A worthy successor to the late great Chinua Achebe

The loss of Chinua Achebe last month was met with sadness by lovers of literature all over the world but most especially those on the African continent who grew up reading the likes of  Things Fall Apart and Anthills of the Savannah. His was a generation of resistance to colonialism and celebration of Africa in its post  independence era. I've often wondered whether my generation is capable of producing such literary masterpieces as Camara Laye's "l'Enfant Noir" or Ngugi Wa Thiongo's "Weep not child". Like the music of our parents and grandparents' generation it seemed that the best had come and gone.
However a few years ago I started discovering a new generation of African writers - almost by mistake, because I wanted to offer readers who visited my bookshop a wider choice of African and African diasporan writers. Years later when the BBC ran a poll in the UK to find the 100 greatest books of all time or 'big reads' as they were called, I was irritated by the lack of African and African-diasporan writers on the list. I decided to compile my own list in consultation with friends, a list that focused exclusively on African and non-Western writers. I was surprised at how easy it was to reach 100 and in fact limit the list to 100. The African writers or writers of African descent featured on the list included Chris Abani, Dayo Forster, Andrea Levy, Aminatta Forna, Diran Adebayo, Edwidge Danticat and many more. A name that appeared twice because of her two impeccably written novels was Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. A country woman of Achebe who shares not only his ethnicity but was also fortunate to have received praise from this literary giant.
What struck me when I read Purple Hibiscus, Adichie's first novel, was in fact its simplicity and lack of pretension  At last I had found a story I could relate to told by someone with a natural understanding and knowledge of the subject matter and cultural setting. Often I found so many works of fiction set in Africa or dealing with an African subject matter came across either as the work of an anthropologist (usually White) observing his subjects for the purpose of an scientific study or as an overzealous effort by an African to sell his book or receive critical acclaim in the West by perpetuating the age-old stereotypes about the continent. Adichie by contrast tells stories of ordinary Africans, middle class, hard working, with flaws and above all relatable. In Half of a yellow sun, we witness her ability to interweave history into fiction without overdoing it. It never feels like you're reading a Masters dissertation - the facts provide a context for the story - a thread that runs throughout but she doesn't lecture the reader or burden her/him with far more information than is necessary. Her third offering - a series of short stories entitled The thing around your neck took a more lighthearted turn - showcasing Ms. Adichie's humour and allowing us to laugh at ourselves - our modern day selves - grappling with a range of sometimes banal, sometimes profound issues.
And now with the release of her latest novel entitled Americanah, Ms. Adichie demonstrates unequivocally why she is a worthy successor of Chinua Achebe. Far from being a epic work, it is the simplicity and relevance of Americanah that makes it such a stellar offering. What Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie offers to the contemporary reader - especially the African of her generation is an account, a recording of our reality. The stage - post independence Africa - provided a setting for the likes of Buchi Emecheta and Ousmane Sembene, for Ms. Adichie and her contemporaries it is  instead - the 21st century Western World/ Africa of Africa's renaissance and America's first Black President. This modern world, observed by Ms. Adichie is inhabited by a nomadic urban-dwelling population of Afropolitans - moving from the continent to the West effortlessly....switching accents and influencing whatever sphere they find themselves in.
Although there are many writers of her generation like her, some already mentioned, others include Lola Shoneyin, Chika Unigwe, Irene Sabatini and Tsitsi Dangarembga, I would argue that Ms. Adichie's talent shines the most in part because its polished yet down-to-earth and in part because she herself reflects the modern African. She shares her time between the USA and Nigeria. She is intelligent yet unprententious in her writing, we need not reach for a thesaurus or dictionary in order to appreciate her storytelling. She has knack for creating characters - both her main protagonists and passing ones that are multi-dimensional, ones that make us laugh at loud and remind us of people we've met along the way.  Commendably she has avoided the go-to themes for Africa of conflict, chaos and helplessness. Her novels showcase the good and bad of Africans and Africa but mostly they showcase the ordinary -the human stories that we hope those outside the continent will recall when they interact with us - not the stories of corruption, war and famine but those told by Ms. Adichie of family, aspirations, love and everything in between. With the loss of one great writer, we're thankful for another and grateful that our stories continue to be told in way that reflects both our simplicity and our complexity.

