White African

  Litteraturredaktør Peter Nielsen om debatten om Boberg I begyndelsen af marts udkom ”Africana”. Her i de første par uger har det været svært at få lov til at læse bogen for den virak, der har været i medierne om Bobergs bedrift. For at kunne få lov til at læse Bobergs rejseroman bliver jeg nød til at rydde scene for svulstige superlativer og tunge (tomme) begreber. De fleste anmeldelser har rost Boberg til skyerne. Litteraturredaktør Peter Nielsen ved Information har endda skrevet, at Boberg giver stemme til Afrika. Det har fået mange til at fare i blækhuset for at trække så store veksler, og i nogle tilfælde har kritikken været kædet samme med, at Boberg som hvid mand på rejse i to forskellige lande skulle kunne give stemme til et helt kontinent. Kritikken er blevet hårdhændet afvist af såvel Peter Nielsen som Boberg selv og tilsidesat som identitetspolitik. Deres pointe er, at det ikke bør diskvalificere Bo...

Performance of poetry and narrative with reflexions about meeting the ‘other’; what does not make immedeate make any sense, and how it crushed my previous world view and riped every imagination of belonging into pieces. Jeg forstår ikke de signaler      som bæres på snefnug      der daler fra himlen      eller haglslags rids      i huden Langt bedre forstår jeg      troperegnens korporlige      sjaskvåde kys på kroppen      og solens ubarmhjertige      angreb ved Ækvator Geografisk placering      tjener ikke som forklaring Mine gerninger      har deres eget liv      hinsides godt og ondt (Vinterdrømme, 2014) For 15 år siden rejste jeg til et sted, jeg ikke tidligere havde ønsket at tage til, nogensinde drømt om at skulle b...

Når jeg går langs kysten er det en formildende omstændighed, og der er altid grund til at tænke en tanke. Gennem de tågende vinduer ved Det Indiske Ocean føler jeg mig fri. Det jeg ellers ville være bange for at miste, har ingen betydning. Selvom alt omkring mig summer af tvangsmekanismer. Kun en time tidligere købte jeg en omformer på Oxford Street, fordi stikkontakterne her har tre ben, og tre ben af en anden tykkelse, end nogen andre steder jeg har opholdt mig tidligere.  Det sted, jeg sidder med mit glas øl, er ikke, hvad jeg foretrækker. Jeg er beskyttet indeni et par gigantiske par solbriller, som dæmper min opfattelse af havets styrke. Omkring mig sidder andre, som virker mindre interesserede i havets dybere indsigt. Måske forsøger jeg bare at forstørre min egen betydning.

She is a hairdresser. Every morning she get up very early to go to work. It can easily take several hours from Omoja to Moi Avenue in town The salon is on top of Kenya Cinema – in busiest Nairobi. Some evenings she is not home before ten because she is waiting for the worst jam to cool down. Home in Omoja there are two boys. The youngest call her Mom, but they are not hers. They belong to her brother. He is not around. He went to Qatar for a job and the mother ran away with another man. Qatar is such a ugly and terrifying word. As if something is eating you from the inside. Catarrh is also a superficial inflammation on the skin. All the way back in 13th hundred Europe The Cathars was religious outcasts from The Catholic Church, expelled because they believed in reincarnation. She expects him to send her money, but she has not heard from him since he left. --- Four years later her brother returns, not in a coffin like other men have done, but very sick, and she has to pa...

I have been asked to do a joint performance together with an Ugandan dance group. They have given me a topic. This text and those who follow are different attempts to tackle the challenge. The performance wil be Thursday 23rd of March in Fusion Autospa in Munyonyo.  I am sitting in a bar in Copenhagen. with my colleagues from Uganda. We are here for a conference. There is a group of guys next to us. They smile. We exchange phrases. We are comfortable in each others company, becasuse we resemble in color. One of them moves closer to me and ask me almost whispering as if he is telling me a secret: "How can I help you?" Help me? I am confused. He wants to help me! Do I look like I need help? I am almost about to ask him for a drink to respoind to his offer and be polite, but he does not look like someone buying driinks to a strangers. "Yes, how can I help you to stay here?" But I am not going to staying here. I am going back to Uganda tomorrow. He stares at me. ...