Hot, sticky and oh so sweet

Mombasa is an amazing place to be, full of different types of people everywhere you look.  Old Mombasa Town in particular is incredible, as well as playing host to thousands of tourists the back streets are filled with locals each with an interesting story of their own.  Somalian boys on street corners trying to get you to exchange money with them, men with bottled water whose eyes light up when they see a white person (it’s hot right and white people love water, we’re like camels).  Then there’s covered Muslim women heading to the local Mosque.  Street beggars hanging on to the glimmer of hope as a shiny 5 shilling coin falls into their outstretched palms and by contrast rich Kenyan business men sipping on latte’s at the fancy cafes.  Oh and let’s not forget the tourist groups walking around with their guides with the scared deer-in-headlights-look.  I’ve never understood the group travel thing, I much prefer the less safe option of just wandering around aimlessly waiting for something exciting to come my way.

Today was one of my more interesting encounters, in a rustic old colonial-style apartment I met an Indian-by-heritage, second generation Kenyan man named...let’s see we’ll call him Raj.  Raj is a weed dealer.  He spends most of the day sitting in his hot and sticky apartment rolling joints to sell.  It’s an interesting profession, one that means he can sit at home and smoke weed most of the day while meeting people.  It’s like working in a Darwin video store only you get to be your own boss and probably earn more.  He buys 400KShs worth of locally grown ganja, picks the seeds and the stems out then expertly rolls joints which he on-sells at 10KShs per stick.  Most days he sells around 80 sticks per day so every day is a profit of around 400KShs.  It doesn’t seem like a lot but in a country where employment is difficult to come by, even if you have multiple degrees and years of experience it becomes a lot, well enough to get by on anyway.  I asked how many each person buys and it’s always about 1 or 2 sticks each so that means between 40-80 people come and see him every day.   

Like a plastic surgeon Raj’s slender fingers continue to deftly and elegantly roll perfect joints, one after the other.  Like a faithful partner there is always someone eager to visit him to get their fix.  

Holland in hindsight or fat joint and a funky beat

Grafitti in Amsterdam

Marcel!  My favourite Dutchman (sorry Ben!) was there with open arms to greet me at the train station.  I must say I did shed a tear, I’m not quite sure why perhaps a mix of excitement and sheer exhaustion.  All that travel, all that sign language, all the attitude you cop as a traveller really wears you down, so a friendly face and a cuddle did the trick. 

Marcel & I

Marcel lives in what I can only describe as “Little Africa Town”, I’m not kidding he lives on Pretoria Lane and is probably one of the only whites on the street.  Like a culturally diverse episode of Postman Pat.

Marcel had some friends come over for dessert and tea the first night and I ate something I can only describe as heaven.  I cannot remember the name of it but it’s like thin-soft-almost-pastry-but-not-hollow ball filled to the point of explosion when you bite into it with whipped cream and then, as if that wasn’t enough, covered in a soft buttery chocolate. I love The Netherlands.  Rotterdam was one of the rare places in the world where I could actually see myself living.  Although the amount of Dutch people I have met since then have told me that Rotterdam in not the bees knees...I’m inclined to disagree.  Maybe it’s because I was in a post-Uganda haze but I thought it was fabulous, walking along the waterfront, dodging tram-ish looking transport things, going to the awesome supermarket down the street.  I think food is one of those things that amazes me the most about anywhere in the world. 

Andrea Stultiens & some funky street art

But I did venture outside of Rotterdam.  The fabulous and super famous Andrea Stultiens was having a photography exhibition near Maastricht so Marcel and I tripped out to Maastricht, a quaint villagey-style town filled with bakeries and second hand markets.  That’s really about all I have to say about Maaaaaaastricht.  

The exhibition was interesting and I managed to get myself in a Dutch newspaper thanks to the fact that I wore my kitenge.  Oh and they served free sushes...(starts drooling) sushes...like the first cream filled pastry but smaller and without the chocolate on top.  People were staring I ate that many.  Like all of them, I was like a hunger strike patron who just won the fight, stuffing them in my mouth, grabbing them out of people’s hands so I could have them all to myself.  Sharing clearly not a concept I was partaking in.

