Now, I know as a young African man from a little village in Kenya I am supposed to be on the saving end, not the fucking end (or worse, the talking end) of this campaign, but let’s face it: for a mission as worthy as this, we need to enlist as many fucking dicks and pussies as we can. I know some people might find this fairly radical, but I modestly propose that we even enlist non-human penises and vaginas or anything that takes such shapes (anything to save an African life!), on the condition that @DurexRED can manufacture condoms for them.
I started writing this piece on a Kenya Airways flight from Kigali to Nairobi. The sun had just set as the plane took off and millions of fireflies seemed to illuminate the city below. It had been a packed week in the land of a thousand hills that left little room for self-reflection and meditation…
When I read accounts of successful people, I never meet a soul that says they did it for the money. Oh yeah, I really wanted to outball my homies so I busted my ass inventing the fucking light bulb. Bruh, dat cheese tho, dat cheese.
When I think of Stay with Me, and this might be cliché, I think of that Toni Morrison quote: write the book that you would love to read. Stay with Me is the caliber of book I would love to read—and to write. Not necessarily the same plot or the same themes or the same style, but rather the way Ayobami mashes all these elements together to produce a fine story that keeps you riveted to the page from beginning to end.
This piece is a tapestry of fragmented thoughts and mini-stories I’ve been clutching to in my bulging head; I free them to the universe lest they force themselves out, pyrotechnically. Mostly, they concern kindness in a world where it is impossible to be kind enough.
So you put up that cliché ‘Finally going to the motherland!!!!!!!’ Facebook status that garnered over ten times your average number of likes for a Facebook post. Or more accurately, the number of likes was commensurate with the number of apostrophes you used. You most likely flew on an American or a European airline, via either an African or a European capital. If you jetted through Accra, Lagos or Nairobi, you most likely were in the company of black faces with hands holding more than one passport….