Jambo!

I began in a place called Kenya, Nairobi.


Bloody birth; not very low-key.


White boy playing on black land,


Like a white shell resting on black sand.

My blond Danish Mama


Buttoned my pajama,


Whilst my two black Mamas


Took care of all the drama.

Then at two years old


My German-Iraqi Papa was sold.


Egypt was the country.


Sunny, sweaty and strictly dusty.

Everything so seemingly swell.


Housekeeping keeping the familiar smell.


Suddenly, sent with big sister


To a place where you must say Mr.

Seven o’clock: uniform.


March and sing like a sandstorm.


I was made to hate losing.


Being second was very confusing.

Nigeria was next.


Bigger deal, bigger cheques.


I remember the crazy streets.


Sleeping in presidential bed sheets.

Next up: little brother.


Thank you my majestic Mother.


The big five were created.


A pack culturally unaffiliated.

White or black


We were back on back.


But it always felt unfair.


I always felt a deep despair.

Then Papa gets a call.


Three hours later and that was all.


Dresden was the place.


To us more obscure than space.

Bye bye Africa.


Welcome colonial America.


I learned to never be attached.


It was time again to re-hatch.

We didn’t live in the hotel.
We had our very own doorbell.
This was the first time
We had our own garden with trees to climb.

All I did was run, shoot and kick


And then eventually play with my dick.


At school I put on a mask.


Fitting in was the daily task.

Clothing and blinding brands


Became everyday demands.


Testing limits and whose right.


Never scared to fight.

Never drink sugar or coke.


Mama would choke.


We were different.


I always felt different.

I played a lot of football.


Fame and fortune with every goal.


But not for long.


Family first was the childhood song.

No more Germany.


It's time to continue the journey.


Headed to the Middle East.


New mentality, larger feast.

So we moved to Qatar.


Another place so bizarre.


It was rough.


It was time again to be tough.

Fight to adapt.


Forced to interact.


I had to be Arab.


I was the only blond Arab.

Pressured to smoke.


Marijuana; dokha made me choke.


Prime priority: sex.


Bigger muscles, flex.

I wanted to be cool.


Often skipping school.


I hated it.


I wanted to move and quit.

Turned to rap and movies.


Daily fitness and duties. 


Every day I played with my brother.


At least we had each other. 



Then Papa says: "Sorry son,
Final move then you’re done.


It’s the city of Dubai.”


One, two. When do we fly?

Another temporary habitat.


Another school of aristocrats.
Isolation was my remedy. 


I stayed with myself mentally.

Finally I finished.


All the people and places I’ve witnessed.


Time to become my own man.


Time to create my own plan.

No more Papa and Mama.
No more Sof and Emma.
I needed to get out.
No hesitation, no doubt.

Moved to Deutschland.


Leaving the pack in the sand.


Studying and working


Became my new way of living.

Waitered in a bar.
Learned to drive a car.
But there is no infrastructure
For a global kid in a small culture.

My background is too complex.


Couldn’t relate to only making checks


And focusing on irrelevant uni subjects.


So I engaged in international projects.

Once again I wanted to leave.


Luckily I had Denmark up my sleeve.


Papa, a passport and university.


Gave me Scandinavian economic security.

Moving back and forth from DE to DKK.
My big sister wasn’t ok.
We really needed each other.
But sadly our lives didn’t flow together.

I was a lot on my own.
My families future is like always: unknown.


I started making videos.
I started writing poetry and prose.

My life became more stable.
Creativity made me more capable.


I found a local companion.


A little lady filled with compassion.

Beginning new adventurous journeys.


Many more enriching stories.


Connecting with many amazing people.


Treating others like my equal.

I have less and less hate.
I still run most days to meditate.
I’m a young man from the jungle
And I’m learning to be more humble.

Life will keep changing.


Too many factors rearranging.


I will never have just one home.


All of planet earth is my home.

My travels won’t end.
There are too many undiscovered friends;
Too many waves to surf and mountains to hike;
Too many books to read and crafts to unripe.

Many start with: So where are you from?


What do you want to become?


Well I don’t belong to one nation


And I’ll never have just one vocation.

Jambo Sana Mama and Papa.


I loved Masai Mara.


I loved all the drama


And our families global saga.


But now it’s time to button my own pajama


And run amongst the impalas.


Masalama and Hakuna Matata.