It's just like riding a bike...stupid saying

The next day I went to Njemejin (or something like that) to spend the night with Andrea at her super lovely house.  We rode push bikes to the after-party of the World Music Festival and watched Colombian band Choc Quib Town perform.  They were incredible!  Latino Hip-Hop at it’s finest.  I forgot how white people dance though, it was hilarious...all that dancing out of tune.  There is a great beat there, Hollandish people just can’t follow it.

Next on my list of adventures was Amsterdam.  Amsterdam.  Oh wow.  First stop was the Rasta Baby Cafe!  It went like this;

I just looked at it...that's all...

Me: “Excuse me, do you have coffee here?”

Rasta: “Nah man”

Me: “Do you have any food here?”

Rasta: “Nah man”

Me: “ooookkkk.....so then I’ll just have a fat ass joint and a bottle of water.”

Rasta: “good choice”

Just then the one and only Neville Valentine (reggae Artiste) came in and chatted with me for a bit, gave me a signed album of his and his card and just like that he was gone...I was in awe, I was inspired, I was damn hungry!  

So copious amounts of food later I headed to the penis shaped monument in the centre of town to meet Dave Thom and Ali, old volunteers of Edirisa who are now all loved up together in Amsterdam.  We visited the World Press Photography Exhibit which was mind blowing then I managed to haul my light headed arse down the hooker filled alleys to the train station back to Rotterdam.  Where I ate more food, of course.

Big man...big dreams...goals to be humbled by...

The desire to educate and effect social change using artistic mediums has been around since the Romantic Era of the late 18^th Century.  Bavubuka is no different, it is an intellectual movement with the goal to bring about change.  What we are seeing in East Africa at the moment is a change in direction against societal norms through its music, art and literature.  We are seeing an intellectual revolution designed to change lives, opinions and stigma.  Silas Balabyekkubo aka Babaluku from Bavubuka is the founder and leader of the Hip Hop movement based in Kampala.  Thanks to the power being out the Wonderous Wanderer got the chance to sit down in the candlelight at their headquarters in Makindye for an inspirational conversation with Silas.

A lot of people think of hip hop groups or people promoting the spread of hip hop a lot of people associate that bad language, behaviour, violence and drug use.  This is a common misconception which we have acquired from certain American rappers.  In fact the Hip Hop movement is well known in the US to have saved lives due to its ability to turn negative energy into positive energy using creative means.  The hip hop movement encompassing MC’s, break dancers, graffiti artists and beatboxers has been a creative outlet for underprivileged youth since the 1970’s and with a little help from Silas and Bavubuka it is changing lives in Uganda.  Silas is a founding member of Bataka Squad one of the pioneering hip hop groups in Uganda introducing the country to the Lugaflow style.

Bavubuka began as a dream of Silas’ when he was living in Canada, “For a good two years I was dreaming of coming to Africa.  While I was in school the vision started to manifest as to what I could really do...I needed to find a good reason why I should come back.  I wanted to be of purpose to be of use.”  Silas did come back to Uganda with his dream in tow in 2005 which marks the beginning of the Bavubuka Foundation and long road ahead filled with dreams, music and interesting people.  What exactly does the Bavubuka Foundation do?  “Bavubuka provides spaces for young people to self express, not only that but its focus is to really empower young people to be leaders and take up responsibilities in their communities.  To be a part of the solution to all the issues that are going on.  So really equipping them with the power to be able to narrow down things that are happening and being part of the solution bringing the change that they want to see.  Not only that but giving them a platform to start being consciously aware of things that are going on around the world and to build a global citizenship.”  According to the Bavubuka website their aim is this “The Bavubuka Foundation is proud to be in parternship with the Temple of Hip Hop created to assist in the building of Hip Hop as a legitimate community of prosperous and peace-filled people. We are highly supportive of their belief that Hip Hop is an alternative behaviour capable of raising one's self-awareness, self-worth, and self-respect and support their Hip Hop Declaration of Peace which embodies these principles.

