Avaes Mohammad

Kenya: ON THE EDGE OF THE OCEAN (010509)

In Uncategorized on May 6, 2009 at 4:15 pm



to the right of me

to the right of me

I’m sat at a step, on the edge of the Indian Ocean. Rocks to the right and left of me bear the scars of having been beat by the ocean for thousands of years. Crabs congregate on the rocks like young boys in hoods do outside Spar in Balham (is there a spar in Balham?).


to the left of me

The crabs look as though they’re meant to be there. They fit. In that evolutionary type of way; their colour and texture fit against the rocks. Blend in. And today, I daresay that I’m meant to be here. That my colour and texture fit against these rocks. I fit against these centuries old buildings of Old Town Mombasa. I fit against the dazzling blue of the Indian Ocean and the bright orange-brown of the earth here. I think I fit amongst the people here. Arab African, Indian African, Bantu African, the mixes in between.

I’m sitting at the edge of my Mothers old area. There’s an old, large wooden ship to the left of me that’s obstructing one of the houses where Mum used to live. Never had I imagined my mother’s land to be this beautiful. Seething with so much culture. Its impossible to describe. To write it. African, Portugese, Omani Arab, Indian, British. And you can see it. Most of these ingredients sit together in what is today, Swahili Culture. This is the only place in the world I’ve seen it happen. Where the various cultures in a land haven’t lived as isolated pockets walking alongside each other in Hyde Park on a Sunday, but actually come together in the creation of something new. The language, Kiswahili, is a Bantu African based language with Arabic, Indian, and some Portugese and English influence. Not just token influences but actual contributions. On the coast of Kenya, Indians, ‘Native Kenyans’, Arabs, they are all Swahili. Of course I’ve heard some Indians here talk about Africans as though they’re another. Moreso in Nairobi. Equally I’ve met Indians here that are proud Africans and are actively fighting to be recognised as such. But aside from these human truths, another equally human truth is that there’s something very special here. Something I dare all of us in England to think about. Possibly learn from. Because as much as my colour and texture fits against this tropical ocean, the palm trees, the weathered buildings, the crabs, I know my colour, my texture also fits against the wild rivers that run through the Ribble Valley in Lancashire, the blue hills of the Summer Lake District, the crabs at Morcambe Bay.

My mother probably played here as a child. She’d narrate scenes where she’s throwing stones into the air, sat on the edge of the blue ocean before chasing crabs with her friends…

crabs outside spar in balham

crabs outside spar in balham


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