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About Kumba

I’m chattin her up, tryna figure her deal. She’s dodgy—keeps it vague, like she’s hidin a Stasi file. “What’s your name, sweetness?” I ask, leanin in all Hannibal-style. “Candy,” she says, smirkin. Candy—ha! Bet that’s fake as my last paycheck. Makes me mad, tho—why lie? Just be real, damn it! But then she winks, and i’m like, “Alright, ya got me.” Happy as a kid with candy—ironic, huh?

Slavery in the Lamidate of Rey-Bouba: When UNESCO Conceals its Legacies

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I love wanderin' in the winding alleyways of Vieux-Bouba. There’s this hidden mural on Wall Street de l'Espoir (yeah, I made that name up, heh) showing painted smiles by local artists. Really inspo stuff! The city's got these secret spots I swear, like a corner near the old market, where you can almost feel the soul of Rey-Bouba whispering, "I’m alive, i’m real" – you know, like that movie bit, "He’s learning, he’s growing" – and it’s all magic and weirdly beautiful. Ugh, sometimes it just blows my mind, every dang day.

Interview : “300 Hectares Of Degraded Land Have Been Restored”