The Displaced African » African immigrant

How Undocumented Immigrants Survive in Europe

Mwangi — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 18:03:29 +0000

Hey guys,

This podcast was recorded a long time ago, when I got on the phone with guest columnist and African Bulletin writer, Carol.

I initially wanted it to be a series about how undocumented immigrants had survived in various parts of the world but unfortunately getting the other interviews proved impossible.

So now we have the great pleasure of having one interview that we can sink into and truly appreciate.

Hope you learn a little something.

The Podcast

Why Do I Blog About Africa?

Mwangi — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 05:05:01 +0000

I was tagged by Miss Sci and I tag the immortal R and Kelly from Pink Memoirs

Now typically, when someone is asked this question, the response is a poetic delight. Some might talk about Africa’s beautiful geography. Others the strength and the dark past of the continent. Others even of hope and the wonderful future that Africa has.

My reason is not as glamarous. Nor popular. Nor poetic. I started blogging about Africa because one day I looked in the mirror and realized that of all the socioeconomic, spiritual, physical, wordly or “insert way of categorizing people here” groups I belonged to, the one which was weakest was the African side.

When I walk down the street, an African face is a sign of:

* Poverty

* A race that was bullied, soiled, raped, beaten, exploited by much stronger, much smarter races.

* A sociological construct created for those in power to maintain power.

* A people who are ashamed of their features, their hair, their history, their idiosyncracies and trying desperately to fit in with the group that got them in this mess in the first place.

Now the list of things that are wrong with African people is endless. The theories are endless: we are the cursed sons of Noah meant to be hewers of wood and drawers of water. We are simply cursed for the sins of our ancestors and so on and so on.

I didn’t want to be a part of that conversation anymore. I didn’t want to get locked in the bar-room discussions that always start with a sigh and end with 3 hours of (I made this term up) intellectual incestuos masturbation where you stroke each others ego by pompously pontificating on Africa’s ills as though in between your ears rests the Holy Grail.

I wanted to be a part of the solution. All my heart and soul knew was it wanted to be a part of the solution. And so, just a little under a year ago, I put the pen to the paper and started writing.

Now do I think I am part of the solution…..not really. Sure, I have put out some positive stuff and I have helped people think about things better, but I am far from content. I want to be the seed of the next great revolutionary or the catalyst for a great social movement and know I am far from that.

As with many posts in my blogging career, I have not spell checked or edited this one. Sci, consider this a promise fulfilled.

With love,

Mwangi

Wambui Shares Tips for Anyone Moving to Seattle, Washington, USA

Mwangi — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 02:31:43 +0000

Mwangi’s note: Why on Earth they would confuse the world by having a place called Washington D.C. and then an entirely separate State called “Washington” I don’t know, but anyway enjoy this guest post from an old friend of mine, Wambui.

Mwangi asked me:

“What advice would you give someone that is coming to Seattle, WA.?”

Well carry an umbrella and a jacket. It rains often. You’ll need it. The weather here changes in a minute and most of the time it changes to rain. I’ve been here 3 years now and I am still not accustomed to how much it rains.

mamamusings

Get your geography right:

Seattle is in Washington State. Not to be confused with Washington DC. DC is in the East. Washington State is the Northwest. Seattle, WA = Northwest.

Get your documentation right

It is important to make sure you visit the necessary government offices as soon as you possible can to get yourself not started on the right path. Get an id card. Get a bank account. Get a social security card if you are allowed to get one. It really is much easier to get a head if you do things legally. Don’t over stay your visa and use your visa for the right purpose i.e don’t come on a visitor visa and then attempt to become a student or worker without getting a permit to do so.

Seattle is somewhat tolerant. But once people know you are not originally from here they ask questions. These questions are usually to find out your intention of being in Seattle and the US. Seattleites know their basic immigration stuff – they know about visas and how they work – they are not afraid to ask how long your visa is for and what you plan on doing next(using the word next is their polite way of saying when it expires) . They are also big on following the law… No easy shortcuts or hookups.

Get your money right:

Understand the value of money. Seattle is not considered a super expensive city, but it is definitely not on the cheap list. It’s very easy to get caught up in the Seattle’s art and culinary scenes. Its easy to spend in small doses here, However those small doses add up when you look at your balance and realize that the ten dollars (plus tip because it is expected and customary here) you spent eating out every week adds up to 100 bucks. Please live within your means. It’s a common problem with African immigrants here in Seattle attempting to show people that they aren’t “poor”. It really isn’t cool because most people can see through the façade. If you can’t afford it, don’ t do it.

Get yourself right:

You need to get in the mind frame of “me, myself and I”. Family isn’t always there to help and even if they are they may not be willing to help you. Friends come and go. So know who you are and where you are going.
You also need to have your emotions in check. Its gets lonely, it gets depressing, it gets hard, people question you and who you are. This is where self confidence comes in. You need to be confident in who you are. You’ll meet people out there who aren’t cool with who you are and the way you look or the way you dress.

Also you need to be happy with what you have at the moment. Always work for better things. But don’t ever let anyone get you down. One has to learn to feel good about themselves and the current position they are in while still working for something better.

