Daddy's Girls

Always and forever.
You are missed.

Procrastinating I

You know the Bible 80%!

Wow! You are truly a student of the Bible! Some of the questions were difficult, but they didn't slow you down! You know the books, the characters, the events . . . Very impressive!

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I am truly baffled by this result.

You can get the girl out of the Catholic school but seems like you can't get the Catholic education out of the girl.

Time Travel 2

Wonder Woman by Terry Dodson

3. Our sister Killjoy (read the original from AA Aidoo)

I'm travelling solo and I'm enjoying it even more than i thought I would!
I can go where I want, when I want and do whatever I want to do.
To be honest though, the practice for a young black woman is slightly more eventful than that.
I sit at a table in a restaurant and I'll always be asked if I'm waiting for some company.
As I'm obliged to admit that I'm lunching, dining, drinking by myself, that's when things get interesting.
Waitresses have a tendency to disappear thinking I won't have the balls to make myself notice or a fuss if the service is bad they dont know me...); or they try to be my new best friend like.. poor sweetheart...no friend, no man...all alone..).
Waiters are overly nice, will give you freebees (on the house) and try to see you after their shift (yeah right...).
Male customers are the most hilarious though: Black men here must think they're straight out of videos because I actually had drinks sent to my table by that guy who after a while came to introduce himself ... well he said he wanted to "holla atchu" and left saying " yo who you giving that attitude to?"
White guys scan me from head to toes and then ask... how much...

I sometime feel like an alien here (in the etymological sense: I cannot relate to people and they cannot relate to me).
I'm watching the inhabitants, studying customs and beliefs systems, sampling the food and trying to understand the local languages.
This country is literally wonder full and I'm.. Wonder-woman.

America is the country of "here and right now".
Patience is a default and greed is good.
Rudeness is called efficiency and ignorance is … patriotism.
Things seem to be either black or white but people are categorised in 1001 shade of colour.
No shame, all gain and God is on their side.

I have issues with how people use God's name to justify whatever might raise the common believer's eyebrow...
Crusades and Gaza Strip, slavery, Louis XIV and Henry VIII... all in God's name...
I have issues with the American... Because when they are not talking about guns (the NRA, Bin Laden, Saddam,Vietnam veterans... already maddening stuff) they are talking about God...
The Americans believe they are the true children of God, the 13th Tribe of Israel, the Anointed:
" Our manifest destiny [is] to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions" ...
this was written in the Democratic Review in 1845 (...) and displayed in the Museum of American History in Washington DC.
If there were a need for the slaughter of the Native Americans, the slave trade and the "War on Terror" look no further...
I still dont understand though, how this self-proclaimed
God-loving people manage to behave so... ungodly!

Which brings me to reality TV.
Big Brother 4, Plastic Surgery: Before and After (or how people are really really mad, I've seen a man getting silicone calves implants!, surgery is better than dieting but can go terribly wrong... )
Love or Money 2 (a woman (the winner of the 1st edition of the show... and yes she chose the money over love...1 million $...) has to choose from 50 guys the one who "truly loves her". If the man chooses her instead of a cool 2 millions $) she keeps the man AND the money... if the man chooses the money well she loses everything.... (confusing and all that whitihn 5 weeks))
Temptation Island 3, Who Want to Marry my Dad, and my favourite: Meet my Folks (basically the family of a young (and rich) man get to choose his "fiancee" from a bunch of women...
In all those shows, there's loads of naked flesh, curses (blipped of course), and sex...
Well, actually no. Not really.. here as long as there's no penetration there's no offence
(that's how Bill got away with it...)so in that regard, indeed, you wont see a sex scene on american TV.

The only thing I found, worse than TV is the relationship americans have with food and their bodies.
Half the commercial are about fat, sugar/salt and artificial colouring-clad junk food. the other half...
miracle pills and creams, home gym machinesthat you can owe for 9.99$ only ( a month, over 60 instalments, plus interest....).
Does it require a rocket scientist to see that fried pickles (yep), fried ravioli (indeed)
and double chocolate banana cookies will kill your heart,not mentioning your tastebuds?

Anyways... I'm hitting the freeway once again, leaving Minneapolis
where I'm spending a long weekend,
and should be getting to Tampa, Florida (via New York ... again..)soon.


I never made it to Florida.
On our way back from Minneapolis my sister and I were involved in a car accident and i was flown back to the UK.
I had a good giggle re-reading these emails though: five years on i'm still hooked on bad tv, still travel on my own and still have a bit of an attitude.

Time Travel 1

Artwork: Atsoupé Kpognon

Was trying to clean my inbox/procrasinating when i stumbled upon these emails i sent to a happy few while traveling the USA five years ago.

