It sounds like a lot of words, black African intersectional feminist, but all these words, in this order are necessary. And, yes, I fully recognise how problematic and limiting labels can be, but this is one label I wear with pride. It lets others know that my every day a feminist life recognises that our social, biological, economic and geographical categorisations, such as race, gender, class, ability, and sexual orientation interact on multiple and simultaneous levels and contribute to systematic injustice and social inequality (Side note 3: Here I am relying on definitions provided by a long line of black intersectional feminists but mainly Kimberlé Crenshaw and Patricia Hill Collins). This label is a warning sign to others that my every day a feminist life resists any and all forms of social justice work that seeks only to address a single form of discrimination or oppression. (Side note 4: This is one example of how I would answer, “what does my every day a feminist life mean for others?”) Most importantly, because this is often overlooked, the label black African intersectional feminist is in direct response to all those who seek to label feminism as un-African. As my mother said, feminism “was not imposed on us [Africans] by the United Nations or by Western feminists, but has an independent history.” That is why this label is necessary – long as it is – it is an abbreviation for the theoretical underpinnings of my feminism and if black African intersectional feminist is the theory then every day a feminist is the practice.

I use the term “every day a feminist” to convey the unbroken and consistent existence of my feminism. (Side note 5: I purposely use “every day” as opposed to “everyday” because there is nothing commonplace or normal about the feminism I practice. Its very existence is to challenge the norm.) It is who I am, it is who I have always been, it is what I do, it is what I have always done, it is what I believe, it is what I have always believed. As Lola Okolosie says of her own identity as a black feminist, the naming happened after the fact. Perhaps this is why my initial reaction was to describe it as exhausting, because 30 something years, every day a feminist can get tiring but it is also something I enjoy. I particularly enjoy the interaction, love and support present within intersectional feminists spaces so yes maybe it is nice too. Both of these words, I guess are ok when it comes to describing this every day a feminist life, but I still think they are not enough. Between nice and exhausting (if this was a spectrum – which I don’t think it is) there is a whole lot more. “Nice” and “exhausting” speak to moments, instances that occur as part of my every day a feminist journey. In thinking of every day a feminist as a lived experience, that has a past, present and future I much prefer Nyaboe Makiya’s conceptualization of feminism as survival. The label is black African intersectional feminist, every day a feminist is how I live this label and I live every day a feminist as an act of survival.

I first came to live in England in 1982 and as a young child the racism I experienced was so unbearable that I would tell my parents I wanted to go back to Kenya because England didn’t like me. Then finally returning to Kenya in 1986 only for my father to be detained without trial by the Kenyan Government. Four years later being back in the UK, this time as asylum seekers/refugees because clearly Kenya didn’t like me either. And we all know how the UK feels about immigrants. This time we lived in a council estate and I attended a failing inner city London school. It was the early 1990s, surrounded by people who looked like me, but just like when I was in Kenya I learned that this was not enough. Other black students would “joke” that I came from Africa on an elephant. A careers advisor, a black woman, told me instead of working towards law school I should, at the end of my GCSEs, consider employment at a supermarket. My good grades be damned because apparently something about me rendered a university education unattainable. Finally attending university and realising that race was not a part of the law curriculum; gender however, was and I was encouraged to think about how the law (according to white feminists) affected me as a woman, because this was apparently the only identity that mattered. Later in life, working in development with white men who insist they cannot be racist because they are helping poor people in Africa. While out at a bar in Lancaster with my siblings a random white woman approaches us and without invitation, conversation or approval on our part takes out her camera and starts to take pictures of us. I confronted her, her response “I thought you were famous”. The list goes on. Initially I couldn’t articulate how I felt about these instances because I was too young. Later on, while at university I would stumble on the works of Collins, Crenshaw, Audre Lorde, bell hooks, Angela P. Harris (to name a few) and it all made sense. I understood now why my parents had insisted I only play with black dolls and why my at home reading consisted of nothing but writers of colour. I thought that every time they had stood in and stood up for me was simply because they were my parents. I understood now that while it was of course motivated by parental love, it was a love rooted in black African intersectional feminism. How could I as an adult reject the practice that had helped me survive? I didn’t know any other way to navigate this world, I still don’t know any other way to do so and even if I did I wouldn’t choose any other way.