Seattle is a huge melting pot when it comes to culture. People are from all over. However one needs to be aware that as much as it is a huge pot. People may not be open to understanding your culture or who you are. As friendly as the Seattle is it is a little cold c. Everyone says “hi” and they are excited to see you the first time around. Don’t be surprised if they meet you on the street next week don’t acknowledge you. Don’t worry though its not you. It’s just how they are. It is known as the “Seattle freeze”

Please don’t be shocked if you find people talking to you like you are inferior. A lot of people here while calling themselves tolerant are not. They will be opening to getting to meet you and having fun with you but its all superficial. They are not interested in what you are about or where you are from. As I said … don’t focus too much on this. It’s not you its just them.

Get to know the city:

Mag3737

You’ve got to learn how to get around. Remember, it’s just you. People can only help you for so long. Fortunately one doesn’t really need to buy a car if you live in proper Seattle. This is because Seattle has one of the best bus systems in the USA. The buses run on a regular schedule and they take you to pretty much any suburb in what is known as King County.

The faster you get to know the city, the faster it will be to get around and get things accomplished. It is especially crucial because people will always be willing to give you directions but they only know directions of places that concern them.

If you opt to get a car. Please do your research!!

My experience in Seattle that you need to know a few main streets ( Pike, Pine , Westlake, Madison, 3rd Ave, and Bell) Navigating through downtown is is a breeze once you know these.

Get your accent right:

Did you say you were from Africa? Great!

Well half of what you say will not be understood, the first few times. They’ll always tell you that they love your accent but it doesn’t mean they are understanding what you are saying. To this day, I’ve been here 3 years, I can’t really order a Hamburger at most restaurants, I have to get a friend to do it for me. Why, you ask? Well apparently the way I say it would be spelt out as “Hambagga”. Same applies for most words that end with “er”. Personally most people delight in the way I say “whatever” and they repeat it endlessly to whoever will listen. Oh and they love the way Kenyans pronounce the letters of the alphabet. Apparently we say “h” differently!

Get comp savvy:

Seattle is after all home to Microsoft and Amazon! Google and Adobe also have huge offices here. So please… don’t walk around seattle and not know how to use a computer. Or what a CPU is? It would be good too if u knew that C+ and Java are programs too because a good number of people you meet will be in IT professions.

Here’s Why It’s Confusing Being Me and It Might Be Confusing Being You Too

Mwangi — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 20:10:17 +0000

I exist in an extremely odd shade of gray. This post will be as the title suggests, a confused convoluted conversation about confusion. Uncensored and unedited, straight from my brain to your eyes.

Discussion

I was talking to a friend of mine today. This guy is one of the first people I ever met when I came to this country and we both came when we were in high school and have pretty much entered adulthood in this country.

We Have a Very Strange Identity

Our identities are odd because:

1) We identify with Kenyan culture much more than we do the host culture: Here it’s a 50/50 split. Some people come in their teens and completely soak up this culture, the language, the fashion and make their friends and their lives here.

Then there are people like us who come here either 3/4 formed or fully formed (I of course speak of psychology, body, hormones etc etc very different story) who have been so shaped by the culture of where we came from and/or may have been rejected by the people here so we find it weird to change.

2) We Think and Act VERY Differently From Native Kenyans

Want clear proof of that? Look at this blog. I have 227 articles that I spent 9 months putting together simply because it was what I felt would be the most meaningful thing to do.

In Africa that = An idiot

Sure from time to time, some of us should get together and talk about what we should do and maybe even engage in projects part time. But engaging in a blog FULL TIME for 9 months where you pour everything into it and put the message and the purpose ahead of the money.

That’s absolute stupidity

The other differences are quite subtle but they are definitely there. What it boils down to though is:

I love where I am from and identify with it at the core of my being.

There are MANY things I dislike about my culture at the core.

There are MANY things I like about the Australian culture at my core.

A Few of My Favorite Things

I like the fact that people here, not always but enough that it counts, don’t wait for people to solve their problems but take it upon themselves to do so, starting new industries and social movements in the process.

I love the personal development movement.

I love the fact that people here are willing to put themselves on the line for an idea and won’t just sit on the sidelines criticizing.

I love the fact that people here actually think about their health AND take action in the way they eat and live to take care of their bodies.

I love the fact that people here are always testing out their boundaries in real life instead of in the abstract.

As I said, this meandering post will probably resonate with some of you who are just plain confused and feel like a tiny minority in a large Western country.

There Is No Sub-Culture For People Like Me

I am not saying this because of arrogance but its true. I know no one like me. I know no one who has feet in both puddles like I do. There are no songs sung about people like me, no movies made, no poets, no discussion groups, no forums.

I just have to spend my time immersed with African culture one day and put it to the side while I engage in Western affairs another day.

I have to speak with a certain slang one day and change it up the next.

Not That I Am Complaining

I think I have been too blessed in my life to just be outright angry about something that is ultimately not a bad quality problem to have.

This situation doesn’t really anger me. It just saddens me from time to time, because I am yet to resolve it. If this resonated with you, leave a comment below or email me and let me know what your situation is.

Working through the confusion,

Mwangi

Why Don’t We Call Ourselves African Australians?

Mwangi — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 16:05:35 +0000

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked to participate in a documentary on the Ethiopian youth who live in commission housing in a suburb called Carlton.

Considering my shallow understanding of the topic area, I invited along a friend of mine from church - big up to U – who just happened to be of Ethiopian descent and happened to be working in the migrant resource centre (not in Carlton though).

Interesting Question

As the conversation flowed from this topic to that we eventually rested upon a very interesting idea.

