Mena's Muzik

MusicPlaylistView Profile
Create a playlist at

Friday 30 August 2013

RACISM OR BIGOTRY??!! You would look beautiful, if only you were lighter skinned


For your weekend delight here is another story concerning India but this time told by an Indian lady,  click for first story here

I often come across to people as a confident and calm woman until some fellow Indian starts making rude remarks about my skin color. I am perfectly comfortable with my skin tone, but certain attitudes and behaviors can and have caused me pain and frustration.

After years of singing "Jai Hind" songs under the intolerable heat of sun every morning at the school a
ssembly, I realised that my dream is to leave India. Some among many other reasons for this are linked to my skin color: bullying at school, rejected job offers, discrimination at work, mocked by friends, family, random strangers in the street etc. After looking at many matrimonial ads in newspapers in India, I realised that I might not find a husband unless my parents had a huge amount of money to compensate for my skin color, which they did not have. I was 16 when I started working very hard in many hotels around India and supporting my part time studies until one day at the age of 19 "the not so proud Indian that I am" left India with a one way ticket and 200 Euros in my pocket. I had the hardest time of my life after that trying to support myself and complete my education, but to this day I think that Ieaving India was the best decision of my life. I ended up in the beautiful French Riviera, where I am treated fairly and I have to say, I enjoy every minute of it. Here remarks about my skin color include, you look exotic, you have a beautiful tan etc which are so positive that it fills my heart and I often get to a state of disbelief as I never heard such nice things about my skin during the first 19 years of my life in India. The kindest thing an Indian would tell me is how beautiful I would look if I had a fair skin. Pointing out that one thing that is considered an imperfection!

I more or less stopped associating myself with Indians after many of my meetings with them included discussions about skin color. This is my favourite one! A girl says to me " I used to do a lot of outdoor sports until I realised that it is making me darker. I stopped and I became a lot lighter. I used to be as dark as you". The idea of stopping a very healthy habit in favor of not wanting to be as dark as I am seemed ridiculous.

My most recent experience put an end to any efforts I would have made to make new Indian acquaintances. I was very excited during the Grand Prix weekend in Monaco that I was going to an Indian party. I came across this arrogant, rich and famous north Indian guy with a skin condition called Vitiligo. He asked me "Where are you from?". I answered "I am from Kerala". He turned around and joked to his friends "Look at her skin color, where else do you think she is from" in Hindi which is a language I perfectly understand. They all had a laugh at my expense which was the bit that annoyed me and I stormed off. A person with millions who could not find a cure to his skin condition thought it was funny to joke about my dark skin.

I married the love of my life, an Irish man who came up to me on the street one day and said "You are beautiful! I would like to take you out for dinner". Finally, there he is! My husband! I have crossed the hurdle of finding a husband with my dark skin! BUT, my problem doesn't end here! We got married in India and I got so tired of being asked, "How did you find such a fair handsome husband?". Another person said "You are lucky that you won't have dark children like you". The photographer said "You will look darker next to your husband and I'll have to do some work on that". I was too busy at the wedding that I did not pay attention to that comment which resulted in me looking very fair in my wedding photos and it took a while for me to realise that they are my photos. I dread going back to India as many Indians have made me feel that I am not worthy of having my white husband as no one around me remotely saw the mutual attraction between us regardless of the difference in our skin tone.

I do hope that these campaigns work and have a positive impact.

Clearly discrimination exists to a greater or lesser extent all over the world, I acknowledge that I am just focusing on a specific subset, that area in which I have personal experience, racism towards one's own race from within.

Finally, lest there be any doubt, I am indeed fully aware that the world has many equally or more serious issues which I would love to see solved. My choice in addressing this particular issue here is not intended to disrespect or undermine people who are impacted either more severely or by issues of greater ultimate importance. I merely seek to use my voice to discuss an issue which is important and with which I have personal familiarity. I hope that readers can excuse this human limitation as I take time to focus on this particular topic.

Too fat, too thin, too dark, wrong hair, wrong nose, too short, too tall, Will there ever beeen an end to discrimination???!!

Monday 26 August 2013

SUICIDE???!!! Martin Manley the blogger pulled out his .380 pistol, and shot himself in the head

On 15th August Martin Manley killed himself and left a sprawling website explaining his decision. Yahoo took the site down calling it a violation of its terms of service.

Activists claiming affiliation with the hacker group Anonymous have set up a website of their own,, providing a mirror version of the original site and adding a message of sympathy for Martin and his loved ones. The activists say they don't condone suicide but believe Manley deserves to have his writings preserved after his death. 
Martin Manley included photos throughout the website he built to explain the reason why he chose suicide. He wrote "Today is August 15, 2013. Today is my 60th birthday. Today is the last day of my life. Today, I committed suicide. Today, is the first day this site is active, but it will be here for years to come. Before I get into the nuts and bolts of this site, I first must say to those whom I have a special bond with, please don't think that I didn't consider your feelings. I'm sorry... very sorry for the hurt and pain I will have caused by my actions. In all probability, I won't be able to justify it to you - at least not today. Maybe someday you will come to understand... better. If not today, maybe someday you will be able to read what I've said and learn why. Maybe someday you will be able to forgive me. I love you!
 Not only do I look 60, I think 60, I act 60, I'll never have to see myself at 70 or 80, thats a good thing."

