I feel like I I’m finally feeling/seeing/tasting the fruits of my sacrifices, 

(like a) phoenix/lioness on the rise.


 accomplished so much (en) yet  (it’s like) I’ve finally woken up to how much work I have ahead of me;

a lifetime of (revolushunary) possibilities.


Finally unpacked into my new home.

My (own) space.


Mixed emotions.

Old photographs. And the cloths of all my family and travel.


I did my laundry. Put the bed into the bed/room.

Took out my spices, my cups and my plates.


I also looked for my belongings.

The precious art/offerings in glass.

Magic, all gone.


After a year away,

I came back (home) to almost nothing…


En when I came back home I had

Almost nothing….

The clothers on my back,

In my suitcase…..


My lifetime in the destiny that I had met,

When I went back home….


I came back to find that everything about me had changed,

And Tdot was kind of still there…..


My people had moved on,

In their own directions….


En some of us still sought each other out….

I sought out (only)  a few..



Because I came back to find that my concept of home had radically changed,

It seemed I had to accept my destiny,

In Ifrica.


My father’s land,

The mother land,


Came back to find that our memories of love are all we have to sustain us,

En home is where the heart is.


I came back to discover that it was mostly I who had radically changed,

A place that I had tried to make home for 6 years,

Where I had first publicly come out,


Come into myself…..


Where I learnt the most about me,

Was in foreign.


I went back home,

En re/discovered community.


I made peace with leaving Nairobi,

Because as much as that is the longest/most endurable marker of home,

Where I grew up…


It wasn’t home,

Not where I wanted to be,

En neither was Toronto,

Or anywhere else I had never been to outside of Africa….


Because home was close to the equator…


Somewhere close to the horn,

And deep in the middle,

At the source of the nile…


That is where home is,

Where Fatima was born,

And kandakes ruled for centuries before Christ was born.


That is where I wanted to be,

In another place,

Not here….


Yet, as this story goes, this is about how I made (a) home this past weekend….

The moon growing to full,

More than halfway there…


I had a housewarming,

With 2 members of my chosen family,

My brotha en sista (of sorts)



Opened my apartment up for the first time to visitors,

Other than the, other, spirit children,

En fantasies of my soul mate/comrade/partners….

Tried to make zucchini pancakes,

That almost backfired,

But they were tasty enough, after t. Took over the cooking….


I learnt one important lesson that night,

I should learn to stop following recipes,

And just follow my instincts,

With a lil guidance from teachers….


I’d made zucchini pancakes for the first time this year,

For eid…

And they turned out beautifully…

This time, on Friday afternoon,

I went searching the net for a good zucchini pancake/tamarind chutney/raita/recipe,

Although maybe the more important lesson from that was that I shouldn’t try and bend the rules so much when following instructions…


Sometimes when the tamarind chutney doesn’t call for yoghurt, it doesn’t call for anything milk based….sometimes it could just be as simple as boil, strain, blend and mix with fresh cut…..

And sometimes, it’s not that difficult to give a lil’ back, reach out to people you love, and tell them what you should…..

We met again today, went for the last day of programming of the Canadian black film festival, at the AGO…..I realised that I don’t really get out that much anymore, not since I’ve been back….I may even be getting anti-social…

More content to listen to the squirrels, the trees and the wind.

At peace, eating, reading and writing on the grass,

Watching the sun, the moon en the stars…..

More inclined to fantasise the places I’d get to, at home,

If only, I could get the money to sustain me while I do the work I need to,

For my survival.


As with almost everything else in my life right now, I was late for the screenings…

Slept in my new room for the 2nd night….I gotta say, I like this feeling of home.

The reality is that I am in the one place in the world that I can truly call home,

Sharing space with the one blood/kin of mine that loves me unconditionally.


And there were more (old) firsts this weekend…

I borrowed my first books of the school year from the library,

If there was a definitive moment that I could pick out as when I first really enjoyed the prospect of staying here longer than I want to, it was then….

When I slid my student card through the self serve book check out machine….placed those bar codes under the infra red and checked out the daughters of africa, dinka cosmology, the archaeology of knowledge & ancient nubia…..

Here I was, back again, checking out books again, that had nothing to do with the courses I was taken, not directly, probably not even in the view of the professor teaching the class…but they are important to my (life) learning…..and I had the privilege of taking them out (again).

It symbolised for me the ways I could subvert power and re/claim my own. I don’t think I had ever really appreciated those books as much as now, that I’ve come back…after finding my focus…here I was surrounded with a wealth of knowledge….after straying so far from the path that I found what I needed….and now, despite bureacracy’s attempt to keep me out…I’m still taking the lesbian studies course, and an extra philosophy of sexuality course to boot….


And I finally get a space of my own,

got good food (zucchini pancakes/tamarind chutney/raita/chicken)  in my fridge,

en a metropass.


Small/big things.

Lovely pictures, to remind me,

Got a laptop to work from and unlimited internet access,

Pages that upload in seconds,

And photos that actually get transferred from hard drive to site….

I wish I had all this in Kenya,


I wish I could have my cake and eat it too.


And really, like so many others have asked,


What does that (turn of) phrase mean anyway?


If I am to have cake, why wouldn’t I eat it?


Why wouldn’t I wanna have more access to resources in the place I grew up?

Why wouldn’t I prefer to live ‘at home’?


Why wouldn’t I seek to earn a living wage while engaging in activism and doing community work?

Why wouldn’t I wanna be able to marry the person of my choice?


Why wouldn’t I wanna have close access to the mountains (of the moon) and the (Indian) ocean?

Why wouldn’t I wanna get away in the forest(s) or the savannas?

Why wouldn’t I wannna grow old in a revolushunary village, with kings and queens, rebuilding healthy/loving/sustainable communities?


I wish I had, I wish I could, I wish I….

En yet I know I have everything I need in my life right now.

And I’m grateful.