the writing nib

Author: Nibwene

  • #3 post-midnight thoughts on professional aspirations and idealism

    It’s 1am. I’m on the couch listening to Eras Tour acoustic sets. This is the hour my mind comes alive. I am, by definition, a night owl.

    I’ve been thinking lately that I don’t really like what I’ve done with my professional life so far. I’ve spent most of my 20s chasing after a certain type of career only to hit a wall I can’t break. I know, how glass half empty of me. If the glass can be full, then why not have it that way? Why settle for less? My feelings about my professional life are not a revelation if you’ve spent time on this blog. Every night I start dreaming before I even lay my head in bed. I want to do things that sometimes seem out of my reach. Or maybe I’m too scared?

    I took one of those personality tests years ago and then again about half a year later as recommended. I won’t tell you what letters were assigned to my “personality”, but turns out that I’m an idealistic person. I could’ve told you this myself when I was eight years old. After the 2008 economic crisis, I was so worried for my parents that I tried to “save” Christmas by selling old newspapers to the local shop. I did sell some newspapers, but the money I made was just enough to buy about a kilo of rice. The equivalent of one US dollar in those times. It turns out they didn’t need my saving. After all, I was only eight years old. But back then I really had this thought that I could and should do it.

    In my adult life, every idea I have has to be cross-checked with the fact that I am just an individual. That I don’t need to be the one doing the thing.

    When I was 22 I thought I would do big things in my career in the climate world. I was so passionate about saving the planet and this feeling grew once I learned of the energy access statistics: more than half a million people (655 million according to the IEA) lack access to electricity. Most of these are in Africa. On top of that, nearly a billion Africans lack access to clean cooking fuels. These are crazy numbers with all the technology (solar and whatnot) and money available in the continent.

    Therefore, a few years ago I convinced myself that I would and should working in the energy access space. I even wrote my master’s thesis on energy access in Tanzania, where I’m from. For years, I had been putting together a list of any organisations out there doing this kind of work. I was prepared, or so I thought.

    This week, I did the McKinsey game “Solve” which is the first step in their recruitment process after submitting an application. Last week, I was aimlessly checking for open positions at other big-name consultancies and some questionable companies. I would’ve judged myself harshly just a year ago. I was invited to do the McKinsey “game” in January 2025 because I had applied for a position and didn’t end up doing the “game” because I felt that it was too much work for a job at a company that I didn’t exactly align with. I wouldn’t say I feel aligned today, but I like to get paid and I hear the money is good there. If anyone at McKinsey is reading this, let’s get in touch. I need a referral, please.

    And every time I think of salaries I’m reminded of an entry-level job I applied for in late 2024 at a very well-known international climate NGO that I won’t name. The application demanded a CV, cover letter, a master’s education and experience. The before tax salary was to be under 35,000 euros. In this economy?! Unfortunately this isn’t even unusual in the climate NGO world.

    So I sit here at 1am wondering where my newly acquired perspective on professional pursuits will lead me to. I’m still applying for jobs that I used to dream of but I’m not 22-year-old Nibwene anymore who might have believed that it is completely fine to work for a high profile organisation for what is just a few steps from minimum wage, as long as it was for the cause.

    Lately, I’ve been watching (not bingeing) Babylon Berlin on ARD. I never got into it for some reason but maybe it was for the best because now I can watch it in German and easily grasp about 97% of what’s being said (I made up this number, but you know that. I was born in 1997). It’s interesting because I’ve noticed some idealistic characters in it who are trying their best to protect democracy as society descends into Nazism. What I can say is that the country was cooked back then. Nazis or otherwise, there was no chance for the Weimar Republic from how I see it.

    This is what it feels like with the climate stuff at the moment. Heat waves, droughts, wildfires, unusual weather patterns, climate skeptic heads of state, “refine baby, refine” (that’s my article; you should read that), etc. It’s quite literally going down. So, perhaps a job in the space because one is passionate or whatever would be too much for an individual, especially when one has to endure a lot of disappointment and depression over a long period just to get that one job.

  • #2 it’s august

    Eras Tour Hamburg N2 (24 July 2024)

    I’ve entered my sloth phase and it might get worse if I don’t intervene.

    Bratz meme

    It’s noon and I got out of bed about 40 minutes ago. Every morning I follow the same routine. I wake up and say “fuck”. Think of it as a sigh and groan combined. But sometimes I say it even when I’m happy and woken up at a healthy time.