I forget exactly what we were talking about but I remember a statement that went a little something like this……..

talk talk talk talk THE AFRICAN AUSTRALIAN COMMUNITY

That Didn’t Sit Well With Me

As soon as I heard that statement, I felt quite uncomfortable. Something about that statement was very very wrong: it wasn’t true.

So I asked U, who was born in Australia by the way, what she thought of the statement and she said she felt uncomfortable with the statement as well.

The Statement……

Just didn’t resonate with us. We didn’t feel as though we were African Australian or part of an African Australian community.

Discussions and Reflections

As I thought back to living here in Oz, I realized that any time I met a son or daughter of the African continent that they would introduce themselves as:

Hi, my name is X………I was born in/My parents are from/ My background is (insert African country here).

It didn’t matter if they had been in the country 6 months or 30 years, that is always how they introduce themselves.

Even people who love this country ten times more than they love their own never ever called themselves African Australian.

Here’s My Take on Why That Could Be

I am fairly certain, now that I think about, that this will probably resonate with a lot of Africans who are living in many other countries whether South Africa, Sweden, the UK or the US.

I think the reason that we don’t label ourselves us African Australians or African Americans or Zambian Swedes or even Kenyan South Africans is because we don’t feel like we are.

How gorgeous is this image?......My goodness: had it on the blog for months but can't get over it.

Well D’uh….so Let’s Probe Deeper

I think we have a wonderful mirror that we can use to help us establish why that is the case: the African American community.

African Americans, whether anyone likes it or not, OWN, a part of America. They sweat for it, bled for it, protested for it, defined it and absolutely no one can deny that African Americans are a quintessential cornerstone of America in so many ways that we can’t even begin to mention here.

We on the other hand are more like a people who constantly feel like we are in transition.

One Small Mark for Africa

Very few of us are interested in becoming a part of the fabric of Western society, etching our own sketch of the American dream, owning the society, changing the cultural norms or anything that profound.

Most Africans just want to land here and fulfill their appetite for milk and honey and maybe spread some of that milk and honey to their families and/or folks they care about, and that’s it.

Very few of us come to the West wanting to be the next Martin Luther King or CJ Walker or Michael Jackson. We would much rather be nameless employee X as long as we can take our money and go home.

Is This Right or Wrong?

Dunno! And I know its not a complete expression of why things are as they are. Therefore in conclusion I will ask you the question:

Do you feel like an African (insert name of host country here). If so, why? If not, why not?

And that is my reflection for the day.

Other Orders of Business: Media

After crafting my first ever press release a few months back and watching it completely bomb when I sent it to about 15 media houses, I finally got on the front page of a newspaper…..well kinda.

If you check out the homepage of the African Bulletin this month of September 2008, you will see yours truly and the physical copy is in the mail, and you know I will shoot a small video and share my first ever newspaper article with y’all.

So check out, and maybe subscribe to the African Bulletin because I can now say I have a vested interest in it: I am locked in for another two or three articles in the paper at the very least.

I also got interviewed by Susan Kariuki for her pilot project Real Talk. Susan’s production quality is superb and definitely made me want to up my game as far as the production quality of my podcast is concerned, not to mention she gave me heaps of useful information for my currently-in-the-oven-podcasting course: My Podcasting Tutor.

The file is only 2mb so anyone should be able to listen to it: lemme know if its still too big or too slow to download:

Please show your support and love to her by checking out her smooth-music-dripping-whiz-bang-graphics-adorned site: www.ezvocal.com.

And of course, both these articles are in the Displaced African media and press appearances page which you can check out right here.

For more articles that discuss the African immigrant experience, don’t forget to subscribe to the blog via email or RSS.

Have a great day African person,

Mwangi

What are Marriages for Papers a.k.a. Paper Marriages?

Mwangi — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 00:06:13 +0000

This blog has been around for 8+ months now and I was actually extremely surprised when I realized that not once did I talk about something so unique yet so present within the African immigrant experience.

I am of course talking about “marriages for papers” or as I shall label them for the rest of the post paper marriages or PMs.

Now I must say I am faaarrr from an expert on them, as I have not seen too many blatant paper marriages, so what I will do is define them, tell a bit of a story and request that you leave a comment below giving some more information on them.

What is a Paper Marriage?

In brief a paper marriage is when an immigrant marries a citizen of a Western nation in order to either improve their visa situation, become a permanent resident or citizen of a country or to advance themselves materially in any way.

How Did I Get the Idea to Write This?

The idea to write this actually came out of the tiny little verbal assault I took when I decided to talk about the Jungle Fever article on Kenya Imagine.

A comment by one of the few folks who chose to support me and engage in discussion on it was a story about a man who went to the UK and engaged in paper marriage. After reading that, I knew, I’d best post this up on the site with the quickness so that at the very least you are aware and talking about it.

What Nature Do PMs Take?

At their best, PMs aren’t even PMs. Two people, across cultures look deep into the windows of each other’s souls and see eternity. They lock hands in a beautiful union in which one of the positive side effects is that whoever was an immigrant of the two gets upgraded and can stay in whatever Western country they immigrated to.

To illustrate the worst, I’ll give you a fictional story that is a collection of things I have seen and heard over the years.

The Story of Billy

Once Upon a Time

Billy is a middle class kid who grows up in some African city in some African country. His parents worked hard for years and managed to build themselves a wonderful company that exploited people’s needs for fresh fruit and vegetable for a profit.