At 5 a.m. he entered a police station parking lot in a suburb of Kansas City, Kansas, walked to a spot beneath a tree on its far south end and pulled out his phone.
He dialed 911.
He said this:

"I want to report a suicide at the south end of the parking lot of the Overland Park Police Station at 123rd and Metcalf." 

Never before in the history of human communication have suicide notes been such a public affair, easily accessible to the masses and potentially lasting forever.
"Let me ask you a question," Manley wrote on his website, which he divided into 34 categories and 44 subcategories. "After you die, you can be remembered by a few-line obituary for one day in a newspaper when you're too old to matter to anyone anyway ... OR you can be remembered for years by a site such as this. That was my choice and I chose the obvious."
Martin Manley's sister, Barbie Flick  is trying to reach Yahoo to get the site restored. She gave the following statement:
"I am very saddened that Yahoo would dishonor my brother's contract that he made with them. I learned from my brother posthumously that he had worked on this web site for over a year. Martin had been a very private person in many ways. It was incredibly important to him that all who cared for him be able to see who he really was. I speak for all of his friends and family, when I say that we want to be able to have access to this site.
A cursory read will tell the reader that Martin was not advocating suicide for others. There is nothing offensive about his site. While it is painful for me, I believe that he handled the topic very appropriately. Since Martin did have a pre-paid contract with yahoo for the next five years, I am pleading with Yahoo to either republish the site, or allow the family to have the files so that we can find another way to carry out Martin's wishes."

While the original website is still unavailable, you can read the website as set up by the activist on

May his soul RIP.

Reference:, and

Friday 23 August 2013

KOLA BOOF SPITS FIRE AT KIMONA and opens up about her life

Dont understand Kola Boof? Here is the key or in her own words

WHAT I LOVE almost a "religious" way.....are Black Women.

And that love goes back to Sudan, the Nile River, to Nilotic culture, to the Charcoal original women who brought this whole world into being---women
who still exist in their natural form in their natural habitat. I love them first and foremost.

This is the KEY to understanding Kola Boof.

How I feel about you is based hugely on how you treat Black Women...and
especially how you acknowledge or fail to acknowledge the Authentic Black
Woman. AND when I was adopted & raised in USA by Black American women...Claudine Johnson, my Black American mother told me that this is what she liked most about me...that I was unwavering in my vision of black womanhood as being the ultimate representation of humanity and goodness.


Egyptian-Sudanese-American novelist KOLA BOOF responds to Djimon Hounsou, Russell Simmons, Kimora Lee Simmons and the general public regarding her long standing sexual indiscretions with Mr. Hounsou.


For four years (starting 3 weeks after Kimora Lee Simmons 'faux' West African wedding to actor Djimon Hounsou in the country of Benin)....I took part in an adulterous affair with Ms. Simmons' man.  I can honestly say that I slept with her husband more than she did the last four years.

It should also be noted that I had a sexual relationship with Mr. Hounsou many, many years prior to the 'marriage', before he even knew Ms. Simmons.

Djimon and Kimora of course have never been legally married. His only legal wife is a much older woman named Marie in France.  Marie basically bankrolled him during his youthful model days. Djimon also has an African wife given to him by his tribe in Benin (and a set of children by her).    

Today is June 14th, 2012. But a few months affair with Djimon caused so much strife within their coupling that Djimon Hounsou walked out on Ms. Simmons. (To be fair, financial issues also played a significant role, though I am not privy to information on that.  I just know that Kimora deeply wounded Djimon one day by calling him a 'broke nigga'--he told me and my adoptive Black American mother, Claudine Johnson, about it in late January).

I'm not sure what day exactly Djimon walked out for the final time (he had actually stayed gone from home a few times before the walk out)....but I do know that I was overjoyed...and not in the way you are expecting.

First of all....after Djimon left Kimora....I made it clear that I would never sleep with him again. Just as you saw published in my interview with the NY DAILY NEWS...I informed him that the only reason I had sex with him was to get revenge on Kimora.  With their breakup, I didn't (and don't) want it anymore.

And let me make this perfectly clear---I would never sleep with any other woman's husband just for recreation. Only Kimora's. I myself was married for 10 years to an absolutely wonderful man, a Black Man who treated me (and still treats me and our sons) like royalty.  So I identify with the wife's role just as strongly as Kimora knows the golddigging homewrecker role--don't forget she's wrecked many homes in her day.

This affair with Djimon was about revenge for me, Kola.  I liked picturing her face (she looks like that winking snail at Benihana Restaurant) just as Djimon made me climax.  It filled me with such cheer and joy to know that every time she kissed her husband--she would be kissing my privates.  And for four years that's exactly what Kimora kissed, my privates. But then again, being that Kimora is strongly bisexual...I'm sure that tid-bit isn't phasing her. 

Why did I want revenge on Kimora? That is coming up in this statement later. But for now, just be aware that I have NO REMORSE...none whatsoever...and that it was my intention to see Kimora's marriage fail.

The American media giving me this opportunity to publicly humiliate her is just icing on the cake.  I didn't expect this at all.

Be aware that despite Russell's denials (Russell Simmons, her mega-rich slimy turtle without a shell MOGUL ex-husband whose name she still uses instead of Djimon's)...and despite Kimora's and Djimon's denials that they have broken up...let me tell you....they HAVE!!

