afropolitaine

afrofoto day 3 | my hat is not a snapback, but have i snapped back?

2017-06-05T23:10:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was day 10 and that's what I committed to AND I owe you guys 3 other posts so let me render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's.

The afrofoto is not of the nearly snapped back African mother's body...no. It's of the floppy sunhat I have loved for years my mom got me in Ghana. There's nothing particular spectacular about the hat, but it's strikingly unique in a simple way. The brim isn't too large or stiff and the print, though colorful, isn't loud. I've worn this hat so many times and always take it with me when traveling because it folds and it versatile and the brim holds up after being scrunched up between waaaayy more clothes than I need in suitcases on 13+ hour long flights.

This past Sunday was so much hotter than the rest of the previous weeks have been so when headed out I knew to lather the sunscreen on and wear a hat to protect my face. I wish I had some hats like this for baby (I'll let my mom know) because I know they'd be a comfortable wear.

Since I mentioned the nearly snapped back African mother's body, I might as well indulge you guys.

To be completely honest, it hasn't been easy getting back in shape (the literal shape I was in pre-preggo) because someone told me starting to work out for a breastfeeding mom would reduce supply. I looked it up of course and like anything many humans experience there are strong opinions on that and the complete opposite. I decided not to take my chances since I'd committed myself to breastfeeding exclusively. My supply's been good and baby is now starting on foods so I decided TODAY to get on my "fitness journey" (the " " are especially true). I did my first crunches probably in a year - 30 of them! Whoohoo and I know I'm going to suffer if/when I laugh tomorrow, but no pain no gain. I'll do it again tomorrow and take it small small, un peu un peu, mbijana mbijana, poco a poco...we will get back to the 4 pack. I've been eating healthy before, during and after delivery so we're good on the food front. I might show you guys some progress pictures in a few months.

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*@afropolitaine*

#afrofoto day 10 | I went into a stinky graffiti alley for YOU!

2017-06-04T23:50:00.001-04:00

What have I learnt so far?

That it is ~~impossible~~ very difficult to blog everyday when a small human being depends on you for nourishment, entertainment and prefers you are mostly within her lines of vision [unless she's sleeping] on weekends...and you also enjoy doing that AND need to nourish and entertain yourself with her.

I owe you guys 3 posts now! You will get them I promise! As I type this one I already have tomorrow's *insert salsa dancing lady emoji*.

Today was HOT (upper 80s) and we started the morning sleeping in a bit. We got up to get ready per the usual when my cousin called saying he wanted to take us (his niece really lol) to the farmer's market in DC so we ended up doing that. We went to the Union Market area where there are a lot of wholesale fruit, veggie, meat and all sorts of in between vendors only to find them closed so we ended up going into Union Market itself. We walked around to choose something to eat and settled on Takorean. So good! Afterwards....well earlier when looking for parking we'd seen 2 guys taking pictures in one of the graffiti'd alleys so we decided to do the same. My cousin loves his car and is into that type of thing so me too I joined in. I remembered #afrofoto and that I was WAAAAY due for a post so I thought hey me too let me get some pictures in here. It was stiiiinkyyy in that alley, but because I love you guys I endured it :) I love how the pictures turned out with absolutely no filter 💗!

(no filter no nothing)

This basket-bag was my late grandmother's and I got it from her while she was still alive. She'd already been in the States for 2 years undergoing treatment at that point with my grandfather coming and going between here and Zimbabwe months at a time. At some point while he was in Zim, I decided to go and visit him since he was mostly in the house alone and it had been a while since I'd seen him/been in Zim. This bag was in the closet in the room that used to be mine as a kid and is always where I stay when I go. I really liked the bag so coming back I used it as my carry on to hold those extra things we somehow accumulate despite having come/traveled light. My grandmother and I would be on the phone coordinating the things she wanted me to bring back for her and there was quite a bit.

She definitely got the bag herself when she went to Tanzania while my mom lived there and Kilimo Kwanza, in Swahili, means Agriculture First. I'm not quite sure if it may have been promotional for something or just was like that at purchase. What I love about it is how durable it is! It's made of woven rafia (i think) material and reinforced along the edges and straps with fabric so it does not give no matter what you put in it. I also love the wide strip of kikoi on the front with the fringe uncut. I used to use this as my bag at work, but retired it for something else in the rotation. Today I came full circle back to it for the market because it could fit my baby necessities, wallet AND I'd have been able to add whatever we would have gotten.

Happy Sunday folk and may you go into the new week with new energy, joy and focus....says the person typing a blog post at a quarter to midnight on Sunday night and hasn't finished packing the baby bag for the baby sitter because it's better to let the baby sleep than end up waking her up accidentally for that. Yes...!

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*@afropolitaine*

afrofoto day 7 | on necklaces and STUFF like that...and whatnot...or whatever

2017-06-01T23:52:00.001-04:00

I moved exactly a month ago now and it's taken much longer to get settled. I definitely reduced the number of boxes that were unpacked and have a functionally arranged closet....along with a pile of cloths still on the floor to be sorted through. In realizing I still possibly another year of breastfeeding my honey bunny I've tried to organize clothes by keeping those that are practical and easily accessible for that and then there is the sentimental reasons keeps, then the this is one of a kind how can i get rid of it. Those last 2 categories are mostly what is on the floor because I am strongly aspiring minimalist. Moving really really really reinforced that. You/we like to think we have not that many things until it's time to move. Even then you look around yourself and see the big furniture items and maybe think I don't have that much stuff, but once the furniture and big pieces are out, the STUFF is really where it's at. I was so upset with myself for how much stuff I had. I've got boxes at the door of things I already identified as having been unused or unnecessary at the other place. Thank goodness for the silver lining of babies outgrowing things at a pretty consistent pace. On the one hand yes you have to keep getting them things, but on the flip side you get to get rid of things at the same pace.

Anywhoooo I finally got to a box that has my jewelry and I've also sorted through that. Quite a few ended up in the bucket of jewelry I will NOT be keeping. Some are just because I never really loved them, but many are just not practical for a grabby baby who's teething at this point. Today's #afrofoto is one I kept. I have loved this necklace from the time I got it at one of the African themed jewelry stores at OR Tambo airport in Johannesburg. In fact, many stunning pieces I have are from shopping I did transiting through that airport. Pretty pennies were paid for them. I've definitely outgrown the jeweled phase of my style for now...or until my boo boo is well beyond being fascinated by colorful things around my neck. So yeah. What does the necklace have to do with moving and the stress of it? Nothing or something necessarily, but it was part of the STUFF we find ourselves with in these situations.

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*@afropolitaine*

afrofoto day 6 | am I a "sweet mother"?

2017-05-31T23:51:00.000-04:00

Today was a hard day. It really tested me not in the general general sense of testing, but in that LIFE revealing way. I will not get into details and save that for my memoir or maybe sometime way down the road when it's actual comedy...one of those things people tell you many years after the phase that oh remember that time when such and such, now look at you. By the time the day ended early evening baby and I came home and I had a snickers ice cream bar, a glass of wine, some kettle butter popcorn, 2 lollipops, a huge salad, some pasta and mussels I made. I came home from battle I won and enjoyed the spoils if you will. Sooooo in all of that I completely did not think about #afrofoto until literally right now. I don't even have a picture, but I was like I can't just skip this day. I already have a skweredi (debt) with you guys for day 3. I really have nothing for you guys today, but also a LOT. But since today has already been a LOT, I will leave you guys with this picture and leave you all to your imaginations on what the mood of the day was and now is.

#mood

Looking at myself in that picture I relish looking like an African mama - it's a superpower! and as I thought that the song Sweet Mother and it's lyrics came to mind.

It's funny cuz on Mother's Day when I went to church (mostly Ghanaian), that was the song they played on the letout. It was originally sang by Prince Nico Mbarga a Nigerian-Cameroonian highlife artist. It's ever poignant and ever timely for mothers universally and today was one of those days me myself the song could be about me, but just generally a reminder of how much mother's go through and still keep going. I'm so proud to be a mother and I'm glad in everything that motherhood takes I managed to get #afrofoto day 6 up.

