Lie back and think of your friends

Over the summer there was a study carried out that found divorce among friends can be contagious; apparently the effect known as divorce clustering means that there is a 75% chance of divorce among couples whose friends have split http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jul/04/divorce-friends-contagious-academic-study . Scary stuff and although I’m relieved to say that I cannot attest to its accuracy having witnessed a few separations in my social circle this year, I can nonetheless see how my friends’ relationship breakdowns have had an adverse effect on me and my relationship.

Perhaps this says a lot about me but I often find that if I spend time with a friend who pours her heart out about a bad relationship, the tendency is for me to empathise so much that I will pick a fight with my husband when I get home. It’s not necessarily a conscious thing, it just always seems to work out that way, and it may be because I am over-thinking all the reasons why my partner is no better than my friend’s. I may be alone in experiencing this although I doubt it. I suspect it’s simply human nature for us to empathise with other people, especially those we care about, rather than sit back and gloat (a la Chanté Moore in her song “Chante’s got a man”). Admittedly the empathy is taken to the extent of trying to find fault with our own relationships.

It probably makes sense to show concern for my friends’ well-being but there is also an indirect personal loss that you feel following a friend’s divorce or separation. For starters, there is a perceived threat to the tight-nit social circle that we cherish so much. There’s a question of who will take which side, will the newly separated couple still be invited to social events and what if they want to bring new partners? The breakdown also calls into question the strength of our own relationships and although this is a very selfish reason for feeling sad or angry when someone else is clearly going through emotional turmoil that is valid, it doesn’t make our feelings any less real. While sympathising with my friend, I simultaneously think but if it could happen to them, then it could happen to me. There were no obvious signs in their relationships, they seemed as happy as anyone else and had known their partners and been married for even longer.

On two occasions this year when the marriages of some of my friends broke down I felt saddened. I also felt very angry at their partners for giving up so easily and if I’m honest In a way I also mourned the end of the status quo although I know for a fact that change per se is not the issue. I know this because when a friend gets a new job in a different country I’m filled with excitement rather than dread. What worries me with separations is the knock on effect of divorce on everyone, their family, their children, and for many women in their 30s and older, I worry about their dating prospects. It’s a harsh reality whether we want to admit it or not. I now see the merits in the advice of older African parents which was provided he does not mistreat you physically; you should be able to work out everything else. I would extend that to as long as he doesn’t abuse you emotionally or physically then you should try and work things out if you’re both committed. In short I’m saying be practical. I know some would say that’s rich coming from someone who is happy, who did marry for love but I think I can put my hand on my heart and say that although I married for those reasons, I stay married for reasons that are far more grounded. I couldn’t say what would happen if I did fall out of love or felt unhappy but I know for a fact that feelings fluctuate. I was encouraging a male friend to settle down this summer; I started by telling him that the coup de foudre (love at first sight) was highly overrated. I gave the example of a guy I had dated who I spent the first few days not wanting to be separated from; we would stay up all night talking and making each other laugh. I was convinced that was It. Then one day I woke up and saw him in a completely different light. I don’t know what happened, I don’t understand when or how it happened but I suddenly looked at him and thought, wow aren’t you dull. It was an incredibly sobering experience because I went from ‘I can’t live without you’ to ‘I really need to get away from you’. It saddened me somewhat but I couldn’t help myself and so I moved on. I have no idea what would have happened had I given our relationship time to get back to what it was or tried to find what I saw in him in the first place. A few boyfriends later, I realised that I had to temper my excitement with a huge dose of realism and practicality especially when family and children and dare I add friends all have a stake in the success of my relationship/marriage.

The last thing you think about when agonising about whether to break up with someone who may have once been the love of your life, is what will my friends think or how will they feel? I know it may be a bit of a stretch to ask people to think this way but I do think it’s not too much to ask for people to consider those who will realistically be caught in the crossfire – the kids, the parents, the in-laws. As we acquire more, more freedom, more knowledge, more options, we also become increasingly hedonistic. We’re often unwilling to make sacrifices or compromise because we feel we’ve earned the right to put ourselves first. That’s all well and good but whatever choices you make in life, you will end up having to live with for the rest of your life so if there is a shadow of a doubt that you may wrong or simply having a moment of capriciousness, then surely you owe it to yourself and those who love you to stop and think before causing irreparable damage.

