Stories of Our Lives or We Officially Suck at Being Human.

Ugh.
I'm gonna just leave that there.

So The Nest (an amazing Nairobi based arts collective that always seems to be doing the most awesome projects) made a film called Stories of Our Lives about the lives of LGBT folk in Kenya. They were initially going to release it anonymously but decided not to because it's 2014, and it's about time people got their heads out of their asses.

Still with me? Great. Let's keep moving.

So they premiered it at the Toronto Film Festival this year & thought, "Hey, you know what would be great? If we could show this movie to the public back home because it's about Kenyans, for Kenyans, by Kenyans." and that's what they did...or tried to do. *Insert rocket malfunctioning noises*

Basically, the Kenya Film Classification Board (You remember when they tried to ban Wolf of Wall Street and no one, and I mean ABSOLUTELY NOBODY gave a shit...yeah, those guys) restricted them from doing that under the premise that it "Promotes homosexuality" & "Contravenes the morals and values of Kenyans" or something like that. So that was that, they're trying to appeal it and we're waiting to see how that goes.

But ah, dear reader, the story progresses. Yesterday, they arrested George Gachara, executive producer of the film, for failure to obtain a licence prior to shooting (You can see The Nest's statement about this here). They released him on bail but he has a hearing coming up on the 18th, which is tomorrow.


So a lot's going on at that quaint house of creativity on Jabavu road right now. And a stack of questions are buzzing through our heads.

Did they break the law?
Well, yes. They did. It's in the Film & Stage Plays Act Cap.222. Shooting a film for public exhibition without a licence is punishable by a fine not more than Ksh. 100,000 , a sentence not longer than 5 years or both.

So why didn't they just apply for the licence?
Because they probably wouldn't have gotten it either way. Part of the application process involves giving the licensing officer a copy of the script and a synopsis of the film. So they'd have just red stamped it "DENIED" & moved on to licensing the next Aromat commercial.

But they did the right thing, right?
Abso-fucking-lutely.

See, I feel like the whole 'morality' thing is just a ploy for people to distract themselves from their  personal issues and feel better about their crappy lives e.g: "Even though my father abandoned us for his mistress and I'm an alcoholic with commitment issues, at least I'm not homosexual." *smiles & goes on with shitty life* 
And politicians use it because they think that we wouldn't notice the fact that they're stealing money from us, grabbing land in Karen & basically doing shit-all if we focused on something else...the homosexuals.
(Because the homosexuals totally made them do it)

I'm gonna throw another "Ugh" in there for old times sake. Ugh.

I just don't understand why people have their rectums in a knot about it. I just don't.
Gay people are real. And they're everywhere. They could be standing right behind you in the bank, sitting beside you when you eat dinner...or reading this right now.

Fucking get over it.
NOBODY is trying to fornicate in your face. NOBODY wants to have sex with you (If you're gross to people of the opposite sex, you're probably just as disgusting to people of the same sex. Face it, you're still ugly.)
If someone being the true versions of themselves makes you that uncomfortable then you should probably deal with those deep rooted insecurities first before deciding your next course of action.

Homosexuality isn't a foreign concept. The church is a foreign concept. Skinny jeans are a foreign concept. Rick Ross is a foreign concept. Christmas is a foreign concept. Homosexuality is just as old as heterosexuality.

The fact that I even had to blog about this just goes to show how much ignorance we still have left to eradicate in this country. Can we make that happen, please? Vision 2020 and all that jazz. I'm ready to start making posters.

So you want to talk about morality? Homosexuality isn't immoral. How can loving another human being ever be immoral? Because they're the same gender? Is that it? Jesus Christ.

Bigotry, hatefulness, discrimination. Now that's immoral. Hating someone so much because they're not like you.
The sooner everyone realizes this, the sooner we can get to channeling our hate to people that really deserve it, like ISIS or corrupt politicians.

The Nest made a beautiful film that would have sent our film industry to the heavens but because of idiocy like this, I can't watch it. That makes me sad.

Dark Chocolate, Creme Souffles and Other Euphemisms.

To be light skinned…

That’s just the dream isn’t it?

The Kenyan dream? The black dream?

Since the days of the Fair & Lovely ads on KTN,

“Makes you fairer” “Enhances your complexion” “Removes dark spots.”

Which for some people, means their whole face.

To be the colour of a honey roasted cashewnut,

Have all the men do double takes as I swivel on by,

Sashaying my hips left, right and centre.