Enough is Enough!

As International Women's Day draws to a close, I'm left with a feeling of ambivalence. While I celebrate the achievements of women, I'm angry at the hardships we still face, the hatred, discrimination and violence we endure, often at the hands of the men to whom we are so devoted.
I'm angry because women, who are economically dependent on their husbands are being neglected, discarded and disregarded. On this day, the 8 March 2013, I listened to two stories about women who were abandoned by their husbands...stories that reminded me of how far we have to go. The first was of a woman who finds herself in the middle of a court case because her husband has refused to provide for her and their children even though he has been claiming allowances on their behalf. She had agreed to stay 'back home' and take care of their children, so that he could focus on his career abroad. The result was that he decided to act as though neither she, nor her children exist. The second account is of a woman who just died from an illness which was probably stress-related because she was working so hard to provide for her children, after her husband, their father, abandoned her and them. She believed that the long hours, distances and stressful conditions were necessary evils if it meant that she, alone could provide for them and ensure that they didn't want for anything. Both stories, which are quite similar made me ask the question: how can the men we love, and who once loved us so much, turn around and show such total disregard for our well-being? I recently read a book called Tiny sunbirds far away which dealt with a similar theme - a woman abandoned with her children by her husband, who decides to leave the home they once shared to be with his mistress. The woman is forced to return to the impoverished home of her parents with her children after months of her husband not providing her with any financial assistance. I recall being quite angry as I read the heart-wrenching account of how her children's lives are turned upside down and thinking that the author, a woman, was too harsh on the husband., I went as far as accusing her of projecting her own issues and struggles with men in her life,  onto this character. I told myself that surely, he must have one redeeming characteristic, having convinced myself that no man could be so heartless as to completely abandon his children. And yet today, I feel saddened by these two accounts, both true, and proof that such callous indifference to the suffering of women and their children is not only possible, it happens, fare more often that we may realise.
I'm angry at a report on Al Jazeera of the prevalence of sexual violence in Asia; a report that claims that one in four Cambodian men have admitted to taking part in a gang rape. I still feel pain when I hear about the girl who was gang raped on a bus in New Dehli, and died days later. I'm reminded of the witnesses of the Rwandan genocide and the war in Sierra Leone, whose statements recounted the most horrific stories of sexual violence and brutality at the hands of men who claimed to be fighting for a cause. I'm mad as hell to think that part of their protest should include violating the bodies of sisters, mothers, daughters and grandmothers simply because they can. I feel the tears, appear uncontrollably when I recall the cases of traumatic fistula in hospitals in Sierra Leone, the numerous accounts of this awful dehumanising condition that have resulted from brutal acts of rape of women in the Democratic Republic of Congo. I think about how reports on the prevalence of rape in South Africa, where statistics suggest that a rape is committed every four minutes, makes me recoil. No matter how many case studies I read, statistics I hear, I can never distance myself from acts of sexual violence against women.

