Voyagers through the terrain of time
Living out three centuries simultaneously
Time travelers in the torrid zone
Navigating its fraught territory

The near past is nothing to speak of
Replete with close encounters with dread
Luckily therefore, we shy away from nostalgia
After all, these were labeled our lost decades
Moreover, even the earlier eras bore a taint of calamity
Of pawnage at home and, in middle passages, chattel slavery

We made our accommodations, and devised our survival strategies
At times resisting those who marked our lands as uncharted territory
They came with breech-loading muskets, Maxim guns at the ready
Meanwhile we had nature's usual afflictions too as adversaries

Mindful of the mosquito principle, we cultivated fever trees
Prepared potions of bitter roots contra miasmas and rank diseases
Plainly the ancients suffered the ailments but didn't have the vocabulary
The graves were getting full - these days we'd call it excess mortality

Black gold and crown jewels extracted, there were protection treaties
Signed under duress, some of the chiefs yielded to malign authority
The structural adjustments of yore, a taste of excessive liability
A short sale, in retrospect they put a human face on ugly realities

Young, ever hopeful, unencumbered by the past, we look forward
As an article of faith, trusting that better days lie ahead
In time, as well as in place, removed from the burden of deference
We bring forth the elements of survival to charge our present

Fumes, fragments abound, shards of memory
That the storytellers left, the faint glimpses of glory
Elements of our present could do with a touch of modernity
We hold on, we hold fast, and we will tell our story

And so some of us, by default, have found ourselves living in three centuries
Simultaneously navigating tradition and modernity
Overlapping frames, for humanity knows no boundaries
No one is coming, it’s up to us to shape the memories

Off kilter, confronted, as we are, with many uncertainties
We wear, as protective armor, our masks of civility
Treading a fine line, but finally in charge of our destiny
Comforted, we attempt the choreography of normalcy

So, the battle enjoined, charting our own direction
The upshot now, the nature of our contribution
Clear-eyed, is to press beyond a naive sentimentality
And demonstrate that we move forward through community

Truth and reconciliation, a conversational strategy
Social living, the antidote to manifest destiny
In the torrid zone, then, this was a matter of necessity
We paid our premiums, soul insurance was the remedy

Three Centuries, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• Out of the Past - The Three Sounds
• Side by Side - Dianne Reeves
• Let's forget about the past - Clyde McPhatter
• Now's the Time - Charlie Parker
• Back to the Future - D'Angelo
• Jazz in the Present Tense - Solsonics
• Out of the Past - Art Farmer
• I Can See the Future - Incognito
• Out of the Past - Benny Golson Sextet
• Til It's Done (Tutu) - D'Angelo
• The Past, The Present - Kupla

See previously: The Torrid Zone and Soul Insurance


File under: Africa, culture, observation, perception, identity, strategy, Social Living, memory, poetry, toli

Writing log: September 18, 2022

That’s fine dude, I'm not mad at you
The masked man's video footage revealed the poet's last words

Some men can't bear the thought of not being feared
And, faced with an incandescent smile instead of a stare,
He fired three shots in rapid succession
He let her know who was who

In his own way, he dispensed some American home truths
Call it the imperial boomerang, that obscene point of view
Visit America before America visits you

I couldn't bear to watch the clip of the death of the poet
But from the still, I could see in her smile, the sense of bemusement
And knew all too well what would have happened, later, when she got home
That that masked man - puff, with his big weapon
Would end up as a minor character in a poem


After Renée Nicole Good


See previously: Prone

File under: grief, blood, outrage, murder, USA, crime, violence, rogues, culture, observation, perception, creative process, hatchet job, The Rough Beast, poetry, toli

Writing log: January 10, 2026

Mind the gap, the train operator's message over the intercom
Murphy's law. Or was it nervousness that caused the fumble?
The black rectangular shape shuffled out of the breast pocket
Its curvilinear flight path deftly avoiding the outstretched hands
The rainbow's end right in the gap destined for the tracks
Parabolic trajectory congruent with the laws of physics
Serene, but all you could do was watch and bear witness
That sinking feeling, well none of you were able to react
Superfluous, the message you should have heeded: mind the gap

Chasmaphobia n. the fear of dropping one's keys, badge, wedding ring or equivalent into a gap (say between the elevator and floor)

Mind the Gap, a Playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

File under: life, accident, improbable, whimsy, humour, observation, perception, poetry, toli