They are split; kaput; done. It doesn't matter how many Photo Ops they stage or how many walks to Chuck E. Cheese they take with their children so everyone can photograph them smiling, their marriage is over.

I'm sure people see me as shockingly evil...scary, jealous, disturbing...'what a bitch' people say. But in true Kola fashion, I don't give a shit.

I didn't want to give an official statement. I wanted to fade out of this unpleasant story--but after Djimon gave a statement calling me a liar, I felt
forced to leave my own version of events.

Please do not send me any emails or letters about "Karma" or "the lord."

As someone who watched her parents murdered in front of her at the age of 6 and faced down brain cancer with a wide spate of other tragedies bogging her entire life (I'm 42)--I am not one for superstition and emotionalism steeped in moralizing.

I have lived and survived a life that is literally unbelievable and irrevocably traumatizing.  I am a damaged person.

But I am also the most open and honest human being that I know.

When you call someone a liar, they have the right to tell their side of the story. To leave a record of their position, despite your prejudice and animosity against them.  Though the newspapers have written quite a bit about me "breaking up Kimora's Un-marriage"....I have not given a formal statement detailing the facts as I see them until now.

I am not doing this to keep shit going...I am doing this because Djimon Hounsou's scared *I have to protect my image* self gave a statement calling me a liar (though he never mentioned me by name, that is what he did).

Because Djimon gave a statement, I now have to give a detailed rebuttal.  If he had not talked about me, I would not be still talking about him and Kimora.

My hope is that after this Formal Statement, I will be done feuding with Djimon, Kimora and Russell Simmons and they will not mention my name or cause me to get back in the speeding lane with them. Regardless of how much power they think they have....I, the unknown entity, am more powerful than all of them.

There is a name for women like Kimora Lee Simmons---not ---that I'd use it outside of a kennel.

Which means I'm going to refrain from calling my dear sister the "B" word today. In honor of Kimora's brand of fake sisterhood and hyperbole Fabulosity...I'm going to try and be less vicious than I've typically been on Twitter.

FACT #1 

I did not contact the media to tell my involvement with Djimon---they contacted me. The NY Daily News, National Enquirer, People magazine and several others came looking for me.  The reason they came looking for me was because *Witnesses* at several Los Angeles area hotels, limousine services and other establishments responded to a story in the NY DAILY NEWS about Djimon walking out on Kimora over 'financial problems.'

Those witnesses told the media: "No you're wrong--he's got a girlfriend on the side."

(**Keep in mind that I also had other boyfriends around the country (the world actually), not just Djimon).

At that point, the NY DAILY NEWS began trying to track me down.  I did not contact them or in any way entice anyone into knowing my personal business with Djimon.

Once they did contact me, I still ignored them for a few days....until Princess Kimora pissed me off by having her "Spokeswoman" put my name in some kind of Press Release saying "We don't know her!" to the various news organizations.

It went on the local radio and I was so peeved that I decided to tell my side of the story.

Every newspaper involved can tell you that I did not originally want to speak on this story and that I originally ignored them until Kimora's Spokeswoman put my name in it.

When I finally did tell my story to the newspapers---they did not take my word for it.   The media doesn't work like that. They have to fact check in some manner in order to report something.

They interviewed other people about Djimon and myself....employees at hotels, limousine services and other establishments who TOLD THEM that they had seen me and Djimon together (with my skirt hiked up and me giggling) *sporadically* for the last 4 years.

I refuse to provide what few TEXT MESSAGES and voice mails that I have.

But the only reason my story was published in NY DAILY NEWS and other major newspapers is because they had significant witness information indicating beyond 'legal doubt' that I was telling the truth. So they published it.

I didn't want to hurt Djimon and I still don't. But by the same token--nobody's
going to hurt Kola either. 


After the "Kola Boof sex affair" angle was inserted into to previously published reports of Djimon and Kimora's breakup and the internet blew up with vitriolic hatred for me, "The Jump-off Home Wrecker"....and after Djimon denounced me as a liar;  I announced that I would be posting my own official statement.

I was served an unexpected shock...everyone wanted to stop me from delivering today's Official Statement...even to the point of offering money!

The Vice President of Djimon's birth country (Benin) contacted me...and Russell Simmons, Kimora's powerful ex-husband began harassing and smearing
my name.

I am including here now a small portion of what Mathurin Nago, the Vice President of Benin ordered me to do.

Vice President of Benin's message: 

Mathurin Nago:

"...Daughter, you and Djimon are both Africans. It's not right
for you to destroy your brother's legacy of hard works.  We do not have another world class movie star but Djimon Hounsou. He is the symbolic lion of the continent on screens across the world. You are a young lady and your place should be in support of your brothers. But you have attacked Wale, the
gifted musician for not showcasing African women in his videos and you now
disgrace yourself and Djimon with disclosures of bedroom vice. You must take such things to the grave Daughter and not make public disgrace of yourself and Africa. Your place is at your brother's feet, but you have been ill-raised by the Americans. It is their fault. I say with love that you are wrong to go forward with a public statement Thursday. If you have any respect for me like you say you do, I forbid you to tear down your brother and his hard works. Take these incidents of vice to the grave

As a Nilotic African woman, I cannot deny that I was very affected by Mr. Nago's
words. In fact, it still affects me. But I feel very strongly that I have a right
to give my press statement...and that my reputation and word is just as important as that of my brothers.


