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The soul in our hands
You are African. How many African outfits do you own? I can still hear the steady hum of my mother's sewing machine. I remember coming in from playing outside and finding a new dress waiting for me. The scent of new cloth filled the room. She would hum as she worked, her foot pressing the pedal rhythmically. When she made me a dress for my seventh birthday, she stitched my name inside the collar. "So you never forget whose hands made this," she said. That dress was not just c
Nite Tanzarn
Nov 10, 20255 min read


Nature's equation: Living by seasonal rhythms
Where do the stories come from? They whisper from the morning message of a friend remembering shared laughter. They echo in the memory of a failed meeting that taught me more than any success. They dance in the pattern of rain on a tin roof, each drop a beat in nature's timeless rhythm. If I had the time, I could write ten stories a day, for everything surrounding me is a story waiting to be told. Today's story begins with numbers, with logic, with my mathematical mind that o
Nite Tanzarn
Nov 9, 20254 min read


The unnamed feminists: Doing the work without the label
I have been conducting feminist research almost all my working life. However, I kept saying I am not a feminist. I never explicitly indicated this approach in my methodology sections. I know I am not alone in this. Many colleagues prefer to sanitise the work. We avoid the feminist label while doing the core work of feminism. This contradiction speaks to a wider reality across African research and development. It reveals the complex pressures we navigate. It also shows the q
Nite Tanzarn
Nov 9, 20255 min read
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