothing fair or ideal in forcing one group’s designated choice to divine coherence, as law onto the rest of the population.



No, I am not with any religion…



It’s hypocritical that we respect even admire differences in many things as East Africans. We like that there’s yogurt and milk, sandals and high heels. That there’s a Leopard and a Cheetah and despite the two having similar patterned skin. We’re aware and have accepted that they are different. However when another fellow citizen expresses their difference in opinion, like for instance not believing in God or hell, you shriek. 


At best immediately thinking they need saving or worse that they’re ‘wrong’, the ironic thing is. In that split second you assume an authority that’s unsettling. As by default you are saying your way is more ‘Godly, Saved, Enlightened’ than theirs. You’re saying their life experience till now is worth dog poo. 

Yet I’m sure & many would agree; that if Prophet Mohammed, Son of God Jesus, The Buddha, and all other revered Spiritual Guru’s sat in one room. They’d not be vehemently converting the other to their ‘way’, probably they’d be marveling at each other’s similarities. Sharing on their differences not as a point of correction for the rest, rather as a testament onto the yet different but relevant ways, in which ‘divinity’ reveals herself/himself/itself on this planet.



Yes, I don’t need saving



There’s a pain when we want everyone or even just everyone we care about, to follow the same choices we make. I recall when I had my spiritual ‘aha’ moment back in high school. Gosh I wanted everyone in my class (we were a small bunch), particularly my friends to agree with me. To feel the way I felt as I experienced my revelation. Later on in life, I came to see how painful this was, for me and them. 


As first off it was quite arrogant of me to assume that this omnipotent powerful God/dess I’d found, was now on vacation. As they obviously had not prepared my class mates their own tailor made ‘faith aha’ moments. 

So she/he had left this monumental task to me, I was to save them. Second it was painful hearing the arguments to the contrary that I received from several of my friends and classmates. I took them personally internalizing each of their doubts to my testament as my own and so chipping away the joy I had stumbled on, in figuring my path to ‘faith’.


The danger in obsessing on changing other people instead of ourselves, is inviting to bed rascal like behavior. Then when we glimpse the monster that escapes our skin as we did that horrible ‘judgmental thing’; we latch onto denial. For our self image can’t process this new identity that says we’re hypocritical, egotistical, tyrannical, selfish etc. The truth is no human being is just loving, caring and kind we’re also rash, brutal & capable of change. So as I always say we’re all born single and shall meet our death recount by our single some, no point in wanting everyone to agree with you.




Issue 44




Niseme, nisiseme?






There’s excitement on the streets it seems we have a leader at the helm, after all we saw him cleaning the streets with his actual hands. Yet believe you or me I want to throw in the towel, pack up my bags and find a job in a developed world and say ‘kwaheri’.

Why, well the state of denial that pervades our minds hasn’t moved an inch as far as I can see. The tendency to fix problems at the surface without dealing with the root; has us imprisoned in chocking circumstances. Ought I clap my hands, that our president saw it fit that we clean our streets- yes; it’s common knowledge I abhor littering.


Yet it can’t be that we’re all waiting for ‘Magufuli’ to do spot checks in our homes, for us to do the efficient thing. For if we’re now leaving just one man out of 40 million+ to make the ‘right’ decision. We’re inviting trouble and really we will have learned nothing from our past.




Sema...




Cleaning the streets is one thing, but proper waste management is the real efficient thing that’s needed for any thriving city. When the President says let’s clean our streets, the stakeholders of infrastructure and better living. Are really being told you’ve not been doing your job, in response they should put their case defending, why their jobs have been near impossible. 


And we in the media have a moral obligation to get those answers for the people; as having diseases befitting cities in the 17thC (kipindu pindu); erupting unmitigated in our dwellings. Which house a majority of singletons in the city, in the humble one room or two abode. Is not a joking matter, a politician will say what he knows best on cleaning as the solution. He’ll done on gloves; take ‘fagio’s’ and say let’s go clean this street, on this public holiday.


A town planner will give you a plan, indicating how households in a whole district, can make it possible to efficiently dispose their waste, this starting from grey water, sewage water & waste from goods for a whole lifetime. A primary school geography teacher will report the difficulties in educating the young, on the basic knowledge for waste properties, when discarded back on earth. Here it’ll be made clear the adverse effects of burning perfume spray cans or batteries in your backyard. 


A hydrologist will test your water’s pH & pollution levels. Analyze data on the environmental impacts of pollution, erosion, drought for the populace in that ‘Mkoa’. Outlining the water route for the area, ensuring you don’t encounter water retention on your roads, river bank overflows etc. An environmentalist will propose ways to ethically recycle waste even ways of creating sustainable employment from this endeavor.


‘Sasa’ has this happened, no! So as a singleton I’m still stuck in my horribly planned home with bizarre waste management. Worse still I and my neighbors hear each other’s every move, so when I invite ‘Mr Right Now’ home, it’s to ‘silent sex’. NO it’s not fun! 