I was Djimon Hounsou's "hooni-hoosi-hole" for 4 years. His nickname for me
was "Tight Stuff." That is what he affectionately called me.

I liked our sexual encounters just as much as he did.  My thing was finding
places to fuck outdoors (naked in just heels; I have my own ranch & lake with woods)...*this always terrified Djimon but he did it anyway....and Djimon's thing was getting intense blow jobs; rough face-banging to the bottom of my throat to be exact.

Djimon told me that Kimora was not sexually pleasing for him.  He said she had been a real livewire before they got 'ritually married', but once they settled into
life at home, she became boring and lazy about pleasing him.

Not to be cruel...but in the marriage...Djimon was really just an unemployed actor whose best career move had been becoming a glorified assistant and Nanny to Kimora and Russell. 

He was not really the African King, but the ego-busted PROP for Kimora's
P.R. about her perfect life and family.  So yes, Kimora was very lazy
about taking care of Djimon's very ferocious sexual appetite. 

The one thing that Kimora DID DO that I was unable to do sexually---is provide
threesomes with other women.  She often treated him to one of her lesbian
"babes" and Djimon really liked that a lot and tried to pressure me to do it
but I refused. I told him that I would do it with two guys in the bed--but not two girls.  I have to be the only woman in a sex act.

Still, I was Djimon's "look forward to" piece.

Djimon told me that Kimora's vagina was like "bubblegum" and that his penis
kept falling out during intercourse.  He also complained of hygiene issues as
she is widely known to go without showering for days and lounge around in Sweat suits funky and oyster-smelling without a care.

I am vaginally infibulated an African ritual that has great meaning to African
men and to all men who like tight tiny pussy.

To be clear "vaginal infibulation" (which has been the horrific nightmare of my
entire life) is not Circumcision or Clitoris removal. *I have my clitoris. But 
at birth, they undo the vagina's inner muscles and reconfigure them to be
unnaturally tight---they then sew the vagina shut until your wedding day.

On that wedding day, they give the bride a set of rings...and the groom a
small razor to cut you open with.  You then spend about a month being de-virginized by the groom.

In my case, because my parents were murdered and UNICEF placed me in a
home with a Black American family--I lost my virginity to a Black American
"Boule Octoroon" from Howard University, my English tutor at age 17.

It took a month for Truce to fully penetrate me and have "stroking" intercourse with me.

Djimon and I were supposed to "cheat" just once...but I used my expertise
at sex to manipulate and control him.

We are both Sexual Athletes, but  Djimon is very innocent.  He's like that immigrant kid you show how to use the water fountain.  Just so naive and easy to manipulate. And to get back at Kimora, that is what I was doing.  In no time, Djimon told me that he was once again addicted to my pussy, my 44 double D all natural breasts and my ability to endure "face-banging" (we'd had a relationship years before).  He also loves tall women and I am taller than Kimora.  

Our affair began. 

We saw ourselves as 'buddies.' Nothing romantic; but very much like basketball buddies or something.  There is a definite affection.

WHY You Pissed At Kimora?

Kimora now claims I'm a delusional liar; an insecure "Pity" case.
But I've known her for years!

I taught Kimora how to play Spades and Bid Wiss (two games that my
Black American adoptive mother and I like to play all the time).

When I first knew Kimora, I really liked that she was tall like me and
I liked her energy.  She was a little 'superior' (thought she was better
than the people of the Black community she exploited & got famous
off).  But I originally liked her and wanted to be friends.

I thought (and still think) that she's beautiful, smart, funny and
very positive spirited.  But then

There is much here that I don't want to say. But Kimora has a thing
for "Pregnant women."  It's a fettish.  She likes to give head to women
once they've reached their fifth or sixth month of pregnancy. I couldn't
take an experience like that.  And that is all I'm going to say on that.

And I am in no way against Lesbians, Gays, Transgendered or any people
with what society considers "Alternative lifestyles" ---because I don't
consider those to be alternative lifestyles; to me they are natural and
normal expressions of human sexuality.  I love my lesbian sisters and in
no way am I saying that other women shouldn't enjoy that.

Many have claimed that comments I've made about Kimora on Twitter are
Racist against The Foon (Asians).  This is so not true. I love all Human beings
of every type.  Every type of person is welcome in my life and in my home.
But that doesn't mean I want to give up being Black and African to become
those other people. So when I talk about Kimora in terms of her benefitting
from Black people's colorism or when I make insults about her looks saying
for instance "the winking snail at Benihana"...I am not referencing her
race as an Asian woman.  I love all races.

I hate to talk about the "breakdown" that occurred between me and Kimora
years ago, because it was literally the most oxygen-less moment in all of the
suffering of my life. I get a heavy brick in my chest whenever I remember it.

I had to be operated on for Brain Cancer (and by the way--this is not a new
"story" as some people have claimed; at least 100 people in the Book Industry were privy to the fact that I had brain cancer, over 50 people came to visit
me at Loma Linda hospital; so this is in no way a new disclosure. People knew
I had brain cancer).