    So, in the past weeks, I spent entire days a healthy amount of time watching YouTube videos. YouTube has been my companion since I was 15 years old. I love it there in every season, every mood, every everything. There’s nothing like a YouTube video. YouTube is to me what coffee is to those caffeine-addicted people, but it doesn’t cost me 7€ to watch one YouTube video. (I made up that amount because I don’t know how much coffee is). YouTube is where I first listened to august by Taylor Swift when folklore came out (coincidentally on 24 July, same date I went to the Eras Tour four years later). I think I spent hours and hours on YouTube that month watching the lyric video and feeling every emotion. You might say that August slipped away…

    My usual YouTube session, which would be hours-long, involves me unsubscribing from a channel, subscribing to a new channel that has been placed in my algorithm through divine intervention and a little window in which I quickly decide to check some news headlines before deciding I’d rather live without knowing. I had a dream a few months ago that we were getting bombed here in Berlin. It felt so real; I woke up in a panic. Now, imagine what all the people in Sudan, DR Congo and Gaza are experiencing. I wonder about the mental health state of children in these places in the future. It’s scary to imagine how a society can function when its children have suicidal thoughts, depression and almost endless cycles of trauma. Unfortunately, we’ll find out in a few years, that is, if they survive the violence and genocide.

    Here are some videos I watched recently that got me thinking about a lot of other things:

    The Facts About Men and Reading (US-centred)

    How HIV Started a Century Before Anyone Noticed

    How AI Became More Expensive Than The Workers It Replaced

    Researchers studied AI layoffs. Here’s their warning

    Neukölln: Deutschlands liebster Problembezirk || HYPECULTURE mit Gringo, Omar Nhas und Fayechanel

    FIFA’s Decades of Corruption Exposed

    Zoroastrianism Explained

    The last one is one of two videos about ancient religions that I have in my list. The other one is about Yazidism, but I haven’t watched it yet so I won’t link it here. Growing up in a country where the only religions one can (and should) follow are Christianity and Islam (and there’s a Hindu minority, of course, but not in my immediate social circles for most of my life), it’s interesting to learn what others have been up to.

    I also read this essay with some very concerning information. US-focused but definitely relevant everywhere: The End of Reading Is Here.

    I’ve also been reading the book At Night All Blood Is Black, a translated work by French novelist David Diop. It’s very graphic and we’re basically in the head of an African soldier from what is now Senegal, who is fighting for France during WWI. I bought it once someone casually mentioned it in an email and immediately decided to read it because I’m very fascinated by this concept of Africans fighting in European wars. You can read some things I wrote about this on my Substack, ubuyu: here and here.

    Today though I have to start reading The Polygamist by Zimbabwean author Sue Nyathi, the book on which the now-popular Netflix show is based on. I read something about the show on last week’s issue of The Continent and suggest it to my book club as our next reading. I’m sure a lot will be said in our next meeting.

    On the job front

    I found some jobs I can apply for that seem like a great fit (in my head; the recruiters probably won’t think this lol) and they happen to be at places I used to work at so let’s see how that goes. I even went to the library yesterday but it took me nearly four hours to write a cover letter for one job.

    meme

    I’m hoping that next time I write a post I’ll be sharing news of a job interview. That would be the best thing to happen this year.

    Until next time.

  • #1 July 2026 (unemployment diary)

    Hello, dear reader. I am officially unemployed, again. My last working day was a week ago on 8th July. It ended quite better than I expected and I’m grateful for that. I’m now a plant mom and she’s settled next to the bath tub where sunlight is brightest.

    I just had the idea yesterday to make regular blog posts about this phase of unemployment because I’m determined to enjoy it and share. So, here I am.

    This will be a series of posts in which I share my thoughts and tell you what I did in my week(s) of unemployment. I have some exciting travel plans for next month which I’m also looking forward to sharing!

    What I’m doing is not a new concept. Last year, I was watching unemployment TikToks and I realised that I very much wanted to do the same: share and talk about this confusing period, but I’m camera-shy and I can’t stand having to be on TikTok everyday because the algorithm punishes you if you’re not active. By the way, I think I deleted my TikTok account a few months ago. Who knows? I’m happy to be completely unattached to it, although it can be quite fun.

    One of my priorities in this new era (I realise, as I’m typing this, that I overuse this word) of unemployment is not to waste time consuming so I’m not even on Instagram (since spring, I can’t even remember when exactly) and I deleted my Twitter two years ago. One day late last summer I just uninstalled the Instagram app and that was it. I thought I would go back to it, but every time I reinstalled it to post something, it felt off like there was more to life than scrolling and looking at people’s lives through a screen, especially people I don’t know. The next step might just be deletion. Let’s see.