Also, the cloth wrapped around me was my grandmother's and she got it in Zim and I think I've had it since I was like 18. (cloth talk again lol)

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*@afropolitaine*

afrofoto day 5 | red red wine (pinotage)

2017-05-30T22:52:00.001-04:00

Sooooo....confession time. I have another blog. At some point it completely pulled me away from this one here and I was completely absorbed into developing and growing it. It was about wine. Correction, it IS about wine and I enjoyed doing it so much and gained a teensy teensy bit of "fame" from it. It was during the time I lived in NE DC and would look for wine related events like tastings, launches, readings, pairings, etc. There was this ka-YUTE little wine shop that opened [I hope is still there] called DCanter (toooootal play on words) I enjoyed going to in Capitol Hill a comfortable walk or short bike ride to. Cute decor, not HUUUGE selection, but comfortable and they always had great events featuring sommeliers, vintners, viticulturists etc. The guy who owns it or is the manager was just genuinely engaging without being salesmany and it was just altogether lovely. Anywhoo back to my "fame" surely I can't miss a chance to share with you guys. I walked in there looking specifically for a pinotage totally expecting to find just 1 bottle/type. Nope they had a few and he also put me onto something. We get to the front at check out and he asks me why I haven't been writing recently. Guys! Like those are the small moments bloggers/I live for. Of course I died of shyness and was more interested in how he knew it was me....silly question i know, but you know...self doubt. Little ol' me. Anywhooo back to wine.

I wasn't able to drink wine while I was pregnant and for a long time after I had my little booboo, but you know I decided to not be so strict on myself because no one would cut me some slack. So once in a while...

My favorite reds and possibly variety overall are pinotage (hyperlinked to one of the best resources for wine info and knowledge at whatever level (Wine Folly) and tempranillo. That first one is a variety unique to South Africa that wasn't, until recently [nearly famous], that well known in the "traditional" wine world (French, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish - European). It was/is still sort of seen as an outsider, but from the moment I tasted it years ago I loved the depth of the flavor. Besides the typical bouquet of notes and flavors, it has an additional smokey essence (wouldn't quite call it taste) to it. Like how things back home sometimes do. It's a slow and unrushed sip. One where you take a sip and listen to what it does to your mouth and how it warms your chest like a cuddle. Ok that's it this is not my wine blog, this is ----> https://thatoeno.wordpress.com (ThatOeno <-- also="" handle="" nbsp="" p="" twitter="">
Today's afrofoto features a wine my little cousin (she's grown guys, but will always be my little ... *wipes tears at what a wonderful young woman she has grown to be*) bought me. She's actually one of those people who since having the baby has presented me great wine drinking opportunities. She's in the navy and brought me back some heavy thick madame full bodied red from France when she came back from her voyages. Last week she asked me what are some good reds because she wants to stock up for her place and of course without hesitation I said "pinotage and tempranillo". Here she comes on Friday like she's just visiting and hands me a bottle of each for mother's day <3 nbsp="" p="">

The pinotage is a 2015 shiraz blend at 15.5% alcohol (the higher the percentage alcohol of a wine the slower it's suggesting you sip it ...to me) and it tastes like all the wonderful poetry I started to tell you all above. Besides "Wine of South Africa" one of the signature markings of wines is the screw top. Another reason why European wines/industry kind of hates on them. The South African industry has always been about sustainability and has been able to adapt with the times. Corks, although traditionalists mad at the democratization of wine consumption might beg to differ with a pinky in the air, especially natural ones, are terrible for the environment and sometimes the wine itself. More on environmental effects at this website - Academic Wino - another incredible place on the internet with my types of information superheroes. They also, as I've experienced too many times, sometimes crumble into the wine and are difficult to remove. It also makes it so you have to finish a bottle because it doesn't keep that well once the cork isn't airtight.

So afrofoto day 4 - pilotage. Ladies and gentlemen, you're welcome. Check out the other blog if you will. It's not dead, it's dormant. AND to the one person who asked me to keep going with the story about the road trip from South Africa to Zim, can we just meet over a cup of tea/glass of wine, there's so much to tell....sike! I definitely will one of these longer days :)

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*@afropolitaine*

afrofoto day 4 | cut from the same cloth (on upcycling my late Gogo's fashions)

2017-05-29T23:59:00.004-04:00

Continuing from my last post, one of the things I did whilst in Zim was get some clothes made. Until that point I hadn't bought anything maternity because quite frankly its all hideous and unflattering...to/for me. I wanted some cute African print somethings I could maybe even wear beyond pregnancy.

My grandmother was, to anyone who knew her, a very very stylish lady even well into her goto-ness (grandmotherness). ALL, if not 95.9% of her clothes were African print dresses, skirts and tops and whatnots from fabric she'd collected from all her travels. She visited my mother in all the countries she lived in and did quite a bit of traveling herself to others. Those were a lot of countries and she had a LOT of clothes. Like the rooms that were ours when we were little have closets full of her clothes. Her room's entire wall of closet had more clothes....I'll just leave it at a lot.

In being my grandmother's handbag when I was little and well into my adulthood while she was alive one of the things we enjoyed doing together when I'd be in Zim is going to her tailor maNdlovu. They had a very special relationship so while I was home in July I took a day where I picked 2 of my grandmother's outfits whose print I liked and took those to maNdlovu to upcycle them. At this point it had been a year since my grandmother's passing and when i walked into her shop she started crying....and then I did too. I think especially that I was pregnant must have really touched her because she knows how my gogo would jokingly nag me about her great-grandchildren. MaNdlovu immediately recognized the outfits I brought because she'd sowed them.

I had a couple of pictures for what I envisioned and of course she had to chime in about the length of the dress and the snugness of the dress I wanted...i had to sternly, but lovingly remind her she was not making a dress for gogo anymore and that gogo would have wanted me to wear whatever the hell i want. After all, in her own heyday, my gogo was a stylish shasha (fly girl)!

Cut a long story short, today's #afrofoto is what maNdlovu made. It's cute in and of itself, but sooooooo far from what I showed her. She is one of those tailors, especially when you are first going to her, you need to go back to 7 times for the first 5 things she makes for you before she learns you. I'm glad it managed to be wearable post part.

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*@afropolitaine*

afrofoto day 2 | Success is the Journey....South Africa to Zimbabwe by road. Yikes!

2017-05-27T00:00:00.000-04:00

(a toll gate in Zimbabwe on the drive to Bulawayo and a grand ol' baobab tree)

While I was preggers I took a trip home to Zimbabwe. It was sort of my way of getting connected to the place in the world that comes most readily to mind when I think of home. I wanted to come home before I reached a point where I wouldn't be able to fly and also because I figured it would be a while after I delivered. Unfortunately, I was sick from pregnancy related travel complications from the very first flight I caught out of Baltimore (BWI). The flight was one of those deals I got months before for a STEAL...and I was paying for it in how many legs the flight had. It went from Baltimore (BWI) to New York (JFK) to Amsterdam to Johannesburg and finally to Bulawayo. On the very first short (a little over an hour) leg, after landing, as I stood in the aisle with others to get off the flight, my body temperature shot up, I got lightheaded and fainted completely falling deadweight and blacking out in the aisle of the flight. I woke up not sure how many seconds or minutes later with flight attendants and a passenger attending to me. This had happened to me earlier in my pregnancy on a very looooong direct flight was DC to Addis Ababa and I remembered I needed something cold on my body to cool me down and something sweet to bring my blood sugar back up - so I knew what others around me should do. I directed them on what to do and was able to stand and make my way out of the narrow aisles of the plane. Paramedics had been called since my being 5 months pregnant made it even more emergency. An ambulance sped down the tarmac and pulled up literally beside the airplane. A gurney was brought up to carry me from there to Jamaica Queens Hospital (sirens whirring and everything). I'd hit my head and busted my knee on the fall and was just completely OUT of it.