I am livid at the accounts of domestic violence, often resulting in the death of women at the hands of their husbands, partners, lovers. I remember a late colleague from Cote d'Ivoire who was murdered by men hired and paid by her promiscuous husband. I remember my reaction at the time being horror but the strangely banal question of why he didn't just continue cheating or better still, leave her? Why murder her and cause the heartache of countless others, her son, her parents and her siblings? I saw a report that on International Women's day men in Russia give flowers to the women in their lives, yet every year there are 12,000 deaths of women, deaths that result from domestic violence. I can't help but be resentful towards Oscar Pistorius, who shot his girlfriend four times - allegedly because he thought she was an intruder - a suspicion that could have allayed by the simple act of switching on a light switch. I'm equally incensed by the other stories that have emerged of athletes who have killed their partners for reasons ranging from their refusal to abort a pregnancy they did not support to their desire to preserve a reputation that would otherwise be ruined by a fling that went too far.
Rather than feeling proud on a day that celebrates women all over the world and their achievements, I am angry and sad and frustrated that we still endure so much hardship, that there are women who feel powerless in a physical, emotional or financial way. And yet I'm driven by of all these stories to support the women I come across who may need help but don't know how to ask. I hope I can to be part of the initiatives that teach young girls to be independent and strong and to love themselves first and foremost. I also hope that we can engage with the men, including the would-be wife-batterers or negligent husband, the soldiers and self-styled freedom-fighters who think brutality against women is part of warfare, I hope we can engage them so that they realise the far reaching consequences of their actions.
I feel its time for us to say in as loud a voice as we can, "Enough is Enough", and then move beyond the words and the feelings of anger and frustration to action that guarantees the safety, security and independence of women all over the world.

Does black history month matter?

This year's Black History month ended on Thursday. The history and achievements of African-Americans is celebrated each year in February, a month which some African-Americans complain is far too short to celebrate their heritage. While I have the utmost respect for African-Americans as a people - for having overcome the injustices of slavery, and the subsequent laws and policies that sought to keep them down - I can't help but wonder as someone living in New York City, "How much have they really achieved?". This question may seem laughable in light of the fact that the President of these United States of America (as he often refers to the country) is Black. But let's not forget he is not African-American in the sense that we use the term - he is of African and American heritage but not a product of slavery. His ancestors did not arrive in Virginia in the 1600s as slaves, and although he has certainly benefitted from the civil rights movement, he wasn't born into a family that fought for the right to sit in the same part of the cinema or bus or restaurant as white people. I would argue that while things have certainly changed for the better for black people in the US, there is still so much that needs to be done.

New York has the largest black population than any city in the United States- 24% of the population yet a whopping 60% of homicide victims are Black. The statistics are similar when we talk about poverty, illiteracy and so many other related social problems. I am more aware of people judging and pigeon-holing me as a black person living in the city than I ever was living in London. That is not to say racism is less prevalent in London but it is not expressed as often and openly as it is here in the New York. It seems as a black person you carry the burden of being part of a population at least in NYC, who are mostly poor, uneducated, criminals and drug addicts. Regardless of whether I'm wearing a suit, bigots and racists (of which there are many) will judge me up until the moment I open my mouth and they realize that I am not another African-American- baby-mama-on-welfare- ignorant-inarticulate - a product of the Projects (low-cost government housing usually synonymous with the Ghetto). Its laughable because there are countless educated African-Americans but the prevalence of being judged in this city leads me to conclude that we, the educated black population must be a drop in the ocean compared to the criminals and druggies. Why else would be face racial stereotyping on such a consistent basis? Flagging yellow taxis in Manhattan becomes an issue where flagging black cabs in London never was; estate agents and landlords assume I do not have the means to pay for an apartment until I provide so much documentary proof that they may as well be asking me to give them my first born child. And while its conceivable to think that everyone goes through these checks, I'm confident not everyone gets asked before providing any personal details if they're aware that the prices they'd be dealing with are over a certain amount. As though I stumbled in a particular area which is clearly above my modest means, by mistake. My experience in the hospital system where I was threatened with a child service referral because I dared question the motivation of a doctor who insisted on keeping my well child in for longer than I considered necessary. My child's babysitter, on the other hand, a single black parent was referred to the child services because an over zealous child service official thought that her delay in providing a car seat to take a premature newborn home was symptomatic of a negligent parent who needed to be watched. What I find most unforgiving of these stereotypes is that there is evidence of a solid black educated class all around me. My GP (family doctor) for instance is African-American, her twin is also a doctor and her brother a lawyer - and it's not just her generation, her parents are also professionals. There are countless African-American families who are third generation postgraduate degree holders. There are numerous black families who have owned beautiful brownstones in Brooklyn and Harlem for decades, that are now worth millions of dollars. Historically black colleges have produced greats like Martin Luther King, Oprah Winfrey, Samuel L Jackson, Alice Walker and Toni Morrison. The contributions made by descendants of slaves as well as the African and Caribbean immigrant population has been indispensable to the creation of World's superpower. Yet the level of racism in this country is startling, the lack of understanding and appreciation for one another between White and African-Americans is obvious, to outsiders and to Americans themselves.