Nah, I'll keep it in....



Personally I’m not ready to breed a dictator; I want to actively live in a democratic state. You see all problems have root causes. And the root cause for pathetic implementation from our governing system. Is that it’s been with us for no more than 50 some years. Worse still we got the system from regimes that oppressed the majority of us. 




“Our masters did not teach us democracy because that is not what brought them to our shores. They came to conquer…in fact, wherever the natives dared asked for a little measure of fairness-forget democracy-they were whipped into line…By the time they left they had taught us nothing about the system they bequeathed us.”-Jenerali Ulimwengu, The East African Newspaper-May 2nd’15.

So there’s no way one man at the helm, will solve all our problems. We all have to step up to the plate just like he is doing. Otherwise we’re all joking and I for one want to enjoy my holidays without ‘silent sex’ as an option. For as I always quip, we’re all born single and shall meet our death recount by our single some.



Issue 38


Shake what thing…?



Me with Guitarist 'Norman Bikaka' one of my 
favorite musicians in TZ
You know how it’s totally okay for a guy to own their sexual desire, how they can say things like ‘Shake what ya momma gave you’, while blatantly looking at your behind. I am a bit vexed that in my city life. Despite missing the abundance of trees and quiet of nature that is ‘village’ life. I as well have to pretend I’m prudish, in that I can’t ogle a guy’s six-pack and just, just admire.

The way a brother can sway with that percussive rhythm that’s just mmm; the way muscles under skin flex and tickle commanding a stare. The way my Caucasian brothers have legs that; seduce a ‘sista’ to applaud Mother Nature for her creation. 

The way sensual pouty lips, co- exist with raw cocoa skin on chiseled cheekbones, a juxtaposition requesting you to look & drool. Mhmn that lick from LL Cool J, y’all know what I’m talking about.



Look but don’t harass!

 

Once I spoke here on the two categories women in Tanzania can find themselves put in; when they’re confident and own their sexuality, them to include ‘witch & whore’. With the end for us deduced to be, the bursting fires of hell. Yet ladies aren’t we all aware of the boys to old men, who jeer at us on the streets. I am one of those ‘wake up and go’ type of lady, in that my look seldom involves make up and pretty pedi’s or manicures.


Thankfully nowadays, I do love my body and do my best to take care of it. So it goes, I as well attract a fair share of cat calls, compliments on my hair, my choice of handbag. even my demeanor, have been delivered by strangers. I love the appreciation, as a compliment from the opposite sex, can remind me I’m a woman, a flower to be cherished. 'Sasa', the challenge arrives.

When the distinction between window shopping and purchasing isn’t understood; I think Johhny Depp is hot. If I saw him I’ll hopefully tell him as much, still believe me or you. It’ll just be that and if he flashes me his beguiling smile. Then I’ll get a blip of joy and be on my merry way, as you simply can’t expect everyone you think is sexy. 


To jump, at the mere mention of a compliment their way thus have a relationship/fling/rendezvous with you. It just doesn’t beget logic does it, so fellas let’s be a little more considerate. If you think I look good, go ahead make a drum roll if you have to. 


Remember though, I have the choice to return a smile, move on with a spring on my step, say ‘ahsante’ or totally ignore you. It can’t be you actually believe you now deserve me, to stop what I’m doing and engage in a conversation with you. 



We’re people not dolls…


  
So back to women accepting they have sexual desires too and this is not taboo. I urge women to closely look at a fore sentence and answer if they understand it to be sincerely true, for them. I for one still feel a little nudge telling me are you nuts? Of course you’re sexual desires aren’t OK; they’re only there for you to go through labor pains. 



Then I finish that sentence and realize how discriminating this thought pattern is, for us all- women & men alike. How we really ought to strip its stronghold and make sure we allow ourselves to honor our human-beingness. 

Yes women are smart but also they possess amazing blatant sexual desires, which can be soothed by ogling some fine brothers. 


Now, I dare you to sit ‘kijiweni’ with your 'soul sistas’ one day and make genuine cat calls at men who pass by. In fact have a ball while you’re at it sho! I can’t wait to share this with Anande, Sheba, Cocoa, Salome & Shukria for as I always quip we’re all born single and shall meet our death recount by our single some.



Issue 16



Dancing in the dark…   




Musing with the sounds of slow precise percussion, a lazy voice croons belying the fact that it’s on the exact strata of chord and rhythm; yeah am listening to ‘Diana Krall. Have you ever caught doubt in between your fingers and squashed it like a mosquito.


With pride you stare at your hand and see that trail of blood and seared skin and with the instinctual satisfaction from self preservation, sigh! For you’ve looked the devil in the eye and stepped aside knowing you’re more than the seductive persuasions that deem you to drop in a rabbit hole of self doubt.