I am an every day a feminist because that is how I am able to survive, but black African intersectional feminism reminds me that it is not enough for me to survive; others have to survive too and my every day a feminist life calls on me to  (1) support others so that they can survive and (2) make sure that I am not complicit in the un-survivability of others. This is perhaps the most important answer to the question “what does my every day a feminist life mean for others?” In recognizing the intersectionality of identities and systems of oppressions, I am also acknowledging that I can be both a victim and beneficiary of these power structures. Being an every day feminist means that I too, as a western living/educated, middle class heterosexual cis-gendered and able-bodied person, must check my privilege. My every day a feminist approach makes me suspicious of forms of feminism that are not intersectional. My every day feminist stance is unforgiving of human rights artivism that relies on misogyny. My every day feminist life has no patience for “wait your turn” anti-oppression work that deems the struggles of LGTBQI people as not important right now.  White tears will never dampen my every day a feminist life. For those that come at me with “not all white people” and/or “not all men” my every day a feminist voice will yell back “Shut up your face!” And by now, people really should know the answer to the question “why is everything about patriarchy?” but for those who wonder, every day a feminist means every thing through feminism. Honestly though, I am too busy living this every day a feminist life to educate those who continually un-hear the voices of other intersectional feminists.

I was before; I am now and always will be a black African intersectional feminist. I live every day a feminist because the alternatives make my life and the lives of so many other people un-liveable. Every day a feminist, unapologetically.

In the wake of what can only be described as one of my country’s darkest moments I have found that being a Kenyan abroad has generated a series of deeply troubling questions from non-Kenyans such as:

Oh you are Kenyan? So what tribe are you/What ethnic group do you belong to?

Or

You are from Kenya? So are you Kikuyu or Luo?

On the surface it is easy to view these questions as innocent enquiries from a non-Kenyan who wants to know more about where I am from. Given the manner in which ethnic differences crept into the dispute over the government’s claim to power I know all to well that these questions are anything but innocent.

The first question, in my view is a personal question and should have no place in a discussion between people who barely know each other. Furthermore it rests on the assumption that there is a simple response. For instance, there are many Kenyans who do not belong to one ethnic group or tribe and the question suggests that a single tribe response is the desired answer.

In the case of the second question, it is equally personal but it is more offensive than the first because it reduces my country to a two-tribe nation. It ignores the existence of every other Kenyan who does not fall into either the Kikuyu or Luo ethnic group. It also assumes that one can not fit neatly into both ethnic groups.

That said, what really angers me about both questions is that most people who ask will then use whatever response I give as a basis to project their own limited knowledge of the political and ethnic situation in Kenya.

When I opt to answer these sorts of questions I simply state ‘Kikuyu.’ Each time I have done so my response has been met with statements like:

You must be happy with the result then

or

Ah! It is your man/brother who is in power

even this:

You guys really rigged this election

In single sentence a person has taken my cultural/ethnic identity and formed an opinion about my political allegiance, placed blame upon me for the outcome of the election and worst of all suggested that despite the fact that my country is in turmoil…I am pleased.

The most frustrating part for me is, I am still not sure who/what I should be angry at:

Should I be angry at those individuals who believe that I, who can not speak a word of Kikuyu, would place such importance on my ethnic identity to the extent that I would not only stake my right to vote upon it but forsake my national identity because of it?

Is it fair to direct my anger at the Western media who oftentimes spoke of and wrote about Kenya and Rwanda in one breath/sentence thereby blurring the distinction between a nation disappointed in the outcome of a flawed election and a group of people who value ethnicity more than nationality?

What about those who willingly took part in the destruction of our people, our country, our lives and our homes, maybe I should be angry at them?

Perhaps those who made a mockery of our democratic right to be governed by the leaders we elect, who betrayed the trust we placed in our electoral system…maybe this should be the root of my anger?

I am not content with directing my anger, in equal measure, at all of the above because it is not that simple. I am not content with being angry because it is not productive.