What can I tell you? It was a horrid experience. But nothing was more lethally
painful or dangerous than going into an operation with KIMORA telling me only
an hour before that she had "slept with my man" and that he (my man) would not be there for me when I woke up--because he was leaving the country with
her for a vacation.  Right before being whisked into BRAIN SURGERY!! 

There's a lot that I always leave out of this story.  There's a child involved and I
don't want to reveal that dimension.  But someday when I do die, that story will be coming out Kimora.  Just be glad that I'm nice enough to leave it out right now.  In fact, be glad this entire PRESS STATEMENT is so "mild" --because deep
down, I don't want to destroy Djimon's image career or destroy you in the public's eye; which would affect your children.

It's one thing to lose your fake marriage...but quite another to be exposed as
other less likeable things that could affect your life achievement and ability to
provide for your children.

Though I did you dirt by screwing Djimon all through your fake marriage; my dirt towards you is still much less severe.

I could have seriously died in that surgery or been completely brain damaged.
The TRAUMA of being told such cruel news right before the cutting could have left my children motherless.  And again, I'm not going to mention the other child--the one I miscarried and the circumstances surrounding that.

But let it be known that I have never forgiven Kimora.  And I never will.
She hurt my life with her selfishness and her inability to see me as more
than a 'Colored Side-kick' there to prop up her Princess role.

She is just...amazingly "unaware" of what she is and what she does to
people.  She neither cares nor remembers.

And I will never forgive you for that Kimora.

Try all you want to convince people that I'm some lunatic "jealous black
bitter chick
" who just randomly chose a B-List movie actor and his FAB
celeb wife to target with made up stories and abuse.

Why didn't I pick a bigger star, Kimora, like Denzel Washington or 
Will Smith? I mean...why wouldn't I pick celebrities that could get me
some REAL publicity since you seem to think this scandal is making me
popular and beloved?

Wow. You are such the grand selfish American LADY. 

But right, you don't know Kola and all of this is happening for "no reason" an award winning bestselling author *who you don't know* and is just
Black, ugly and jealous of you for being a Princess who's FAB.

Remember that day on Rodeo Drive when I slapped the living shit out of
you Kimora??  Remember how you ran across the street in your pink sweat
suit screaming, "Call the the police!" because your face was
stinging like ACID was in it?

I am so glad I did that.  I think of that moment often and it gives me
great comfort knowing I slapped you like an Old Southern Black Church
woman would do it. 

You are so lucky that I don't want to destroy Djimon's career or cause
unnecessary damage to your children's lives by posting all the ammunition
that I could be posting. But it's not worth it. I wouldn't gain anything and it would hurt me to see Djimon and the kids hurt.  And right before Father's
Day, too. It's not worth it to me to hurt them that deeply.

But you, I don't care about.


You got so indignant Kimora last year when my novel "The Sexy Part of the Bible" came out and everyone kept telling you that the lead character
SeaHorse Twee was based on Djimon.

You got angry and called Djimon "Crispy ass" after my friend Bilal sent
Djimon an email saying if there's a movie made of the novel, Djimon would
have to play SeaHorse.

Well not only is the character of SeaHorse "inspired" by Djimon, Kimora.
But the fiery sex between Eternity and SeaHorse is basically the sex life of
me and your man.

And pages 138 through 141 of the book is all about your sorry ass Kimora.
It's about that little argument you and Djimon had over the baby's hair
texture and Djimon wishing for a nappier texture. Haha! Remember that?
Well Page 138 to 141 is for you.

Read it and see just what Djimon REALLY thinks of you.  I'm sure it's part
of why he walked out.

And I'm not even going to ignore the PLASTIC SURGERY you started having in
late March (because Djimon walked on you).  Others who saw you just a few
days ago in Vegas probably noticed your newly "gaunt" face--sucked of its
Subcutaenous fat and pitched with "makeshift" cheekbones.  Too bad you
waited for Big D to leave to lose weight and get the plastic surgery, but
it's so ....noticeable.  Girl, between you and Vivica Fox I just don't know.

So here we are with Russell Simmons and the legal papers you sent.

And Russell's threats and smear campaigns...attempting to stop me
from posting this Statement. 

Russell Simmon's Threats
Yesterday June 13th 2012, in an attempt to stop this Official Statement, Kimora Lee Simmons sent me legal documents that appeared to be a lawsuit for 'mental cruelty' (against her).
There was also a blue backed "lawyer threat" asking me to stop talking about the couple on Twitter or in public--or else. I told Kimora that I was not intimidated
and that would kick her ass in court.

This was followed by representatives of "DADDY RUSSELL" (Russell Simmons) trying to cut deals with me not to post a statement and to just "fade out."
Kimora suddenly wasn't sure if she wanted to sue me after all. Money and gifts were mentioned.

Before that, when this thing first broke, those same folks offering money and gifts had been hinting that Russell might do a "Suge Knight" on me and that I'd
better be afraid for my life.  I told them that I could arrange to have Russell killed as well and let's go for it--pit my Arab-African army against Russell's booty-bust'n EBT Card army.

Luckily, we became friendlier and pay-off offers replaced the macho murder


Just hours ago, the NY DAILY NEWS published an article about the back forth
"deals offered" and Kimora's wishy-washy lawsuit plans:

 Link:  Kimora to sue Kola?