I’m the dream.

I’m the dream girl.

I’m like a Barbie in it’s box.

You can look but you can’t touch  because I said so, that and the shade of my skin.

We all know the drill,

“Light bitches be like…”

“Dark skinned bitches be like…”

Light skinned girls are beautiful, high maintenance and classy.

Dark skinned girls are the market vendors, begging you to please please please buy their tomatoes 20! Tomato 20! Ishirini tu! Tomato!

And we automatically assume that their struggle wouldn’t have been so hard if only their mommas' had a sweet tooth for the yellow yellow.

It’s funny. We’re a race that divides our self so much to bicker over something as frivolous as the hue of our skin. Leave alone the colour, now we’re putting it into Crayola subgroups because we’re Just. That. Shallow. Like we feel like we desperately need to cling to some system of hierarchy, so that everyone knows their place. (and yours)

So girls grow up scrubbing themselves raw and hating their parents for not being a bit more exotic. 

They become teenagers, and cake themselves with powder or foundation that’s 3 shades too light.

 Adults. They can’t afford to spend 50 million on skin lighteners,

 I mean, it’s not like the starving people in Turkana need to eat or anything.

 It’s not like people, displaced since 2008 don’t like the quaint tents they're living in. I digress, adults.

So they buy their juice from the little boutique known as River Road in itty bitty tubes and bottles and slather that rich creamy goodness every night like a washed out musician snorts coke.

 “Yaaasss sweet elixir, make me beautiful. Make me desirable. Make me better! Make me better!!”

 And it worked. You go girl! Just hide those knuckles and those elbows and no one will even be able to tell you zapped your melanin away. I repeat, you go  girl.

And she’ll keep maintaining her gorgeous new flesh because she has 4 dates this weekend. She hasn’t been asked out since form 2, Kamau from the Funkie, he smelled weird. She loves it!

 She’ll keep at it until the day the mercury in that itty bitty tube that zapped the life out of her skin, zaps the life out of her kidneys or liver or heart and that will be the day she stops.

So how long? No really, how long? Lemme know, a year? Two dozen decades or so before people realize that you don’t need to change the cloth you were born in in order to really feel beautiful…like the white girls on the cover of magazines. 

“Don’t be silly, I know I’ll never be white.” 

“But it’s close enough, innit?”

 And because of this, beautiful babies grow up thinking everything that grows out of their beautiful skin is a curse, so they relax and they weave and relax to cover that thick ugly mess of kinks …like the girls on the magazines. And they burn the gift passed down to them since the beginning of time because unfortunately, in this case, it’s not the thought that counts.

We need to teach girls to love themselves, inside and outside, whether they’re the colour of a creamy latte or sweet black tea. And if this is so hard for you, if you can’t find the strength to love yourself as the you you know, then sure…go ahead, change it. I’d be lying if I said we won’t judge. I mean, @MissVeeBeiby has only a thousand or so tweets and articles written about her everyday. But goddammit woman, just love yourself and be happy dammit! Be happy.

Be happy.

Because Life Begins at 50

Today, Kenya celebrates 50 years of independence. Emancipation from the man and all that hullabaloo.

And there's all this pomp and glory which frankly, I don't see the point of.
I mean, what's happened in the last 50 years?

• A tyrannical freedom fighter. An narcissistic & oppressive land grabber. A man who almost started a genocide. An alleged ICC criminal. 

• Unexplained assassinations of politicians. 

• Draconian statutes trying to gag the media.

• Politicians less concerned about the development of their constituencies and counties and more concerned about the development of their off shore bank accounts.

• Poor government response to crisis.

• People coming home from work to find their houses demolished without notice or compensation.

• Rapists sentenced to cut grass.

Sorry, I didn't mean this to turn into an anti-leadership rally. People just want a reason to make merry and they should be able to without fret. Don't let my thoughts ruin your Kenya at 50 celebrations.

I think the only thing worth celebrating is the men and women of this beautiful nation who have trudged through one misery and misfortune after another and have been at the nadirest nadir you could ever nadir but can still stand tall, hold their heads high and proudly say, "I am Kenyan."
Because despite all these bad leadership decisions, the ground you plant your feet on stays the same and so does the fact that Kenya is where your heart is.

So New Years Resolution for 2014, let's make the next 50 years something really worth celebrating and Google doodles.