As per usual, African women have blogged about a variety of issues over the last week.
Incidences of violence are rising in Uganda as the country prepares to hold general elections next week. Black Looks writes about the volatile situation in the country and highlights the violations of human rights perpetrated by the current government.
President Museveni has now been in power 20 years and like most leaders who over stay their welcome he is fast moving towards becoming a despot. One of the essential tenants of a democracy must be to limit the number of years any one person can serve as leader of the country to not more than 10 years.
‘Why can’t democracy just grow up and be a woman?’ asks Rombo in an article where she writes ‘what nobody warned us is that when democracy is a baby, it cries a lot, it poops a lot, it cannot feed itself, and it demands round the clock attention’. She also says: ’But it’s our baby, and no one else’s. And no one else is going to grow it up but us’.
Molara Wood has posted a (very) short story and fascinating by a talented writer – Crispin Oduobuk who is based in Nigeria. On her blog, you can also see photographs of ’stupendous Nigerian females working their ‘geles’ (headties)’.
Ore writes about the trials and tribulations of going back home, the longing for the familiar and the difficulties in dealing with the ‘inefficiencies’ she sees every day
’causing so many resources (people’s mind and talents included) to go to waste’. She says: ‘On some days, I remember all the reasons I wanted to move back home. And on others, I’m just spilling over with impatience and rage. Life goes on nonetheless’.
’I live history all day everyday and every night while I sleep’ writes L.W. about Black History Month, currently taking place in the US. She therefore does not consider the day something to be relegated to ‘the shortest month of the year’.
Pilgrimage to self writes about her search for an ‘ethnic version’ of a Barbie Girl styling head as a present for her daughter which is fruitless as all she can find are ’blue eyed, blond haired and white skinned’ styling heads.
Although I grew up playing with predominantly white dolls, it didn't have any sort of profound effect on me growing up. However, I think the fundamental difference was that I was surrounded by black people – my people – all my friends where black (or mixed race), and that kept me grounded and proud to be who I was. So I had my white dolls yes, but then I also had my cousins, friends, teachers who told me ‘Tales by moonlight’ about my heritage, my people, my world.
My daughter doesn't have this here – one of the problems children living in the Diaspora (how I detest that word) face. It is up to me to teach her about her roots and keep her proud of her heritage.
Finally, Prousette tells a story regarding a lucky escape from a conman and writes ‘if something does not feel right, it probably is not’.