Supporting black talent or lack thereof

There was a time when I used to catch every black film that was released, and buy every book written by a writer of African origin....then came Nollywood, Tyler Perry and the likes of E. Jerome Dickey - and I decided it was time to draw the line. As time goes by and I guess I get older, more cynical and hopefully more discerning, I find that I am becoming less tolerant of mediocre work from artists, even if I do happen to share the same skin colour as them.


Recently I picked up a book called Bitter Leaf as it was being discussed at a book club that covers work from African writers, of which I hasten to add there are many exceptional ones; it has taken me four painful weeks to force myself to finish 400 pages of what I consider badly written, badly researched and extremely pretentious crap.

At the book club we discussed the book and it seemed as though most people in the room who like me were supporters of African writing and anxious no doubt to attest to an African Renaissance, were making excuses for the writer. Rather than say they didn't like her writing or found it mediocre at best, some struggled to find positive things to say and suggested that perhaps it was because we simply didn't get it. Could this be an example of Amos Tutola's Palm Wine Drinkard of the 21st century - a work that was misunderstood and ahead of its time? Could her blatant lack of regard of the cardinal rule of writing to show rather than tell be a sign that she is fully aware of the norm and chooses like Jazz music to flout it? Being a child of plain speaking, I felt then and still feel now, that it is simply a badly written book. The writer creates a so-called African setting without wanting to call it that, and jam packs each page with one cliché after the other; her characters like her setting are neither believable nor interesting. There is no depth, in fact I would go as far as to say it is the literary equivalent of 80% of Nollywood films or if I want to be generous a modern day Disney Fairytale. Yet you sense that as she writes, she is trying to impress the reader with references to languages and cultures that she has no doubt come across but which have no place in the story and render it even less authentic than it would have otherwise been had we dealt with one language, one culture and one clearly identifiable and credible story.

When I finally got to put the book down, at the back of my shelf, I decided that a break from bad black talent was in order and went to a screening of Up From the Bottoms, African American Migration to Muskegon , a documentary narrated by Cicely Tyson which was fantastic, and went some way to make up the 400 page fairytale torture. For some strange reason, however the organisers decided to show a short British film about the 'politics' of oral sex in the Black British community called Morally Speaking (get it?) on the same night. Once again I was reminded of the importance of being selective when supporting black talent. The film, albeit a short and clearly a low budget production was so badly done, I could hardly face the director who obviously felt proud enough of his work to pop in for a question and answer session afterwards. It got me wondering - who on earth are these people who call themselves artists catering for? Do they presume that other Black people are so simple-minded as to be impressed by talentless nonsense? Are we as Black people so starved that we will accept any one-dimensional work that is fed to us?

This takes me to the Tyler Perry phenomenon. Like the majority of what comes out of the Nigerian film industry, I can’t help but marvel at the number of seemingly intelligent people who support his work time and again. I've seen three Tyler Perry films and feel as though that is enough to last me a lifetime. I recognise of course that Hollywood is not known for churning out quality; and can see that for black film makers it’s a numbers game too. Get them out fast and get the money. The difference however is that a lot of smart people I know shun crap that comes out of Hollywood, in fact the intelligent world prides itself on shaming insultingly rubbish productions. We even have 'The Golden Raspberries' in case the box office figures weren't enough to tell the film makers and stars of films like Gigli and Swept Away what a terrible job they did.

Admittedly in the 80s the argument was that our films were so few and far between, our books just not getting published so when one got through, we had to show our support so more could come. But that was then, today we have countless incredible African and Diasporan writers like Helon Habila, Aminatta Forna, Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie, Petina Gappah, Nii Ayikwei Parkes, Edwidge Danticat, Andrea Levy to name but a few. As far as films go if we look beyond the obvious glossies from LA, we'll find some phenomenal works from the likes of Raoul Peck, Eric Kabera, Abderrahmane Sissako, Mama Keita, Sanaa Hamri and many many more.

