#SlaveryOfBlackAfricans in 2017

In Libya, a man became a slave today, a strong farm hand for $400. We will never be able to deny that we knew. It could be my brother Eric. It isn’t. A Privilege. Slaves are being sold in Libya. They are black. In 1526, the first transatlantic slave voyage to Brazil was completed successfully. After that, the trade ports were open. I cannot imagine there were any news about this development. Maybe there were, who knows? Today, thanks to technology, we all know that slaves are being sold in Libya and we know just about how much a live human body costs. If you didn’t know, google it. Now. You couldn’t Google things in 1530. You can now.

We may not do anything about it. That is OK. A prerogative. We may not even acknowledge that we know. But we know. And we know that we know.

London demo against Slavery-original

I have been trying to teach my mother to use Skype. She is not teachable. She refuses to save the sequence of events that lead to a video call, even though some days, she could bite a bee to see my face. But, irony of ironies, my mother performs all her banking activities in her mobile telephone. Being very private about her finances, who isn’t?! She does not need help with mobile banking, medical insurance payments or a myriad other activities a woman, almost seventy years old, can perform on the phone to move money around the world. An open digital economy.

In 1985, one of my friends was born in London. Her grandmother in Kenya did not meet her until seven years later, when they came back to Kenya to visit. Some photos had been sent by snail post during the years. A number of telephone calls were made over the continents in an attempt to create a bond between child and grandmother. Bonds are a strange thing, they are created in the subconscious. My sister in Nairobi had a child last year. Within an hour after the birth, I had pictures of mother and baby in my own telephone. In my hands. In my home. Kisses, hugs, faces, laughter and my siblings’ voices telling me about the new baby. Trying to convince me that the new baby, a girl, had smiled immediately after birth.

Technology won’t sell a human body, just as the gun won’t shoot a running boy. Technology won’t free the slave, just as a scream doesn’t sooth pain. We still have to do the dirty work of mending the world. But, technology is sending us images of slaves being sold. And my mother can move money around in her telephone. A slave will give birth to a child tonight. From cradle to death or to castration? Someone who deserves, who feels entitled, will earn some cash. The future is secured.

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World News: World’s most eligible bachelor is off the market!

Skin Thickener lotion

This morning, I showered, dressed and put on some make up.

Make up for me is a click of foundation and a little lipstick.

My skin doesn’t like make up that much. And I don’t give that much of a crap to make Makeup look good.

Before I left for work (today, work is a summit for Data BI Nerds), I browsed through the news. One day too late as usual, I find out about the attack at Westminster that took place yesterday.

I click on to read about this terrible news. Where is the world headed? How can we save ourselves? Where do we hide our fear? Where do we hide our courage? Who do we the civilized world have to attack to make this stop???

…huh?…mmm…huh? To the right of this important news item, there is even worse news!

The WORLD‘s most eligible bachelor has been taken!

I feel crushed: nooooo. not him! no. no. no. after all this trouble with lipstick that ends up on the cheek?

Then I wonder despairingly: who??!

And then I realize: oh. him! I don’t know him!

Why is he the world‘s most eligible? Why don’t my relatives know of him?

My very beautiful cousin is single and the aunts have been going nuts pictures & work titles about all the bachelors she could capture if she paid any attention.

Is he nice? is there any news of him doing nice things?

Is he kind? is there any news of him doing kind things?

Is he respectful? is there any news of him doing respectful things?

Is he sober not abusing anything?? is there any news of him doing sober things?

None of that crap.

Lots of information about how much money he is worth and where his properties are to be found.

Due to promegneture, pregonut, primegenite, primegerosorous, primogeniture?

I read that the one who has captured him is his high school sweetheart.

So was he ever The World’s most eligible in the first place? You know, being in love with someone can takes care of that.

Being the world’s most eligible; that means the whole world including China, Thailand, Guinea, Vietnam, US, Mexico and all the regular suspects?

gemmacorrell-nope-square-greeting-card

That any girl woman, including my cousin in the world had a chance until he was snatched right under our sweaty pimply noses?