Cut a long story short, I'd arrived NY about 8 in the morning and my next connecting flight was supposed to be at 8pm and I'd planned to spend the day in the city, but that wasn't happening. My friend Zanele with whom I'd planned a day of fun with spent the day bedside in the hospital with me and once I was discharged later in the day took me out to eat and freshen up. I was determined to continue on the trip because I thought maybe that WHOOOOLE entire incident was a fluke (also my terrible habit of not cutting myself some slack or allowing myself a break sometimes). Things came together and I made it onto my next flight to Amsterdam as a passenger marked as needing assistance. I arrived there with less than 2 hours to connect to my Jo'burg flight.....but given how long that flight is and the previous one had been, the airline decided against letting me on as I needed to have time for my body to recover from the pressure and stress of the flight. Oh did I mention I threw up my whole life on that flight an hour to landing?! They booked a hotel for me and I was booked on the next flight 12 hours later to Jo'burg. To be honest, that did help in ways I didn't realize. It was good to just sleep, eat and do nothing for those hours with little/no interaction with people. Everything had been overstimulating until then.

Made it to the airport the next morning and did a bit of walking around the airport (Schipol shopping is the bomb.com) and eventually boarded. Again, I was marked as needing assistance and got on with the old people and those traveling with kids (iWAS) - I can't wait to get that preferential treatment when traveling with baby. Flight attendants checked on me constantly to make sure I didn't faint in my seat where no-one would know since I wouldn't fall.

Made it to Jo'burg now a day behind the originally ticketed days and before I even came out at arrivals I maneuvered my way behind the scenes there to see how that could be resolved. Basically, all flights from Jo'burg to Bulawayo were fully booked until 3 days later. My whole trip was 2 weeks and I'd already lost a day sleeping in Amsterdam. Crap! Although I have family and friends in Jo'burg I'm typically a planner and springing myself unplanned or unannounced is NOT my thing. I did not want to have to figure out a plan to stay with someone. I like Jo'burg for transit unless I have plans there or when my mom lived there. I sucked it up and called an uncle/cousin (not quite sure which he is) who is in the family/clan WhatsApp group and he happily came to get me and welcomed me in his home with his warm and beautiful wife and two young sons. Mind you also by the way as well...Jo'burg was FUH-REEZING (compared to final destination Bulawayo) and the warmest thing I had was the sweater I wore. Mind you, homes in southern Africa aren't quite centrally heated so the house/room i was in was an ICE BOX. I showered and jumped into bed holding myself in the same position and completely under the covers hoping my body would kick into highest for heat. Nope it stayed on slow. First day I slept there I just decided to give up on thinking and planning how I was gonna get to Bulawayo. Just slept. Made some calls next day and looked things up and there were no flights or at least not without paying monies that were not budgeted for. I couldn't (/DID NOT WANT) spend those days there so we brainstormed and me uncle/cousin also did his part. It turned out a distant cousin who I either had never met before or had a loooooong time ago (we both weren't sure) 's husband was driving to Zim early the next morning to take supplies for their house they're building in Gwanda (this sentence should be used to illustrate their vs. they're usage...teeheehee). That was my ticket out I did not care what ungodly hour he was leaving I was gonna ride with him [for the whole 12+ hour drive). They'd said he'd pick me up 7 in the morning. He didn't come until 2pm when we went to his house I met the cousin I'm not quite sure about and their kids then we finally hit the road to Zim at 10pm. Don't ask me what things needed to be done, shangaan bags (ghana must go) were put in the back of the pick up truck, snacks and mphako was put together in all that time.

(road side scene in Zimbabwe shortly after cross the border)

At this point I've been typing so much and I'm trying to figure out if I should continue with how that total 16 hour drive with 2 hours spent at the border that, with efficiency and without corrupt, underpaid border officials, should have been 20 minutes went OR just skip to the #afrofoto of the day.

I'm going to skip forward to the #afrofoto, but if you reply/comment that I should continue the trip story your wish is my command in another post :)

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*@afropolitaine*

Today was Africa Day and I'm bringing back #afrofoto - Day 1

2017-05-25T22:17:00.000-04:00

I have 2 alarms set in the morning. The first one goes off, but it's not for getting UP. It's for WAKING up...I have 20 minutes to check into the world outside the 4 walls around me (news, email, social media etc.) AND feed baby for the morning while we lie in bed. I get into Instagram and there were a few posts, especially by people/Africans in time zones ahead, wearing their African print clothes, showing off jewelry and/or flashing back to their last trip back to the continent. Did Africa die...? no! It was all for #AfricaDay!! Today was/is Africa Day. Quick history behind it - May 25 marks the founding of the African Union in 1963. It's celebrated in many African countries and, OF COURSE, by Diasporans - we no dey carry last.

I typically choose my outfit for the day the night before so I thought to myself *insert thought bubble* "How can afropolitaine the blogger mark this here day in her own way? - CLOTHES of course"!! There's a dress I've worn just once that I bought while in Ethiopia when I went to the market on an in country work trip to Bahir Dar. There were so/TOO many dresses like it, but something about the color combination caught my eye [it wasn't the combination of either neon colors nor the red-yellow-green]. I haggled HARD for that dress because the market was HOT, had WAAAAAY too much going on and I knew I didn't want to have to come back so I was getting everything in gifts for others there and being DONE. I wore it the first time while living in Baltimore (just moved a month ago) at Artscape to a Wyclef Jean concert (life was gotten there [he really is/was such a talented artist and I didn't realize how many hits he's had throughout his career....but that's a convo for another day]).

The dress. Let's talk about the dress. It's the typical/traditional woven off white cotton called shemma. It's a pretty casual style and a bit see through because the weaving is light so I wore a beige short tank dress underneath as a liner. I actually fell in love more with it now because I previously thought it would only be cute during maternity - this dress said no girl you can wear me anytime!

I enjoyed wearing it and got several compliments in it *insert dancing salsa girl emoji* (yes ...i just realized dancing and salsa make that redundant, but also it could be salsa the food).

Onto where this blog stands currently. OBVZ I have not blogged not nearly enough. Actually, even not near enough is way more than what I've done. Motherhood has taken all those moments I used to use for stuff like this and replaced them with a completely different set of joys. When it's not those joys its also just enjoying the teeny tiny sweet ounce of doing nothing. Funny how doing nothing also means something completely different now that I'm a mom. "Doing nothing" can be folding laundry you meant to 3 days ago when it dried, doing your OWN laundry, clearing out the clutter indoor inbox...lol...it's different. I do, now that she sleeps better (earlier and longer) want to ease my way back into blogging. It was, after all, one of the joys I had before. I'd like to make a commitment to you all so STARTING TODAY, I'm bringing back the #afrofoto daily series! I'll commit to 10 days first and push to make it past that day by day.

So yeah this whole post was Africa Day and #afrofoto day 1. The dress is from Ethiopia, I'm excited to be back...ARE YOU WITH ME?! Ok, let's do this together :)

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*@afropolitaine*

honest review on Honest products by a mother-in-chief

2017-02-07T19:31:00.000-05:00

The other day I used an Honest diaper (size 1 8- 14lbs) for the first time and.....

I loooove them! I'd mentioned in my previous post that I had a review on Honest diapers and products since I'd received a girl's discovery kit so here we find ourselves. I gave it the overnight test and it passed with flying colors. Although it does not have the blue stripe when wet, figuring she was wet wasn't an issue because if there's one thing a baby will do it is pee in a diaper. The design on it and how different (you choose the designs yourself) each diaper is almost has me wishing they are a bottom on their own or at least it was warm enough for her to hang out in a diaper when chilling.

Baby slept the whole night 8 hours in the one diaper and it held up pretty well. Even though she wakes up to feed once or twice in the middle of the night, I didn't change her until morning. (NB: this is an executive decision I makes changer-and-feeder-in-chief when weighing whether I want her to continue in the sweetness of her sleep or to wake her up past sleepiness to change a diaper). There was no leaking or even a teeny bit of dampness along the top or trim of the diaper.