Personally I think it’s high time we call out the poor excuses for artists in our community, tell them to go back and polish their talents and above all to stop taking for granted that the colour of their skin and apparent lack of competition will be enough for us to support them. I for one will continue to separate the wheat from the chaff and call out anyone who puts themselves forward as an artist, be it literary or visual because if I were in their shoes, I would expect no less from a discerning audience.

Taking Ownership of the UN’s failings

World leaders are gathering for the annual meeting of the United Nations General Assembly in New York. Each leader will get 15 minutes on an international podium to put forward their agenda and mostly air their grievances and I suspect in the case of the some, notably Iran and Libya if last year was anything to go by, settle ‘personal’ scores. Of course the time limit is only a guidance, many leaders go over this time, though few compare to Gaddafi’s rant last year, lasting a whopping hour and 40 minutes only beaten by Fidel Castro who addressed World Leaders at the UNGA in 1960 for four long and no doubt painful for the audience – hours. Unlike the Academy Awards there’s no music that starts to drown them out as they go past their allocated time nor are they escorted away by burly security guards although the thought of Ahmadinejad being tackled to the ground Jerry Springer style for going over his time would provide much needed entertainment at an otherwise dull male dominated talk shop.

With this annual meeting comes the usual UN bashing – let’s face it we all love a bit of that don’t we? Whether you work within the system, would secretly like to work for it or just like sitting on the moral high ground and pointing a finger, everyone seems to have an opinion when it comes to the organisation that is made up of no less than 192 member states. I guess this is to be expected as the UN is a public organisation, albeit an international one so as our taxes go towards maintaining the organisation, we have as much right to scrutinise it as we do our individual country’s public sector. The issue I have is when World leader’s and their representatives talk about the United Nations’ relevance as though they played no part in making the institution what it is today. The worse culprits being those with veto powers who are the very reason the organisation fails to take any real action.

In 2004 former UN Secretary General, Kofi Annan commissioned a panel to make recommendations for a reform of the organisation. In 2005 he proposed these ‘bold’ reforms which included expanding the Security Council, setting out rules on when it can authorise military force and reaching an agreed definition of terrorism. Five years later and these reforms are still being debated.

In a document dated 12th April 2010 from the Ad Hoc Committee Negotiating Comprehensive Anti-Terrorism Convention, the issue of how terrorism is defined was still considered contentious. The second question of when the organisation can authorise military force seems to have to been reduced to an academic debate, the only evidence of it still being a live issue is in a paper presented in February at the Annual Conference of the International Studies Association by a student from Norman Paterson School of International Affairs, Carleton University. The expansion of the Security Council which could be a key issue in real United Nations reform is no closer to being agreed by the five permanent members than it was when first tabled.

I find it somewhat dishonest when the media talk about the United Nations struggling to prove its relevance and cite failed negotiations with North Korea or the Middle East peace process, as though any government on their own or with others have succeeded where the United Nations has failed. Where diplomacy is concerned, I can’t think of a single state’s triumph following UN failure. Its absolutely ridiculous that the Washington Post should refer to the Middle East process in its article U.N. struggles to prove its relevance without quoting its own government’s repeatedly unsuccessful efforts in reaching a deal, which is even more laughable when we consider how ‘closely’ tied the United States is with Israel. If I can’t persuade my own teenager to turn the music down then what chance does my neighbour have?

Where countries have been ‘successful’ (a term used loosely) is in taking military action, something which fortunately the United Nations is a lot more cautious in doing because let’s face it, the last thing we need is another military power that is able to launch ‘shock and awe’ campaigns killing millions of innocent civilians at a whim.