I will have to work something out because when people who can not find Kenya on a map, who do not know the difference and distance between Ghana and Kenya, who can’t accept that we too can fly from our country to over 40 destinations worldwide on Kenya Airways…. when these people start telling me about my ethnic identity and what it means…I get really angry…

Introduction

On June 1st 2007, Kenyans everywhere will be celebrating Madaraka Day. Madaraka Day commemorates the day that Kenya attained internal self-rule following an important milestone on the road to independence. To mark this event, we would like to invite members of the Kenyan Bloggers Webring to blog in unison under the banner ‘Kenyan Bloggers’ Day’.

Why?

This day is opportunity for members of the Kenyan Bloggers Webring to share their thoughts on the topics below. Last year’s Kenyan Bloggers’ Day featured a wide range of inspired posts. The level of support and interaction shown by our members in response was outstanding. See how members celebrated last year

How to Get Involved

On or on the weekend of June 1st 2007, we are proposing that we all create a post on any or all of the following suggested topics:

* Kenya
* Being Kenyan
* Being a Kenyan blogger
* Being a member of KBW

The post can be a piece of prose – 2 lines, an essay, a poem, a podcast, a photograph, your favourite quote. It is entirely up to you how you chose to celebrate this day. You don’t have to be Kenyan, just a member of KBW.

On this day we wish to use collective blogging as means of celebrating the nation that unites us as bloggers of KBW.

Getting the laptop to Nigeria was not easy. I was due to fly immediately after the UK terror alert that had resulted in many travellers being issued transparent plastic bags to carry their hand luggage, so in preparation I went and bought a laptop rucksack which was apparently the right “carry-on” size. I say apparently because the woman working at the British Airways check-in desk the day I was due to fly was of the opinion that my rucksack was way too big. Unfortunately for me, those metal tray things by the check-in desk that let you determine if one’s bag is the right size supported her opinion. I was not keen to check-in the old laptop so I decided to buy one of those pull-trolley things that one often sees cabin crew dragging along. Still the item was too big. The BA woman, sensing my determination to carry the laptop on board informed me that BA did have bags available.

I wish I had taken a photograph of the bag, which is no longer in my possession. It was one of those of raffia/plastic-chequered bags that many African/Caribbean families in the UK use as laundry bags. My brother told me that these bags are called “Ghana-must-go” bags and that certainly appears to be what everyone in here calls them. Sokari has a photograph of similar bags on her blog. I say similar because the one I was given was incredibly tiny; like a medium to small handbag. I am actually tempted to call it cute had it not clashed, both in colour and in style, with what I was wearing.

The bag was blue, red and white. I was wearing black trousers, a white top, brown shoes and should have been carrying a matching brown hand bag (which was now emptied of all its contents and squashed into one of my suitcases – the very same suitcase that arrived in a Abuja more than a week after I did!) The extent of my higgledy-piggledy look was brought to the fore when the man at the Duty Free counter took one look at my bag, pulled out an extra-large duty free bag and dumped my ‘Ghana-must-go’, laptop and all inside. As he handed the bag back he gave me a look that said ‘it’s ok…your secret is safe with me!’

Upon reaching Naijaland I discovered that my work computer was not where I expected it to be i.e. on my desk in my office. Neither was my desk for that matter, which at the time made perfect sense because I hadn’t been assigned an office. The old laptop which no doubt was sulking after suffering the indignity of being carried in a bag that lacked the necessary cushioning and support that it was accustomed to became both my work and home computer. I reassured both the laptop and myself that this was only a temporary measure but by January 2007, despite getting an office and desk, I still didn’t have a computer.

By this time the laptop had gone from old to ‘one foot in the grave’. It could no longer serve as a ‘portable computer’ because one slight move would result in the machine turning itself off. It would then take a further five minutes of twiddling with the power cord and coaxing it to stay attached to the computer. As the battery never seemed to charge, I did consider taping the power cord to the laptop but then I remembered that the power cord was a replacement of the previous one that had caught fire around the part that connects it to the computer. Aside from the laptop’s in ability to stay on for more than 30 minutes at time, there was the start-up issue (it took 20 minutes to start-up) the lack of multi-tasking capability (the machine could run no more than one application at time), failing USB ports, broken DVD drive … basically the machine was barely functioning.