Vintage 2003 spelling mistakes included.


1. Once Upon a Time in America

I can hardly believe it's been two weeks since I've landed in New York.
Feels like I've been here for an eternity and at the same time feels like I've just arrived yesterday!

I had the brilliant idea of arriving a friday evening which meant that after a 11 hours journey, 2 planes, 5 hours time difference,
I found myself hopping from bars to lounges drinking Cosmopolitans...

A few hours sleep and by a bright saturday morning, I'm in Harlem for the African-American Book Fair.
In spite of the jetlag and the alcohol still in my system, I've managed to follow a couple of conferences on morality, self-abuse,
love and the future of my Brothers and Sisters (amen!).
I've even managed to takes notes (even though re-reading what i've scribbled, i can hardly make sense of it. must have been pretty hagard because all i've got is stuff along the lines of:
"I'm choosing my direction by making the right connections" what the hell that means...dont have a clue.. just sound really cheesy right now!).
Then, some more socialising and drinks and .... i collapsed. Spent the entire week sleeping! Something between 16 to 18 hours a day.
The rest of the time was spent getting some tan in the Park or watching TV ( my friend got 1032 channels. Whether the access to such an amount of channels is a sign of progress of technology, or of the decadence of a vain society that drown itself in a constant flow of images to escape its vacuity, is an other question... will have to come back on the subject later after more field work...).

Since Monday, after some deserved rest, I've set out to discover the Big Apple.
In practical terms, it means walking a lot (like a hell of a lot... miles and miles, blocks after blocks, from the lower est side to the Village, from Chinatown to Tribeca, around Brooklyn (where i live), just a lot of walking...).
It also means a lot of shopping .
Oh gosh a LOT... why are they having sales ?!
life's so unfair... how can i resist so much temptation ?? Well... i cant.
I thought i came for some serious soul searching but so far, seems like it's been some intense shopping experience althought i think
it's part of the therapy... some kinda comfort/compulsive shopping
(bought my 8th pair of red shoes), and I'm actually discovering my inner self: true: that girl buying and... wearing (yup!) mini dresses and mini-skirts is... me!

I like New York and its frenzy. I actually feel quite comfortable here.
The city smells of roasted nuts, garbage, fried onions and hot pavement.
New York is loud, and crowded, the people, rude, diverse, plain fascinating (it's all about the style baby!).

Need to be going now. More to come but I'm in a bit of hurry:
I'm off to Washington and Maryland for 2 weeks and
need to get some stuff done before I leave.


2. A poor lonesome cowgirl

Well, I've been really lazy lately and I feel like I owe some news...
Spent some time in Washington DC (will narrate my adventures in my next mail... word!) and instead of going back to New York, I changed my mind and decided to get a taste of the "real" America...
So here i am in the wild wild west, somewhere at an equal distance from LA and NYC.... Omaha Nebraska.
The good side of being in such a remote place is that i escaped the blackout on the East Coast.
Ah the midwest... the most interesting thing was the trip from DC which took me 27h, 3 different buses, screaming kinds and the most boring country side ever....
from Cleveland (check your maps people...) to Omaha, there're just cornfields... endlessly...
I dont ever, never want to see, eat, smell of cornbread, sweetcorn, popcorn, cornflakes... ever again.
The major feature of the landscape (exept corn field i mean) is.. american flags... here, there, everywhere... really spooky...
Now, the people... here in the middle of nowhere.. sorry America, they do look like they're coming straight out of a Jerry Springer show... I'can hardly undersand the accent of those folk, and even if I sound mean and narrow minded, when i do understand, i wish i didnt.
They're so suspicious of black people here that it's actually funny...
do I seriously look like a mugger, a crack add it or something?!?
Because people are always asking me, frowning and hands on the hips, what (the heck) i'm doing there, what (the heck) i'm looking for etc...

Might sound like I'm having a horrible time but actually it's all the contrary...
I came here to see my sister. The fact that my sister lives in Paris is totally irrelevant... we love that kind of meetings in the familly...
Between observing the exotic habits of the inhabitants of the area and the swimming pool... it's all good!

back to my rest chair now.

Ideas on Ideologies

Working in the area of Gender as an African women has really got me thinking about "isms", "ists", "ies" and "mnt"

- patriarchy
- racism
- empowerment
- ideologies
- activism
the list is long

I work for a feminist organisation because of my affinities with the work they do: the defense and promotion of human rights for African women, but i am not sure i am a feminist.

I went to a feminist meeting and i came out thinking just like Latoya at Racialicious:

" if feminism is about women and is race neutral, why do I still feel like such an outsider? Feminism is supposed to be a refuge for women, but the kind of woman I am is marginalized or not represented at all. So now what?"