At an individual level, critique is somewhat justified, as I said earlier we contribute to the running of the institution and therefore have a right to question how it run. However this should be done with a dose of common sense; diplomacy which is at the core of the organisation has never been known to produce overnight results. Negotiating with two parties is difficult at best, let alone negotiating with 192 parties, each and every one fighting fiercely to further its own agenda. I think it’s fair to say that there are areas where the United Nations makes a difference, where if it wasn’t there, countries, groups and individuals would run amok. Granted, there is a lot of room for improvement especially where the attitude of a lot of United Nations employees who are no more than paper pushing civil servants, doing the bare minimum while earning a highly competitive salary are concerned. A lot of people enter the system and become disillusioned and unfortunately many of the disillusioned join the lazy bunch and so continues the vicious and very unproductive cycle. I think this is a great shame and one of the biggest flaws of the United Nations. There needs to be better accountability; the seasoned civil servants who sit in offices with no purpose should be gotten rid of. Those who genuinely believe in the organisation’s aim and purpose should continue to work hard and be true to the values they signed up to and themselves. A friend signs her emails off with the following quote from her mother

"If I sweep the front of my house clean and my neighbours on my right and left do the same thing and everyone on the street does the same thing, the whole town will be clean"

If the member states and UN staff members of this extraordinarily broad organisation that is unlike any other, follow this philosophy, surely we will all end up with a United Nations that does what it was set up to do, i.e. facilitating cooperation in international law, international security, economic development, social progress, human rights, and the achievement of world peace. Who then can argue with the relevance of such an organisation?

The angry black woman

I watched a film called 'Not easily broken' with Taraji P Henson and Morris Chestnut and was taken aback by how unpleasant Taraji's character was. As the wife of the handsome, sweet-tempered Mr Chestnut, she spent her time either shouting, no make that shrieking, nagging or rolling her eyes. It was horrible to watch and got me asking the question - is this stereotype of an angry black woman a reality?


I recall quite vividly when the US media tried depict Michelle Obama as another bitter angry black woman who would end up holding her husband back because she couldn't hold her tongue. It was infuriating to watch especially when the despicable Fox News (where the word news is used very loosely), repeated their racist and misogynistic slander suggesting that she was this way because all black women are angry with the exception - they conceded - of Oprah. It was clear as day that there was nothing bitter nor aggressive about the stunning, incredibly smart and supportive Mrs Obama, yet the Republican-backed media did their utmost to sell us an image of a angry black woman, who was racist to boot. Fortunately they didn't succeed in their smear campaign.

But that was then, this is now and this film is based on a novel by Bishop T.D Jakes so try as I might, I cannot find a motive for him wanting to portray black women in a negative light while at the same time portraying black men and white women in a starkly different and positive light. Aside from looking too handsome for his own good, Morris Chestnut is an incredible husband, supportive, caring and hard working. The only white female character in the film is a single mother who dotes on her son and has a positive outlook towards life; in contrast to the black women she is down to earth, kind and thoughtful. Aside from the main female character, there is the mother-in-law who is yet another angry black woman who has nothing nice to say about her ex husband as well as the character of the black female friend who confesses to infidelity and in the same breath suggests fighting any woman who goes after her friend’s man. So in a nutshell we learn that black women are either angry, bitter or aggressive.

Having seen such portrayals time and again, I’m left asking the question - are there really women like that out there? I mean don't get me wrong, I can throw a tantrum or two like the best of them especially when the dishes you promised to wash haven't been washed, the creaky door is still creaking two months after I asked you to fix it and even worse, you show up at midnight having forgotten to tell me you were going for drinks after work. I suspect anyone would lose their temper in such circumstances, be they white, black or yellow. Aside from that I think I'm quite even-tempered and when I think of my friends and family, I cannot find a single one who fits the bill of this angry 'for no apparent reason' black woman.

One of the reasons given in the film for the character's bitchiness, let's just call it by its proper name now, was that she had not been taught how to love by her mother who had an abusive husband who left her angry and bitter about men in general. Like so many women in happy balanced relationships, I was raised by a single woman who taught me to love and respect men starting with my father. I guess the angry mother raising an angry daughter being angry at men may simply not be my reality so I shouldn’t discount the existence of such women. Yet it seems a little hard to believe that a black woman or any woman for that matter will do everything to sabotage her relationship with a near perfect man for no apparent reason which is precisely what this woman does. The man is hard working, though not as successful as she is, he loves and respects her and cannot wait to have children with her and she belittles him, refuses to sleep with him and shows a completely lack of respect at every given opportunity. I mean you'd have to be pretty self-destructive in an age where the pickings are slim and getting slimmer by the day to scoff at a near enough perfect man.