Other products in the kit were the following:

WIPES:

These wipes are so far the best wipes I've used to wipe baby and a single one goes a very long way. They are medical cloth grade so they feel like a thin cloth and are biodegradable. They also have a texture or small round "bubbles" which means they really pick up EVERYthing when you are cleaning baby off from a booboo!

face + body lotion:

This lotion is very light, probably too light for the winter, on a melanated baby whose skin I like to keep moist and sealed against the cold. I dripped a bit on my hand and it has NO smell. Like none at all. Not like this unfragranced products that have a "no fragrance smell". I smell like person where I rubbed it on. That'll be especially good for babies with allergies and good for mine in the spring going into summer.

hand soap:

The liquid is clear and smells unmistakably like lavender. It felt not as thick as the shampoo + body wash, but I couldn't say it's watery. Good, to the point product, not much poetry to say about it and it gets the job done.

shampoo + body wash:

squeezed a drop of this onto the back of my hand and it's clear and smells a bit like orange...not much of the vanilla coming through until I rubbed it around on my skin. I swirled it around and it became white like soap does

multi-surface cleaner:

This spray says it's white grapefruit scented, [but] that smell is very faint. I'll most likely use this to clean up the changing pad I clean about 2 times daily. I wonder how heavy duty it can be and won't get much opportunity to find out. Maybe one day.

organic healing balm:

This balm is made up of about 7 oils including olive and coconut. Again, no smell here, but because of the oils contained therein, it has that oil/petroleum non-smell. No fragrances from the oils used in it came through - don't know how they managed that. I applied it and like how it both seeps into and sits on the skin so I might use this the same way I used vaseline on baby after bathing now.

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I now have received the big box with the full size bundle for size 1 diapers and didn't know that I was going to be getting it until I checked my bank account to see that I'd been charged for it. It's a really big box and when it was brought I wasn't home so I had to take the slip to the convenience store down the street not knowing what it was especially such a big box. I know what I order so it was odd. The very friendly Ethiopian guy helped me get it into the car since I was carrying baby and it's YUUUGE...or I have small hands. I had to keep it in the car until I could ask someone to carry it out of the car for me. (City living).

So there you have it, an honest review on Honest products. All in all, it is a well executed brand and the thoroughness of thought can be seen throughout every detail including the tiny stamp on the outside of the box and printing on color on the inside. It's definitely pricier than the other brands we are all more familiar with and I reviewed HERE, but you can see why. They would make a good gift to a new mom and for now I might focus on getting through the stacks of diaper boxes and wipes I already have from baby shower and beyond. We'll see.

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*@afropolitaine

Diapers: Handling the booboo and protecting the bumbum

2017-01-30T16:44:00.001-05:00

Baby is now 2 months old and as you may imagine, she goes through a lot of diapers. When she was new newborn it was very important to change her very often because he system, along with having breast milk, was cleaning itself out and her boobooing therefore was more frequent. I'd learnt about the colors of booboo and what they should be and what they mean so there was nothing scary in what I saw. Fast forward to now that she is 2 months old, she doesn't booboo as much and that too is completely normal especially with an exclusively breastfeeding baby - they can go up to a 10 day stretch without doing so. [You should only be alarmed if baby is in pain and her stomach feels firmer than it usually is.]

So what I've learnt about diapers so far is that they are created for the same purpose, but not created equally. I haven't had experience with all brands, but the ones I've used so far are Pampers, Huggies and Up & Up (Target store brand). I started off using newborn size (box is marked with an N and her weight range was "up to 8lbs") and that was all I knew. When that pack finished I got into Huggies and realized they have a bit more of the texturing for high absorbency...they just looked like they would feel more comfy, not that the other wasn't. Especially now at 2 where she sleeps longer shifts at night, AND I DO TOO (Hallelujah!!), I've found that Huggies hold up the best. With the others, the top of the diaper will have leaked a bit to her onesie along the top of the diaper. Nights when she's very fidgety and does a booboo means the booboo now leaks too. Not cool. So right now I love Huggies. The target ones are not bad and are a great price compared and during the day where she is mostly peeing and I change her much more often they get the job done just fine.

(Pictured from left to right: Pampers, Huggies, Up&Up)

All in all, so far, in my experience, with my baby, Huggies are the best especially for that added bonus of being more absorbent overnight. Everything else is pretty much the same: they all have the color indicator stripe that goes from yellow to blue when wet and have some stretchiness along the perimeter of the thigh to ensure there's no leaking or tightness. I received a sample box from Honest that I will be blogging about that also contains their diapers and some other goodies.

p.s. I did a google search for "diapers" and there were plenty of pictures and only 1 amongst hundreds was of a black baby so I had to search for "diapers black baby" and got better results...there were quite a few non-black babies though

*@afropolitaine*

I Got a Boob Job in Ethiopia. (read for context)

2016-10-15T00:55:00.000-04:00

Earlier this year (2016), March to May, I went to Ethiopia for work. One of my projects is there and was in need of more direct support since, until then, everything was being managed and coordinated remotely. This post will make very little reference to work because...well that's just how I've rolled online! Also because it was equally, if not more enriching for my personal development and self awareness and the stamps in my passport marked me learning the world a little more.

Sooooo...where to begin. It was the first time I went to a country I had never been not knowing anyone at all...that's not completely true. The first one I did that SOLO and for that long not knowing anyone - 2 months is a long time. When the opportunity came up, the challenge excited me and per usual, being the pragmatist, I mentally prepared myself to be able to withstand whatever the emotional challenges of taking a leap would be. It was definitely going to happen and I had fears, but that wasn't going to stop the show.

Got there and hit the road running and there was a lot to do, but I made a deliberate effort to personally experience the country. I looked up restaurants, tried foods, visited museums and traveled to different regions.

Here are some tidbits about the country:

population = about 94 million with the Addis metro area holding about 4.5 million

most populous landlocked country in the world

Addis Ababa is 2400 - 3000 meters above sea level

2nd highest city in the world after Asmara, Eritrea
some say is about the

languages = Amharic (spoken by about 30% of the population) is the official language while Oromo is spoken by more people (33%)

next most spoken are Somali and Tigrinya
over 80 total languages with almost 200 dialects
language groups = Semitic, Cushitic, Omotic and Nilo-Saharan

religion :

Ethiopian Orthodox = 44%; Islam = 40%; Protestantism = 18.6%
Ethiopia was one of the first Christian countries in the world when Aksum Kingdom (modern day Ethiopia and Eritrea) made it the state religion in the 4th Century
traditional religions are practiced by almost 3% of population mostly in the south

Now that the formalities of context are out of the way, you may be wondering how all of this connects to boobs in the title. Well....

A few weeks upon arriving in Ethiopia my skin was Guh-LOWING! You hear me?! Every comment/compliment on my snapchat was about how good my skin looked. Having been deliberate about the skin care and makeup I brought on the trip paired with eating so much healthier food, drinking a lot of water to counter the challenging altitude, the different air and the African sun - I was like of course I'm glowing. Why/how would I not be?! Work was stressful, but the newness of a completely different environment was renewing my soul.

Although I love injera and the several types of shiros and wots, it was quite different that everything everywhere all day was that. Some food and smells were new to me so it made sense that my olfactory senses were sharp as a hound dog.

I was ALWAYS tired you hear me?! It didn't make sense at ALL except that is a side effect of being in much higher altitudes (check 2nd tidbit above) I equated it to altitude sickness. In my efforts to stay fit I would try to go running on some mornings and found myself short of breath very easily. I made it through workshops and trainings by the spiritual Redbull grace of God because I would struggle to actively stay alert. It didn't help that now coordinating daily chats with boo as well as check ins and teleconferencing with home office on a 7 hour time difference meant very little sleep after the Ethiopian work day was over.

Also, I was very VERY irritable. Unreasonably so. It mostly happened internally, but many mundane things irritated me. Actually, they were quite legit - at the time. And in hindsight. Why would I find the cleaning lady or housekeeping's hair on the table or countertop after she cleaned. WHHYYYYY? In. The. World. did I find hair in my food at different places in my time in Ethiopia than anyone should ever have to throughout a lifetime?! It put me off eating completely because I was almost guaranteed to find a hair so I ate looking for it and the times I let my guard down I would feel what had become the familiar horror on my tongue. Seriously, one day I had completely given up on food and decided to get a smoothie. Ordered a simple mango something something at this clean looking establishment where it took entirely too long to make, but ok they are cutting fruit from scratch ergo freshness right?! NO! It tasted good, and about halfway through I felt something thickish, long and stringy so I thought oh this must have been a stringy mango. NO. It was a long (4 inches or so) string of hair all up in my mouth. As I pulled it out of my mouth I wanted to FIGHT E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. Why had God forsaken me?! I thought I had already reached the pinnacle of quitting finding hair on my food only to look up and have ways to go. I'd thought my previous level of Quit was it, but I completely QUIIIIITTT!! I never thought it was possible. I never hespererit. We thank God for his mercy that endureth forever because...