Nonetheless African-Americans have a lot to be proud of and one of the positive things about the month of February is that they remind the whole country of their achievements. From the broadcasting of award shows like the NAACP Image Awards and BET Honors, that celebrate individuals, famous and not, who have contributed to their societies, to countless films made by and starring African-Americans to museum events, literary events and many more celebrations. In February, we forget for a moment the statistics about the education system that fails black children, and about the number of incarcerated black men there are and for a refreshing 28 or 29 days we remind ourselves that there is so much to be proud of. My only concern is that these examples of African-American success are not broadcast widely enough. Perhaps the taxi driver who tells me that he almost didn't stop for me because "let me be honest with you, black people don't always pay and when they do, they don't tip" could do with some positive images of black people. He and the many people like him could do with being reminded that there are more examples of Black success in the USA than any other country outside the African continent, if only people care to shed their bigotry and take a closer look.

Dear father, brother, cousin, male friend

I feel a conversation between us is long overdue. You see a friend came to me in tears the other day having just received a text message from her boyfriend of three years to say he was breaking up with her. I know you're probably wondering what on earth this has to do with you, because of course you would never do something so cowardly, but just bear with me for a second will you. You see it suddenly dawned on me that the reason why so many women I speak with have very few positive things to say about their ex-boyfriends/husbands is because things more often than not end ugly. Once again I see you scrunching up your face mouthing "how is this my problem?" Once again just hang in there for a minute or two, all will be revealed. I get that breaking up with someone is never going to be easy. In fact I'm reminded of my ex boss's hilarious story of his break up with his first girlfriend. He told her he no longer wanted to see her one morning and came home that evening to find his parents and her parents having a conference about this 'terrible decision this foolish boy had made'. I imagine that's every man's worst nightmare especially when there are no wedding vows or kids involved. After all we all have the right to choose who we want to be with, and falling out of love with someone most certainly isn't a crime. But here's the thing that I think you and other men are missing, there is such a thing as breaking-up etiquette and it can be the difference between an ex who still has fond memories of your relationship, even though it ended (perhaps too soon in her mind) and one who wants to boil your rabbit (in the unlikely event that you have one) and serve it to you in peppe soup.

To come back to my friend, she's a beautiful ambitious twenty-something year old who was contemplating giving up her promising career in order to be with the man she loved and who she thought loved her. It's easy for the cynics out there to argue that she must have been delusional or read the signs wrong but objectively speaking, what signs are you supposed to read when your boyfriend invites you to his home country to meet his parents, suggests that you could move back to said country, plans a trip to a romantic city for the two of you complete with messages of "I can't wait to see you" and "I miss and love you so much". Wouldn't you need to be a clairvoyant to read something else from words and actions like that? Which brings me to another thing, why is there always an assumption that women are at fault when a break up happens because they didn't read the signs? I always thought the beauty of men is that they don't do subtlety- that they're plain speaking. So why is it too much to ask that when a man wants to break up with a woman he "says what he means and means what he says". I agree that initially there may be some name-calling and plate-smashing but I can assure you we'll respect you for it in the long run. I have friends (and can speak from personal experience) who have had boyfriends introduce them to their mothers one week and break up with them the next; profess undying love in one breath and call later to say "I don't think it's working out between us ". To which our dumbfounded response is usually "wha'..whe'...how..whatdyoumean?" There are times when I've wanted to do an 'Arnold from Different Strokes' and go "whatchyoutalkin' bout Willis". On many occasions we get stone cold silence - so there isn't even the possibility of asking the "how..why...what went wrong?" Believe me when I say your actions sometimes baffle us. So in an effort to move forward and help you, brother, cousin, father, friend...I've come up with the following tick list which I'm hoping will serve as a useful tool for you when you decide you've had enough with whoever 'she' is:

1. If you're having doubts, tell her.
2. Don't whatever you do, plan and go on that romantic holiday/weekend break if you think you might be ready to exit stage left.
3. Don't, please for goodness sakes, don't introduce her to your mum/ dad/ sibling/ granny if you think it's about to end.
4. Don't tell her you love her when you know deep down inside you're not committed or committing - it's like saying " I love you so I want to get as far away from you as possible".
5. Don't buy her a ring/roses in fact any gift that might make her think you're at the pinacle of your relationship when infact you're heading for the gutter.
6. Don't break up with her by text - it's cowardly and cheap.
7. If you hate confrontation which I know you do, call her and be honest - well as honest as you can be without being heartless. Say "sorry but I met someone else" not "damn my new girlfriend's doing her Phd thesis on the Kama Sutra".
8. Don't refuse to provide an explanation especially if you've been together for a while (a year or more) or were married or have kids. You owe her that much!
9. Don't try and break her spirit. If you're happy in your new relationship then it should give you no pleasure to see her unhappy.
10. Man Up!!! Own it, you don't have to stay with someone you don't want to but don't hide behind clichés and text messages that say "It's not you, it's me" (that's just stating the obvious).

In short don't burn your bridges by creating unhappy memories at the end of an otherwise beautiful relationship.

Signed your daughter, sister, cousin, friend.

The Future's so bright.....

When I met Bintu she was suffering from a mild bout of malaria; it was at a Girls Empowerment Summit organized by the Visao Foundation and Women Change Africa. Although she was experiencing symptoms like aches and a fever, she insisted on staying for the whole day. We gave her pain relief medication and allowed her to sit out any activities that she didn't feel up to. I was moved by this petite 14 year old who dreams of becoming a lawyer some day. As with many of the girls in the class, she comes from a very poor family and attends a school that had been built by the phenomenal NGO FAWE (Forum for African Women Educationalist). As I watched Bintu struggle throughout the day to take part in the numerous activities, perking up at times and finding her voice as she spoke about things that she was passionate about, I felt extremely proud to have chosen her as my sponsored child. It's seems a no-brainer to me that children like Bintu who face adversities on a daily basis yet struggle to overcome them, deserve our support. The things some of us take for granted are obstacles to education for many children in developing and to a certain extent developed countries. The idea of having to worry about getting a balanced meal before going to school so that they can focus in class or having the money they need for transportation to get to school on time, not to mention the essentials required for school like textbooks, some of which are prohibitively expensive. What I took away from the Girls Empowerment Summit was that in spite of these adversities and because of support from organisations like FAWE and Visao, the future of these children was starting to look very bright.

I worked with about 40 teenagers during the Girls Empowerment Summit and Visao's holiday camp and was blown away at every point of my interaction with them. When quizzed about their aspirations for the future, every one of them without exception had lofty ambitions. When asked what makes a good role model, they came up with qualities like humility, kindheartedness, generosity, education and spirituality. When one of them suggested she admired a particular celebrity, the others retorted, saying that famous people were not good role models simply because they were in the spotlight. They spoke in unison when rejecting superficial qualities and spoke admiringly about people who had worked hard to achieve their goals and had given back to their societies. These may seem like obvious choices to those of us who have life experiences and can attest to the fact that all that glitters most definitely is not gold but I can't help but wonder if I would elicit the same responses from children from an inner city school in London or a poor neighbourhood in Brooklyn. It goes without saying that these are the types of responses we would expect from children who come middle class families simply because their upbringing is aspirational; they are taught by their parents who for the most part are educated that they should value education over money, hard work over fame. Some of the parents of these children at Camp Visao however are barely literate; during one of the sessions one of the fathers came to see his daughter and brought crackers for her. As I watched him fish around in the black plastic bag he was carrying for two solitary unwrapped cream crackers, it dawned on me that the living conditions of these children were a far cry from the classroom they sat in now. As this thin unkempt man handed the embarrassed 15 year old his gift, he told me in krio "I was eating these and thought I can't eat something and not keep some for my child". The girl was well groomed and her appearance, in no way reflected a life of hunger or poverty; by contrast, it was clear looking at her unkempt, scrawny-looking  father, that he was struggling to make ends meet. The importance of what Visao and FAWE and the countless other not-for-profit organisations that were investing in the education of such children, was crystal clear at that precise moment.
The beauty of investing in children's education is that we can affect real change in our countries, not just the cosmetic type - the new road that later becomes pot-hole ridden and dilapidated; the well donated by a well meaning international NGO, that a year later falls into disrepair. The change we affect when we invest in education is guaranteed because there are countless examples of children who because of the opportunities they were offered went on to do great things. The video below is an advert for the boys and girls club in America; the slogan "Great Futures start here" could be said for countless clubs/organisations throughout the world that invest in education, giving less fortunate children the opportunities they need and deserve so that they in turn become leaders who go on to influence and affect the lives of others.