I will stand corrected if someone gives me an example or two of black women who are angry for no apparent reason and live each day this way but I still think this stereotype is a misogynistic and racist myth which sets out to portray us as irrational beings with a chip on our shoulder and a grudge at life. That is not me, nor the beautiful, loving, caring and often selfless women I know as friends and family.

NY-LON Part I – The City that never sleeps

I can assure you that it’s not a myth or hype; there really is something special about New York. The City with more than 8.3million inhabitants is so densely populated you’d be forgiven for thinking the whole world descended on its shores in search of their American dream. In New York however the dream is less American and more multicultural. In 2000 when the last census was taken, 44% of New Yorkers were foreign born and over 170 foreign languages were spoken in the City. More than any other city in the world, New York embodies the term ‘melting pot’.
If you’ve never been to New York but are familiar with London then think of it as an amplified version. Both are undoubtedly impressive cities but New York seems to have more gloss, Times Square dazzles whereas Piccadilly Circus impresses. The statistics of both cities are not unlike each other with New York accounting for a slightly higher population and percentage of immigrants even though the London Olympic Committee claimed that over 300 foreign languages are spoken in the London every day. I would still put my money on New York having a more multicultural feel, because more so than in London, immigrants seem to thrive in the City. African-Americans who make up a quarter of New York’s population also add to its multicultural feel. The home of Essence magazine’s headquarters which celebrates the achievements of African-Americans, New York City is a success story for a number of Black people including but not limited to those who have been formally educated. There are many African-American families who mirror the lives of the Cosby Show’s Huxtables and boast property portfolios that include beautifully preserved Brownstones in Harlem and Brooklyn worth over $1 million. By contrast there is evidence of poverty in parts of the City with a high concentration of Black and Latinos; there are neighbourhoods, admittedly beyond mid and lower Manhattan where high rise apartment blocks hold stories of drugs, crime and illiteracy. The worrying thing is that the gentrification of neighbourhoods like Fort Greene and Park Slopes in Brooklyn as well as Harlem has resulted in poorer people being pushed into deprived areas and the creation of ghetto cities that propagate the cycle of poverty. Today Manhattan’s population is 51% White and Affluent with Americans and expatriate Europeans buying up properties that carry million dollar price tags.

As a visitor, New York captures you; the selection of restaurants, theatre, galleries, museums and stunning parks is enough to send your head into a spin. There is an abundance of choice when it comes to entertainment and because the city has featured so many times on the big and small screen, every location, every yellow cab, department store becomes even more magical and you feel like you’re attending a casting for the love story, New York. The lines between real life and art become even more blurred in a city that is home to so many of the rich and famous. If it’s Star-Spotting you’re into then there are bars and restaurants where you can go and feast your eyes provided of course your wallet can take the pressure.

For me, it’s the little things that make New York so phenomenal. I discovered the city as a fearless 20 year old staying with my uncle in lower Manhattan at the corner of 1st Avenue and 14th street. The first thing that struck me was how noisy the city was and also how hard it was to differentiate between the days of the week, a Sunday was a busy as a Friday with some businesses operating 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I realise that this is hardly everyone’s idea of living bliss but for a young insomniac, I relished being able to pick up a tub of Baskin Robbins ice cream at 3 O’clock in the morning. I also loved the fact that I could walk blocks; walking the equivalent of 5 kilometres would feel like a leisurely stroll as each block had its charm, its shops, cafes and people that I could marvel at. I discovered the East Village and then the West and kept going back for more of its eccentricity. Every day was a challenge to see which self-assured African-American man would come up with the most creative chat up line. I was blown away by the fact that they thought my 5ft5 curvy frame as worthy of praise where men in London tended to look through me and hone in on the borderline anorexic blonde. Lines like “Do fries go with that shake baby” and “Are your folks terrorists?.....cos you da bomb” deserve a place in creative language courses in my humble opinion...of course.