Off the segway and back on the main road. So glowy skin, heightened smell, increased irritability, indefatigable fatigue, and now we get to the last thing. Connecting all of this to the title of this post - les boobs. They were big. Ok bigger than what I left the US with. There was a noticeable more-than-snug to how they wore. I adjusted to the outermost clasps and extended the straps down a little bit so the brassiere wouldn't dig into my shoulders. What was gentle regular cleavage was now a little more jiggle and bubble than I considered classically classy. The middle button on my very nice dress shirts would sometimes come undone. Hhhmmm. Was I eating too much?! *hint hint*

Cut a long story short, I found out I was pregnant when I was in Ethiopia. While I was out there solo, so far from home, with no friends or family around. I was all I had to support and get through the news and associated next steps. We had been talking/joking about it on the phone and almost a month into my being there boo and I got really real with the reality that something outside of altitude sickness and Africa being great for my soul was going on.

Cut a long story short again, at the point I found out I had been a month in the country with a month more to go. Six weeks pregnant and keeping it between the two of us .... and my Ethiopian colleague whose wife was currently pregnant who I asked about a good doctor or hospital to go to after I confirmed by peeing twice on Chinese labeled pregnancy tests I got from the pharmacy down the street that I was IN DEED with child.
_________

I successfully wrapped up my assignment in Ethiopia fully satisfied with everything I had been able to accomplish professionally, but/and ready to go back home. Reunited with boo and now figuring things meant coming to real terms together vs. whatsapp calling and face timing over wifi.

On my social media, I still interacted and posted with the same almost regularity as before and there wasn't/isn't anything in particularly that would make anyone see a picture I posted and say I'm pregnant. Except that ONE TIME we were going to the beach and I was on snapchat snapping from my chest upwards. I was wearing a haltered bikini top and a friend commented "BOOBS". It was the only moment I thought - can people tell?! Within that week about 2 other close girlfriends casually commented something about my boobs and I casually lol'd it off with a "thaaaaanks girl". At this point I thought about starting a joke about myself. That I had actually gotten a boob job in Ethiopia because it turned out to be much cheaper than in the US, but that I hadn't revealed it yet because they hadn't quite finished healing.

No I did not get a boob job in Ethiopia guys! My body was and is still preparing itself to feed a brand new human addition to our race and my family (yikes my very own one!) who will come out of this very body. One who currently has developed all her bones and insists on turning all the way up in my belly. Who has my heart melting at a black and white sonogram. Initially my breasts were the first protrusion to signal something big was happening...that is until the last few months that my belly now outprotrudes them by a couple more inches.

I am pregnant and 7 and a half months in, I'm closer to being a mother than I have every been in my life. A whole me. Woman. Mother. to a Daughter. Her early stages of development happened in Ethiopia and like the feelings I had prior to going there, I don't know everything about what's to come, but I'm over the fears and more excited about the newness of the experience, our child, our love, a NEW love come what may.

While I'm expecting, expect to read more posts about my bun in the oven <3 p="">
_______________
*@afropolitaine*

I wrote an obituary a year ago - for the love of *my life

2016-09-06T23:22:00.000-04:00

A year ago today, life dealt me the card where I wrote an obituary for the person with whom I shared the greatest love. I've written a variety of things throughout my life from speeches and poems, to technical reports and executive summaries, blog posts and grocery lists, lyrics and emails. I love writing, but nothing prepared me for the monumental task I asked to take on and was granted the opportunity to. There, rightfully so, should be nothing that prepares one for the writing of an obituary short maybe of having done it once before.

Coming from a big family of big personalities, coupled with the time sensitivity and pressure to get programs and publishing done, yet countered by the delicate balancing act I knew it needed to be - the below is what I wrote. As much of a loss as it was for me, she was so much to everyone and loved everyone she knew be it friend, family, neighbor or stranger "one by one". This had to be as much about her and inclusive so everyone who read and heard it felt like yes they were included in that message. Although she was MY grandmother and very specific people's wife, mother, sister, friend I wanted the words I thought and wrote to reflect the collectiveness of the broad spectrum of love she created with everyone who knew her however long. The personalness of the individual and personal relationship was to be held in each person's heart and memory to be shared amongst each other, but these last words were for all of us to find comfort in ALL having lost collectively.

Obituary:

Eleanor Moyo (née Twala) was born October 29, 1941 in Fort Rixon, Zimbabwe. Her father and mother relocated to Mberengwa in 1948 where she eventually attended the local primary school and graduated from Dadaya Secondary School. In 1961, after 5 years of courtship, she and Cleopas Daniel Moyo, were married. Together they eventually had eight children, four daughters and four sons, they raised in Zambia where they lived for nearly 20 years before returning to Zimbabwe at independence

Although initially reluctant to “entertain” JWs who would often come knocking on her door, Eleanor eventually came to the truth, ironically, after Cleopas agreed to meet with and “interview” them. On his suggestion, she eventually agreed to give them a listen. She was eventually baptized in 1979 in Ndola, Zambia. In 1982, two years after Zimbabwe’s independence, the two moved their family back to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe where they have lived to date. This city, also called the City of Kings, was to become the family’s headquarters. A home filled with beautiful and unending stories for family and friends where she enthusiastically welcomed, hosted and shared her love of food, fashion, music, dancing and fellowship. Stories for days.

As a working mother of 8 and several grandchildren, she spent 22 years at Mpilo Central Hospital in medical records of the X-ray department until retirement in 2003.

Her official diagnosis of Stage IV breast cancer came in October 2012 and she came to the US soon thereafter for treatment and care. The last three years saw her fight a spirited battle with the disease. In all of that time, her joyful, energetic spirit was steadfast to all who loved and cared for her. She laughed, danced, cried and cooked for most of that time.

On September 6, 2015, at Laurel Regional Hospital, she passed on having spent the day with and surrounded by Cleopas, all 4 daughters, 2 nieces, 4 grandchildren, relatives, friends and brothers and sisters of the congregation.

She will forever be celebrated by her eight children, four daughters and four sons, twenty two grandchildren and countless relatives and friends she was very near and dear to. To all who knew Eleanor she was an amazing daughter, wife, mother, sister, aunt, grandmother, friend and colleague. A phenomenal woman. Legend. May she rest in peace and may we all be blessed for having been blessed by this child and woman of God.

To the congregation and the Kingdom Halls she went to, we are eternally grateful for you all keeping her spirit filled and strengthening her faith. Here she made friends who cared for her like family. The countless errands you took her on, the scrumptious meals she enjoyed in your homes, the scriptures you read and the hymns you sang. Thank you.

________

I have the * in the title above because this was not about me and I was not the only one who lost a love. As much as a love like hers is thus far irreplaceable in my life, the my-ness of it all seemed too selfish when I saw the outpouring of love for her I had known was there, but I hadn't quite seen with my own eyes all at once.

A year on, may my grandmother continue to rest in everlasting love and peace. I look forward to the strong feels she still inspires in me.

_____________

*@afropolitaine*

specifically vague

2015-12-01T23:25:00.001-05:00

I see it, I saw it
I feel it, I felt it
I didn't touch it, but remember its texture
Imagining smells I've never tasted
Laughing at jokes you haven't told
Heart racing at the anticipated butterflies

I know what it is.
I like it.

_______________
*@afropolitaine*

Right Up My Alley

2015-11-06T23:26:00.000-05:00

On my birthday I was taken out to this really really nice bowling alley. I'd spent the day at home because I decided to take a personal day. I had nothing planned really and made myself a hearty breakfast, took a shower late. It was warm, but lightly drizzly all day. My aunt took me out to lunch at a Thai restaurant on Light Street we both agreed we'd enjoyed, but would probably not be returning to. We both love drunken noodles and always order that to test it out. It's always a good gauge of how good everything else will be. It was no bueno, but we enjoyed each other's company. I then dropped off some dry cleaning and hurriedly went for a mani pedi in navy blue trying to make it in time for a date I thought would be around 8, but ended up being at 5.