Follow this link for just one of the many videos Bavubuka have on YouTube

  

You might be wondering how encouraging youth to be creative helps them accomplish all this, how can equipping someone with certain skills motivate them to perpetuate change in their community?  Silas likes the term revolution when speaking about the Foundation, “being a part of Uganda, you can ask a University kid here what is revolution and they won’t be able to explain to you what the term revolution really means because there are no platforms there for creativity.  To me when I was coming home as an artist I said I want to leave a mark of using creativity as a tool for transformation.”  Like any movement based around change through creativity there are always going to be critics, just like Edgar Allan Poe or Bob Marley and the Wailers had so too will Bavubuka.  “If you have exercised yourself in the field of getting out and meeting the people and meeting real stories of true life challenges then you would understand the need of creativity especially in poverty stricken environments” says Silas. 

Something that is really interesting about Bavubuka is that they are not simply mimicking the hip hop of other countries they have been responsible for what Silas terms “indigenous” hip hop in Uganda.  That is the beautiful thing about hip hop is its ability to traverse countries and cultures and become adapted by people worldwide and modified to suit different languages and issues.  The only thing that doesn’t change is the power and influence the music has for disaffected youths.  “Empowering young people to embrace their culture, to embrace their tradition which has gained us a lot of respect from the elderly.  Showing the people that you can convey positive messages, educational messages and awareness messages through the art form of using your indigenous language” says Silas of the importance of using language.

“The first mandate that we’ve used is really using music as a tool for social change.” – Silas Balabyekkubo

The unique point of difference Bavubuka has over other movements or organisations is the importance placed on youth speaking out about problems.  “We focus on our MC’s to understand that they have a responsibility in their community to speak for the people.  Most of all our slogans are inspired by the people, for the people, so the work that’s done among young people is actually preserved in the whole community.”  As a nominee for the recently indoctrinated Young Achiever Award in Uganda Silas points out the difficulties faced here as there has been no appreciation for youth efforts in the country.  “On a grass roots level what we have achieved, we have bred a generation of advocates.  We’ve bred a generation of smart, young people who are starting to exercise their entrepreneurial abilities.  We have bred a generation that loves to be educated by creating spaces that allows them to be creatively attached to the need of education to enhance what they’re putting out.”

Three young boys walk into the studio, so after all this talk, it’s only fair to ask Silas what he thinks these young boys will grow up to be.  “These (boys) are some of the youngest MC’s in Uganda.  They’re still in school and I always tell people when they come to Bavubuka, the kids that come here are not only rappers, you’ve got young ones that are aspiring to be lawyers, electrical engineers, graphic designers, you’ve got actors.  We’re a part of young people aspiring to achieve our dreams but creating a platform whereby we springboard of each other’s strengths.  So really these young ones are the young leaders, I mean these young kids are freestylers.  One thing that I have seen among them as they have proved is that at this age, because the art of freestyle is the art of critical thinking, so you have a kid like this talking about child issues.  I think it’s adding to another creative realm of Uganda.  It’s showing young people that hey we’ve got a voice and we can speak up!”

If you’re worried that Bavubuka Foundation will end any time soon, fear not!  Silas has assured Uganda that the movement is a lifetime commitment, “it’s a legacy, we’re aiming to establish a dynasty!  It will live in the memoirs and the memories of the many kids that have walked on this property.”

One Love.

Photos by Roshan Karmali (the fabulous, super talented Roshan Karmali)

Kenya International Film Festival

All dressed up for the Premiere!

Thursday night was the official opening of the Kenya International Film Festival and despite waiting a few hours for the Vice President to arrive and give his official speech it was a great night.  The strictly black tie affair meant an opportunity to dress up and step out in style!  Even though after all that standing around in high heels meant really, really sore feet at the end of the night, meeting a lot of inspirational women made me a very happy wanderer.  The female actresses, directors, producers, editors and writers made me feel inspired, empowered and more focused on my own direction.  The film the Rugged Priest was really good and even though Kenyan films have some catching up to do with international film standards in terms of editing and sound production it was more than enjoyable.  The wonderful Rogers Otieno, writer, director and star of My Moving Home and one of my favourite interviewees took me along as his partner in crime.  If you get the opportunity to see the film, it is worth it and if you are in Nairobi make sure you check out the rest of the Film Festival.

One Love

Slovenia...suicide and good coffee

Slovenia?  I know you've heard of it but probably only because of the World Cup.  It looks like Duloc from Shrek, has an insanely high suicide rate and is probably smaller than Sydney.