When Billy is finished with high school, his parents decide it is in Billy and his family’s best interests if he flies over to the West to study something that will get him solid office job.

The Ladies Man

Now while all this is going on, Billy is quite the Don Juan. So smooth, he skates on sand and with words so sweet, the bees go to him for tips. He has done his fair share of seed distribution and heart breaking before he meets a lovely girl called Abby.

Abby is an angel, a jewel and most of all a gift that he wants to cherish for the rest of his life. He gets down on one knee before Abs, who is pregnant with his second son, and two months later they wed.

He Departs

One month after that, his parents collect all their savings and use it to help their son fly out. Billy departs promising that he will not only repay every penny but eventually support his ma and his pa like they did him.

He has no clue what he’s going to do abroad, all he knows is he is coming back to Abby, his parents and his two sons when it’s all said and done.

Arrival

He arrives abroad with only his first semester paid off and without guides like tDA (well, that IS why I started this blog after all) Billy has no clue what on Earth he should do. His friends can advise him, but much of their advice is so disjointed and contradictory that ultimately he really doesn’t know who to trust.

The Rat Race

So he tries to make it on his own, working harder than a donkey from 9-5 in school and putting in some boring hours at the factory from 7pm – 6 a.m. every night and catching up on sleep on the commutes.

With all this stress on his back, Billy dedicates his weekends solely to escapism via alcohol and carnal delights.

The Lion Spots His Prey

One night, while stumbling around in a drunken haze looking for the next damsel he can wax lyrical to, he happens upon Fiona.

Now Fiona is a very shy introspective girl who has a wonderful rich world inside of her. Unfortunately the richness and beauty of this world is either not coming out as it should externally or is being covered up by all the layers of excess fat.

It’s Not all Roses and Butterflies

Billy has been on the hustle – weekend escape – hustle hamster wheel for 3 years. The wheel was rotating at such a fast pace all around him that he forgot to renew his Visa and is now in the country illegally.

As a result of sleeping in class and on the train one too many times, he has also failed all his classes and was forced to drop out.

So now he is doing double time in the factory trying to raise enough money to see if he can renew his visa AND pay to re-enrol in school. And through this lens he looks at Fiona yet again, and boy, all of a sudden she gives Gabrielle Union a run for her money.

The Paper Negotiation Begins

He has walked through the routine many times before so he isn’t too nervous as he approaches her with his game face on. Fiona is simply smitten.

Sure, she always gets attention from boys when the beer goggles hit at 3 a.m., but never has someone been so smooth with his game and to be honest she doesn’t know what it’s like to be hit on before 2:59 a.m.

The Plot Thickens

Floating on the wings of pure unadultered lust she ends up in bed with Bill over and over again over the next 3 weeks.

“Ooops, we forgot to use protection,” thinks Fiona

“Yes! Thinks Bill. We forgot to use protection”

How Can Something So Innocent Be Used Like This?

3 weeks later, the bump that can only be a wonderful seed of life can be seen in Fiona. Fiona is scared. She doesn’t want to raise this child alone. She is still in school. One day she wants to work as a park ranger and doesn’t want to be derailed from that.

Paper Engagement

Just like that first night in the bar, smooth-Bill is back, with a ring in one hand and an “honest” declaration to love her forever on the other. She says, “Yes,” and before you can count all the countries in Africa they are wed.

Is this Nirvana?

Billy feels like he just had the weight of the world taken off of him. He can’t believe it. No longer does he have to go to school and work in the factory every day to make ends meet. He cuts down work at the factory to part time hours and requests government benefits to help him support his seed.

With all this spare time, Billy needs something to do. He can’t call Abby because he has forgotten which lie he last told. He can’t spend time with his wife because he finds her personality about as interesting as paint watching itself dry and finds their bedroom romps beyond lacklustre.

So Where Does Our Protagonist End Up?

So this is where, Mwangi finds him, in an African night club about to impregnate the latest 19 year old girl that’s fresh off the boat.

Makes you think, doesn’t it.

My Hope

Is that this blog will help us as a community completely get over and have no need for paper marriages? I think until we can present more viable alternatives for people in dire circumstances who are here on student and visitor visas, the habit will still continue (here in Oz, there are even night clubs that women are advised to visit to snare themselves husbands for the papers). So I can’t judge or advise until then…….

Anyway that’s my quick blurb about that. Share any thoughts, tips or ideas you have on paper marriages and how we as a community can evolve beyond this form of exploitation?

The Newsletter

If you are a fan of this article or blog, I encourage you to join and give me feedback ( ) on my Immigrant Survivor Guide Newsletter by putting your first name and email address in the boxes below.

In newsletter, once a week I send you short emails that give you actionable tips that you can immediately apply to make your immigrant experience better including tips on making friends, finding employment, how to stay healthy on the run, things to prepare before you immigrate, staying in touch with people from your home country etc etc.

So please join, and give me feedback, by putting your first name and email in the boxes below:

Be blessed and bless others,

Mwangi

What is the Western Entitlement Syndrome?

Mwangi — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 18:03:12 +0000

What is the Western Entitlement Syndrome?

If this article is a little to abstract or ambiguous, ask questions in the comments thread and I will gladly make sure you get what I’m trying to say.

In the interests of ensuring that everyone understands everyone as much as possible, I will write about something today that I have chosen to label:

The Western Entitlement Syndrome

But Mwangi What is the Western Entitlement Syndrome?