Come the pick up, I had no idea where we were going, but I insisted that no matter what I was going to at least wear a dress because it was my birthday. One simply does not NOT wear a dress when it is her birthday. We got to some industrial looking locale, walked into a nondescript lobby, a simple, but clean elevator. On whatever floor we landed, the doors opened into a beautiful bowling alley where reservations for a lane had been made. I put on the dorkey bowling shoes complete with the above ankle socks and grabbed a 12 pound ball. I completely guttered the ball for the first few bowls...so I was between a bad attitude and not caring until I got some instructions. After the second round, I was down by 30 something points and almost resolved to getting my behind whopped.

At some point I was like NO - this cannot. Not on my birthday and no way is anyone going to start kinda losing only to please a birthday girl...even if she is I. I actively concentrated from the moment I picked up the ball, stepped up, swung my arm, flicked my wrist and send the ball down the alley. I followed through with a serious gaze until I had so many strikes I was confused by my score. Needless to say, the final score was a whopping 140 something to 70 something. I must go back. I will. Once I started winning I was all about it! Such is life. I enjoyed this fancy bowling alley in an unmarked building.

I really enjoyed myself and wanna go back and leave no pin standing :)

_______________
*@afropolitaine*

Feeling and Filling Emptiness my Grandmother Left

2015-10-19T23:57:00.002-04:00

It's been exactly a month since my grandmother was laid to rest.

I'm sitting here thinking to myself I'm really about to write about this. To write about death. I can't quite write about it, but on loss I can. I obviously couldn't immediately after she passed away on September 6 a beautiful fall day when she went in peace and we were left in painful emptiness. There was so much going on with planning, repatriation, travel, planning and the burial. Immediately after the burial may have been a good time, but again the overwhelming and surprising calm that washed over me from how beautiful the funeral was. I'd never been to a funeral before, but we did that woman justice. She was a perfectionist who cared about the quality of anything she did where people were gathered. They would eat and be merry. They ate, mourned and were comforted by the familiarity of hospitality they always associated with her. There is so much that can be said, yet I find myself not having the strength, confidence, sanity to write and talk about it. There is nothing that I can say or write that fully expresses what it is to lose the person who celebrated and rejoiced your being down to the last minute. The person you yourself knew your presence and existence meant the world to. The person whose love you felt unconditionally no matter or where or when. You knew your absence affected her and your knowingly lame joke bubbled up her spirit. The person you unclicheingly never imagined not existing. In all my imperfections I was perfect. I was Pumpkin. She loved me as I am and wanted the best, enjoyment of life and great grandchildren [eventually hopefully soon] from me. She cared that I'd eaten and knew my favorite piece of chicken and that I preferred the seed of the mango, asked about my friends because she knew them one by one, made a mean omelette in which you could taste the joy she made it with in the tomatoes and freshly grated cheese. Gone.

Every time I'm asked about it the easy answer is that I'm ok, but the lump in my throat and that tear I can blink back way inside the duct reminds I'm not. What I'm working on is remembering then knowing that it's ok not to be ok. How do I get to OK? How long does it take? Will I be ok if I don't get there? How can I know in advance? I can't.

What I have been doing in the meantime is living in a way she did and would be watching down on me wanting me to. With joy and a seriousness about la joie de vivre. Admiring me for my love of my little cousins and taking the role of being a big sister to them seriously. Being a loving daughter to my mother. Enjoying as many laughs as possible with my grandfather. Having good times with my friends. And in ALL of that - making sure to LOOK GOOD. She was the embodiment of look good feel good feel good look good. I'll start with those things and know they'll always work. They always did, but without her here there is an emptiness about it.

Writing. WRITING! Writing about it. Hitting PUBLISH will make me feel better because had she been here and I showed her this extremely emotional post through tears running down my face she would have been soooo impressed. So touched that outside of knowing how much I love her already, that it made me feel better writing it. I would have felt better not having to write it, but I have to start somewhere right?!

Writing it is.

P.S. Today is a month since she was buried. October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Tomorrow is my mother, her daughter's, birthday. It is also she and I's birthday month.

_______________
*@afropolitaine*

Do Dream.

2015-10-03T15:41:00.004-04:00

Only because we will have everything we dream

Not just because or simply because we dream them

But because by virtue of us dreaming them, they're ours

To take by Doing.

Not Doing them is giving them away.

The Tipping Point: Wizkid's "Ojuelegba"

2015-08-12T01:04:00.002-04:00

September 2014! Wizkid released the Ayo album. The album's title in Yoruba means "Joy" and it hit itunes and cd vendors at traffic lights in Lagos on the 14th of that month. I was in a musical lull and nothing on the radio excited me so a week after its release I decided to purchase the whole album - a whole $9.99 to Apple. I hardly buy music so I was proud to have done so especially by an African artist whose discography I could vouch for thus far. Ayodeji Ibrahim Balogun or Wizzy as he calls himself was signed to Banky W's Empire Mates Entertainment, often shouted out as "Ee Em Eezay", for his first 2 albums and dropped this third album on his own record label - Starboy Entertainment.

For this album I had nothing to anticipate, knew nothing about collabos or behind the scenes workings so I adopted my First Listen strategy. I listen to the album from the first track and go by my gut reaction. Dance if I want to dance, pretend hum along or skip forward when need be. Although I ended up skipping some songs more because of my mood than the audial aesthetics, I remember on the first round listen thinking Man! Every single song can stand on it's own two feet. There were no filler songs, no songs that sounded too similar to each other and not too much distracting auto tune. Wizkid could have chose any one and released it as a single and it would go!

My favorites right off the bat were Ojuelegba and Omalicha. I gave the album a listen several times over and if you ever catch me singing to Ojuelegba you might think me a serious yet conscious Lagos babe. With Omalicha you might think I wrote it....for my wedding playlist....in my head.

Almost seven months later the song is being publicly jammed to via Instagram by the likes of Alicia Keys, her producer husband Swizz Beats and his Fineness and the Son of the Heart of Africa (Congo) Serge Ibaka. It was also recently remixed by Aubrey Graham known presently as the ender of Meek Mill's career via 2 time diss tracks, recently gloed up former Degrassi actor, 6 God, Canada's most famous citizen and altogether l'uomo universale - Drake....and a British rapper whose music I have yet to explore called Skepta. All of these instances are not such a big deal in and of themselves, but ALL somehow happened within the last month. HOW? The contagion effect. Sometimes we can put in all the work, and it is important that we do, but never really have control of where it ends up. For whatever the promotional strategy Wizkid adopted after the release of his album in September to now, something happened somewhere along that course whether deliberate or accidental to get that one song out of the 19 to where it is now.

For the many others who are dancing, tapping their feet and singing along to Ojuelegba, a song about the struggles and come up from a town in the local government area of Surulere on the mainland of Lagos along Ojuelegba Road, a mother's prayer and gratitude, may more African artists inspire Ayo/joy to those who hear their music. May their rhythms and whatever the artist had to say on that day for that track go across the continent and beyond to, at the very least, make those that listen feel good. May the feet, hips and vocal chords of those that hear loosen and sway. May our hustles, whatever they may be, be blessed. May our tipping points happen.

_______________

*@afropolitaine*

ARTSCAPE - on Baltimore Being More

2015-07-22T12:23:00.007-04:00

(Because how does one not take a picture with a Ferris Wheel when they have flash lenses on? It simply is not done.)

Street festivals oh how we love thee?! Let me count the ways...sunshine, humans, color, music, food and FREE! It's been a little over 2 months since I moved into my place in Baltimore and besides the few quips of living alone for the first time, I can say I have thoroughly enjoyed my time in this city "flaws" [depending on the openness of your mind] and all.

This weekend was the annual arts festival called Artscape that I've always wanted to attend so I did. It's a 3 day (Friday - Sunday) undertaking complete with several blocks and streets closed off. I got in from NY at about noon, cafe'd it, went home and chilled (*weekend cleaning and housekeeping duties) for a while hoping to come back when it was cooler. Hours later there was no such thing and a friend and I ventured out in the BLAZING heat.

A view of one end of the street where the main stage was.

