Kangsen Feka Wakai
When my mother’s father, Big Papa, was born, the area now known as Cameroon was under German occupation and administration. It was called Kamerun.
Having hosted the colonial buffet of 1884 in Berlin, Germany, like other European powers of that day had carved and designated the region where my forbearers resided as theirs to own and possess.
It was to be a laboratory for their civilizing project.
Continue reading "Shifting Nationalities and Fleeting Identities" »
Kangsen Feka Wakai
At nighttime, they cast diabolic spells along
The seedy concrete boulevards
That line Pothole Avenue.
They sleep to a soundtrack of their snores.
Theirs is a universe of forgotten cosmologies
Where they imbibe the fragments of discarded beliefs.
They desecrate the glyphs of disbanded nomads; instigate the profane
And turn neighbor against neighbor like untrained pit bull dogs.
Bloodied graffiti on the fragile walls in Kibera slums
Odinga sleeps to a soundtrack of Kibaki’s snore.
Continue reading "Post-Communal Urban Palava " »
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