Monday, 24 November 2008


There is a saying in Africa - a proverb about trust:

I only trust two people.
One is myself
and the other one is NOT you.

In the beginning it is hard to believe, how social relations can even exist under such circumstances, but after some time you begin to have experiences that takes away your faith in the boy next door.

Sunday, 23 November 2008

Nairobi Java House

Here everybody have 2 phones ... and I am drinking an Americano.

Friday, 24 October 2008

Coming and going

I like to come back and don't mind leaving for a while. But the best things always arise in the last moments. Work as well as women. The women I meet now are more classy, though I still find young prostitutes that hope I am a nice guy who will marry her and take her out of misery. I meet her in the same places, Once her name was Brenda. Today she is Sharon. She pretends to be free, but there will always be a white guy that she will have to go with. This time she is terrified when she sees him and whisper how he will beat her. It is no different from every other time.

I am a promise of better fortune - in her eyes.

Thursday, 16 October 2008

Welcome back ... home

Really it is the same every time I return. They are just rephrasing themselves slightly. He writes to me, that I can just sound in, when I arrive. I always do that, and no matter how busy they both are, there will be some space for me.

One day another friend passes by in the hotel in town, where I am coincidentally sitting that evening. He comes to perform, but he says he has come to see me. My sister next to me is laughing, while saying that he is lying. Everybody around the table smile. A little later my friend goes to stage and dedicate a song to me.

I keep coming back with the intention of given all they gave back to them, but I always end up being giving so much more. In the absence of other alternatives I will just have to keep coming back. In that way we can continue showing each other the respect we deserve.

This is the reason, why I am here.

Nothing less, nothing more, nothing else.

Respecting, cherishing, pleasing, honouring, worshiping ... Africa as she chooses to show herself to me and the world.

Little Ethiopia

He wants me to go to Ethiopia with him ... but I have been there already ... for two weeks ... it is never enough. Here is a new Etiopian restaurant every time I come back. Even upstairs in Kabalagala where the Congolese used to have fun.

The Etiopians make good coffee. So I go there every morning to have my cup and read the newspapers. The food is good as well. Very nicely spiced. Always served on a soft floffy pancake that looks and feels like a towel, but after getting used to it, you do not think about eating something, that could have been drying your dishes. The people are light brown and carry a self-esteem unusual for the region in general. They are said never to have been colonized, but the Italians were in Ethiopia, which should be no secret, when you analyse the culture.

Sunday, 14 September 2008

I dreamed of Africa

I am not sure that this is the right place to write this. Several times I have tried to et rid of this blog or extend it into new frontiers. It seems that I am still here to write.

The other evening I saw a film titled "I dreamed of Africa". It touched me and by the ending of the film I was given a gift. I understood why we must always go back to Africa. The film is about a couple who go to settle in Kenya with her son. She looses her husband and the son to wilderness. The husband is killed by a buffalo and the son by a poisonous snake bite.

The film ends by letting her speak:

We came to this extraordinary place
and Africa let us live extraordinary lives.

Then Africa claimed an extraordinary price
that was Africa's privilege.

And now it is my privilege
to look after Africa

Friday, 8 August 2008

A deperate housewife

I always meet her in the evenings. She likes to get drunk. We are playing a game. She wants men, but will always detach from you, if you show any interest in her. She only wants men to glance at her ... more than one man.

A small women, busy taking. So much talk ... which she herself calls honesty. We are just talking. I have seen her on TV ... another latina desperadas.

She is also just very sweet, but cannot control her temper, that is taking her away. How can you look a woman in her eyes, when she is always striking back at you. She will easily forget, that you ever saw her in the first place. She has already continued her strive for attracting masculine glance, but she will eventually return to you to see, if you are still looking after her ... nothing more.

She will ask you to introduce her to other men. You will never know, if she really wants only you, but it doesn't matter, because you already know, she is not your kind of girl. Even casual sex probably would have been worth while. Also in bed she would already have been off to the next one ... dancing for glance.

Thursday, 24 July 2008

Giving up Europe

What can you do in a foreign City without a coin in your pocket? You will have to stay home in the suburb with the African mama, where they put you as another trafficked girl waiting for permission to go out.

She was taken from home by men living abroad. They asked her to come to perform in clubs, but when she arrived, they cancelled all her shows, because somebody stole the posters for the first show. We all know, that there have to be an explanation. The promotor didn't do his job. Maybe that was the reason for asking her to pay her own ticket. He knew that there would be nothing for her in Europe.

She thought she would go home on the scheduled time. Sitting and waiting. Every day in cold a room. But the men in black had another plan, that she was not informed about.