After my amazing time in Venice I head to Slovenia, with absolutely no idea what to expect.  I mean how could I really?  I know a lot of Slovenians but until 3 years ago I ashamedly admit I had heard of Slovenia but could never have pointed it out to you on a map.  It’s north of Italy, surrounded by Hungary and Austria and the food is to die for!  If you want to get fat, move to Ljubljana. 

Seeing B (Bernarda) again was amazing and I must say I would never have gone there if it wasn’t for her.  It was weird, you know, almost 2 years have past since we last saw each other but aside from our hair being longer nothing had changed.

The city of Ljubljana is stunning, the buildings are so incredible I just can’t describe them and the cobble stoned streets make you feel like you’ve just stepped back in time.  There is a museum or some kind of art or photography exhibition on just about every street corner so I spent days being all cultured up and visiting these things, and a castle!  They have castles here!  For an Aussie that was pretty cool to see in real life.

Slovenians themselves are an interesting bunch.  They wear a lot of black and grey, look like a bunch of emo’s and don’t seem to have much of a sense of humour.  I suppose you’d be depressed too if you were cold most of the time and living in a shoebox.  It’s a small country with a ridiculously high suicide rate.  But the scenery is fantastic, looking out the window of B’s apartment right onto the Austrian alps.

Ljubljana from a castle tower

Jumping on a castle

I went horseriding around the base of the Alps and Lake Bled one day, which was something I didn’t think I would ever say...like ever...in my life.  “Yes, so there I was horseriding around the base of the Alps...”  It’s almost pompous, but it wasn’t.  The elderly man that took me around kept stopping at houses of people he knew for Schnaaps.  Clearly a Slovenian thing, don’t think it could take off in Australia.  It’s red or purple and takes like you’ve been stewing your blueberries in kerosene and then drinking it...hmmm...tasty.  But I tell you what, that stuff is gold for warming you on the inside.  So full of purple fuel we continued to ride around paddocks and fields, after about an hour or so I got a bit to the point of over it.

That night at B’s place the pain began to kick in, a friendly reminder that I was no longer young and nubile.  2 weeks later I still have bruising around my, well...just think about yeah? 

If it wasn’t so dry in Slovenia I would have stayed longer just to spend more time with B, but after ten days my skin was in desperate need of a milk bath.  I miss that woman all the time, and as the bus turned towards Trieste and I thought of all the things I had left behind I smiled and shed a little tear.  The bitter sweet departure from Slovenia...what I left behind and for what lay ahead.

Bi-Ko-fe we love you...we're not sure what you're trying to say but we love you

Venician Flashback

Seeing as I am well an truly slack with updating I'm going to give you some flashbacks...

Venice.  Amazing.  Beautiful.  Smelly...Seeing as the experience was an African one, I traversed the city listening to Akon on my iPod, seemed fitting really.

Europe, that big scary dominant world force.  A place where most travellers go.  Of all places I end up in Venice to spend the day.  So I nervously check my bag into the train station and head off to explore a bit.  With no idea where to go or what to do I manage to get myself onto the ferry which heads up and down the canal. 

Lucky for me I have my hair up and my tattoo on display, not by any real choice other than I had disgustingly messy and oily hair and it’s better that the hair remains hidden than look like a complete hobo.  So the biggest Senegalese man I have ever seen gets on the ferry and lucky for me notices the tattoo and comes over for a chat.  He found it hilarious and confusing that I have no idea where I am going, no idea what to do and have no form of map to get myself around.  He is a security guard in Venice and I can see why, he’s huge, strong and can put on a serious-don’t-mess-with-me face.  But to me he is an absolute sweetheart, friendly and inviting.  

He took me to meet the fabulous Moulaye Niang the Senegalese born, Murano trained maker of fine Afro-inspired beads and jewellery.  I wrote the following piece on him for the Edirisa website so click here to have a read of it because he really is one of a kind.  I am pretty certain if you contact him he would make and post you a piece for the right price, worth it I would say.  I have my very own unique African inspired, Muranero necklace and it’s absolutely stunning.  I had the best time in Venice thanks to these lovely men, we had coffee, lunch and just chatted all day.  I actually wish I had of spent more time there just to be around their beautiful and caring spirits.  I mean who else would take a stranger into their place and spend the day entertaining them other than Africans?  It’s great to see that their hospitable and friendly nature travels with them, even if they have become trendy Venice dwelling citizens sipping on espresso's and biting nimbly into bruscetta all day.

