a. Kenya is multiple: developed, hyperdeveloped, underdeveloped, undeveloped, voided, erased, forgotten, unremembered. That is not quite right. Development cannot be the master term to map multiplicity. Let the statement stand as a symptom of how Kenya must be talked about.
b. Kenya is many: like a piece of food on an uneven grill, it is charred, undone, raw, overdone, tough, tender, flaking, bloody, chewy, rendered, and still waiting. One might write about “hot spots.” Sometimes, flames break out.
c. Kenya is time-fractured: the too-fast cuts across the not-yet, the rapid pace still trying to catch up with the always-had-been, and we splay across time zones, ancient-not-yets, impatient to be where we have already been and must already have forgotten because memory cannot sustain the undoing of the having been.
d. Sometimes, there is a pause.
e. Sometimes, there is a reckoning.
f. Don’t look now.
g. We are, even now, bits of fading insistence.
h. Some of us insist on phantom pains.
i. Telling the story, the clear-voiced narrator drops into a mumble, gazes into the flame, blushes at the fire’s insistence. Stutters.
j. Some of us are squatters in someone else’s dream. Some are still trying to be imagined into an us. Some imaginations strangle and steal. Some imaginations steal away.
k. We fossilize too rapidly. Fossils fear discovery. Fossils fear forgetting. We are sclerotic. We survive to never-have-been.
l. In the wind, a faint hint of maybe, a wisp of hiding. Voices haunt the fractures of subjunctive worlds.