February 18th, 2024.

Current location: Room 306, Tribe Hotel, Dar es Salaam.

It’s been a year since I’ve posted, a lot has happened in a year, a lot is still happening.

Conspiracy theory; a belief that an event or situation is the result of a secret plan made by powerful people.

Conspiracy theories: Do you believe in them? You know, wasps being used by the government to spy on people, using animals to commit espionage, or secret agencies watching your every move. What would you do if you knew you were part of one?
A message to the world, or just another conspiracy theory?

February 19th, 2024.

Current location: Room 306, Tribe Hotel, Dar es Salaam.

I will hopefully share more in due time, but for now, if anything happens to me, if I end up in hospital, or if I go missing, just know that it was highly unlikely that I chose to go myself.

“It turns out the movies were telling the truth, you know, the movies we aren’t supposed to watch, not the explicit kind, but your everyday kind. What am I talking about? Magic. Magic is real. Not the kind of magic you might expect, but the kind you aren’t supposed to use. The kind that leaves your body shaking, shivering, leaving it worse than before. The kind that makes you question reality, question the world, enter into different dimensions, willingly and unwillingly. The world of the unseen unveiled, at times, felt, leaving behind it a trail of questionable memories.”

My eyes pull away from the back of the book, stopping for a moment to allow myself to think. I was usually a more of a “see to believe” kind of person, but these days, I started to have more trust in the unseen and the unknown.

Browsing through bookshops, one of my favourite airport activities, along with testing perfumes and trying new foods. As I glance up to double-check my gate number, a petite young woman coming from the opposite direction runs past me as if she was about to miss her flight. I take a deep breath and turn as my tired body follows the signs through the partly-crowded building. F06, a 2 minute walk. A minute or two later, the same woman from before comes running past again, but this time, leaving a smell of rotten eggs behind her. Rotten eggs? I repeatedly sniff the air. Was it just past gas? I thought to myself. Or, a trip down memory lane back to my chemistry lectures left me coming up blank. A quick google search and the smell of rotten eggs is produced by the gas hydrogen sulfide. That’s weird.

I was ready to land as soon as we boarded. An immediate fall into slumber made up half of the flight, followed by me sitting in confusion, trying to make sense of everything that has been happening. I look around the plane and to my surprise, it’s quiet. The rolling wheels of the food cart can be heard coming from behind me. I reach in my bag and pull out my most recent purchase, The Maid.

A handshake that leaves your whole body trembling, shaking, weak.

“What is happening?!” she questioned herself.

Her whole body except her right hand, and part of her right side remained untouched by the effects of the handshake, the side she wore her bracelet on.

A few weeks earlier..

As she swept the living room, sweeping the part of the floor where the shoes were usually placed, she glanced at the door.

“No that’s not Aisha”

She heard coming from around the corner. Her mouth opened about to answer, until she realised she wasn’t the one being spoken to. She looked around the corner and saw Nadya looking up, not at the sky, but at birds, crows to be exact.

“That’s someone else” Nadya answered as she looked up at a crow.

The maid quickly turned back, grabbed the sweeping brush, and continued sweeping, hoping that Nadya didn’t see her, but she did.

My hands lift the book close. An image of the past pops into my head, and perhaps another blog post that needs to be written.

The cool wind rushed past as I held on tight to the back of the moving boda boda. It felt refreshing, a nice contrast to the usual enclosed, stagnant work setting. I checked to see if there were any stars and spotted a few. I noticed that they were accompanied by some bigger green lights, though not as high, floating somewhere in between. I continued on with my examination. The sky was still. There was no moon in sight. I glanced behind, hoping to have new findings, more scattered stars, and a few more green floating lights. As I began turning my head back towards the driver, I noticed something, a blue light, no, there were two. They were hovering and gliding through the darkness, moving as if there was a string attaching them to the back of the boda boda. Two bright, blue, glowing eyes, like headlights in the sky.

“What are those green lights?”, I asked, pointing up at the sky.

“They’re lanterns”, he quickly replied, then went back to focusing on driving.

I looked back to check on the mysterious blue lights. They were gone, disappeared into the night. Was it looking for something else? Or did it get scared?

The weekend wasn’t over yet, I unsurprisingly ended up at the beach. It was quite busy, not my preferred set up, nonetheless I was happy to be there. The beach had become my second home, a place to let my thoughts run free, I felt free of all my worries, free of judgment. It was my safe space.

I eventually found a spacious spot, breathable enough to feel comfortable to sit, for a while at least. I put my bag down and began to eat the barbecued corn I had picked up along the way. Numerous bites later, and a corn-less cob was left in my sauce-covered hands. My eyes were protected by slim, shaded, square sunglasses that felt like they fit my face nicely. I stared up at the sky and thought to myself, this is life. I sat up and looked out at the crashing waves. The sun reflected off the water, making it sparkle. It was as if the ocean was filled with diamonds. I glanced around. I appeared to be the only one on my own, just how I preferred it. Surrounded by couples and groups of compatibility, observing how they interacted with each other, trying to imagine the interesting topics of conversation they were having. Words and laughter left open mouths, while food entered, eyes glanced at the yellow and blue scenery, then back to their loved ones, everyone was in sync, as if it was pre rehearsed.