A vintage tattoo'd Mercedes Benz on display along with several other cars

Eddie Cabbage - the on demand poet extraordinaire I 1st met when I went up to Asheville, NC 2 years back and wrote about HERE

General artsy bizarreness as expected...(those are not real guitars)

Repurposed police stand done by Loring Cornish - everything he does is AMAZING. I can't even begin to describe the works he had there and at his gallery in Fell's Point!

Just another fantastic wall on a fantastic street in Baltimore. Nothing to see here :)

Femi the Drifish and the Out of Water Experience

We walked the length of the festival until I got so hungry we went up to The Brewer's Art where we had great food and mediocre service. I got my energy back and we went and explored an off-shooting street of the festival. There was sooooo much to see! We ooh-ed and aaah-ed at a lot of things and those experiences always manage to stretch my imagination a little wider and be amazed at the things human being are capable off. Like how did someone even think of something as creative and crazy as an armchair made entirely of strips of tire and then ACTUALLY go and make it?! A loveseat made entirely of car side mirrors?! Yes - they just DID it. A band that lives out of their minivan and drives around these United States on tour is what FREEDOM looks like. Then there was Femi the Drifish and the Out of Water Experience whose lead singer is definitely a Nigerian and had a contagious energy I'd never seen before. He channeled so many greats including and especially Fela Kuti in his own rock band way i think he's going places!

All in all, even with the heat that had me wondering if a worm was crawling down my back and my thighs as sweat ran down them, it was a beautiful day! I could venture to say I'm a street festival connoisseur and this one beat the several I've been to. I loved how it showed, reminded and confirmed those who were there from elsewhere and within Baltimore that this is indeed one of America's greatest cities. I wouldn't even say that it's great in spite of the riots, but the riots happened because it IS a great city. It is so much more and capable of justice and freedom for all. Such a rich history and a bright future are what, every day, make me love this city. Having great company didn't hurt either.

_______________

*@afropolitaine*

Getting My Hair Braided was a DEEP Dive into Baltimore

2015-06-24T22:55:00.000-04:00

The other day I worked from home and had been wanting to get my hair done so badly I was torn between just going to the barber shop for the umpteenth time in my adult life or getting something done to it ON that day or else...

Once I was done with work around 4 I started looking on Craigslist for a braider since I don't really know any salons in the area yet. I filtered my search to only those with images and went about scouting what the internets were providing. I wanted mostly someone who wanted/could do it NOW.

I went through the process of texting those I was interested in with information on what I was looking for, when and a picture. One said she could do it now. So I agreed that I'd come by in an hour - it wasn't far from home after all. I went there completely swagLESS. No makeup, a big tshirt, jeans and flip flops. I think I may have had lipgloss in my pocket, but I didn't even use it (the pros of living where you don't know too many people).

It's funny how the scenery changed drastically once we crossed over a certain highway. It was so tangible - you could scoop whatever it was. The sun felt like it burned harder...possibly from the absence of trees lining the wide bright concrete sidewalks. The air felt heavier, pregnant. The heat rose thicker. The street itself like it was holding it's breath in anticipation of something. Quiet so it didn't snitch. I caught myself quietly exclaiming - this is REAL.

I got there and she didn't have the hair needed so we took the same uber to the [Korean owned] beauty supply a block and a half over (BEAUTY SUPPLIES IN THE HOOD ARE THEEEE BEST btw) and walked back. I was so glad I looked like crap and only had a book in my hand.

Got into the house and she said we should go upstairs to her room because it's quieter and there's a fan there. So up we went. Her life was in that room including her adorable baby she laid on the bed. There were pictures of herself and the baby celebrating every month until the present 4th stuck on the fridge.

I sat in a chair and she got started. Her cousin who was supposed to be helping do the ends of the braids since someone else was supposed to come 2 hours later [...never did] camped out on the bed. She occasionally yelled at the tv and more often at one of the 4 or 5 children under 7 who came in the room crying or yelling about something. She never once got up. Her main movement was reaching back to the baby crying on the bed and patting her quite firmly to quiet her.

A few hours later she got through the packets of hair we had bought, burnt the ends of my pixies and showed me the final job in the mirror.

It was NOT nothing like the picture I'd showed her. Not at all.
Fewer things infuriate me more than hair done NOT how I wanted it. I don't care that it looks nice or ok. I said thank you, called my uber, paid and went downstairs to do my short wait since it was a minute away. I started walking towards the door for that short "Arriving Now" wait and she told me that no no NO - you do not do that around these parts. "You hear those helicopters?!" she asked. Yes what do they mean? Someone was shot in front of her house in the middle of the street LAST night. When the uber pulled up, I jumped in and while he waited for my address to confirm I urged him to start driving. We zoomed past 2 cops and 2 cop cars parked at the top of the block.

Are you SERIOUS?! Yes, dead serious. She didn't know the person who died or who shot him and as much as she lives there, she does not go outside except to go somewhere ELSE.

This is where a young lady with a marketable skill planning on starting her own salon in a few months with a young child she's supporting has to live. None of those children went or go outside and neither will hers if she stays there. That is life for her and for some.

I don't know if it was literal or in my mind, but crossing back over that demarcating highway the breeze DID blow a little cooler, the trees [that were there] swayed gently and street lights [that were there] shone a little brighter.

I learnt so much about America, wealth disparities and myself in that single trip. I didn't know it would be, but it really was a deep dive into what Baltimore is about and there certainly is a LOT to be fixed. Not so much so that the city is "cleaned up" as we have all come to see that with gentrifying comes erasure. There was just too much NOTHINGness. Long and hot summer days with nothing to do are the devil's workshop. Making it hard even for those who are about something and wanting to do better. This canNOT and should not be life for anyone in these here United States.
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*@afropolitaine*

10 Struggles this Week

2015-06-19T23:37:00.000-04:00

1. WAKING UP early

2. FALLING ASLEEP early

3. Drinking enough water

4. Staying sane and composed after the #Charlestonshooting

5. Squeezing in a run at least 3 times

6. Getting my hair braided and it looks NOTHING like the picture I showed braider

7. Cooking dinner at least 3 times a week

8. Finding a foundation that matched my complexion AND undertones and stay as matte as possible in these temperatures nothing is supposed to survive

9. The 90 degree temperatures that feel like 192 degrees with the humidity

10. Writing more.

Bonus: eating breakfast

Charmed and Sprung in Baltimore

2015-05-04T22:10:00.002-04:00

It has sprung and Lord have mercy is it always beautiful out! I missed the Cherry Blossom Festival in DC because their blooming coincided with a lot of big changes including a move from one city to another...adjacent to each other, but. At times the direct sunlight is a little over that thin line between pleasant and scathing, but.

In an altogether separate post, I'll talk about how I have fallen in love with the *actual city that is Baltimore.

I spent the weekend taking it easy especially on Sunday and went to Fort McHenry in the afternoon. That something associated with a war so brutal and so long ago can be converted into such a serene and beautiful space is one of the reasons humans have *potential to win. The War of 1812 of brought the British here where they were unsuccessful after burning Washington DC down. There was some Chinese telephone like confusion getting ready for them when the then Secretary of War swore to goodness the British were coming to Baltimore, but they went to DC...hence burning it down since nobody saw it coming. Baltimore was altogether very important and strategic commercially and geographically, but Fort McHenry, as evidenced by this now "National Monument and Historic Shrine", stood and still stands its ground. That tower is visible from a distance, but an aerial shot of the star shaped shows why it's kind of amazeBALLS!

It's nice that different plants blossom at different parts of spring so it was beautiful to see and be around these bright pink crabeapple trees abuzz with bumblebees lining the pathway with bronze plaques with a blurb about who each one is dedicated to. George Washington gets one of course! A statue of a naked Orpheus stands in the middle.

I'm looking to exploring more of this city even with everything that happened and needed to in the last few days. Curfew's up - time to explore! I have been charmed and I'm sprung!!

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*@afropolitaine*

Real reflection on Haiti right now.

2015-04-06T16:49:00.001-04:00

I've been on the move for a while now between work and personal travel for the last few months and every single experience has been so fast paced that I've missed sooooo many opportunities to actually get to writing what I thought to myself I should definitely write about.

