Delight

in the multiple creative geniuses who inhabit the body of my friend Lisa Martinovic.

The artist's eye that makes luscious flower cards - Linguaflora.

The ambidextrous wit of her Doubloons.

The razor-sharp language and analysis of her Slaminatrix poems, essays, and radio commentaries.

Lisa educated me about neuroplasticity - the capacity of the brain to change itself. She's also my living encyclopaedia on holistic health. When I'm in the Bay Area, she regularly drags me away from my computer for life-renewing hikes in the hills and woods.

What should I say about non-violence?

Philo, in an email this morning, wondering aloud about her talk at Nairobi's Goethe Institute next week, titled Towards A Just Society In Kenya: Non-violent Options

My response:

Non-violence, when invoked in the mainstream discourse, means

- only women get raped,
- only the poor and powerless get beaten,
- only those who don't own property or control capital get killed.

Poverty is violence. Daily, unremitting violence.

When people preach non-violence to oppressed populations, what they're really saying is

"Why can't you die quietly, like the Tibetans, instead of forcing us to see your suffering, like those infuriating Palestinians?"

Anyone who's serious about non-violence should begin with dismantling the military-industrial complex, the arms trade, the armies of imperialism and occupation, and the violence of poverty.

So I'm looking forward to an interesting discussion at the Goethe Institute next week :-)


Date: 2 July 2009, 6.00 pm.
Place: Goethe Institut, Loita/Monrovia streets

Speakers: Mwalimu Mati, Philo Ikonya
Moderator: Paul Oyier

Nairobi reading of Bwagamoyo

has just been finalized.

Thursday June 9th. Full details on my calendar.

It will be the next iteration of what I presented at the Slottsbiografen in Uppsala. Can't believe that was less than three weeks ago - it feels like I've packed in three months of activity and motion since then.

What do Samuel Kivuitu's neck, Ngugi wa Thiong'o's ribcage, William Ruto's abdomen, and the hands of a Nairobi "grease monkey" all have in common?

Find out on this poetic journey, from colonial Zanzibar to Kenya's post-election violence, by way of the male body.

A powerful, heartbreaking, hilarious exploration of how patriots become patriarchs, muscles break down masculinities, and daughters confront fathers.

An anthemic call for a new generation of Kenyans to reconnect gut to heart to voice.
To challenge icons and claim our own power.
To sing ourselves back from our violent histories to new ways of knowing and living the truth.

This reading is dedicated to the memory of Bantu Mwaura (1969 - 2009). Brother, friend, truth teller. Mourned and deeply missed.

I'm both thrilled and terrified.