I am so glad you asked. It should be noted that this syndrome is most visible in either people who are from the West AND (this is important) people who are Westernized, i.e. anyone from a city is at risk of getting this disease. The Western entitlement syndrome is a rather complex thing that has a few parts:

It is the genuine heart felt belief that goodness and blessings are a birthright for the simple fact that I was born. This is coupled with a belief that God, the world and everything in it is on one’s side and anything that isn’t one one’s side and/or takes away from the goodness is either an obstacle that must be eliminated or a weird, creepy thing that must be ignored.

As I said, it is a complex thing (and I was too lazy to split it up into parts and explain each different part) and so to illustrate just what this syndrome looks like I will tell you a couple of stories:

The Young Men Who Thought they Were Supermen

I remember back when I was still in high school I went to this house party. It was in a small secluded home at the very top of a dark, well forested mountain. I showed up in there with three of my “brothers from the motherland” determined to make cross-cultural exchange a double entedre.

I was the loudest, most obnoxious fellow in the room. And after singing, hugging, grabbing, joking, huffing and puffing, I packed my bags because I was going home alone. As we were packing up to leave a panic hit the party.

Are those Boys Mad?

It turns out that the girl hosting the party had had a spat with three vveerrrryyyyy drunk boys who had attended the party and somehow the boys decided that the way they would get vengeance would be by trying to take the 5-10 kilometer extremely-convoluted-and-pitch-black hike down the mountain on their own. Well, their technique looked like it worked because this girl was horror stricken.

The Search Begins

We packed my friends saloon car with 5 males and 2 girls and off we went in search of these three young men, as the rain came pouring heavily down. We screamed their names and drove around for close to an hour and a half before we found the first boy. Soon after we found the second.

The Third is Always the Special One Isn’t He?

I will never forget the way we found the third one. I want you to imagine the Blair Witch Project or the Exorcist. The world around us was in a blanket of darkness but for the meagre lights of my buddy’s Nissan Silvia. As we descended down a hill, at the very bottom of it, the spotlight rest on a what-the-heck-is-that-doing-in-the-middle-of-nowhere street post that had two signs, one pointing to the left and one to the right. Leaning against that pole, completely drenched and looking like he was among the walking dead was the third boy.

Success

I don’t even know if he was fully conscious as we brought him back to the car and put him in the backseat. Feeling very much like self-sacrificing heroes, me and my buddy got in the trunk of the car so that these boys could have room in the back seat.

What I have never forgotten about that day, aside from the hyperbolic drama, was the last thing the third boy said to me just as we were dropping him home:

Thank you. I didn’t know what I was thinking. You know we thought we were superman. We thought we were invincible.

Hmmmm

God My Provider

If you have no understanding of Christian faith or theology, see you in the next headline below…….

Of late, I have been going to church and church related events A LOT. One thing that seems to come up over and over and over and over and over and over again is a little process that I like to call cognitive dissonance that probably should never have happened in the first place:

Step one: People in churches all over Australia reach out to people by telling them that, “God and His love will fulfill your every want and need and so surrender to him and he’ll give you everything your heart hungers for.”

Step two: People join the church believing and expecting that now that they have “surrendered” they will get everything they want and need….ooohhh, I “need” a car, a flat screen, a mouse trap, an X- box 360 (Wii is way better but whatever)

Step three: Tragedy strikes: They get sick, lose a job a car or a nail.

Step four: They cry out for God to fix it

Step five: He doesn’t

Step six: They get very mad because God isn’t some vending machine that pops out miracles every time they pray and actually brings pain to their lives.

Step seven: They realize that God won’t always provide and either really struggle with this or leave the church.

Now I know a lot of folk reading this raised in a third world country, when they read step 6 said:

Well, d’uh ( In Indonesia this means bye, seriously try it go to an Indonesian and say da! ) ! He runs the Universe, He does what He wants, when He wants and sometimes we are beneficiaries, some times we are not. But he isn’t here to be our vending machines.

And yet, a lot of folk out here struggle with this. Why?

Because of the Western entitlement syndrome

So What’s Your Point?

I really have no point. I just wanted to put a post out there and make you aware that this exists. That some people really do think that human rights ARE intrinsic human rights not limited to the UN conventions but also including material prosperity and health. Is it wrong? I don’t know. Is it real? You better believe it and you best find a way to handle it. Our complaining won’t make it go away…………………..

To hear more about what I have learned from 6 years + of being an African immigrant ensure you stay in the loop via RSS or email .

Have an empathetic day,

Mwangi

2 Funny Stories from My Days as an Aged Care Nurse

Mwangi — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 17:04:04 +0000

Today let’s take a look at how the pursuit of the dollar has humbled us.

Let’s not discuss it at the abstract or conceptual level: let’s make it real by sharing some stories.

Below are two stories from my days as an aged care nurse/hospital wardsman/general cleaner and gardener/disability care person.

Before We Begin

It should be noted that I never entered the Aged Care field with any airs or feeling of snobbery. I didn’t have any interest in the job and didn’t really want to do it initially but once I got in, I loved being with old folks, especially because their old age (and in some cases) dementia made them so real, non pretentious and friendly.

