Category: diary, 8/08-12/08

My Father

I have my father’s coloring. Shades of ochre faded to white, glistening deposits in termite’s bodies. And his deep socketed eyes, sunken in, withdrawn, brown puddles of loamy silence. His fingers, a frustrated pianist’s, unable to master grace, playing chord upon chord of blocky hymns, foot heavy on pedal, pursuing the elusive beauty that allows … Continue reading My Father

Body Slang

In fact, I’m becoming a well-known faggot. —Essex Hemphill One cannot decently “have a hard on” everywhere. —Frantz Fanon Frantz Fanon is the gateway through which many of us, black academics who live across continents, must pass through. This is not only for us but also for the credentialing bodies that, despite our many structural … Continue reading Body Slang


No one does anything in Kenya. Official and unofficial writing is filled with erasures, fingers that point nowhere. “Beginning on June 15, 2008 current accounts will be closed.” By whom? Bodies without embodiment. “The Management.” “The Board.” “Government.” “Mobile phones not allowed here.” “Simama Hapa.” “Last week four men were found dead.” No one ever … Continue reading 12.05.08