The spin in my head: So..

if she just pulled herself up by the bootstraps cheap broken zipper,

wore her best dress Polyester from Ellos,

took some time on her makeup from H&M,

Used her teeth whitener cheapest Colgate from ÖoB more often, and then went out to Debaser Medis as we did when we were younger;

She would have a chance to meet the world’s most eligible, take him home and make him hers?

Why doesn’t someone mail out a newsletter with this kind of data shit to unmarried women under 30 every month?

Given data in time, anyone, & I mean anyone, could have captured this bachelor!

 

My Design Proposal for US-Mexico Wall

Mexican Wall

Well. I am feeling a little creative today.

You can guess which sides of the wall each design fits. You could even mix and match them a little to make things spicy.

Usually, my creativity ends in a PowerPoint presentation, visio process, architectural or infrastructural model.

This, as you understand took ALL of my creative juices. I will be resting after this.

I am also starting to doubt whether I will ever be allowed to enter US soil. ever. Being:

  1. Swedish
  2. writing this

Recommended Art: The 2 movies to watch this Month

If you don’t do anything else this month, do this!

2016 ended with the hysteria of Have a Valentine Dinner with Idris Elba. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have had my moments with Idris, but he is getting on; isn’t he?

trevanteDare: In 2017, let anyone, & I mean anyone, up a video like that with Trevante Rhodes on it! I will be all over that shit like a bad rash. Oh. God. Please. Let Someone.

Last weekend I had 2 dates. Good dates.

The 2nd date was on Saturday with a friend who is culturally cultivated. The movie was the highly recommended Moonlight.

Forget about the movie. I don’t really care about the movie. It is him, he doesn’t become wonderful until the end.

First, it is a clumsy boy who everyone loves to abuse, disabuse & ignore. Except the drug dealer of course. Whatever his name is.

And then it is a teenager who is gay and lost. Abused, disabused & ignored. Or not. And there is another teenage boy who is not so important touching him at some point.

chironSuddenly, from no where, he is this man. No, he is these muscles. these fantastic muscles and the wonderful eyes. He has these awful golden teeth but who cares when you look at those eyes and those muscles.

His regular smile, without the golden teeth, is beautiful.

He is supposed to be gay but I don’t believe it. I would not be having all those feels if he was gay. or? Because if he was gay, only the gay guys would be feeling anything looking at his muscles and his so “come here” eyes. And the lips; just slightly open. Just look at those eyes and those lips!

After Moonlight, I left the movies wondering: “what do I do with all this heat, warmth, wanting love?”

The explanation for my not so lady-ish, catholic nun-recommended feels? I watched Moonlight just 24 hours after watching 50 shades darker. As you can guess, this was with a kind of loose canons gang of friends.

50 shades is ART. Real art. The shit. There is even an art display room called the Red Room. Art in its best form.

I never saw 50 shades of Grey. I read the book. I am pretending to be better that those who watched the movie.

smiley-emoji

Someone once said to me that the 50 shades franchise is for middle aged women who are starved for fun and sex. This was during a weak moment when I was pretending to be better that those who watched 50 Shades of Grey.

That someone was wrong! Totally not true! They were speaking about the movie. Not Mr Grey.

Mr Grey, the master is h.o.o.o.t. Watch 1:02-1:04 and let me know if that is for middle aged ladies!

I left the movies wondering “what do I do with all this heat, warmth, wanting love??” My wonderful friends recommended a sex shop where I can actually buy the “balls” and other paraphernalia that can be useful.

But just for this night, it was too late to buy any of these wonderful recommendations.

You will thank me after you’ve watched these! Or not.