    The desire to live more outside the digital world is what prompted me to start my book club in December last year – and it’s still going, by the way. I’ve been reading books throughout the year. When I had a job, I would come home around noon and eat, then sit on the sofa and read until I fell asleep. OK, there were also times when I watched Gravity Falls until I fell asleep. The fact is that I have significantly reduced my time on social media. It feels good to read and be present even if just in my not-so-new apartment arranging and re-arranging things. If I ever get a job again I want to look back at this time and be satisfied with the things I experienced and learned.

    This past weekend I had one of the best ice-creams I’ve ever had at one of the gentrified cafes in Prenzlauer Berg (I won’t name it because I’m not getting paid). On the weekend before that I was in the south east of Berlin along the Spree for a Black women’s hangout at an art space which I got invited to by someone from my book club who’s an art nerd (complimentary) and art world professional. There was an exhibition by a Colombian visual artist Iván Argote, who also does many other cool things, including some designs for the new Spreepark. All this made me realise, once again, that there’s a world beyond webinars and panels and policy reports (you should read mine though) and networking and the feelings of self-importance that come with the professional spaces I’ve been in.

    Seeing how free people in creative fields are to imagine and re-imagine worlds that are not rigidly formulaic is refreshing. Not saying that studying politics or international affairs is like this (we got a lot of room to be creative in our thinking and research) but in the professional fields typically associated with international affairs/relations, there is less room to be different and creative in your work in comparison. There’s also less interest in bringing expertise from elsewhere when it could have the most impact. In many cases, you have to have the right passport for the work even when the work transcends borders and regions, so from the start, whatever will be implemented is going to follow along a certain path that is limited by the pool of potential holders of said position. This is something that I’ve struggled with because it shattered my previously-held belief that all this work was done to “save the world”.

    Imagine if the Oscars were only for American movies. Hollywood would get lazy, I think, and less interested in telling stories that speak to the human and not simply the American. What is there now is a space where great filmmakers, be it from South Korea or Norway or Brazil can compete and push each other to look at things differently and try new methods.

    I’m happy that I’m expanding my social circle beyond the “policy” world, which I’m now disillusioned with. I’ve been thinking that, perhaps, this new era (lol) can be a time to explore creative possibilities. I think the universe is trying to send me a message. I’m listening.

    today’s pre-match dinner: Turkish pasta (vegan). 10/10
  • Romanticising and unromanticising life in Dar es Salaam

    Romanticising and unromanticising life in Dar es Salaam

    Earlier this year, I was in bed sick for the second time in a month. Another case of tonsilitis. This one was so severe that I had an emergency doctor visit at midnight on a weekend. I didn’t eat for a week. Several times during that week, I found myself longing for home, Dar es Salaam. I have gotten tired of existing in the hamster wheel, an accurate description of my life as of that point in time. In Berlin, I have to worry about getting the same illness multiple times every winter, affording rent, getting a job to sustain an existence, numerous bureaucratic subplots that never seem to go away and much more. I started to romanticise Dar once again.

    Wavuvi Kempu, by me. Taken in August 2023

    In Dar, I wouldn’t have to worry about rent even without a job and I could realistically own my own house with sizeable flower and vegetable gardens in a couple of years on a decent-ish income. I would have to learn how to drive and get a car, but that’s fine: I could get a remote job, so I don’t have to deal with traffic regularly. I would have easier access to Swahili literature again and get to see the ocean every day. And if I were to have a kid, I would have enough support without having to send them to a Kita.

    “What am I even doing here?” is what I’ve been asking myself for the last two years. I can’t find the jobs I want (or get interviews). I walk into certain cafes in the city and get stared down like I don’t belong there and have people clutch their ugly bags the moment I pass by (these two things happened to me in March at a cafe on Chausseestraße). I hate the months-long winter and negative temperatures.

    I came to Germany 9 years ago at twenty years old. I was a skinny girl from Dar with dark pink kids’ glasses because they’re what fit my tiny head. I was on the fence about staying here long, but over the years, I’ve come to identify with certain things, especially the degree of freedom that I have here as opposed to what I had or could have had in Tanzania. That’s one thing that makes all this difficult. Do I really want to lose my independence? Do I want to be questioned about not going to church every Sunday? Do I want to receive messages every few weeks from people I barely know asking for wedding and send-off contributions?