We already have a glimpse into the future of children like Bintu, whose determination saw her through the day and Alieu, another Camp Visao student  who scored the highest marks in his school on the Basic Education Certification Examination (BECE). And there are others....like 16 year old Abibatu, whose talent in football, if nurtured could see her doing great things or Alima, a painfully shy yet stunning young girl of 17 who could give any supermodel a run for her money, that is after completing her university degree. There are countless other examples of children whose present reassure us that their future is bright -  like Kelvin Doe, a young Sierra Leonean who through his curiosity and ingenuity learned how to build batteries, generators and transmitters and has now become the youngest person to be invited to MIT's Visiting Practitioner's Program. What all these young people have in common is that they are beating the odds, setting their own paths and ensuring that their future will be so bright, it will dazzle us.

This Girl is on Fire!

It's 2013 people - how is this year going to define you? I have decided to be the 'Girl on Fire' that Alicia Keys refers to in her song. Not because the lyrics are particularly profound but because some of the lines (.... she's got both feet on the ground, and she's burning it down, ..... she got her head in the clouds ...and she's not backing down) embody how I want to approach the coming twelve months. 

During the Christmas holidays I came across an old notebook of mine....it was a red A4 notebook with the title 'Systa' and inside it were 70 odd pages of a superbly written story about a young girl who finds herself pregnant at 18 and goes through the emotions of what to do about her predicament. I have to admit that I blew me away. Although unfinished,  I think this book was written either in my late teens or early 20s and it reminded me of the determination I had then, how focused I was and how much I believed that I could achieve whatever I put my mind to. Fast forward twenty or so years and the idea of writing a book is a distant thought lodged behind the banality of every day life. And yes of course I'll admit that at 18 I had little to worry about other than whether 'he' really liked me, or whether I would pass that test I studied so hard for, since then life's responsibilities have taken over. Yet that's no excuse to shuffle my way through life when there is so much potential to do something extraordinary!

I watched a documentary on Al Jazeera the other day called 'Tutu's Children' which essentially is an African-focused experiment involving twenty-five 30something-year olds from all over Africa.....men and women considered leaders in their society but leaders not in the sense of having political power but people who have achieved something and made a difference in their societies...whether in private enterprise, the not-for-profit sector or within their respective governments. I must admit I felt inspired by these young men and women who for the most part didn't see themselves as doing anything extraordinary, they simply refused to give in to apathy. From running a small business that makes African tea, to taking a stand during the Tunisian chapter of what the media refers to as the 'Arab Spring' - these men and women were making waves on their continent.