Love is blind; friendship closes its eyes and listens with the soul – Part 2

Part 1 is here

Yes. the Carmelite sisters taught me all I know about discipline, hard work, rebellion and self respect. They also opened all our letters, read them, censored them with a marking pen and then handed them Carmelitasover. I was a small thin girl with short hair. So sister Paula called me to the “letter reader’s office” [there really was a letter reader!] and she said “Linnie, if you weren’t so small and innocent I would think this is a boy disguised in a girl’s name. But I am happy to think that it will take a while before boys notice you at all! You have no breasts!!?” She looked me over, smiled and handed the letter to me. She then shooed me out of the office.

Encouraging. Very encouraging. I have a lot to thank the sisters for. Although puberty and discipline (rules) were at odds with each other for the four years they shared a compound.

For  many years, I thought the two verses were the whole song. Until I moved to Sweden 10 years ago and looked it up because I wanted to send the CD/LP to Sessa back in Nairobi. I then found the whole.

In mid November 2002, the end of my 2nd year in high school, I received another letter from Sessa. Nothing special with that, I received a letter from Sessa bi-weekly. If the nuns didn’t keep it too long, then I received two letters at once. Which was fine with me.

Dearest, dearest, good things are happening!! the letter began

Hope you are ok and hope the nuns are treating you as Christians should treat each other. She was, and still is cheeky when she sets her mind to changing status quo

Are you really a good street child in the play? I know you can act but you are so proud! A street child has to be dirty, humble and broken. That is what you have to be good at.Taking care of the garden in the mornings sounds like fun. I would have liked to do that with you. But mass in the morning feels exaggerated. Do you really think the priest would be having a relationship with sister Paula or are you just mean? Is it because she reads your letters?

thank you for the book about Anna Frank. Mom said you are keeping my head in the sky so I am hiding all new books at the Salon. The ladies like it. They say it fools the customers that we are classy ladies. Sessa had been training/working at the Rwandan owned salon outside our court, musaponi court, in Komarock, Nairobi. She was learning to be a hairdresser.

Be kind, be nice, be strong, be happy.

Chari has been to visit and yesterday, she informed me that I could find a job at a tourist restaurant at the coast. A place called Watamu. It sounds tamu tamu (sweet sweet) already. I plan to go and see. But I won’t leave until you have come home for Christmas holidays. When will we see each other if I leave without seeing you in December? Only God knows. I am now earning a little more at the salon so I am saving a little money for you so you can come with me and see where I will live. We need to move to a bigger place so Tensa & I can have a room. If I move to the coast, then at least Tensa can have the room to herself. It is no longer comfortable to sleep in the living room. Some privacy is needed since you know what… [referring to puberty, breasts and menstruation] Hopefully I will earn some more in Watamu.

I am happy that I did not rush to marry Timo. When I move and work far from here, I may be able to wait so we can  marry at the same time!! Nobody will bother with me then and I can just wait. [If you become a sister, I will also become a sister.] I thought she did that to please the nuns

Number 52 fought all night last night again. And she is pregnant again. Remember last time we wondered if you can get pregnant from fighting??!! But I will tell you more when you come home.

I don’t know, do you think it is a waste that I am better at hairdressing now  and then I am going to work at a restaurant?

Lots of love from Sessa Sessa.

We both knew my parents would never allow me to come with Sessa. And we also knew that I would come with her anyways. But we never spoke about permission or the lack of permission. We just planned our lives and went about it.

Where mother felt Sessa was holding me back, a bad influence with no prospects; Sessa’s mother felt I was keeping Sessa fed on a dream that would never come true. A dream of independence, freedom, own income.

Schools opened during the 2nd week of January. We would have plenty of time.

Too good to stay relationships?

I suppose we all have, ok.

maybe not all of us.

some of us maybe?

a few of us?

Never mind! For those of us who have read the book, Too good to leave, Too bad to stay, the knowledge that it could be time to leave, or time to commit, probably comes after Diagnostic question #20. Is there a clearly formulated, passionately held difference between you that has to do with the shape and texture and quality of your life as you actually experience it?

Well, my passionately held belief regarding marriage proposals is: “nothing shall be so extravagant to make me feel coerced, in debt or guilt-tripped”.