I never ever made the declaration that I was above other people’s bodily fluids or anything like that: I accepted it as part and parcel of the job before I got in. The reason I got out: because I don’t really have a passion for the industry AND I am a pretty bad nurse (and I like to imagine, a much better writer and thinker )

Some scatological humor coming your way. Don’t read this within the physical or psychological vicinity of food, anyone squeamish or uncool.

Story Number One: My Friend’s First Day

The nurse had done this many times before and knew exactly what to do. Grab the old feeble person lying on the bed. Roll them over so that they were facing them and their back was to the newbie nurse sent by the agency. Pull of the diaper pad. Grab a face washer and……….pass it to the agency nurse: No need doing the grunt work when there was an agency nurse around.

Nine point five times out of ten, the agency nurse would gladly grab that face washer and wipe that bum clean as though it were La Mancha and he was hunting for some gold. But not this day my friends and not this African. The African contorted his countenance into a look of pure surprise:

“Excuse me?” he said as he stared at the food that escaped the decaying old man.

“I don’t have all day, grab the face washer and give his bum a wash!”

Would this be the day? Would this be the moment? Would he now officially become a member of the ABC: the Australian Bum Cleaning Association?

Alas friends, today was not to be the day. For you see, our protagonist had the perfect excuse:

“I can’t do it, I’m new here!”

Now a second countenance contorted into pure confusion:

“What do you mean your new? This isn’t rocket science. Grab the towel. Dip it in the water there, wipe of all the sh………”

Shhhhhhhhh, he lost our protagonist at shhhhhhhhhhh

“I am new here! Please do it and show me how!”

And with that the young man put off the inevitability of joining the ABC. Too bad, the person whose bum he wiped to join had a much nastier treasured buried in that there diaper.

Story Number Two: Will Mwangi Find Love?

“Thank God it’s Friday night and I juuuuusssttt got paid!”

That song kept playing in my mind over and over and over and over again. A few minutes until the shift ends and then women had better watch out, there was a young aged care nurse on the prowl, and I was loaded with sanitary gloves . Sure I didn’t have much. But where money was lacking, I more than made up in testosterone and enthusiasm.

With me being in such an expectant and chirpy mood, I basically floated into the room that belonged to “the Lady” in the final minutes of the shift.

Unfortunately, the Lady had busted her nose and I was there to clean up the blood while she lay there in bed. For some reason that I can’t quite fathom, I forgot to turn on the lights as I walked into her room and the only light that showed was a tiny sliver of flourescent light from the hallway. That flourescence formed a perfect line from the hall all the way to the head of the bed where she lay and where I stood with a towel in my hand and ready to hold my jaw in the other. Let the soap opera begin.

She was smiling at me a little too much. Then again I was a young man in a nursing home, this happened quite a bit and I was used to it. I gently caressed (that must have been what she thought) her face with that face washer until all the blood was off.

I dropped the face washer back into the bucket of water and began to bounce my way out when I heard a gentle whisper:

“Heeeyy,”

I could say that I did an elegant swivel back to face her as Ridge would to Brook in the Bold and the Beautiful, but at that moment I looked like the black guy in the movie who had just heard the sound which everyone in the movie knows will kill him. I turned round: oh oh

“Come here,” the senior lady of the lake (if you get this reference, I’m so sorry) purred

I came to her side like a good nurse would:

“What’s up?”

“Just one?”

“Just one what?”

“Just one KISS!”

I looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Say what?”

“Come on, just one, just one little kiss!”

I did what any compassionate loving human being would do….I began to cackle!

“You’re bad for me you know that?”

“Come on,” she continued like a siren upon the rocks on a Scottish shore.

I slowly began to back away cackling and unable to believe that this was happening. Finally I left her with a kiss in the wind which was delivered from my lips to her cheek via a blow from my right hand. I had to give the people what they want . Now to repeat that process with a twenty year old……………

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7 Unique Things Learned While in Australia

Mwangi — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 16:05:21 +0000

Having been an Afropolitan in Australia for close to 6 years, 6 year anniversary on 31st June, I have had the privilege of experiencing two nations with two very different cultures up close and personal. Today I thought I would talk about 7 unique things I’ve picked up, observed and learned from the natives-well-not-really-but-rather-the-majority-population of this land called Australia.

1) Courtesy

Before I showed up “please” and “thank you” were myths from medieval times. You only held the door when someone had boxes of your stuff and giving people room to pass on the road was for suckers who didn’t want to get to work on time.

Australians, by default, are the most polite people I have ever met in my life. Now, I have basis for comparison: I have been to every continent except South America. So I can tell you, folks get way ruder than people from Australia.

Here folks are taught from very early how to say please and thank you. It’s not uncommon for them stop what they’re doing and help folks with directions or guidance. On many occasions, we have actually had people who were passing us on foot or by car, stop, double back and come help us because we looked so lost. I mean even the criminals and alleged “riff raff” of society are pretty courteous. In short, when I say Aussies are nice people, it’s not hyperbole or optimism, it’s my experience.

2) Hardcore binge drinking

Whoever says Africans are the heaviest drinkers is clearly drunk on something else. You see, when Africans drink, a lot of the time it’s to relieve stress or as part of something social ( I wrote an article on this one a while back if you are interested). But no no no no, a lot of Australians drink for entirely different reason.s

A huge chunk of Australians drink with two simple goals: get hammered and pass out.

