November 16, 2019

"Couldn't there be more intercultural exchange OUR way?"

November 13, 2019

Who talks about refugees in Tanzania, and what do they say?

November 10, 2019

#SudanUprising in Copenhagen

June 23, 2019

On 26 June I moderate talks & debate on #SudanUprising in #Copenhagen.

The Sudanese artist Khalid Albaih joins via Skype.

Kindly read Khalid's article a...

Update: Everyday Poetics: Instagramming Life in East Africa in Belgrade

April 26, 2019


April 12, 2019

Owl in Tanzanian Parliament - bad omen for freedom of speech and assembly.

January 30, 2019

On 29 January, when the Tanzanian Parliament (Bunge) was assembled in Dodoma, an owl flew in and watched the assembly. The owl is seen in Tanzanian (e...

''We've died''

January 22, 2019

Bikozulu tells the stories of the people making it through last week's terror attack in Nairobi.

See the Instagram post here

If you ask me, and someti...

FILM: Wakamba Forever

January 21, 2019

Colonianism revisited:

..''a hilarious take on Masaku and McMillan’s first encounter set in the 21st century. From a dramatic re-telling of the Kamba o...

Chuchu: ''We are not the audience. We are the story''.

January 20, 2019

Two important tweet threads (see below) which take point of departure in the New York Times coverage of the Riverside terror attack on 15 January 2019...

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LOVE STORY: Life. Juba, I'm in love with your spacious ways.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Last year in December, when I was evacuated from Juba, you know - I didn't want to leave. On the way to the airport, a young SPLA soldier waved our car off the road at a makeshift checkpoint. Dressed in a beige military uniform and a pair of broken Ray Ban sunglasses, upright in what seemed like a mixture of alcohol and relief that the fighting in Juba had subsided. 'Come back! Why do you always having to leave?' he said, and stuck his whole head in through the open window, so it hung on a par with ours, the departing expats and our piles of luggage. He turned from one to the other, his eyes asking for reciprocated contact. He found my eyes, and completed his inspection with a: 'I love you. Just go!'


I accepted the love declaration, as if it was designed for me exactly. It put all my previous break-ups in perspective. We looked at each other in silence, and I could feel how each of us searched for suitable words to break the silence that followed. I was embarrassed to leave South Sudan this way, and I thought that the break-up cliché: 'It's not you, but me, there is something wrong with!' never fitted better.

South Sudan, I don't know what it is, but you're highly addictive. Freedom of expression has suffered, but I keep finding people who defy it and who offer anarchistic thinking in abundance, conversations about love, life and death. Of coming back and of going. Loud talks about killer diplomacy, kitchen cabinets, oxtail soups, chili and life.


Life. Juba, I'm in love with your spacious ways.

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PhD Student, MA in African Studies, journalist and former development worker. Heart tilted towards the Balkans & East Africa: Refugees, Peripheries, Imaginaries & Humanitarianism