Writing log. Concept: February 10, 2006; April 18, 2022

A dark milestone, they said, and a "terrible toll"
A profound loss repeated so many times is awful
Easy words out of the mouth of these opportunists
Spewed in profusion as a shield for their mistakes

Their blather rather underscored the lack of concern
As if one could be saved by platitudinous laments
What was once unthinkable became the norm, we heard of incalculable loss
Mass extinction on a regular basis, so many were paying the cost

The unending daily tallies were duly consigned to the middle pages
We heard of fatigue and, after false starts, a return to normalcy
Time to move on, they said, we should resign ourselves to mass death
Fatalistic even when the evidence showed that things could be mitigated

The brief moment of solidarity had passed, the clapping and shared sacrifice
It was all up to individual choice, people should be left to their own devices
The previous narratives reasserted themselves in this renewed torrid zone
The rest is history, all that remained was to mark the dark milestones





After a dark milestone (January 2022)

See previously A Panoply of Mistakes a year earlier

Wrong, a playlist

I might as well recycle the previous playlist, nothing changed in the interim, only the body count. (spotify version)

This internal displacement is part of a series: In a covidious time.

File under: failure, coronavirus, pandemic, hypocrisy, outrage, hatchet job, culture, observation, England, incompetence, politics, language, humour, Observers are worried, Buyer's Remorse, covidious, poetry, toli

Writing log. Concept: January 10, 2022. June 1, 2022

It takes considerable effort to appear effortless performing a complex task; we all applaud the display of excellence.

It takes no considerable effort for a high flyer or leader to fail miserably; we all laugh at the display of incompetence.

The walk of life is a tightrope.

High Wire Act, a playlist

A funky playlist for this note. (spotify version)

• Live Wire by The Meters
• So Tight by Rick James
• Tightrope by Junie Morrison
• Tightrope by Janalle Monae and Big Boi

File under: life, culture, observation, perception, aphorisms, zingers, humour, failure, Observers are worried, toli,

Writing log: February 22, 2021

How the Congolese national team has become a rare source of unity, recognition, and solidarity for communities living through war.

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To protect the safety of those quoted, some names have been changed.

When Cédric Bakambu scored to give the Democratic Republic of Congo the lead against Senegal he once again reinforced his position as Congo’s favourite son.

The goal took his tally to 20 for The Leopards, just two behind the nation’s top goal scorer ever, Dieumerci Mbokani. But it’s not Bakambu’s goal scoring that has made him the idol that he is in Congo, rather what he did after scoring.

Every goal, for club and for country, that Bakambu scores is followed by a now iconic celebration. He stands tall, covers his mouth with one hand, and with the other he makes a gun pointing at his head. It’s a powerful symbol of communion with Bakambu’s compatriots in Eastern Congo who have guns to their heads while the world stays silent.

And nowhere is Bakambu more loved than in Eastern Congo.

“I love to see that celebration,” Fiston, a school teacher from Bunia, the capital city of the Ituri Province on the border of Uganda tells Africa is a Country. “It [the celebration] was a huge meaning for us. It says that they’re also with us on the East side of DRC. It shows us that we’re together. Even if they’re so far, they have compassion.”

Life is not easy for Fiston who as a child was nicknamed “Shabani Nonda” after the former national team player. While not as famous as the conflict to the south in Goma, Bunia is still a region in conflict and as Fiston says, is in the “red zone” of Congo. People try to go about life normally but in the knowledge that violence can flare up at a moment’s notice, a state that has been present for well over 50 years.

After renewed violence earlier this year, which according to Medecins Sans Frontieres, has displaced more than 100,000 in Ituri, life in Bunia is marked by strict curfew that starts at 11 p.m. every night. But there is one exception.

“On the day of the football they don’t do that [enforce curfew]. The day of the football game you can see people working anytime they need without being disturbed,” Fiston says. Instead, bars and restaurants are open late into the night.

“When there is a match, you can see people wearing the jerseys and scarves. Everyone is involved, even though we’re so far. We are Congolese.”

Bunia may be more than 1,700 kilometres from Kinshasa and the Congolese government—in fact Bunia is closer to Addis Ababa and Mogadishu than it is to its own nation’s capital—and for residents of Ituri it is even further away emotionally, but for football fans like Fiston, The Leopards are as close to Bunia as they are to Kinshasa.