Now, the fact that passing out could actually be a goal behind drinking was a shocker to me when I first learned about it. And to be clear, Australia is not a particularly church going nation (93% of folks are not regular) and so binge drinking is part of the culture from the ages of 10 – 100, from the “goody two shoes” all the way to “the bad boys”. These folks showed me that Africans are really very conservative in a lot of ways, including drinking.

3) Nerds and Jocks Stereotypes are Way Off

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Skip this section if you have outgrown caring about high school politics (Do we ever really do this?)

As a result of being about as popular as SNM at a church bakesale (if this reference passes over your head, don’t worry, I was in some zone when I wrote it) a lot of my high school career, together with moments of extreme popularity, I had the good pleasure of spending time with that the TV shows would call “the loveable nerds” as well as “the big dumb jocks”.

Let me tell you now ladies and gentlemen, if you see a jock on one side and a nerd on the other…..RUN to the jock, hug him and never let go.

But Why?

But why, Mwangi, you might ask, would I ever want to abandon the nice, loveable nerd in favour of the big dumb brutish jock. First of all, I was in school with a lot of footy players and one of them even ended up on the national league and they are truly good people. Laid back, very open and welcoming. Sure they like being naked with each other waaaayyyy too much and a lot of their pranks and humour is weird, but they showed me love for the most part so I must reciprocate.

Understanding the Nerd

Now nerds are an entirely different kettle of fish. Now I want you to get a clear picture of a nerd in a Western country. This place is on information overload 24/7. Everyday through the Internet you have access to all sorts of quirky facts, figures, videos, beliefs and so on and so forth. Now take someone, completely isolate them from people and make them feel lousy and inadequate mix them up with this random information that bombards them 24/7 and you end up with a group of people with very weird beliefs and practices.

Now I know, y’all have heard of 2 girls and a cup. That’s a typical nerd’s dream. They love to watch things like Bum Fights, perform witchcraft, watch and obsess over movies that can give one an imagined sense of power such as Fight Club. In short, dudes are very scary. These folks need a hug. I now understand why stuff like Columbine happens……trust me, those were nerds. Anyway I don’t want to go on about this one for too long because it’s not that important really. Definitely came as a surprise though

4) Races I never knew existed

This place is MULTICULTURAL. I have hung out with Arabs, Indians fresh off the boat, Indians who grew up here (more on Indians later), Asians from all over the continent, Africans from Zimbabwe, Botswana (Lord women from Southern Africa are gorgeous, now I understand…now I understand). We have a plethora of mulatto and half black/half Asian kids. African Americans, Greeks and the list just goes on and on.

It’s opened my eyes man. It makes you realize, first of all that you are this thing called “an African” who is a seperate race with our own seperate struggle and shared culture ( yes, we have a shared culture, like it or not). It also makes you realize how similar we are as people in spite of racial differences.

I always found it easy to relate to minorities here and people from darker ethnic groups such Aboriginals, Maoris, Indians and well, Asians because we felt we had a lot in common being marginalized minorities and all.

Plus, the diversity of beautiful food, women, tastes, music, sights and sounds just makes me happy to be alive sometimes.

5) Blue collar wealth?

Now in Africa, this is an oxymoron. The more “industrial age” the job the worse of the job security, prestige and the pay. The more “knowledge economy” the better the pay,the job security and with each extra dollar you get to buy off a bit more of people’s respect.

One of the first things that amazes every African whenever they land here is the fact that a plumber can earn the same as a lawyer. That tends to send us laughing for hours and hours as we talk about how a man whose most famous for showing us a crack-that-certainly-isn’t-of-dawn earns the same as someone who sweats vocabulary in libraries for years to become a lawyer.

If someone here tells me they want to be a hair stylist, carpenter or electrician, I salute them. As long as you make sure you’re money is working for you via investments, it’s as secure as the job market gets: God speed!

6) Racism is a fluid concept

I wrote an article on this one a while back.

By and large, I don’t believe that Anglo-Saxons innately fear and hate African people. Now a lot of you won’t agree with that, but I base this opinion on two things:

i) My experience of only one or two racial slurs and remarks being thrown at me a year. I can’t even think of one incident that has taken place over the last 12 months that’s been motivated by racial hatred – then again I live in a suburb that looks like it’s part of Asia and don’t get out much, but even from my time in Sydney, can’t think of anything.

ii) If a 78 year old man is pooping into a nappy, has lost all forms of inhibition and some brain cells, and still treats me with love, then there was never any hate to begin with. I worked as an aged care nurse for 2 years and I have spoken with folks who’ve been doing it much longer, racism isn’t something that comes up very often. Scatological humour on the other hand……….

Now, Australians do seem to HATE the people they stole this land from: the Aboriginals. This pretty much came to my attention in my years of high school . On two occasions folks went on a roll spiting out joke after joke to insult the Aboriginal people and by and large people laughed at and enjoyed that. How deep this racism is? What its all about? I’m unclear on. But there’s definitely something there.

Native Australians are also pretty open and HATE anyone who refuses to learn English. You want to drive Australian people mad, walk around like you don’t know a word of English. Wait for the sneers to come.

7) Indians are everywhere

Indians are kinda like those “extra channels” you get when you sign up for Pay TV. You don’t really think about them or know they are there until you stop and think. That’s when you realize, Indians have always been a fixture in my life.

In Kenya, they were part of the ruling class and I lived close to one and a lot of the shops I used to go to were Indian run. Come to the land down under and they are still all over the place. My suburb literally looks like the Asian sub-continent.

