You Have To Stand On Your Own – Make Your Own Destiny

This is a womb. Inside, there is a young person expected to be born: me.
My dad (deceased) left my mum when I was very young. When I went to my uncle’s, they never had that urge to support me as their son. My mother brought me up. If I call my mum and tell her that I’m sick, she doesn’t feel well.
Inside the womb, I still need a good job and to build for my mum a good house prior to mine. That is one of my dreams.
This posture is, as well, of a person who is close to God, praying, with all his consciousness to Him for more reason, calmness, for peace, trying just to be closer to the Almighty, just to express all your cries, all your prayers. You just say them there so that you can get the heavenly support from the Almighty.
I drew a mosque. I was there in the Masjid Musa for Friday prayers. I was with a friend, the Government Security Units (GSU) entered the mosque, with their shoes on. We were not in a good position, and my friend was shot in the head. Right now, when I see a policeman, I just feel too bad. I don’t feel safe. I still feel traumatised. Nothing has been done to bring justice for the deceased. I can’t tell if the police raiding the mosque was justified or not. I can say we are lacking freedom of speech and I don’t like it. I don’t feel Kenyan at times. I am a coastarian.
Sometimes I think about war, because there is no security. When I think about war, the heart cries. If
it cries, the tears are blood. When I think about violence, I say, first we need to talk about peace. From every move to peace emanates resistance. We need to embrace peace in all we do.
The white colour on the hands means peace. The ‘L’ is for love. It goes this way and the other goes
that way. I resist with love. When something hurts me, I go to love and I go to the holy book and get
solace. That is how I resist.
The village where my mum lives is called Kinango, in Kwale County. I feel relaxed whenever I go there. After prayers, I usually go back and talk to mum and get lunch. Coming back to Mombasa, I feel hectic. The mind rotates while you are sleeping. You are just thinking about tomorrow: what will I do? I have to go and do this and that. Mombasa is a difficult place to live. I don’t feel like staying here.
This green colour stands for the vegetation, and the chocolate brown is my favourite colour.
The ballot box, painted white, represents politicians. Very few stick to their word. A big number of them are not genuine. This is the place where I am living in Mombasa. I have my maskani. It is just here, next to my house. I normally sit there with good friends of mine. One of them is a person who works as a cobbler for a living, but he is learned and we sit and exchange ideas.
The drafts is a place I normally visit in the evenings, especially on Sunday afternoons. We usually have a good number of us. I just enjoy watching people playing drafts. This is the graduation cup. I drew it because one day I will be in a position to get a job and raise the living standards of my mother.
The beach clothing item, this kind of dress, I do not admire it. I am attached to my culture. A big number of my community are Muslims. So, they normally dress with Kanga (a cotton cloth used as a garment by women), and, for the men, they can just have the vest inside plus kikoi (a piece of cotton cloth, worn wrapped around the body). I have no problem with the tourists, but I think that walking with the underpants visible … that is secret clothing. We are normally not meant to see a woman’s underpants, even at home. It is very personal and intimate.
During this week, I managed to explore what was in me which has been really haunting me for quite a
while. It is a form of relief.
It helps me to be in a position to stand on my own, not to depend on anybody. Just struggle and make the ends meet. Be on your own. Do not depend on your uncle, sister, or wife – no. Make your own destiny.