Navigating Solutions and Darkness

Photo by Hasan Almasi, Unsplash What hands are these/ Reddened By complicity/ A baying silence In the shadow of the mob What greed is ineffectually condemned In the safety of self-righteous handwringing What thoughts pass unnoticed In muted prayers Of "Take any that Spare me" What will is signed Behind closed oaken doors of minds fraught With unease and laden with the roaring of guilt And whence comes the day With the dogs at the door What cats will slip on velvet paws Out the back door into oblivion And what birds will succumb To the tragedies they foretold in their morning chants

Photo by  David Rodrigo  on  Unsplash I'm currently awaiting my Burger King order to be home delivered, and reading Americanah . I'd delayed reading the book, not wanting to delve into something heavy. I was also under the impression (because I'm a moron) that the word "Americanah" referred to a stylized version of Americana - the telling of American folk stories. Americanah is, instead, the Nigerian word for "American" - it's used in the book to mockingly refer to Nigerians who become Americanized.  There's a lot to relate to in this book - most astonishing, perhaps, is how men manage to be the same around the world - always failing to come up to mark. Always immature. Always playing games. But in terms of what I relate to the most, it is perhaps the life of someone who has lived across borders, across cultures, who struggles with their identity.  Nine years ago was the beginning of the end. Almost a decade of my life not spent in...