One Love 

R.I.P. Kitty

Why someone would kill my dog I don’t know.  Kitty (yes I named a dog kitty) was the best puppy in the world.  She was so friendly and fun, she was the sort of dog who was always there when I needed her.  

In fact I needed that dog more than she needed me.  Now all I have are some photos and memories.

Like, when she was a little puppy I would walk her to the trading centre and people would flee from her because Ugandans are for the most part afraid of dogs to the point where it’s hilarious to watch.  I used to hold her as the school kids would pat her and I would teach them to not be afraid of animals.  Or the time when it wouldn’t stop raining and I really wanted airtime so I walked in the mud and rain to the shop with my faithful sidekick in tow.  Kitty would sleep in my bed and during the night she would wiggle her way from the foot of the bed until she was snuggled nicely under my chin.  I remember how she hated being washed so afterwards we would lay in bed together and cuddle up until she was warm and back to her usual overly-energetic self.  I don;t like chickens and Kitty must have known this because she would chase those birds out of the Gardens when they got in.  I loved returning to the Gardens because she was always so happy to see me jumping all over me, chewing my hair and gnawing at my arms...she made me feel loved.

Fine, so she wasn’t the brightest dog ever...like the time she brought a used diaper into my room, or when she burnt her whiskers trying to steal meat off the charcoal stove or the time she got knocked by a boda and hurt her leg.  But Kitty was the best dog I ever had.  Here’s some photos of my baby dog for you, I loved her.

All grown up sleeping in the studio

Walking up Nkozi Hill

Comfort, Kitty and I on my birthday

Just about to sleep

Bobo relaxing with Kitty

My last photo with Kitty, napping together on the grass

The painful ordeal of bathing

Womens Rights....what women’s rights?

What would you do to defend your rights?  What lengths would you take to ensure that there is a free and fair election in your country?  When would you just give up?  Would you give up?

Earlier this year the Women’s League for the IPC of Uganda were arrested for protesting peacefully outside the Electoral Commission office while trying to deliver a petition.  The women were roughed up and mistreated. (I was priveledged to interview Nyakato Rusoke of the FDC in February for Edirisa, make sure you read the article). Charged with illegal assembly (which is absolute bollocks because no laws were broken) the women have not only been vilified by the Government but they have been dragged to court again and again without hearing.  Once a month all 33 women stand in front of the Magistrates Court only to hear nothing but come back again next month.  This is a blatant attempt by the current Government to break their spirits and keep their focus away from the bigger issues.   This will not break them!  The women continue to demonstrate peacefully again and again only to be harassed by the police and Government officials.  They have been imprisoned, charged, assaulted with poison and had their dignity offended.  Who needs to lift up a woman’s dress while they arrest them so the press can get that upskirt shot.  Shame on you Red Pepper!  In the immortal words of Derryn Hinch...shame, shame, shame.

Last month there appeared a light at the end of the tunnel!  The presiding Magistrate fired himself from the case as he is biased towards the NRM.  Woohoo!  Finally someone is admitting to this charade!  So on Wednesday the 6^th October a new Magistrate who has had a month to look over the paperwork took over and hopes for some kind of resolution were high.  The women stood defiantly waiting for those words...”case dismissed”.  Alas, it was not meant to be.  Do we have to wait another 9 months before this Magistrate also steps down or will it all be resolved after the election results?  I guess we’ll just have to wait and see but really, come on!  This is an outrageous abuse of power by officials.  But since when has that been abnormal here.  Hate me for what I am saying I don’t care, there are women out there fighting for their say, fighting for their rights, fighting for their children, future and their country and what happens?  Their names are dragged through the mud, one of them has allegedly mysteriously died, others hospitalised and many degraded by nasty paparazzi getting the money shots. 

Stay strong women of the world and continue to fight the good fight.  You have support, people who love you, care about you, only want the best for you, are proud of you and look up to you. 

Jah Bless.