As a writer (and all writers are starving right now)...I could use the money.  But I have chosen instead to have my say...because though some people just won't believe my side of the story no matter what I do; I want it known that I didn't go out the door allowing Djimon to dismiss me as a liar.  I want it known that I stood my ground and spoke for myself, regardless of public favoritism for him and Kimora.  And that he got some cat scratches out of this.


To convince the media and others that I'm "insane"....Russell Simmons had his tentacles to start sending out information about my history with Mental Institutions.

I was born Naima Bint Harith in Omdurman, Sudan.

At age 6, after I saw my parents murdered in front of me, I was sent to my Egyptian grandmother (my birth father's mother) Najet in Kom Ombo.  My grandmother got permission from the Mullahs to put me up for adoption because my skin was "too dark."  My grandmother Najet even informed me, a 6 year old child, that the Kolbookeks has spent 120 years breeding the Black out of our family--and she didn't want me bringing it back in.  She said she couldn't pass
me as the Dinka maid's child, because I had the exact face of the Kolbookek family--just dipped in cocoa.

I cannot tell you how devastating this was for me as a 6 year old.  By the time UNICEF found me a home with Black Americans in Washington D.C. (my loving adoptive parents Marvin & Claudine taking over); I was an extremely damaged little girl. From age 8 to 19, I became an "out patient" Psychiatric Care case.  I also wet the bed from age 8 to 19.

Russell Simmons made it a point to use the facts about me being treated by the Psychiatric Ward at John Hopkin's hospital from age 8 to 19 to make it look as though I'm mentally insane.

For many it has worked and there's nothing I can do. Despite my achievements as an author of 10 books published in 8 countries, people all over the internet keep referring only my "brain surgery" and history of mental childhood mental illness as factors in why I shouldn't express myself or have a say.  I think it's despicable and he's a "Turtle without a shell pillow-biting asswipe." 

I never loved Osama...I survived Osama and was held by him against my will.

Somehow, the general public has never bothered to read up on our history. They just assume I was his **willing** girlfriend who loved him.

That's camel shit! 

They use terms like "Dating" (when there's no such thing as dating in the Arab world).  They don't realize that I originally denied being involved with him until the London Guardian outed me as his "mistress" and the U.S. government threatened me and my children with deportation.

I was later deemed to be "innocent" by the U.S. government when Prince Ruspoli (the owner of the estate where Osama Bin Laden kept me) told the U.S. government that I was there against my will as a 'sex slave.'

Amazingly, people don't bother to know what they're talking about and demonize as some loving willing partner of Osama's. I did not love him. I survived him.  I'm glad he's dead and I'm grateful for President Obama making the world a better place by killing Osama.


People keep claiming that Kimora is more beautiful than me. They specifically say that I am "too dark" and  ugly...that I look like a man (I happen to love 'Trannies' though I'm not one)....and that no Black man would want me. But notice my home, purchased by a wonderful Black ex-husband, is bigger than Kimora's. I live in a $3 million dollar house on the ranch my ex-husband bought me and have my own private lake.

When it comes to beauty----Americans (and especially Black Americans) don't know what the hell they're talking about.  They think anyone who doesn't have light skin or look Eurocentric or Spaniard or Asian automatically goes on the
bottom.  They also think beauty is the only thing men want.

They forget that Prince Charles dumped beautiful Diana to marry Camilla
Parker Bowles.  They forget that President Clinton had an affair with a Fat
not all that glamorous Monica Lewinsky. They forget about Arnold Swarzenegar
and his frumpy stressed Maid.  Just a few examples of why beauty doesn't mean shit if a woman has other powers.

 So let the anonymous internet surfers with their broke McDonald-employed asses and biracial but still aint got a man selves call me "dark ugly man-looking ape"....whatever. The fact is, I came a very long way from a barefoot little orphan in war torn Sudan.  My challenges and illnesses have been great...but like a classic Black African woman...I made a way out of no way.  I triumphed.
I Kola Boof, am beautiful.

Reference: Kola goes to bed

Wednesday 21 August 2013


India: the Story You Never Wanted to Hear , is an article written by Rose Chasm, about her experience in India.

Click to read CNN's disclaimer on the article

When people ask me about my experience studying abroad in India, I always face the same dilemma. How does one convey the contradiction that over the past few months has torn my life apart, and convey it in a single succinct sentence?

“India was wonderful," I go with, "but extremely dangerous for women.” Part of me dreads the follow-up questions, and part of me hopes for more. I'm torn between believing in the efficacy of truth, and being wary of how much truth people want.

Because, how do I describe my three months in the University of Chicago Indian civilizations program when it was half dream, half nightmare? Which half do I give?

Do I tell them about our first night in the city of Pune, when we danced in the Ganesha festival, and leave it at that? Or do I go on and tell them how the festival actually stopped when the American women started dancing, so that we looked around to see a circle of men filming our every move?

Do I tell them about bargaining at the bazaar for beautiful saris costing a few dollars a piece, and not mention the men who stood watching us, who would push by us, clawing at our breasts and groins?

When people compliment me on my Indian sandals, do I talk about the man who stalked me for forty-five minutes after I purchased them, until I yelled in his face in a busy crowd?