I don't know yet

La Plume Verte

Atelier d’écriture, Lomé 5 Mai 2007

Contraintes :
~ Un texte poétique
~ Un moins un couplet et un refrain
~ Mettre l’accent sur la sonorité même si au détriment du sens
~ Si possible in chiasme à la fin du refrain

L'inspiration: les quelques semaines passées chez Gran'Maman, ses chats, et sa peur de les voir disparaitre de sa cour pour apparaitre dans la sauce des voisins...

La Mémé monomaniaque

Mémé monomaniaque manie la manivelle
Mamie mémère mélancolique
Mêle pêle-mêle à la moulinette méthane et méthyle,
Mélange maléfique, mais elle s’en moque :
Mémé affamée est de méchantes mœurs

Refrain :
Méchante mamie
Mémé mérite une camisole molletonnée.
Mégère mélancolique aux méninges misérables,
Mémé morne merovingienne
Mijote une merveilleuse merdique mélodie.

Miaou miaule le matou de la mémé.
Miam miam fait la mamie matant le minou.
Mielleuse jérémiade mais Mémé s’en moque.
Mollement elle matraque la minaudante miniature de Méphistophélès
Et la mange goulument, mélangée à du manioc, la mie d’un pain et demi et la meilleure des béchamels

Refrain :
Méchante mamie
Mémé mérite une camisole molletonnée.
Mégère mélancolique aux méninges misérables,
Mémé morne merovingienne
Mijote une merveilleuse merdique mélodie

Quel malheureux ménage que Mémé et son matou matois.
Le minou est maté et matraqué.
Mémé n’est plus affamée mais migrainée
Mamie à la mirette de musaraigne
Muse sur la mésaventure du miaou-miaou couleur miel qu’elle a rétamé

Ah si Mémé avait pris ses médicaments !

Letter To Father

Dear Dad
It's hard to believe 7 years have passed since you left. It's feels like an eternity. It feels like yesterday.
For a long time i was angry and bitter and self-destructive. If you had ruined my life as i knew it, as i had planned it, I refused to rebuild.
Well intentioned people told me to pull my socks off. Time would heal the wound. You can't grieve forever. Get over it.
Well intentioned people, who've never experienced loss, for most part talk rubbish.
Off course you can grieve forever. Off course the pain doesn't feel so raw. But it doesn't disappear. Nothing fills the void. No one fills the void.
I waited for a phone call or a card for my birthdays although i knew it couldn't be.
I resented (and still do sometimes) "complete", "whole" families no matter how dysfunctional.
You broke my heart.

I went home last year for the first without you. I've just come back.
I had my first hands on experience of the whole NGOs and development business in Africa. You were right: it is messy, it is incoherent and sometime (often) harm full, it is frustrating. And just like you, I can't stand by and do nothing.
I'm working with an African Women's charity now. We've got everything to make our life difficult: Women, Black, speaking out on gender-based violence and talking about accessing positions of leadership!

I'm better now you know. I worry for the little sisters but that what big sisters do I guess.
I think we're doing more than OK. I think they are doing great. But that's normal they are my sisters. It has been hard but we've managed.We are stronger than we thought we were. And we have each other.
I wish you were here though. I wish you could see the person I have become and be proud of me.
I went home. Where i was born, where you are buried.
I went on your grave.I didn't remember the road was so steep. I didn't remember the cemetery was so small. I didn't remember the trees were so tall.
It took me nearly seven year to realise you would never be coming back.
I'm not angry anymore Dad. Not so bitter. I am trying to grow. The void is still there.

Unsettling settling

I haven't posted anything for the longest while. I have been lazy but i have been very busy. Really busy. Starting a new job, commuting to and back the new job, settling into the new job, house-hunting, moving into a new flat, buying furniture, moving into new offices, unpacking at home and at work....
In the next few weeks when i have an Internet connection at home I will be able to post the content of my Togolese notebooks and rectify the fairly bleak image i seemed to have painted of my time there.

In the mean time, being a London girl is no easy task:

In the train at peak time one morning, a handsome man dressed in a sharp grey suit, white shirt, grey tie, with a leather brief case. I'm already fantasising about our lavish life style in our £1 million property.
Ticket inspectors come aboard and ruin my imaginary romance:
Prince Charming didn't have a ticket and got fined.


Last week in the bus, sitting next to a dashing, no ring on his left hand, young man, reading!
My heart skipped a beat.
And another
He was reading Diametics: The Original Theory" by L.Ron Hubbard, founder of the Scientologist Church.
I do read Science-Fiction but I am not ready to make it my religion.