I partied with Brooklyn’s Jamaican community at nightclubs on Utica Avenue and tasted the best Trinidadian roti at a small restaurant in Crown Heights. I witnessed the rise of the fashion designed Moshood and his success in fusing Nigerian and African-American cultures within his vibrant and unique pieces. I was blown away years later by the diversity and charm of Fort Greene. As big as the city is, this neighbourhood and others like it feel like a small personable community where everybody knows and cares about each other.

Harlem represented African American achievement and I recall meeting a family of American-Americans who were third generation University graduates and PhD holders. Having come from West Africa where there academic and professional achievement was a given, to London where I discovered that being Black and a doctor was a big deal, it was refreshing to see so many accomplished Black people.

Over the years I’ve been to free concerts in Central park, had my hair braided in Petit Senegal in Harlem, read poetry at the Brooklyn Moon Cafe, been transported in the books I read at the architecturally stunning New York public library. My experiences have been as colourful and varied as the City’s population. The underlying theme though that I think makes New York City the greatest in the World is its lack of conformity. The City refuses to be one thing or the other, it everything to everyone and there is more than one way of making a life in New York, with millions of its inhabitants taking the road less travelled every day. I have countless friends who have shunned the doldrums of a nine to five existence; poets, photographers, jewellers, entrepreneurs working and living successfully on their terms. I’m still amazed to find so many people in parks on a normal work day when you would expect everyone to be pushing paper in congested open-plan offices as the majority do in other cities. I love the fact that although the city is fashionable, you can still walk around in last season’s trends without anyone batting an eyelid. There is a broader definition of style in New York City, far from being all about this season’s colours and cuts; it’s about creating your own unique identity however unconventional.

If you’re the adventurous type, a visit to New York City will make you feel like you just fell down a hole and landed in Wonderland. There is so much to see and do and experience. It can be daunting but the key to the Big Apple is to take one small bite at a time and to savour it as slowly as possible.

Let's keep our beliefs to ourselves

It's always best to avoid discussing religion if you can help it. Even when cornered by people eager to learn and quiz my religious beliefs, I go out of my way to say either as little as possible or nothing at all. The reason for my uncompromising approach is that I know for a fact that religion is probably one of the greatest, if not the greatest divider of people. Co-workers appear to interact effortlessly until of course one person takes offence at another's religious beliefs or lack thereof.


In the West there are those who equate atheism with intellect and therefore by process of elimination would argue that anyone who believes in the existence of God or Buddha for that matter must be a simpleton. It transpired by error rather than design a few months ago that I subscribe to the notion of a higher being and a colleague with whom I often have heated political debates sniggered in disbelief. He even asked if I was joking, thinking I presume that I was someone of sound mind who had somehow been brainwashed. He was proud to call himself an Atheist which I could just as easily found laughable but instead respected as his well thought out rational belief. This sense of understanding and tolerance is not borne out of an uncertainty in my own beliefs but rather a firmly held opinion that there are many truths. I don't think I'm in a position to say with absolute certainty that my way is better than his or vice versa. At the end of the day its about what works for you – if you’re a better person without religion then that’s fair enough, who am I to judge? Likewise if fasting or going to church or meditating helps you get through life then once again good for you. Who am I to judge?

I spotted a poster on a highway in Upstate New York which read 'There is only one way to God, through Jesus Christ' which amused me especially as I am so used to random people approaching me in the streets and asking me if I’ve met Jesus Christ as though he were some local celebrity. Yet I appreciate that while this statement is the foundation of Christianity, there are many Christians who do not subscribe to this view for the simple reason that they know that its not a practically sound. Let’s think about it for a second, it suggests that millions of people in the world who have never come across Christianity and its teachings simply because of their geographical location, are now doomed to an eternity of hell fire which I’m assuming is the opposite of heaven. I guess many of them can take comfort in the fact that ignorance is bliss so while their date in hell in sealed by some random Priest's sermon on a Sunday morning when he talks about the consequences of not accepting Jesus as your saviour – these pagans can go about their business oblivious of their fate.

