the thing is..

For the nth time in my life, I was recently involved in a discussion on the issue of skin colour.
I would like to confess here and now that im rather naive and simplistic on this issue. Im a firm believer in colour being only skin deep. Ive had enough exposure to affirm my perspective on this.Word on my pal's block is that its still extraordinary for black folks to date across their race and vice versa.Apparentl black folks are still sidelined in some world quaters based on their complexion. Black here is defined as exactly that: persons of black complexion.I refuse to pussyfoot around the terminology and so for the record, black is black and white is white. If you aint black skinned, your white skinned. Im not calling it light or dark;thats an adjective.
A friend once asked me what I would like to be referred to. The wanted me to clarify the terms negro, nigger, black and whether the words were rude.Given how sensitive this topic can get, I gave him 10 points for bravery and this was my education to him and other people of the world wondering the same thing.......
Negro is the official description of any human being bearing negriod features.To spot some references;
-Black: a person with dark skin who comes from Africa (or whose ancestors came from Africa)
-relating to or characteristic of or being a member of the traditional racial division of mankind having brown to black pigmentation and tightly curled hair wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn
Nigger - a derogatory term coined in the earlier centuries especially in North America to refer to all the negro population present in the region at the time.

To my utmost dissapointment, lots of musicians have then adopted the word causing more harm than good and their constant usage of this phrase in the hiphop music culture hasnt helped to clarify the scenario on this term world over.I think its pretty twisted and silly for black folks to used the word on their fellow black folks and then expect the rest of the world to not use it. If ts for historical purposes, put the word in a museum and write books about it!

So to answer your question pal, Im Negro, from a beautiful country on the East Coast of Africa called Kenya.
Don't ever use the word Nigger on any Negro person because;
a) Its not a proper English word
b) It derogatory in whichever context
The term African-American or whatever else is picked up for political correctness is just plain silly. Malcolm X and Martin Luther may have had good intentions when they coined it in the 60s but it still doesnt change the fact.All people of the world with black skin complexion, with their roots from Africa are Negro.Period.Just like you have Caucasian and whatever else.

Oh yuh and about the dating outside the race. I reckon anyone in this century who still thinks race would be a barrier in affairs of the heart or any other basic human interaction, needs a splash of very very cold water on their face. NOBODY has the right to make an issue of race/colour.NOBODY is responsible for the complexion that they bear, plastic surgery not withstanding.NOBODY should have to make exessive efforts to get somewhere in life because of their race/colour. Observe the life of the people around you and you will find similarities and differences that makes us oh so human and at the end of the day the conclusion is the same:We are all people complete with similar emotions, perceptions, needs, intuition and the list goes on.
Relate to a person and not their complexion.Dont be enslaved by the war of complexions; their is no winner for this one because their can be no scale for this and you have less negative energy in your system.
I am what I am because of my personality and not my complexion and I will relate to you and you and you and you in the same way. I will like or dislike you for the person that you are and not for your pigment.
The honours is on you to meet me halfway and that is my story...and I stick and live by it!So help me God.

La negrita!

shoe shopping

There is nothing as disconcerting as getting advice from an unlikely source;worse still if advice is actually sound.
I once had a thin for this pair of shoes. I thought they were good fit even if I had never tried them on. The thing is whenever I went window shoppin, they were the most inviting, no one seemed to have wanted to bu them for a long while and so I secretly declared that to be my pair. It made me laugh all the time, they came in this whack design but yet held this unexplainable appeal to me. Then one day, I go back to the store and alas! my pair of shoes is gone...snapped up by some other being and then the insecurity and anger at self checks in.
I should have got them when I could...shoulda, woulda, coulda.....So my unlikel source says to me to snap out of it and get over it.
If indeed that pair was THE PAIR, I would have gone for it at first glance. So source says to me, why did you stall? I come up with this crap answer about not thinkin the shoes would like me enough, and worryin whether the would actually fit if tried on and all other hogwash that can come out of a silly shopper's mouth. Source said to me...STFU! Apparentl he reckond them shoes wouldnt look good on me. They might sound like just the packae but they aint....so after lots of contemplating, Im back to shoe shopping....the next time I see a pair I can afford, Im buying it and wearin it it.

Note to source: This has nought to do with shoes

Kilimanjaro100:Bananas, hyenas, clouds, elation

Here is an extract from my pal Steph's current trip through Africa...

"First impressions: driving through Kenya to Tanzania in a minibus is much like watching the discovery channel through the glass window. Women carrying bananas on their head, men wearing green and purple shell suits leaning up against walls and random shacks called “the house of lubricants” or “the college of fashion designers”, colourful Masai herding their cattle, and orange sand for as far as you can see."

She also scaled the Kilimanjaro and this is her account...
"I’ve just finished my first week here which was devoted to hiking up Kilimanjaro. The first three days were really easy but long. You climb through the different layers of vegetation, spending your first couple of days walking through the rainforest up bright red paths till you eventually get above the clouds and get to see the distant snowy peak for the first time. The guides make you walk extra slowly to give your body the valuable time it needs to acclimatize. Your porters however, rush up ahead of you with kilos of your stuff on their heads. By the fourth day you arrive at the final hut at 4700m before the final ascent. The hut is in your sights for hours before you get there, and just behind it you can see the steep climb to the top. Desperation starts to settle in as you cross the red desertic plains up there, the wind beating at your face. You eventually arrive in the late afternoon and are served dinner at 5 pm before being instructed to go straight to sleep, ready to be woken again at midnight. Noone can sleep. The pounding headaches, the incessant nausea have started, and if that wasn’t enough to keep you up, the adrenaline was pumping through your veins at such a speed that you could hear your heartbeat pumping loudly in your ears.
Before you know it, its midnight and you’re piling on all the clothes you own. After tea and biscuits, we form a line and start our way up. Above us a line of head torches meanders up the slope, losing itself somewhere in the stars. The altitude is starting to hit everyone even harder and from the front, I can hear people throwing up at the back. 200 metres further up and people are starting to pass out from the vomiting or the diarrhoea. High off my favourite drug, Solpadeine, I battle on. Every time we stop the temptation is to close my eyes and fall asleep, but your painful hands and toes remind you that you must press on. 50m before the first of the two peaks, I give in to the nausea to but I keep climbing.
By sunrise at 6 am, 9 out of the 10 of us have reached 4645m, Gilman’ Point. We are given tea and 10 mins to rest as the sun rises over the clouds in front of us. Most people are now green or grey and have to turn back. 4 of us (all girls might I add) decide to fight on to the summit which is still 2 hours away. The altitude is now taxing on every step but we eventually make it to the top at 4895m. The peak has massive glaciers on either side which look more like icebergs. We smile extactically briefly before realizing that we now have to walk another 6 hours to get down. Fatigue is now competing with the nausea and our shaking legs make the descent less than reassuring. Still the elation of having made it kept us going, and as we raced down the oxygen became thicker and easier to digest in our lungs"