Do I describe the lovely hotel in Goa when my strongest memory of it was lying hunched in a fetal position, holding a pair of scissors with the door bolted shut, while the staff member of the hotel who had tried to rape my roommate called me over and over, and breathing into the phone?

How, I ask, was I supposed to tell these stories at a Christmas party? But how could I talk about anything else when the image of the smiling man who masturbated at me on a bus was more real to me than my friends, my family, or our Christmas tree? All those nice people were asking the questions that demanded answers for which they just weren't prepared.

When I went to India, nearly a year ago, I thought I was prepared. I had been to India before; I was a South Asian Studies major; I spoke some Hindi. I knew that as a white woman I would be seen as a promiscuous being and a sexual prize. I was prepared to follow the University of Chicago’s advice to women, to dress conservatively, to not smile in the streets. And I was prepared for the curiosity my red hair, fair skin and blue eyes would arouse.

But I wasn't prepared.

There was no way to prepare for the eyes, the eyes that every day stared with such entitlement at my body, with no change of expression whether I met their gaze or not. Walking to the fruit seller's or the tailer's I got stares so sharp that they sliced away bits of me piece by piece. I was prepared for my actions to be taken as sex signals; I was not prepared to understand that there were no sex signals, only women's bodies to be taken, or hidden away.

I covered up, but I did not hide. And so I was taken, by eye after eye, picture after picture. Who knows how many photos there are of me in India, or on the internet: photos of me walking, cursing, flipping people off. Who knows how many strangers have used my image as pornography, and those of my friends. I deleted my fair share, but it was a drop in the ocean-- I had no chance of taking back everything they took.

For three months I lived this way, in a traveller's heaven and a woman's hell. I was stalked, groped, masturbated at; and yet I had adventures beyond my imagination. I hoped that my nightmare would end at the tarmac, but that was just the beginning. Back home Christmas red seemed faded after vermillion, and food tasted spiceless and bland. Friends, and family, and classes, and therapy, and everything at all was so much less real than the pain, the rage that was coursing through my blood, screaming so loud it deafened me to all other sounds. And after months of elation at living in freedom, months of running from the memories breathing down my neck, I woke up on April Fool's Day and found I wanted to be dead.

The student counselors diagnosed me with a personality disorder and prescribed me pills I wouldn't take. After a public breakdown I ended up in a psych ward for two days held against my will, and was released on the condition that I took a "mental leave of absence" from school and went to live with my mother. I thought I had lost my mind; I didn't connect any of it to India-- I had moved on. But then a therapist diagnosed me with PTSD and I realized I hadn't moved a single inch. I had frozen in time. And I’d fallen. And I’d shattered.

But I wasn't the only one, the only woman from my trip to be diagnosed with PTSD, to be forced into a psych ward, to wake up wanting to be dead. And I am not the only woman who is on a mental leave of absence from the University of Chicago for reasons of sexual assault and is unable to take classes.

Understanding my pain has helped me own it, if not relieve it. PTSD strikes me as a euphemism, because a syndrome implies a cure. What, may I ask, is the cure for seeing reality, of feeling for three months what its like for one's humanity to be taken away? But I thank God for my experiences in India, and for my disillusionment. Truth is a gift, a burden, and a responsibility. And I mean to share it.

This is the story you don't want to hear when you ask me about India. But this is the story you need.

Mena: They say she has taken a mental leave of absence, this however is her perception of the experiences she had

Saturday 10 August 2013


So something odd happened recently A Nigerian man, I repeat naijaman wrote that Nigerian men are terrible in bed...Please read on
.....I mean you have seen the way men drive in Nigeria: fast and furious, in a hurry to get nowhere! Might it be that the way a man drives is a reflection of his bedtime activity? And, of course, I also wanted to ask: Is the lack of good sex driving women to fat in Nigeria?
You must have seen the scene before, where, after copulating, the man looked like the cat that got the cream, while the woman looked despondent and was busy searching under the pillow, the bed and in the wardrobe: for her orgasm!
Anyway, added to the above is the rising incidence of rape, marital strives and divorce due to adultery, which further underlines the problem. Every day, you hear of some woman killed by an irate husband because of this issue.
For God’s sake, what is the fun in forcing a woman to have sex, or by rape? Why would you date rape or even rape your wife? The real joy is making a woman want you — just you — again and again.

The problem
It seems that one of the biggest problems men face is knowing how to make love to a woman! Unfortunately, what commonly happens is that young men get their sexual advice from friends or from pornographic films and books. As a result, they have a distorted view of what it is actually about.
We need to re-educate men about what it means to love a woman. Sadly, of course, I am not an expert on sex matters and these articles are to inform, educate and, maybe, even to just brighten up your day.
Here, for your reading pleasure, is the synthesis of ‘How to make love to a woman’ from women’s point of view. This is what women want.

Love-making, not sex
The first thing men need to know is that women prefer to call it “making love.” ‘Sex’ sounds like a question and is very clinical. Sex? Oh yes, I am female! Thank you very much. So, this article is not an exposé on sex. If you want sex, then please see the girls on Gimbiya Street in Abuja. Or sort yourself out!
However, if you really want to know how to make love; if you want the woman to say, ‘Thank you’ afterwards or to come over the next time, seemingly having forgotten her knickers at home, then you should follow a proven system that is guaranteed to give pleasure to a woman.

