As a Dual BA/MA Comparative Literature and Society and Middle East, East Asia, and African Studies major at Columbia University, I have had the privilege of pursuing my passion for exploring the intersections of culture, history, and society. Through my coursework, I have gained a deep understanding of the diverse intellectual traditions and cultural expressions of various regions of the world. I am proud to have achieved academic success, including recognition on the Dean's List, and to have received awards for my research and writing. My commitment to excellence extends beyond the classroom, and I have pursued various research opportunities, internships, and volunteer work to broaden my understanding of the world and contribute to positive change. I believe that my academic achievements and passion for learning make me a lifelong learner, eager to explore new ideas, perspectives, and experiences.

Whispers in a Grove

Katasi Masembe

Whispers in a Grove

Whispers in a Grove

There is not going to be a magical adventure,
Rather, there will be the rocks under your feet along your way
They will whisper through your ragged shoes to your aching soles to your heart,
They will whisper hardship to you, dear, weary traveller,
They will reach up with arms of soil-peaty and mossy
They will ask of you, “where do you go naive traveller, that laughter is free?”
“Where do you go that the water speaks of sunlight?”
“In this forest, this green life, the light dapples on a nightmare of consciousness,
The magic in this forest is not an adventure…”, they will croak even as they enclose and embrace you, their weary traveller
The magic in this forest isn’t an adventure
The magic here is such that the patchwork doll in the corner of the glen shifts and shivers with the shadows of the lost,
A little raggedy doll floats in the still green water seeing you without eyes and smiling in recognition
She is made of all you have ever hoped and as she floats here in the heart of the forest, she sees you without eyes with eyes of moss and tadpoles
She lies where light has never crossed seeing you knowing you illuminated with all the light in the world, on your way somewhere
The darkness in the water around her seethes with un-named promise of light that will never shine thence 
What is that dark dripping light that pokes through her tadpole eyes? 

The breeze that ruffles your hair smells like rotting molasses.
Come hither traveller, drink the light that has always been darkness,
There will not be a magical adventure.
There will be a becoming,
It will sound like starlight,
Not tinkling bells, but instead, the dying roar of beauty travelling through time
The chiaroscuro of life and death enclosed in this decaying leafy glen, witnessed by the dark, the traveller and the doll of shadow and decay
She is beautiful in her tomb of stagnant water, and whatever she was before she was caretaker of magic, she is becoming elsething 
So are you, 
This becoming sounds like an ocean in a landlocked polity,
like fur in a gentle breeze,
like the gleam of a gorilla’s teeth in the afternoon yawn in a patch of sunlight
like the dappled moonlight on the nightdancers’ skin minutes before midnight 
like the abandon of a child suspended in the air the second before they hit the muddy puddle, free, clean and almost muddy
like the lioness feeding her cub on the lifeless warm gazelle and the fiery dry heat of a long dry season
this becoming is the knowledge that magic is a prayer and a journey and you weary traveller will see it all. 

Bwindi Impenetrable Forest by Richard Raw Taken on September 12, 2015https://flickr.com/photos/rwitvliet/21247111354/in/dateposted/

Bwindi Impenetrable Forest by Richard Raw Taken on September 12, 2015

https://flickr.com/photos/rwitvliet/21247111354/in/dateposted/

28.01.20

cold sepia projections of melancholy
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