In mid-February, the Dr and I decided that it was time to get a new machine, which he would bring to Abuja when he came to visit in March. I knew what I wanted; a black MacBook and by the end of February the BlackBook was sitting in a box in Lancaster awaiting its trip to Naija.

There is common saying about buses – you wait for hours and then two arrive at once. Well the same can be said about computers (in this case at least) because two days before the Dr was due to arrive my desktop; complete with printer and a back-up power supply unit was delivered to my desk!

So here I am six months into my stay – I finally have a machine in the office and a machine that I can use at home for blogging, Skype, playing games, listening to music…all at the same time. All I need to do now is get accustomed to using a Mac, which I recently discovered does not have a delete key.

Well Done: Nearly every morning I would exit the lift at work and the security guard on duty would say what I thought was “Welcome Ma’” to which I would respond with, “Thank you, how are you?” Soon after I worked out that he in fact was saying, “ Well done Ma’!’” and though I would often wonder what he was congratulating me for, I would still thank him and ask how he was.

A colleague later explained that in as much as it appears to be a greeting, the context of the phrase that I was already familiar with (i.e. well done as a congratulatory remark) remained the same. In essence the security guard was applauding me for turning up for work and encouraging me to have a good day.

How you body de? Pidgin English; often used when addressing someone who has been unwell. The first time I heard it was during my first week in Abuja. I was staying in a hotel and had just developed a cold. The guest relations manager knowing that my Pidgin English was not my strong point, opted to greet me in what can only be termed as the literal translation of the phrase. I can not even begin to describe my shock when I heard her utter the words “How is your body?”

Compliments: This word is a contraction of the phrase “Compliments of the festive season to you” of which the UK equivalent is either/both Merry Christmas and/or Happy New Year. Given that the December holiday period not just about Christmas and that Nigeria is a religiously (culturally) diverse nation; it is the perfect way to greet your workmates. It is just a little confusing hearing it in the short form for the very first time.

How far? Similar to “How is it going?” though the first time I heard it I didn’t have time to think of it in those terms. All I could think of was “How far with what?” I still am not sure of the appropriate response.

How you dey? This one I got first time around even though I wasn’t quite sure what the ‘dey’ bit meant, the ‘How you’ does indicate that it is some sort of enquiry into how one is doing. What I didn’t grasp until fairly recently was that while saying ‘I’m fine’ is ok; there is a proper Pidgin English response; two in fact. These being either ‘I dey’ or ‘I dey kampe’; the latter used when one is doing really well.

Attached to these greetings are a string of questions that a greeter usually attaches such as How was your night?, How work? and How your people? I am sure there are many more but now I am better prepared. Throw any greeting at me and I will respond confidently with the “catch all” response; I thank God o! (The ‘O’ at the end of the sentence is optional, but I like it)

* The title of this post has its origins in a conversation I had with one of my regular taxi guys. Two days had elapsed since I had ridden in his taxi so I was surprised to see him flashing my phone. (To flash in the context of mobile phones is to ring someone’s phone and hang up before they respond as means of getting that person to call you back) Thinking I had forgotten something in his car, I broke my ‘ignore all flashers’ rule and called him back. Upon picking up his phone he happily informed me “Auntie O! I just de greet you!” Still couldn’t work out whether it was just a sweet gesture or a smart business move or a bit of both; but it made me happy.

Nyanya is the Kiswahili word for grandmother and tomato ( I have never known why the two share the same word in Kiswahili – any takers?)

Kubwa in Kiswahili means big.

For those who are soon to turn a year older, worry not about your ageing eyes – here is a close up.