For those of you who may not have heard my baby sisters’ opinions on Melbourne, most of the people they either know or hang around are Indian people. If you are Indian and you are reading this:

If you’re plan is global domination, good job! Y’all have positioned yourself well.

And by the way, Sri Lankan women…..mmm…mmmm…..mmmm

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Final Part of Njeri’s Message to the Next Group of Afropolitans

Mwangi — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 16:05:31 +0000

Final section in the series where Njeri aka meek meek gives you the skinny on how she sees immigrant life. Make sure you read the articles from the last two days to read part 1 and 2. I come back from camp tomorrow. Yay! Finish your weekend right, Mwangi

8. Buy everything on sale…everybody else does…and if they don’t they are very dumb. Don’t buy anything at full price….I came to this country with about $5000 in savings. That lasted less than three months…between the designer jeans, shoes, accessories e.t.c…I spent it all. You can get everything cheap don’t go crazy and don’t be ashamed to be ’seen’ buying cheap stuff, first of all nobody is watching you and even if they are they probably will never see you again…my motto is ‘as long as it looks good get it’ ….I bought a pair of jeans for 400 dollars…. i don’t even like telling this story… i somehow forgot that that translated to 28,000 kshs… Hindsight is an exact science but please try and avoid doing this. Buy expensive food though, buy organic. Cheap out here when it comes to food is not better. I know it can be overwhelming to go to the store and actually choose…so many labels! but try. I actually believe that it helps not only nourish your body but your mind too. When you eat right you think better. Exercise is important too… Jog a little it helps clear your mind.

9. Avoid stuff thats fake, don’t get involved in any schemes that don’t seem right. Go online if it sounds tricky and ask questions. When i got here i used yahoo questions alot. I asked about anything and everything. I have seen alot of people get deported because they involved themselves in fraudulent schemes and i know many more who will. Its usually your friends who come to you and whisper about some brilliant scheme to make money, don’t fall for it… if they are actually your friends they wont turn their backs on you when you show your disinterest. I have taught myself not to starve at someone else’s expense, i have also learnt how not to get into trouble. Stay away from drugs and people who do them, because if you are caught in a car with someone who has drugs, more often then not they will claim those drugs were yours and just like the DWI thing i mentioned earlier its not easy to get yourself up after that.

10. People overlook Social Security and Credit. Take your time to understand these. Credit is very important, good credit is almost a currency in itself. You need to build your credit and eventually it will allow you to get everything you need. With a clean record [no arrests] and good credit, the opportunities in this country are endless. Do not overlook your taxes either. Do everything by the book. this is not Africa ‘deals’ wont help you here but if you do everything by the book you can eventually get anything you want from good loans, a big house to nice cars and great investments. This is why, if you are planning to come and live in the states, you SHOULD NOT come on a visitors visa….Because you will not get a social security card so you will not be able to build your credit or get a job or go to school or get an apartment or anything. I have been here two years and the best i could get is a shared apartment, i cant buy a car or go to school or get a job but i have two or three good friends and they have been there for me thats why i emphasize on friendship so much.

I have been reading this book by Dave Eggers, its called ‘What is the What’ He says something in the beginning of the book that i hold as true, he says ‘I am tired of this country. I am thankful for it, yes, I have cherished many aspects of it for the three years i have been here, but i am tired of the promises. I came here, four thousand of us came here, contemplating and expecting quiet. Peace and college and safety. We expected a land without war and, i suppose, a land without misery. We were giddy and impatient. We wanted it all immediately-homes,families, college, the ability to send money home, advanced degrees, and finally some influence. But for most of us, the slowness of our transition-after five years i still don’t have the necessary credits to apply for a four year college-has wrought chaos. We waited ten years in Kakuma and i suppose we did not want to start all over here. We wanted the next step, and quickly. But this has not happened not in most cases, and in the interim, we have found ways to spend the time. I have held too many menial jobs, and currently work at the front desk of a health club, on the earliest possible shift, checking in members and explaining the club’s benefits to prospective members. This is not glamorous, but it represents a level of stability unknown to some. Too many have fallen, too many feel they have failed. The pressure upon us, the promises we cannot keep with ourselves-these things make monsters of too many of us.’ This is by far one of the most well written books i have seen in the last few years… I believe however that the lesson is clear. Get a hold of this book if you can and read about a fellow immigrant, Also get ‘the infidel’ By Ayaan Hirsi Ali. These books have little nuances here and there that can help you understand what exactly you are getting into.

Alot of people will tell you be patient and swallow your pride and do whatever it takes to survive. I have lived here and i have been patient and i have done whatever it took to survive, but i will never sell my soul for a dream that wasn’t mine initially [the American Dream]. I have not done anything that i did not want to do. Do what you think is right. Always remember to be true to yourself. You really don’t have to stoop as low as they tell you to….you do have to stoop but to wherever you are comfortable. Before you come here you need to know what it is you want and how far you would go to get it. Stay out of trouble. I have a friend who i argue with constantly, his argument is the reason most foreigners fail when they come to this country is that they never fully commit to being here. At the back of their minds they are still convinced that they can always go back. I agree with him. If you fully commit to being here and you give yourself no choice but to succeed you will succeed. My argument however, is that if its not working after a few years of trying and if its not getting better don’t be afraid to leave, don’t wait until its too late. More that anything be analytical and logical don’t let your emotions influence your decisions.Those are my two cents…Good luck and God speed!!