It goes without saying that our goals will differ quite dramatically depending on the  contexts we live in but I'm convinced we owe it to our younger fiery selves to be more than mums, accountants, executives, lawyers, paper-pushers, we owe it to our 18-year old selves to keep on striving to do more, be more, achieve more and give back more. I was privileged to work with a group of teenagers over the holidays (who I will blog about later) and as they challenged me on almost everything I told them, I found myself smiling as I remembered that feeling of being unstoppable. One of them confidently confirmed that he wanted to become President of his country some day, and although in my mind I considered the fact that he may never achieve this noble aspiration because politics as we adults know is about a great deal more than self-belief and determination, nonetheless the old adage came to mind "Always aim for the moon, if you miss you'll land among the stars". Dreams and aspirations are not meant to be tempered with realism, that's precisely what makes them special.

I don't know about you but I've decided to view 2013 as my blank canvas, on which I intend to paint all my achievements, however small they may be. It's less about new year's resolutions that die as quickly as they're made but about taking a leaf out of the younger me's book in order to do more. At the end of the year I'd love to be able to look back and say that I did more than my job required, I inspired people, I fulfilled a goal that had been pushed to the back-burner; in spite of the adversities I faced, I refused to back down. I'm looking for inspiration from Tutu's children, the founders of WomenChangeAfrica and Visao Foundation and friends who achieve so much everyday. This Girl will be on Fire!!!

The Review - good books, bad films and everything in between

This summer I was able to see a lot of films and read not so many books, in part I guess because I always seemed to opt for the passive activity when given the option. So I thought in light of my long absence on Hibiscus Notes, I'd break myself gently into this writing lark by reviewing some of the films I saw, books I read and albums I listened to.

First- the great stuff that made me want to do cartwheels: I bought Emeli Sande's album Our version of events and loved loved loved it!! It was my default playlist as I often found myself wondering the streets of some European city alone. As I listened to tracks like 'River' and 'Maybe'- I couldn't help feeling a little melancholic and nostalgic about my 20s when dating was both exciting and full of heartbreak. Emeli Sande reminds me of Leela James - her music is a bit of Soul and a bit of rock and a lot of personality!

I finally bought Yoruba songstress Asa's albums - the first, self-titled and Beautiful Imperfection. Both are extraordinary, less so because of the 'conscious' lyrics and more because of her voice, raspy and rich and the beats against which she sings. It's hard to categorize her music and although it's sometimes referred to as folk or world music, I think you'll miss the essence of who this incredible songbird is if you focus too much on labelling her or her music. The first album, Asa is without a doubt my favourite and the songs that I have on repeat are 'Fire on the mountain' and 'Eye Adaba'. Although the latter is entirely in yoruba, a language I don't speak or understand, it sounds so melodic and beautiful that a translation would probably take away rather than add to its appeal. I must acknowledge also that tracks like 'The way I feel' and 'Dreamer Girl' on Beautiful Imperfection are evidence (as if we needed it) that Asa, her voice and musical talent, are here to stay.

Moving on to books I read Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist and enjoyed it but sans plus. I wouldn't rush to recommend it but it made for an interesting read. I must admit I was a bit put off by the monologue style in which it was written and at times found the character/narrator's interpretation of life around him a bit simplistic. This no doubt was intended to reflect the naivete of the Pakistani protagonist who experienced success as a young graduate in America, but it didn't always make for an enjoyable read.

A friend gave me Travels with Herodotus which according to my kindle, I only read 88% of - and which I must remember to finish at some point. While I enjoyed the accounts of Ryszard Kapuscinski's travels in Africa as an inexperienced journalist- accounts that covered meeting Jazz Great, Louis Armstrong in Sudan, moving dangerously around the Congo, as well as visiting Dar-es-Salaam and Algiers, I was frustrated by the constant intertwined references to Greek historian's own travels. I know the book's name should have given me a clue so I'll admit that my expectation of a book entitled Travel with Herodotus minus Herodotus was wishful thinking. I felt  these references which were at times quite lengthy took away from an otherwise insightful account of one man's experiences in Africa and Asia at a time when both continents were witnessing significant changes.