That isn’t simply a sentiment shared by Fiston and those in Ituri. Blaise was born and raised in Goma, once a fixer for the United Nations peacekeeping mission in the city, he was made redundant when the UN pulled out of the city as the M23 rebel group took control.

“People love and trust the Leopards. When there is a game, the town is empty, no one is one the streets,” says Blaise. “Even if we are very far from Kinshasa and the political situation is very complicated because we’ve been separated, we still love the national team.”

Like in Bunia, the presence of M23 rebels who have denounced President Félix Tshisekedi’s Kinshasa government, does not stop fans from celebrating, in fact the rebels themselves still support The Leopards.

“Here in Goma, we see even rebels calling people to watch and support the team,” explains Goma resident and journalist Michel. “The head of the youth department of M23 called people to support and show pride for the national team in the world cup qualifiers.”

This continent spanning love for a national team isn’t a new thing, far from it. The collective memory of cities like Bunia and Goma remember the legendary teams of the 1960s and 1970s who won two AFCONs. For Blaise and Fiston, they keep up with young stars like Noah Sadiki and Nathaneal Mbuku via social media. For their fathers and grandfathers, it was the radio that kept them informed of the performances of Kazadi Mwamba or Ndaye “the assassin” Mulamba.

That generation that was at the heart of building the young and fragile national identity of DRC reached the holy grail of the World Cup in 1974, the first sub-Saharan nation to do so. It’s now been half a century since then and The Leopards have not been back to the World Cup, until now.

A new generation of Congolese players, many of whom grew up in Europe as part of the diaspora, are on the verge of qualifying for the World Cup. Having beaten Cameroon and Nigeria in the final round of African World Cup qualifiers, all that stands between them and Congolese immortality is a playoff match in March.

Just as it played a role in forging a national identity in the 1970s, The Leopards once again are at the heart of a nation that is seeking an identity in a fragmented world. Thanks in part to the growing representation of players from the diaspora, this squad is the most representative of Eastern Congo in decades. Players Noah Sadiki, Axel Tuanzebe, Rocky Bushiri and Michel-Ange Balikwisha all hail originally from Eastern Congo. And those stars are bringing a new hope to the residents of Goma and Bunia.

“At the moment the hope is powerful,” explains Michel. “With the war in some places in Eastern Congo people don’t feel like they are a citizens of anywhere or of any country.”

“But the team gives us hope, the joy of being a citizen of one country, it makes people forget about the pain and gives you the feeling of being Congolese, that you still have a country, still standing up.”

At the last AFCON ahead of their semi-final tie against hosts Côte d’Ivoire, Bakambu was joined by his teammates in his protest. Instead of singing the national anthem, they all covered their mouths and held a finger gun to their head. While the TV directors tried to cut away from them and the fans that joined in, the world saw their protest. For millions of people around the world, it was their first exposure to the conflict in Eastern conflict.

Now fans are hoping for a similar protest if the team can make it further, or even more powerfully at the World Cup and for Blaise in Goma, it is a test of their nerve.

“If they are really Congolese they should do the same and tell the world what is happening.”

While many may scoff at the idea of a football team playing any role in conflicts or peace building, all three of Blaise, Fiston and Michel recalled Didier Drogba’s legendary appeal to the people of Côte d’Ivoire to lay down their arms after the Elephants qualified for the World Cup in 2005.

For Fiston, football as a tool for peace and reconciliation is not academic, but reality.

After fleeing to Kinshasa in the early 2000s, Fiston returned to his home town of Kisangani which had been devastated by violence carried out various militias as well as government forces and UN peacekeepers.

“When I came back to Kisangani in 2006 after the war there what brought people together there was the football. Football was a way to bring back life to the area,” he remembers. Fiston continues:

I remembered we played against the soldiers of a big general—I won’t say his name—in a street where we lived. We organized football games against the soldiers of the general. We gave him a letter and the general accepted and bought the jerseys and balls and we played them. That day was a big party. After the game we ate and drank with them. It was amazing. I remember after that day, the soldiers and us we felt like in the same family. I can tell you, before that the soldiers terrified people. It was so hard, but the football game has the role to play and can play a role in conflict.

This national team may not ever bring an end to conflict in Ituri or Kivu, but whether playing in Rabat or the United States of America, they can bring hope to a nation crying out for it.

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