The security guard at work has kindly agreed to teach me a phrase a day. It is going well and I am further encouraged by two things. Firstly, there is no greater honour that can be extended to a visitor than treating him/her as if he/she was not a visitor. The least I can do to show my gratitude is to take steps to integrate with the people of my host nation and though there are over 200 hundred languages spoken in Nigeria I should not let this deter me from learning at least one before I leave. Secondly it has been brought to my attention that there are Hausa words that are similar to those that I am already familiar with as a result of my knowledge of (dare I say fluency in) Kiswahili. I feel like the battle is half won so why not go all the way?

So for anyone else who wants to join me in quest to become a Kano donkey; here is a list of English words with their Hausa and Kiswahili translations and who knows maybe there shall be an all Hausa blog soon.

• Twenty = Ashirin (Hausa); Ishirini (Kiswahili)
• Thirty = Talatin (Hausa); Thelathini (Kiswahili)
• Forty = Arbain (Hausa); Arbaini (Kiswahili)
• Fifty = Hamsin (Hausa); Hamsini (Kiswahili)
• Sixty= Sittin (Hausa); Sitini (Kiswahili)
• Thursday = Alhamis (Hausa); Alhamisi (Kiswahili)

*Learn to count and days of the week in Hausa.

My internet access at the moment, while being 100% free and 100% unlimited is also 100% unreliable. Hopefully that will change very soon as there is so much I want to blog about.

So far everyone I have met has been incredibly friendly and hospitable. Nigeria is the only country I have been to where an Immigration officer has said to me, ‘I hope you extend your stay to three years’. Not sure I will take him up on his offer but so far all is going well.

The only downside being that I, along with about fifty other passengers had some or all of our luggage left behind. Thankfully for me two of my three suitcases that made it across were the ones that had my important stuff – my underwear, eight boxes of Jaffa Cakes and my flashlights (thanks Remi I have experienced 4 power outages in 24 hours and I have had to rely on my torch for the two minutes of darkness before the generator kicks in!). The one suitcase that has all my shoes, Ketepa tea, Royco and java coffee shall apparently be with me tomorrow!

Last night while driving around Abuja I noticed a few street names that reminded me of Kenya such as Eldoret Close and Embu Close (or Road…can’t remember) which are both towns in Kenya. Eldoret for many years was home to most of my family including Mshairi, Uaridi and Nyakehu.

I know this blog post is rather disjointed but it is my attempt to cram everything in before my internet connection dies again.

‘Wetin dey happen’ is Nigerian Pidgin English for ‘What is going on’ and is used as a greeting in the same way as one would say ‘What’s up?’.

Today the Kenyan Blogs Webring is two years old!

Happy Birthday KBW.

We, the admin team, are grateful for your continued support, for your dedication, for your inspiration, for your ideas and for your community spirit. The Kenyan Blogs Webring is a positive force for our nation, our continent and our people, long may it prosper! If you are not yet a member, join us. If you have any questions, contact us.

Here are a few quick interesting facts on KBW:

Membership numbers

We currently have 240 active members*
In our first year we signed up 69 active members*
In our second year we signed up 171 active members*

* “Active members” refers to bloggers who joined KBW and are still members today. It does not include those who have left the webring.

Gender balance

100 female bloggers
123 male bloggers
12 group blogs

(Please note some bloggers author more than one blog).

Rate of growth

The rate of growth continues to rise rapidly. Our two busiest months for signing new members have been April 2006 and May 2006.

In April 2006 we signed up 34 new members
In May 2006 we signed up 33 new members

More than one blogger per day

KenyaUnlimited

The permanent home for the Kenyan Blogs Webring is KenyaUnlimited.

The KBW aggregator displays the latest posts from our members’ blogs. The aggregator gets just under 3000 unique visitors per day. This means that each KBW member has at least 3000 people reading their posts each day they blog.

The community

Although we are called the Kenyan Blogs Webring we currently have members from Tanzania, Nigeria, Uganda, Germany, United Kingdom, and the United States (this excludes our Kenyan members living abroad).

Our members blog in at least 8 different languages.

Join us

Membership is open to Kenyans, residents of Kenya and friends of Kenya aged 14 years and older who maintain a weblog, photolog, online journal or online diary. We are inclusive rather than exclusive. If you would like to join KBW you most probably can! Sign up here.