Only once a week she will get information, when a woman sneaks her way into the house and they whisper in silence. This women has gained some respect by having sex with a man far away. The small woman in the house will wait for the weekly visits.

Before she came to Europe, she thought it would be Paradise. She is not sure, if she ever will come back.

White on return

It has been silent here for a long time. I am not sure what is happening, but it appears that the white african is not completely dead. His spirit continues to play around with us. He might not be as african as we have been assuming. This can give him another lifetime. I predict that he in the future will broaden his perspective and as such resurrect in one way or another.

In any case you will probably see less silence in the weeks to come and hopefully a lot of noise. You are welcome to make some noise yourself.

Wednesday, 16 April 2008

Back in Kenya

I am back in Kenya again, where the new cabinet not really has brought peace and silence as expected. There are fightings between the government and the militia from central part of Kenya.

In the meantime The White African has appeared as ghost in Kisumu last Sunday. Read more om 'Traveling beyond Limits'

Thursday, 10 April 2008


The White African has undergone serious injuries and after some struggle he died. We have been up country (deep in the village) for the burial. Therefor it has been silent here for a while. As far the future is concerned it is very uncertain.

I have already been spacing from 'travelling beyond limits' for some time. Maybe better know as 'six zero nothing'. It is also where you can find the remains of The White African.

Right know I am still resting in Kampala ... my african home as the late Jimmy Katumba used to sing.

Sunday, 17 February 2008

Tolerans and respect

I have finally realised the profane difference between European civilisation and everybody else. It is comparable to the relationship between tolerans and respect. In Europe we find that respect is a very strong word, which we cannot easily take into our mouth. Instead we choose to tolerate you. That enable us to keep a certain distance to everyone. Whereas respect requires a closer look. In contrary to what Europeans feel, respect will not necesarrily compromise your integrity.

Thursday, 14 February 2008


I have written an article about "Los Zapatistas", which has recently been published in the book "Brudflader" on Frydenlund. It will also be available on ebog, where downloads of separate articles will be possible.

My article follows the Zapatist Movement during the last 22 years. From they begin to organise themselves in the jungle of Chiapas in the south of Mexico. In the story about the movement I am mixing personal experiences from travelling in Chiapas and Mexico in general with a more formal presentation of the movement.

The Zapatist Movement has been known through the carasmatic spokeperson Sub-commander Marcos. On of my arguments in the article is that Marcos does not exist. He is always appearing disguised so anybody could be behind the mask. It can easily be backed up, if you travel around in Chiapas.

One morning in Roberto Barrios a young boy come to me and introduces himself. His name is Marco ... as he says: just like Marcos. In spanish -s indicates plural and very many boys and men in Mexico are called Marco. Marcos is just the symbol of everybody.

Another discussion in the article is how "Los Zapatistas" has influenced the way we think about political movements. In the mid 1990es they invited the whole world to a meeting against neoliberalism and for humanity in the jungle of Chiapas. By doing so they proved it possible to set an alternative agenda.

In general the article focus on the use of symbolic language and action as an important part of forming a political movement.

Sunday, 27 January 2008

the Ghetto

Also in Documenta I tried to stay outside the ghetto. It was on the first day. I saw photographs from somewhere in Africa. They will always tell you that Africa is so big that you will have to be more specific. But Africa is everywhere. I was thinking of Africa. It is not easy to stay outside the ghetto and eventually you will be punished, not everybody can survive. Although if you once have lost yourself to the outside, then you will always be falling. I am not sure, where I began to fall. I have been accostumed to believe that Africa alienated me. Send me into the big ocean with the destiny of no return. But it happened long time before. Besides Africa is not a plan, but a state of mind. Pure existence. To paraphrase a white african, who dedicated himself to avoid the white ghetto in Africa.

As long as I can remember I was afraid of you. I was secretely watching you but did never dare to talk to you or touch you. I felt that I was not part of you. It was only many years later, when I came to Africa that I dared to speak. I never felt so alone and so different before, but nobody seemed to care, not even myself. The real truth was, that everybody knew, that I could not be changed, so they had to accept me as I appeared to them. Things don't change and people remain the same. Nothing to do. When there is nothing to do, I should not try. She reminds me that then we will just get a headache.

On the last day of Documenta I joined an African party. In front of the screen in the room in the castle outside the city, there are mostly young french women. The party continues around the bondfire with african symbols and gothic letters across the screen as graphical interpretations. Black men introduces white mannequins. They burn them as witches in the end after fucking them roughly from behind.