Onjalazbroz- Testing the Foundation of Knowledge

The recent episodes of Zara's Nikah have sparked considerable debate, particularly concerning the narrative arc where Zara employs emotional manipulation to pressure Kabir into pursuing conventional employment. While the show positions this as a feminist assertion of financial independence, a closer examination reveals troubling undertones—not only in how Kabir’s character is unfairly diminished but also in how the series perpetuates narrow definitions of success and ambition. At its core, this storyline raises essential questions about societal expectations, the true meaning of feminism, and whether love can survive when one partner imposes their ideals of achievement onto the other.   Kabir’s Existing Ambition: Overlooked and Undermined From the outset, the series establishes Kabir as a man deeply committed to his faith and community. He is an Islamic scholar, a respected leader, and someone who dedicates his time to meaningful projects—qualities that reflect a different bu...

Joram leaned back in his leather office chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he watched Essy through the glass partition. She was bent over a stack of files, her tall, slender frame poised in quiet concentration. Once, the sight of her had sent a thrill through him—her elegance, her devotion to the Christian Union, the way she carried herself with an air of grace. But now, all he saw were the cracks in the facade. The burnt spot on his carpet flashed in his memory—a permanent scar from the day she had carelessly set a hot pan down after making chapatis. "It was an accident," she had said, her voice soft with apology. But accidents, to Joram, were symptoms of a deeper carelessness. Then there was the cleaning—only the visible surfaces, never the hidden corners where dust gathered like secrets. He had asked her once, voice sharp with frustration, "Did your mother never teach you how to clean properly?" She had stiffened, hurt flickering in her eyes, but he hadn...

The passing of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o is not just the loss of a great writer; it is the silencing of a voice that spoke truth to power, a voice that shaped my understanding of history, resistance, and the enduring struggle against oppression. To me, Ngũgĩ was more than an author—he was a teacher, a historian, and a revolutionary whose works ignited in me a fierce opposition to neocolonialism. His novels, essays, and plays were not just stories; they were weapons of truth, exposing the brutality of colonialism and the betrayal of Africa’s independence dreams. A Grain of Wheat: Unmasking the Mau Mau and the Cost of Freedom Of all his works, A Grain of Wheat stands out as the novel that most profoundly shaped my political consciousness. In it, Ngũgĩ does not just recount Kenya’s struggle for independence; he humanizes it. He shows how the so-called "Mau Mau" (a derogatory label imposed by the British) were, in truth, the Kenya Land and Freedom Army—freedom fighters who sacrificed eve...

The air at Thika School, Kisumu, was thick with unease. A new principal had arrived—Mr. Kamau from Thika—and with him came the heavy weight of uncertainty. The staff whispered in hushed tones, their anxieties simmering beneath forced smiles. For the Kisumu teachers, the sting of disappointment ran deeper. Not only had none of their own been chosen for the position, but the head office had introduced Mr. Kamau in the worst possible way. The chief finance officer had stood beside him on that first day, scowling as he declared, "The laziness in this campus ends today." And Mr. Kamau, rather than reassuring his new staff, had echoed the sentiment—his opening speech laced with thinly veiled threats. A New Semester Begins Two weeks of holiday had done little to ease the tension. On the first day of the new semester, Ochieng arrived early, sacrificing his cherished morning workout just to make a good impression. Yet, his effort was wasted. Mr. Kamau had already signed the attendance...

David woke at 7:31 AM to the bite of Nairobi's cold morning air. The bed's warmth clung to him like a jealous lover, but life demanded movement. With a groan, he swung his legs over the side, his feet meeting the chilled concrete floor. Few things defined David like his obsession with exercise. Months earlier, he'd turned down a lucrative job offer—one that would’ve doubled his salary—because it threatened his workout routine. To him, no paycheck outweighed the rhythm of his disciplined mornings. The Ritual Bare-chested and in shorts, he cleared a space in the cramped room. Reverse lunges first—two hundred of them. Then push-ups, squats, burpees. Sweat beaded on his forehead within minutes. "This is how a body stays alive," he thought, relishing the burn in his thighs. At thirty-eight, his lean frame defied the potbellied fate of most African men his age. A girl at a bar weeks ago had guessed he was twenty-eight. The memory still made him grin. An hour and a half ...

  "Euphoria," the critically acclaimed HBO series, is a masterful exploration of the tumultuous lives of modern adolescents, delving into the complexities of addiction, relationships, and identity. In Season 2, Episode 4, the narrative takes a profound turn as it focuses on the character Carl Jacobs, a symbol of individualism in stark contrast to his family, representing societal norms and expectations. This pivotal scene, in which Carl enters his home intoxicated and urinates on the floor, serves as a powerful allegory for the clash between the pursuit of personal freedom and the conforming pressures of society. A Defiant Act of Rebellion: Carl's Urination on His Family's Pride Carl's audacious urinating on the floor of his family's home in "Euphoria" Season 2, Episode 4, carries profound symbolic weight. This house, built with his sweat and toil, represents the epitome of societal achievement and conformity. However, Carl's act is a sta...

In a world dominated by capitalist narratives, authentic voices that challenge prevailing systems often face marginalization. This has been the fate of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o's works, which courageously expose the evils of colonialism and neo-colonial corruption. While his books may gather dust in forgotten library corners, they remain vital resources for truth-seekers. Dreams in a Time of War, Ngũgĩ's 2010 memoir, offers a unique perspective on Kenya's turbulent history through the confused but perceptive eyes of a child. A Child's Bewildered Perspective The memoir's greatest strength lies in its portrayal of childhood confusion amid historical upheaval. Young Ngũgĩ witnesses traumatic events that only gain meaning in adulthood: 1. The Land Theft Paradox When Ngũgĩ's father loses his land to a Christian convert neighbor, the community's helplessness reveals colonialism's perverse logic. Though everyone knows the land rightfully belongs to Ngũgĩ's fam...

Ngala watched the rooster in the dusty courtyard, its spurs slashing at the tied opponent with mechanical brutality. "Animals are worse than humans," Owalo had once said. "When their enemies weaken, they finish them. But we—we show mercy." Ngala spat. Mercy? What mercy existed in a city where men rolled up bus windows to avoid speaking to beggars? Where looters pried grain from overturned trucks while the dying gasped beneath sacks of maize? He adjusted his collar against Nairobi’s acidic smog and waited at KenCom, observing the human swarm. KBS buses belched exhaust as commuters elbowed for space—sixty percent of the nation’s wealth, crammed into ten percent of its land. A woman recoiled near Bus 17; some bastard had shut the window in her face mid-sentence. Ngala’s fingers twitched. We’ve perfected cruelty animals can’t fathom. Obonyo arrived like a relic from a kinder past—same easy grin, now framed by a corporate beard. They embraced, the kind of hug that moment...

"Bloody Indians. Can't you read English?" The British soldier's sneer hangs in the air like the smell of gunpowder. "I can read English," Manikarnika (later known as Rani Lakshmibai) replies, her voice steady as a drawn sword. "It's a mere language. Just words. Words without culture have no meaning." This fictional exchange from Manikarnika: The Queen of Jhansi (2019) encapsulates a fundamental truth about storytelling: language is not just a communication tool—it's the bloodstream of culture. When filmmakers sever this vital connection, their creations become lifeless puppets, moving mechanically through plots but never breathing authenticity. The Language-Culture Symbiosis Language is culture made audible. The two are as inseparable as: The nyatiti from Luo storytelling The taarab from Swahili coastal life The dhol beats from Punjabi weddings This symbiosis explains why Kenyan films shot in English—like surgical transplants from foreign...