Imagine, then, my utter horror every time I read or hear of proposals where helicopters, expensive antique cars, serenades, videos on social media etc are involved.

If you are raised by an Nmom who cares lots about how things look outwards, they will enjoy the proposal so much they will say yes on your behalf. If you have a totally “balanced” mom NOTE: DOES. NOT. EXIST, they will see the nice guy you are turning down.

a-lady Being “a lady“, brought up by narcissists, I get my knickers in a twist, and see vividly imagine all the limitations that come with this kind of proposal.

  1. will I ever be able to get pissed at this guy without feeling like the biggest A-hole of this city??! A guy who proposed with a helicopter; can I get really, really pissed at him? Scream/shout at him? slam the door behind me? throw an IKEA plate at the wall near him I am conscious enough to NOT throw an expensive plate? lock him out of the house when he promises to come home early and then “looses track of time” 2 weekends running?
  2. Can I say NO to sex with this guy? You know; I am tired. I have a headache. a backache. an ear ache. my hand hurts. my toe feels weird etc NO. TO. SEX.  with super nice guy without guilt?
  3. Can I dislike this guy’s morning breath? mother? feet? can I dislike anything of him without feeling like the worst person EVER? I mean, poor guy, he proposed with a helicopter. He has a bank loan since then.
  4. Can I question this guy? not too much, this ego apparently needs stroking just ask him “are you sure about that darling?” without feeling like the most disloyal lady in the world? I mean he is the best, isn’t he?
  5. Will anyone ever want or bear listening to me when I want/need to vent about the dysfunctional relationship I am living within? Most people I know may enjoy my dysfunctional relationship a little too much to want to loose it. Yes, I know, crazy world!
    • The frenemies were not impressed with the proposal in the first place. According to them: “OMG! you are soooo strong, I never thought anyone would want to marry you!! & now this??! Congratulations!!”?
    • Nmom is more worried for my welfare: “Is he hitting you? violent? drinking too much? unfaithful to you?” answer:”no mom”. He just treats me like maybe worse than he treats his car.
  6. My real friends are exhausted by all the attention I have been getting from my beau boo boo, babie, babe, darling, lovie boo boo, strawberry muffins, cheese cake, tea with honey, who “works less” in order to spend more time loving me.

You can see why I am not married, eh? I win the “Overthink everything!” contest.

Not all bus drivers were abused as children; apparently

A few weeks ago, maybe months even, I wrote about the bus driver who drove away from me when I was so close, so so close, I thought he must have been mis-handled as a child; which may have damaged his sense of empathy (or sympathy).

Unfortunate what our upbringing can do to us.

Today, something quite the opposite of the experience above happened to me; which means that I can disapprove my previous thesis.

Yes I can. I totally can. It’s fantastic. It’s great.

Counter Thesis: There exists bus drivers who were loved and nurtured as babies; and are therefore friendly, well adjusted, lovely people. These great servants of the people do actually step on the breaks, smile and wait for you. They smile. Yes they do.

Proof: This morning, the bus number 526 was almost driving off the bus stop when I, in my regular “just a few seconds late” tempo, came running, huffing & puffing. He saw me, literally stepped on the breaks and waited for me to huff & puff into the bus.

“good morning!!” he said, all happy

“huff & puff. wheeze. cough. good morning to you too!” I said in surprise

“It is a new day, with new challenges and surprises!” he keeps on

“wheeze. cough. sure is. sure is. A great day. Fantastic day” I say looking closely at to him to make sure that he is OK

That all the horses are home. That all the nuts are screwed on right. That he isn’t off his hook.

My “all the nuts are screwed on right” radar lights green. Seems a regular chap to me. In a good mood and kind to the core.

“Have a nice day!” he says when I got off the bus at Odenplan

Conclusion: There exists bus drivers who were not abused or neglected as children. Thank heavens for small mercies.

And I really did have a very nice day.