I am currently in Port-au-Prince, Haiti for a second time in the space of a little over a month. Sitting in my room with a glass window for a wall, every single time I look out there I see such a breathtakingly beautiful place. Lush vegetation, blue waters and mountains as the foundation and backdrop of the urban sprawl all together in a single frame.

(view from my hotel window)

Every time I catch a glimpse from up here of everything out and down there I couldn't help feeling weirdly and pseudo sad that the reality is everything looks so bright and colorful from up here, but the reality on the ground is completely different. Dusty and disorganized making the heat that could otherwise be pleasant a frustration.

(driving through a nicer part of the city)

I must admit that I have so far loved coming here for the familiarity of heat, black people all around me and that sense and understanding that some things just don't work. Outside of myself though, the Haitian people I have met here whether diasporans or locally based, though happy and content to be living here, see the same things I was reluctant to express because I don't want to be that apparently privileged outsider pointing fingers and criticizing. I don't know what the answers are here and, although visible, the [cause of the] problem isn't obvious either.

I'm quite thoroughly enjoying my stay here and there'll be more on that in a seperate post. I didn't want to blend/blurr the two separate worlds.

Talk to you soon :)

(sorry my pictures are sideways, I don't know why iphone does that...gonna figure it out and correct)

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*@afropolitaine*

Bring Some of the Old into the New Year

2015-01-03T08:50:00.001-05:00

Three days into 2015 and it's so far been pretty good. The end of 2014 had some great beginnings so my resolve to define, list, swear to goodness I will do this or that wasn't as urgent. I learnt a lot about myself and uncertainty last year. I realize in hindsight the importance of consistency and hard work, as I went through 2 raises and promotions in a single year, that I mostly was focused on the working and when they were happening they were fitting and due so I never really stopped to acknowledge and celebrate myself. Not only did work need to be done, but by virtue of the new responsibilities - there was more of it. The latest change with my work made me a little less anxious about my immediate [1-2 years] future because it's where I've wanted to be for a long time and it promises to be dynamic and a great learning experience where I will really get to apply my capabilities, passions and my person[ality]. I am so grateful for it all and that change was really the result of serious, active and actual prayer. Although this is a personal post, this being a public platform, I will not get into details about incapable people's attempts to derail and undermine my great work ethic as evidenced by so many things....in the end, the universe conspired in my favor to remove me from what would have definitely led to me not being my best self. I gracefully let go of things not meant for me. HalleluYAAAR!

2014 taught me how to protect myself from people who have shown themselves time and time again... Protecting myself by focusing on those who are a positive and regenerating force in my life whilst being unbothered by those who aren't. I made new friends, re-categorized those I already had and possibly lost some in the process...but such is life - we will all be ok. I love the friends I have and the parts of my family I'm close to and see often and I can't wait to spend more time with them creating memories [that may or may not be shared here *wink wink*].

I think the best way to start the new year is to look back at the previous one. So much happens in the year and measuring our successes and accomplishments is best done in hindsight. We have all mostly learnt that new year's resolutions are not a plan. They will not be met and there is a thing called LIFE that tends to happen and trying to control what happens in the space of a year is a sure way to either fail or feel like a failure at the end of it. Yes make plans for specific goals, hope for the things your heart desires and keep on being yourself. Some of what we want to happen in the space of a year will take a lot of work on our part, but putting positive energy out there, being a good person and genuinely doing good unto others has a way of creating such good karma that things we never imagined or planned for start to happen. Let yourself enjoy those moments and use them to inspire and fuel more good and excellence out of you - it will quickly become a viciously positive cycle that cannot be derailed.

I want to travel more, get an almost routine for fitness, write more and grow in my friendships and relationships to others and be more engaged than I am a content loner sometimes. I also want to deliberately dedicate and designate time to my 2 projects passions outside of work as building blocks for my future. More on those another time - when there is sometime to tell about them you'll definitely read about it. In enjoying the year and the 362 days left, I would like to be more FOCUSED. I watched a TEDx talk with Cobhams Asuquo, a Nigerian music producer extraordinaire who is blind, called "The Gift of Blindness" where he talks about there being no excuse for failure. About his blindness being a blessing that insulated him from the distraction that is sight - literally (walking into a store and not being distracted) and figuratively (being focused on goals and achieving them). It's an excellent and inspiring glimpse into the struggles that shape greatness, with or without disability, but I've selected his last words as the most poignant:

"Do not excuse failure, on no account, for no reason. Trust even when you have no reason to and finally, and I do not mean this literally, be blind to be focused."

I shall. Woza 2015!

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*@afropolitaine*

My Zulu Love Letter

2014-12-01T23:46:00.000-05:00

Today was World AIDS Day - December 1st. The first day of the last month of the year. The last hoorah! Also the peak of the holiday season and the coldest of winter's days.

Thanksgiving came and went and exorbitant amounts of food consumed therein have since been digested and excre..

I wore my Zulu Love Letter that my mom gave me many years ago and I've done a great job of not losing it as little as it is and for the many times I've moved.

All Zulu love letters have a certain language or coding and identifying properties that communicate marital status, family background, clan etc to those in the know and between women in a community who produce them for men whether strangers or familiar suitors.

The AIDS awareness symbol being on this one, may have been specifically speaking to raising awareness, but the colors still carry some meaning. The table below from HERE says something about the colors which tend to have both positive and negative connotations, except white, depending on the communicator. You can decide for yourselves what my letter says/means:

Positive	Colour	Negative
Marriage, Regeneration	Black	Sorrow, Despair, Death
Fidelity, Request	Blue	Ill Feeling,Hostility
Wealth, A Garden,Industry,Fertility	Yellow	Thirst, Badness, withering away
Contentment, Domestic bliss	Green	Illness, Discord
High birth or Rank, An Oath, Promise	Pink	Poverty, Laziness
Physical Love, Strong Emotion	Red	Anger, Heartache,Impatience
Spiritual love, purity, virginity	White	------------------

Happy World AIDS Day! Beyond today, know your status and get tested.

p.s. Enjoy this Kwaito December anthem, by the best that ever did it - TKZee. Timeless hit for the festive season and a summertime Christmas!

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*@afropolitaine*

Outgrowing FOMO

2014-11-18T23:19:00.000-05:00

An irrational Fear Of Missing Out .... is something I've, with growing up, outgrown. It used to be a very strong feeling/thought. Wanting to be where things are happening, people will be...I'll be seen. Actually, to be fair, I'm not sure if it was something I actively pursued more than my involvements, responsibilities and circumstances kept me where things were going on. I just went along with it and didn't exercise my right to opt out. It had a lot to do with the stockpile of acquaintances I'd accumulated. I'd go somewhere or end up somewhere an event was happening on a whim and end up spending an, in hindsight, absurd amount of time engaging in the obligatory and unnecessarily loud "HEEEEEY", hugs, "where've you been" and, worst of all, the exchange where we assume we have each other's numbers, one of us says "I still have your number" so we say we'll get in touch, knowing we won't, and/so we don't! Enough of those exchanges consecutively in the short time span that makes up an outing proved exhausting.

Several years later, going to less of those events because I either do not hear about them or opt out, when the "heeeeys" happen they are a lot more sincere and when I scroll through the contacts in my phone I can safely say/know I'll use the number and would definitely pick up if any of the people in there call. I also learnt to let myself be genuinely excited to see someone I haven't in a long time, but not pretend to want it to go beyond that - less anxiety. I found the quality of my interactions improved, didn't leave me empty and total strangers were a gem of people I'd missed out on. Some of those have ended wherever they happened and others have continued into friendships and being mutually exposed to completely new things.

Being an only child and having always [therefore] been an extroverted introvert, I'm coming into my own in being fully capable of doing awesome things alone, trying new activities with friends and generally feeling completely OK missing out, I've found the Joy Of Missing Out! JOMO is peaceful. It is rejuvenating and stimulates my creativity, spiritual growth and is a comfortable pillow to sleep on at night. JOMO, in fact, contributes extraordinarily to getting enough rest and being able to be energetic and perform in responsibilities that contribute to my well being. JOMO, along with outgrowing FOMO, allowed me to write this.

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*@afropolitaine*