A CHAT FROM LONDON: Morning chat with a fabulous, frail English old lady

A good day becomes evident in the morning...so the Swahili proverb goes. It was ice cold but the sun was shining.

>May I share a few clips from last week? First the video.  A mass of frenzied people are chasing a man somewhere in West Africa.   Right on the knees of Ebola.  Someone sent it via WhatsApp.  Don’t frown if you don’t use WhatsApp.

>Wednesday, October 15, 2014...A tiny delegation of well educated women; modest and intelligent, will be welcomed into one of the most powerful rooms in the northern hemisphere. First is Mrs Rhobi Samwelly (pictured), mother of four children, hailing from Butiama, Mara Region.

It is a cold wet winter afternoon, a few days after the Paris and Bamako terrorist attacks. As I stroll down a major street in East London, a man is melodically hollering:“Evening Standard! Evening Standard!”

>May we begin by asking a question? Is it true that there is a huge difference between the thinking of Africans living on the continent and those outside it? Over 50 years ago, we used to call overseas-based ones the “African Wazungus” not because of race but attitude and manners. It was insulting being called Mzungu Mweusi. Nevertheless, behind closed doors it was privileged.

>I was in a late, late night bus heading home after a gig; tired but satisfied that we had played our music well. Gratified that we had got paid too.

>Around the time of Tanzanian independence in 1961, a powerful song hit the radios. “Sweets for my sweet, Sugar for my honey I will never ever let you go...”

>It was three weeks ago that the eminent Prof Ali Mazrui, Kenyan international scholar, thinker and writer died. So much has already been written. So much more to come. Many continue to eulogise this rare East African son who died aged 81, in the USA.

>As Easter 2015 arrives, two episodes to reflect. Fast moving Europe. Quarter of the year gone.   One person’s dustbin is another’s treasure. I am not sure if this old English idiom fits what I am about to present here but... let us not compare tragedies. We may discuss their implications. Tears are a reflection of pain; sorrow knows no definition.