Communicating your interest and intentions is very important. Ensuring that the woman of your dream knows that you care about her, and want her, is important. However, talk is also cheap, unless followed by good intentions and action. Communication can also be subtle and non verbal.
A lot of Nigerian men do not engage in making eye contact, holding hands, smiling, winking, stroking, cuddling, kissing, laughing, embracing, etc.

Never forget that making love is a whole body and mind experience. Cuddling, hugging and just being close together reassure women and promise safety. Women say that a good number of men are selfish partners who tend to initiate sex when it suits them and have little or no thought about their partners. Some women go through with it perfunctorily, as a duty.

Focus, timing, location
Planning, timing, focus and the right location are important. A woman will more than likely agree to have you if privacy is assured. Choose the location carefully, communicate the idea early and allow her to simmer — just for you. For most women, sex is in the mind: A woman needs to make love to you in her mind first.

Use protection
This is important and goes without saying. An annoying trend noticed among Nigerian men is the fact that they won’t buy their own protection (condoms). Why would you put your woman to risk? Part of the protection also includes your personal hygiene. Hygiene is important to women. Hygiene includes a bath, clean noses, ears, trim nails and clean shave (including the armpits).
Also, please wash your hands before touching a woman’s privates to avoid transmitting infection from car doors and household things.

Pleasure and fun
Take your time and really enjoy every individual sensation. That is how women do it. You need to learn how to listen to a woman’s body. It will tell you what she wants, just like yours tells her. Take it slow, so slow it hurts. It is rare that a slow pace will bore a woman.

Ensure mutual fun
The goal of sex is not just your orgasm but ecstasy for both partners. Love-making is not a movie set where everyone concentrates on his/her script. You do need to listen to her body — that is the most important thing.
While it is nice to occasionally focus on her exquisite spot, keep moving, doing things with your tongue and hands all over her. However, do not feel the need to work towards an orgasm, and do not lose your confidence if she doesn’t come every time.

Some women like to talk after sex and some don’t, so follow her cues. Talk to your woman, express your pleasure, praise her prowess, subtly point out any shortcomings and teach what she may seem to lack — so that she keeps getting better for you.
This is also the best time for cuddling. Most men hate this part, but many women only have sex at all to get to this part.
Okay. That’s it. Do feel free to read and share widely. Also, please communicate by sending in your thoughts, opinions and replies through the website. I cannot wait for your thoughts on this interesting topic

written by
Dr. Biodun Ogungbo(

Monday 5 August 2013



I just had to blog about this wonderful work Stella is doing. But first the little I know about stella, I discovered her from National Encomium, when I was based in Lagos. I found her column interesting. She has a very humorous style of writing, creative, and very very daring. Then I left Africa and searched for Nigeria related news and discovered her in blogspot, I instantly followed her, till she stopped posting there and opened her own website. Naturally I followed her again.

Now back to the main story, she started a series on Domestic Abuse, where victims could write anonymously and just share their experiences. Please click on the following link below

Domestic Violence Diary 1

Domestic Violence Diary 2

Domestic Violence Diary 3

Please read and I hope it provokes something in you....


Have a great day

Friday 2 August 2013

SOME FAMILIAR LYRICS THIS WAY LIES..PLS *Naughty minds like mine should try and NOT read the other meaning to the photo*

True stories, Miracles, True blessings, All because of love

I've gone through the fire and I've been through the flood I've been broken into pieces seen lightnin' flashin' from above

I've run out of answers I've run out of time And I'm so confused that I'm loosin' my mind

Its gonna take a miracle to help me this time I'm traveling a road that has not one sign

But through it all I remember that He loves me And He cares and He'll never put more on me than I can bear

I'm carryin' a load that's to heavy for me Have no where to go so I'm down on my knee

I'm tryin to see the forest but there's this one tree Can't understand why I'm shakin' so deep

Now I've been sitting in the chair waiting on the phone to ring Praying up to God that someone would call me with a job opening

Cause its been so hard for me month to monthStruggling to eat but still there was no answer(no answer)

I stopped believing in his word And got so mad at himWhen somebody say Gods good I just laugh at them(oh yeah)

And in the nick of time his blessing rained on meBy his grace the phone ring a lady says were hiring
And that's when I knew

Oh something inside me telling me the morning will come (Morning will Come) Yes it will Oh sometimes its hard to face the truth so we run (We Run)

I was in the aisle of the grocery store With a pain in my chest and I'm wondering where did it come from

(I got tested)and the results came back and the doctor said I'm sorry but you got cancer

I could not believe it so I called up my mama to calm my nerve(mama)she got down on her knees (mama)she said a prayer for me

(mama) said just keep on thanking Jesus (mama)he'll give you all you need That was five years ago don't have that pain no mo

Doc says you can go home cause all your cancers gone.....

God if you care at all please don't let me fall by the wayside (Oh No)Please be my guide, would you light my path...

Take Me, Shape Me, Mold Me, Change Me, Teach Me, Fill Me, Save Me

But through it all I remember that He loves me And He cares and He'll never put more on me than I can bear

His word said he won't (I believe it) I believe it (I received It) I received it (Yes I claim it) I claim it (It's mine)

It's mine (My deliverance) It's mine (My healing) It's mine (My joy) It's mine

Have an awesome August :-)