The sun was starting to set, I figured I’d treat myself to the view and then make my way, but for some reason, I was unable to give it my full, undivided attention, I was distracted. Was it that there were too many people? I glanced around my surroundings, I began to notice a sound, a subtle buzzing noise, somewhere in the background, one I’ve heard before. I glanced right. There was a family sitting near, I looked just above them to the direction of the sound, a drone, finally I found the source. Just as I began contemplating when to leave, I had a realisation, the drone, there was something familiar about it. I looked back to where I last saw it. It was still there. I looked at it carefully, my examining eyes fixed on the head-churning, flying machine, and to my surprise, staring back were its glowing, bright, blue eyes.

Finally! we arrived. I got myself together, counted, and recounted all of my bags. I stood up, ready to leave the plane, but before I could, an announcement about cleaning shoes came on. Apparently, there is a bird flu spread in Tanzania. A quick check on the internet to verify, and yes, just as I thought, nothing came up.

I exit the plane and approach the “cleaning shoes” section through arrivals. I glance down to what looks like two sheets of strong plastic that have been laid down on the floor. I watch as the people before me walk over the large sheets. I hesitate before placing my foot down.

“It’s easy!”, A woman’s voice from behind me shouted, “It’s only something you have to walk over”.

I place the toe of my shoe on the sticky plastic without allowing my heels to touch it. The front half of my shoe sticks, then gets pulled off, then sticks, then gets pulled off, like a strong plaster that keeps being removed. Soon enough, the hard floor was met with sticky shoe soles, leaving footprints of people’s shoes behind, or in my case, half footprints.

April 10th, 2024.

Current Location: Mecca

Mecca; a place pilgrims journey to seek forgiveness, a place where believers go to get prayers answered, a place I hoped would offer me peace.

It’s the first day of Eid, and I’m being followed. The last few days have been nothing short of eventful, the contrast of being spiritually cleansed, accompanied with the fragile nature of human beings and their weaknesses, and their capability to act upon them regardless of their surroundings. Weakness, when portrayed as a strength, can cause us to make ill of our actions, our own internal compass certain that the direction is pointing to right, but to others, can be disruptive. Numerous leaders, past and present, have caused mass murders and disruption and have done so believing to be righteous. Fortunately, we are not all mass murderers.

It’s just me sitting crossed-legged in the baking, midday sun, facing the Kaaba, surrounded by nothing but my thoughts, or at least that’s how I imagined it. Upon reflection I have come to the conclusion that this has been both the best, and the worst Ramadan I’ve had thus far; it is the most I’ve ever prayed, however, it has been the most isolated I’ve ever felt. I hoped coming here would solve most, if not all, of my problems. Unfortunately, your problems follow you wherever you go. Well, mine do anyway.

It was beginning to die down after the influx of people during Ramadan, yesterday being the last day of Eid. I said my final Du’aas in front of the holy structure, general, nonetheless sufficient, specifics aren’t as important as I once thought I’ve decided.

I spot the silhouette of my mum in the distance. Khalas, it was time to go! As I gather myself to leave, I notice a wave of emotion trying to escape. My eyes start to feel damp. Questioning if it is heat caused, I look up. Tears begin to creep through. Was I crying? I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want this feeling to end, I was content, grateful, I felt a sense of surety in my life, a feeling I hadn’t felt in Long time, if ever, and most importantly in my faith. I came here searching for answers, but maybe, maybe I had them with me all along.

Draft:

Current Location: Medina

Saturday mornings had the best cartoons, neighbourhoods and playgrounds filled with the shouts and sounds of social beings, our version of social networking, rooms echoed with people engaged in conversation and laughter, the outside world oblivious, until technology evolved, changing the focus, the meaning of what is essential…

I race to write as I try catching up with my thoughts. Thinking about the outside world was tiring, to say the least. However, cartoons are what’s currently occupying my mind. I finish writing, lock my phone and try to get comfortable. Saturdays don’t feel the same as they used to, even if it is your birthday. I don’t know how to feel about birthdays anymore. Nowadays, they are just another disappearing thought, remembered then stored away, waiting for another year to be added to the number file. As I continue to reflect on the day, another day spent fasting and praying (I might have also done a bit of crying), my eyes start to feel heavy.

I can’t move, I thought to myself. I try to rub eyes, making sure that I’m awake. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t move my body. It didn’t hurt, but this was strange. This was something I had never felt before.

“MUUUUM!”I shout in the direction of the door, “MUUUUM!”.

I wait a few seconds. Nothing. I was home alone. Outside, I can hear the build-up of a storm; the rain is getting heavier, and the wind is getting stronger.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before my body was finally able to move. I turn onto my side and let out a quiet sigh of relief. A few, small cockroaches crawl across the blue, retro, pattered bedsheet, a subtle reminder of where we are all going to end up.

I give myself a few minutes before deciding to get up. The storm outside sounds dangerous. The wind howled as if it were alive. I am intrigued. I attempt to step out of bed, one leg at a time, trying not to move too fast after being so still. Suddenly, a noise catches my attention. Although not quite fully awake, the cracks in the curtains allowed for the moon to illuminate through, enabling me to hear and see enough. The top half of my body makes a sharp turn back, followed by my legs retreating into the warm, single bed. The sound of footsteps move towards me at the speed like no other, none I had ever heard before. Then retreating, then back to me, then retreating once again. As I looked to my left, the direction the noise was coming from, the image I saw wasn’t a reflection of the resounding sound. A dark, familiar figure stood in my room. What looked like an older woman crouching by the door, and before I could get a proper look, an uneasy feeling came over me. The sound of drums and other instruments soon followed. Shortly after sleep overcame me.