Of course there are the Born-Again Christians who tell us we’re all doomed unless we repent and become one of them before we 'pop our clogs' (die). Again we can draw comfort from the fact that there is still time for those of us who have yet to embrace their truth, because so many of them have such 'colourful' pasts that there is clearly hope for the rest of us. The key from what I can tell is to stock up on the sinning, lies, even crime and then when you've had enough or been sentenced to prison, you can finally see the light. I can think of a number of men who’ve killed, maimed, heck even committed genocide and then decided to become Born-Again Christians. It's quite genius really!

Although a good chunk of people from different religions recognise that they share the same values as each other and are more influenced by the way people live their lives than the religion they follow, this practical view is unfortunately not shared by all. For instance, there is an ongoing debate with much opposition about a mosque being built two blocks away from the ground zero in New York City. The irony is that the proposed building is also meant to house a cultural centre which has as its primary purpose the promotion of religious tolerance and is backed by New York Mayor, Mike Bloomberg and a number of Jewish Leaders. Yet according to polls which have to be taken with a pinch a salt 6 in 10 New Yorkers oppose the building of the centre. It says a lot about people that they should be offended by something that seeks to encourage a better understanding of others' beliefs. It's also sad that Islam as a religion and Muslims as a whole are held responsible for the heinous acts committed by a few, obviously psychotic individuals.

I recently had a discussion/argument with a Catholic friend who remains convinced that Islam is a violent religion and encourages extremist behaviour. Much as I tried I could not convince her that most of my Muslim friends were no different from my Christian ones aside from the fact that they prayed to Allah every day and observed different religious festivals. Islamic fundamentalism in the Western world has probably done as much harm to Muslims as it has to Christians. The subconscious religious profiling which many of us practice means that Muslims are all guilty until proven innocent. There is a constant need for them to show how 'normal' they are. The task of blending in becomes even more pressing than for the average non-Muslim. It goes without saying that we should keep an open mind but in an era of countless national security threat and Western involvement in the affairs of numerous Muslim nations, our governments thrive on our collective paranoia, the bogeyman they have created has links with Al Qaeda and could be the turban wearing Sikh living next door to you. A woman wearing a hijab is judged to support extremist views even though if she may simply be reflecting her cultural upbringing and nothing more.

Whether you are Muslim or Christian or an Atheist, there is an increasing need to keep your beliefs to yourself lest people judge you. If however you are brave enough to don a hijab or a cross then you have to be thick-skinned enough to deal with the ridicule, contempt, scorn or even fear. Personally I know which option I choose.

My expose on immigration in the Netherlands

It started out as a joke between a friend and I, everywhere I went during my short break in the Netherlands, my inquisitive read: nosey personality got the better of me and I would start quizzing 'foreign-looking' people about where they were from and what exactly they were doing there. In all honesty I found it odd to find black people in the streets, shops and restaurants of Amsterdam, the Hague and Rotterdam and what’s more they didn’t look like visitors passing-by but rather like this was their home, where they belonged. I realise it’s a clear indication of my ignorance because of course black people have immigrated to countries all over the world so why should Holland be any different. Unlike the UK, the US and France though, I find the idea of someone from Africa or the Caribbean settling in the Netherlands hugely fascinating, I mean where does an immigrant from the Gambia for instance start in such a place? You not only look different but you also sound different and have never ever spoken a language that sounds anything like the Dutch language. Settling in foreign countries is hard enough even when the language is the same because of course for many Africans the culture is completely different to what we’re used to – so you immerse yourself and hope it will get easier as time goes by. Awestruck by all this – I started quizzing people I met in the hopes of learning more about these clearly resilient immigrants who had made the Netherlands their home.