Hold my hand



There’s a poem I’ve written with this line ‘Growing up is unclear...’ You’re an adult in a city no less, claiming independence. You’ve found ways in which you best dress; you’ve figured what aspects of your universe, ask that you’re quiet. Whilst clinging desperately to those that allow you to scream. 




As really, we’re all looking for that place where we’re best expressed, the spot where we’re allowed to talk, shout or dance. Yet do we really allow others this opportunity, isn’t it logical that to experience happiness. One need be able to accept and propel it in others.


And is happiness a mere opening of your mouth to release a laugh, or is it feeling satisfied after your body is appeased of its desires. Is it the peace of mind of accepting you’re one with a landscape, staring into a horizon that asks nothing of you except to breathe? 

 


Let’s twirl…



Whatever your boat to happy, when you’re walking with another in a relationship, you’re really dancing in the dark. For you can’t ever claim to be another, hence knowing what makes them happy. Comes with time as you notice the things that inspire them to laugh, have their eyes shining with excitement as they trail off talking about it.

You watching in amazement as they get frustrated at what you don’t see is all that important; “Cloud seeding a new technology you have to read on it, eish they now use drones to make rain…” My soul sister Cocoa trail off whilst I look vaguely interested. Only because she’s excited like a child, who just discovered puppies. 


In order to dance in rhythm, make the twirls as it were whilst two stepping in the dark with your dear one (friend or lover). You’ve got to accept and experience your own boat to destination happy, sadly so many of us succumb to the sea of self doubt. When confronted with the ability to jump into a boat that sails on to our paradise

Of course living in a country that is no older than 54 years; that’s still forging how best to stand economically. Means it’s harder here than many other places, to allow people to be riveted in excitement, engrossed in the vitality of living for the moment. It’s the denial though that we’re not happy, that’s also strangling us in shallow relationships. 

For really if in a romantic relationship all we’re looking for is the 1 minute glory of an orgasm. In friendship the insurance that we don’t feel lonely and in our jobs the ability to feed our bellies. Well then we’re not living; but rushing through this magnificent thing, that ensures we’re all born single and shall meet our death recount by our single some.    

  

Issue 4 



Not getting any younger

 


Any good writer has a fascination with people, the inner machinations of what makes us tick. As really how else are we to grab your attention such that for a moment in time, you’re lost in our work?

This fascination with people has taken me through the rabbit hole, mind you it's the African rabbit not the one in ‘Alice in Wonderland’. Rather the 'Sungura' that’s full of tricks but ultimately, quite an enigma to the rest of the folks in the jungle.

What are you saying…?


In this edition of single in the city, I’d like to recall a tale while I was in High School. By this time I had just passed sweet sixteen and all around me, life was beginning to look sweet indeed. Except this comment that many boys/men around me, kept implying and times blatantly affirming. “Wanaume a wao wanaweza kuwa washkaji kwa miaka, sema Wanawake bwana acha tu...” This made me uneasy.


You see during my form 5 & 6; I stumbled on some sweet women friendships. In fact, in my mind with a certain two we’ll call them Nella and Bella. I believed we were the female version of 'the three musketeers'. Between us, I knew we could conquer anything that came our way, be it unqualified teachers in the art subjects we took. Despite that our parents paid top TSHS to ensure in this ‘international school’; we would come out with a world class education.

Most of all I believed like the three musketeers, we would be lifetime friends. As it turns out, I’ve been stung to see what I couldn’t fathom coming to light, from my mothers cautious words back then. I say ‘my mothers’ for the bonds I made in this time ensured each of my ‘gal friends’ (not just the two). Felt like my blood sisters, looking back I now understand well the saying ‘it takes a village to raise a child’.


I am not Superwoman…



Back then as we pranced around slaying each others dragons, at all costs. We found ourselves receiving odd comments from the women in our lives. To the tune, ‘it’s so strange/puppy love sweet, that you get along so seamlessly’. Worse this was mostly coming mostly from women past their 30’s to include our own mothers, aunties & teachers in the same school. 

Now as I'm nearing the gorgeous 30, I see clearly what I had not wanted to accept, back then. It's hard to swallow even with a grain of sugar, that on top of having scars of colonialism, which all native Tanzanians share. As women we as well have to deal with scars of patriarchy.


So back to the three lady Tanzanian musketeers suffice to say; I am not in speaking terms with all two. However there’s civility (social media gates, haven’t been closed). Was there a man that came between us? I can hear all of you salivating to put that ‘jawabu kwa hilo swali’. Nope, we never did fancy the same guy/guys. 

Which brings me to my conclusion, Tanzanian ladies and all around East African/African gals. The stacks are still bent against us, still I know for sure. I would trade nothing and I mean nothing, over the sweetness of finding your ‘soul sisters’. Those gal-friends who ensure we ride the estrogen hormones, the psychic emotional tides that make us woMEN. For as I always say ‘we’re all born single and shall die single’!



© All photos by Caroline Anande Uliwa

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