What keeps you up at night?
Do you ever find yourself lost in a world of thought?
Which debates are you having in the shower?
What is your proverbial Roman Empire?
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I grew up in a relatively typical African home with Christian values and patriarchal norms. One of the earliest lessons I learned in this social setup was about curiosity. I cannot count the number of times I heard the famous line, ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ A one-liner that conveyed everything I needed to know as a curious child. It was a cautionary tale of what would happen if I asked too many questions, or worse, if I asked the wrong ones. I learned, either through heartbreaking personal experiences or observing my peers, that my society did not promote curiosity in children, especially girls.
I found ways to honour the curious voice inside quietly. This part of me felt so foundational to who I was. I didn't even know the word foundation yet, but I knew that asking questions was how I fit and found my place in the world. I resorted to asking myself questions, conducting limited research when possible, and occasionally taking the significant risk of asking or sharing my thoughts with someone I deemed wiser than myself.
Luckily for me, in a sea of disappointing adults, three people nurtured curiosity, critical thinking, and creativity in me. The first two were my parents. They bought me a dictionary and a kamusi (the Kiswahili equivalent), and gave me fairytale books by the dozen. They also let me explore their old encyclopedia and the rusty typewriter that I played with, but never learned how to use. Now that I am grown, I think they knew the kind of child I was, but were unsure how to support me,...