In Rotterdam I met a waiter from Cape Verde - a Portuguese-speaking island off the west coast of Africa. I asked him how he came to live in Holland and learnt that his parents emigrated there some 15 years ago. He also told me that he spoke his indigenous language at home with his family and learnt Dutch from an early age which was now his main language of communication. Apparently there are sizeable Cape Verdean, Curacaoan and Surinamese communities in Rotterdam. Curacao which is a small island off the coast of Venezuela is in fact still part of Dutch territory and part of the five islands known as the Netherland Antilles that also includes Bonaire and Sint Maarten (the Southern half of the island of St Martin). Suriname, on the other hand is a former Dutch colony and Dutch speaking therefore it made sense for these islanders to settle here. My interviewee also told me that many of the stunning Surinamese and Curacaoan girls I saw, a number of whom were pushing ‘designer prams’ were born or came to the Netherlands as very young children and were essentially Dutch now. Unfortunately as a group, the Dutch islanders have a bad reputation, perhaps unfairly so but the general view was that they were lazy and aggressive. There is also a high percentage of teenage pregnancies within their communities and disproportionately so especially as the Dutch have the lowest teenage pregnancy rates in Europe. According to official statistics, there has been a growth in the number of unwanted pregnancies among ethnic minorities in the Netherlands with women from Surinam, Turkey, Morocco and the Dutch Caribbean, accounting for considerably more abortions than 'indigenous' Dutch women - in 2004 the figure was 60% of the total number of abortions carried out compared to their relatively small population. To give you an idea of where they sit in the country’s population as a whole - online figures suggest the population in the Netherlands is divided as follows - Dutch 79.71%, Turkish 2.31%, Indonesian 2.3%, German 2.28%, Moroccan 2.1%, Surinamese 2.06%, Netherlands Antilles/Aruba 0.83% and Other 8.36%.

With interview no. 1 in the bag, I decided to pick on some poor unsuspecting boy working at a MacDonald’s in Amsterdam city centre (of course my visit there was purely for research purposes). I should have known better than to try and get a man to multi-task because I quizzed him as he served us and watched as he broke into a sweat having to process so much information all at the same time. He just about managed to give me the information I was asking for as well as handing me two sachets of tomato ketchup. He repeated my question...a little baffled using his limited school English - 'where are my parents from?' - "Yeah", I barked "...and whilst you're thinking about it can I also have the ketchup I asked for five minutes ago?” Once we'd established that he was half Jamaican and half Surinamese and spoke mostly Dutch, I thanked him and left, much to the amusement of his equally young, also black colleagues. Unsurprisingly 85% of the staff in this MacDonald’s was young and black. So I guess that was one thing black immigrants in the Netherlands had in common with the ones here in the UK.

I also spoke to friends who work as expatriates for the various international organisations based in the Hague who told me that they found the Dutch quite unfriendly and some would go as far as to say quite racist. Political correctness was non-existent in a country where the people prided themselves on their humour even if it meant laughing at the cultural differences of others. There were adverts on television portraying black people as wild and primitive and things that are no longer said or done in the UK certainly for fear of accusations of racism were done in the Netherlands and their justification was that this was their sense of humour, like it or lump it.

I came away from my mini investigations with even more admiration for Black immigrants in the Netherlands than I had started with because I realised that aside from a difference in language, culture and skin colour, there were other difficulties which immigrants had to contend with. For instance in 2006, the Dutch introduced a test that all immigrants had to pass if they want to move to the Netherlands - this included watching and being questioned on a DVD which covered nude beaches, homosexuality and the sex trade as part of Dutch culture. So if you’re coming from a conservative society then you’d better for a crash course in Dutch liberalism. I met an exchange medical student from Burkina Faso who was attending a summer programme who had been traumatized by a trip to the red light district as part a cultural tour of Amsterdam. Even I found the whole women displaying their ‘wares’ in shop windows a little hard to take so I can’t imagine how this boy who was leaving his strict Christian home in Ouagadougou for the first time in his life must have been feeling.

Living as foreigner in the Netherlands takes even more pliability than living as an immigrant in other parts of the world - you clearly have to be prepared to immerse yourself in a culture that is so strangely different, so opposed to the one you are used to and so unapologetically rigid. Overcoming these differences is no small feat so my hat is raised to the immigrant who moves to Holland and settles there raising their children and succeeding in spite of everything.