I haven’t been able to write much these days–I won’t exactly call it writer’s block. The ideas are coming quite alright, but they don’t…settle, if you know what I mean. They’re up there, swimming above my head like a halo, far out of reach but still near enough to be seen clearly. It’s a real bummer, but I’ve decided to write regardless. Where there’s a will… or something like that.
I doubt any of this will make much sense, and I apologize in advance if it turns out I wasted your time. I just finished scrolling through Twitter and everything I saw made me realize that I hate a lot of things. First, it was some individual trying to make a bunch of Japanese dancers look bad simply because they were supposedly copying hip-hop dance and style, which OP claimed was black-owned. On the bright side, I learnt a few new things, like the similarities between Japan and Jamaica, what with both of them being island countries and having a lot of cultural exchange as a result. The Jamaicans were mostly cool with it, but the African Americans were not having any of it as usual. Trust our AA brothers to take up every case involving Africans, especially in relation to people of other races, and blow it out of proportion. I have finally arrived at the conclusion that due to the incessant racism they are met with everyday, they’ve developed some extreme form of PTSD. As a result, when they see the ‘warning signs’, they try to raise an alarm. But they’ve got to understand that the situations are just different. While black people may be prone to racism and cultural appropriation in places like the West and Asia where they tend to be the minority, the same can’t be said of those in Africa or the Caribbean where seeing a foreigner is something of a rare sighting. As such, the circumstances are not the same and neither will the results. A non-black person wearing African clothes in America or the UK could be rightly accused of appropriating the culture of a minority, but the exact same thing happening in an African country could be interpreted as something less damning, and rightly so, simply because one or two foreigners trying out iro and buba will be encouraged or, at worst, ignored. One time there was a white woman who permed her hair and wore native attires in a bid to look more Nigerian, and the AA’s, never going out of character, began to blow hot on our behalves. We the supposedly offended ones took no offense and at worst thought she was being a bit of a weirdo, but that was it.
I’ve got one word for them: Breathe.
God, I’ve ranted so much about these people, I fear I’m beginning to sound like one of them
I also got to read some headlines from my favorite news outlet, The Babylon Bee. They’re a bunch of folks who combined a passion for accurate news broadcasting with a flair for sarcasm, the type that can make you fall off your desk and spill your drink on your keyboard. One headline that caught my eye was the one that read:
‘Yoko Ono Booked To Yodel At Next Year’s WEF Summit.’
Now I hate to be that guy, but this was actually funny. Plus, I’ve never understood the Beatles hype, respectfully. I listened to John Lennon a few times and he sounded like he could use some autotune. His cover of Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me” almost made me dislike the song. Good thing I stumbled on the original soon enough. I don’t know about Yoko Ono’s mic prowess, but I won’t be at the WEF either so, as the Polish say, not my circus, not my monkeys.
I’m in bed now–it’s not mine, but the owner isn’t around so I’m stealing some comfort of an upper bunk. It rained earlier today, the sounds startling me at first because guy, don’t tell me you couldn’t wait for January to end (me to the rain). It stopped long enough for me to finish dressing up and get to church about an hour late, minus Sunday School (I know, I know. Stop shouting). Then it began again in church and the pastor said something about the latter rain which made the church members cheer loudly. It brought back a thought that had been lingering in my mind days back when I attended a youth program. A famous pastor was to come on the last day of, and during the evening session of that day I watched as the once not-exactly-scanty hall quickly filled to the brim with people. It made me wonder: do people think God will work specially through this one man of God? Even, are they really here to receive from God or just behold a spectacle? But I recalled it has always been that way since the time of Jesus, what with people following Him from town to countryside for some miracles. And the food too; everyone loves them some bread and fish. I also realized I was becoming a bit judgy so I shook it off my mind.
It’s not raining now, but I can almost swear I can perceive the smell of rain–what’s it called? Pulchritude? Plethora? It sha starts with a P *makes mental note to check Google*. I hope it rains, because, hell yeah I love rain! It could rain all week and my lazy self would be too happy to snuggle up in warm clothes and blankets, sipping hot tea and eating watery peppery noodles, the type that makes mucus run down your nose and clears your sinuses. But then I feel bad for all the people who can’t have these things and have to tremble and shiver through the entire ordeal. Once as I rushed to take the clothes off the line outside my balcony I caught a glimpse of some people at a nearby market scampering for shelter from the rain and it left an imprint on my soul.
I may want the rains to stay, but I certainly can’t wait for Frog Mating Season to be over, because what’s this noise?! I’d call it the Staccato Symphony. Funny how some of the weirdest traits in nature sum up to males seeking female validation.
Okay, that’s it for oversharing today. I’m beginning to feel a tad less mysterious so byeee—
Wait a minute. I listened to the original song from which the “What Happened To Virgin” meme originated and it turned out to be a sad tribute to three icons, one of whom was Virgil Abloh. Also the right word for the rain thing is petrichor.
So, see ya soon, hopefully.