I also attempted to read several books which I ended up abandoning in a bid to preserve my sanity. I'll run down the list and offer a reason why- Room by Emma Donaghue had me tearing my hair out as it was written in the voice and style (presumably) of a small child. I have a hard time reading books that are supposed to have been written in the voice of children as I rarely find them believable - the tone and language is always off!

I also tried reading Zahara the Windseeker by Nnedi Okarafor- I lost interest about a quarter of the way in as I didn't find her convincing as someone who could accurately convey West African beliefs in the supernatural. There were moments when I thought of Ben Okri's 'The Famished Road' and others when I thought the fantasy became too fantastical and too embellished to hold my interest. Having said that I would recommend it to my 13 year old niece who loves science fiction.

I am currently reading Open City by Teju Cole which I was a little sceptical of at the start (any book that has me reaching for my dictionary at every page makes me a little weary) but I'm glad I persevered through the intellectual blows as I'm really starting to enjoy it. Teju Cole is without a doubt a talented writer but beyond the minutiae of New York (the Open City of his debut novel) and the medical references and demonstrations of his knowledge of European history, classical music and art which I'll admit I found dull, there are some excellent accounts of the lives of seemingly everyday people, like the Liberian asylum seeker who is detained upon arrival at JFK airport having rejected a cheaper ticket to LaGuardia because he wasn't convinced it would get him to New York. I'm hoping I'll get more of that as the novel progresses and less of the references to Bach, Beethoven and Yoruba Gods that seem to be thrown into the mix quite randomly and have so far done little to hold my attention.

Of the fifteen or so films I saw this summer (mostly on long haul flights), one of the ones definitely worthy of a mention was Brave (yes the cartoon). I thoroughly enjoyed this unconventional fairy tale- where the princess gets to live happily ever after without marrying the prince- Yay for Disney and Pixar. Having said that if I was Scottish I may feel differently given the caricature-like depictions of the Scots as brash drunkards always looking for a fight.

I enjoyed Brit flicks- The Best Marigold Hotel and Salmon Fishing in the Yemen but I'll admit it was probably more out of a sense of patriotism than because they were exceptional films. Simply put, I would summarise both as light-hearted and entertaining, thanks in part to some great British actors and brilliant 'one-liners' like "In India, we have a saying, everything will be alright in the end - so if it is not alright, it's not the end".

Think like a Man made me chuckle and the film's eye candy was a welcome distraction.  So many six packs...so little time! "Note to self - Get a copy of Steve Harvey's 'Act like a lady, Think like a man' for friends who are dating but warn them not to follow it to the letter if they have any hopes for an honest, meaningful relationship."

I went to see Red Hook Summer at the architecturally stunning BAM rose cinema in Brooklyn and almost started a campaign to prevent people from watching it and putting a cent more into Spike Lee's pocket. It was two hours of utter excruciating pain - if I'd gone to the cinema alone, I would definitely have walked out after the first 30mins which felt like watching paint dry. I would have been more forgiving if the rest of the film had continued as the cinematographic equivalent of the colour grey but instead out of nowhere Spike Lee decided to introduce a very delicate topic that shocks us all to the core and treat it with a complete lack of sensitivity and the seriousness it deserves. It made me lose whatever little respect I had for him and conclude that he is without a doubt a complete and utter moron. Stay away from Red Hook Summer unless you want to come away from a film so infuriated you contemplate making a voodoo doll of the director.

 To end on a lighter and more positive note, the documentary Marley about the legendary Bob Marley was absolutely brilliant. I loved every minute of it and while I didn't think there was a lot more to be said about Robert Nesta Marley, director, Kevin Macdonald proved otherwise with this masterpiece. The chronological approach complete with soundtrack that put his songs in context, definitely made the story of his life seem more complete. I loved learning about the stories behind songs like "Cornerstone" and 'Small Axe'. Macdonald included Jamaica not just as the backdrop but as part of the story which made me love this breathtakingly beautiful island all the more, if that's possible. As the song 'Get up, Stand up' was played at the end with images of people all over the world singing along and reminding us that Bob Marley's music resonated with everyone regardless of race, religion or even language.