    Do I really really want to live in Dar?

    I guess I don’t, actually, and right now it feels like no amount of money or job would change that. I like the idea of being there but not actually living there. I like the thought of staying there just long enough to be able to capture the essence of the society that has changed so much since I left and the cultures within it, for my writing, because I long to write more about home. Long enough could mean a lifetime, but when I think of spending that lifetime experiencing the mundane, the physical, mental and political exhaustion, the extremely normalised misogyny, I reconsider.

    A confession

    To me, Dar was never more than the ocean, critical observations of hustle culture and a constant longing for freedom. I grew up in the suburbs of Dar es Salaam in gated homes, as many others in Tanzania do, but we left the house only for school, family functions, and to play with our cousins or the one or two friends who all lived within walking distance from our home. I wasn’t allowed to go out. I had to teach myself restaurant etiquette when I was 18 while hanging out with friends in places I wasn’t allowed to be. I had to lie to my mom about where I was to calm her down, even when it was bright outside. With the exception of my high school prom night which was at a fancy restaurant in the city centre, I have never experienced night life in Dar. I have never been to brunch in Dar, which I think would be really cool, actually, because Tanzanian food is top-tier. I have been to one wedding in my conscious life when I was 12 years old. I spent most of my free time at home, where there was no shortage of things to get lost in and worlds to imagine.

    For someone who barely lived in the city, I romanticise Dar quite a lot: brunch at overpriced cafes, trips to Zanzibar, the occasional soiree. In reality, I would have to rebuild my social life because most of my friends have left the country. How do I explain to people that I’m not religious anymore? One would be surprised how much of an issue this is in a “secular” country. Being the ever-opinionated person that I am, I would surely regularly find myself in arguments with people about everything: politics, gender roles, entertainment, etc. Now, the discussion would be cut short by saying that I’m too Europeanised, which is stupid because I was always like this, and believing in gender equality and other progressive ideas is not European ffs. My extended family would tell you how I used to argue with them in our WhatsApp chat like I was paid to do it.

    The thing is, there are many reasonably-priced cafes in Berlin that I can walk into without feeling uncomfortable. And that’s the major difference I’m observing: many of the issues I’ve faced here can just be ignored or worked around, but in Dar, I would be demonised if I ever spoke against religion or if I chose to dress or act a certain way that doesn’t align with so-called “African values”, and the list goes on. Society is more involved in the individual’s life in Tanzania, and that bothers me to my core.

    What I, and you who’ve been romanticising home, need is a break from the hamster wheel. Get a one-way ticket during the harsh winter and spend a few months at home in holiday mode: enjoying great food, proper beaches, the warm weather and visiting family just long enough to stay within the guest label. I’m convinced that a 2-month trip back home would heal me. So here’s to me hoping to post an article or several from Dar es Salaam sometime in the coming year. For now, I’ll stay put in the chaos of Berlin.

    But nothing is ever certain, is it?

  • All I do is try, try, try

    All I do is try, try, try

    When I was in high school, I told my friends I wanted to become president of my country one day (This is extremely hilarious because I‘m from Tanzania). A step above what I had told my dad a bit more than a decade ago that I wanted to become a minister…of what? I don’t know. I was ten. I was just patriotic.

    In my last two years of schooling, I attended one of those fancy international schools because I was a smart kid™. My O Level grades were not perfect, but something to boast about back then: I had four As, including in MATHS! (thirteen years later and I’m still shook. I only got Cs and Ds in my tests). I wrote a great application essay for a scholarship at the school that would later become my school. I passed the written exams which were algebra (ugh) and writing, and the interview in which I had conversations with seven people for ten minutes each. I somehow managed to convince them that I had big dreams worth investing in and that I believed in my ability to achieve those dreams one day.

    At 29, most of those dreams I had have either faded or been crushed by the brutality of capitalism and forces beyond my individual power.

    The first dream to fade was that of becoming a doctor, although I’m not even sure I can call this a “dream”. I didn’t even want to become a doctor, but a miscommunication during a conversation with a family member led to “Nibwene wants to become a doctor” being repeated at family gatherings for several years. I was good at Biology and excellent at O Level Chemistry. So, I thought, why not? Doctors make decent money. In my first year of the IB program, I got a 4 (a solid mid in the IB grading scale) in my Chemistry HL (higher level) final. I wasn’t even bothered. I was just happy I got a great grade in History HL. I enjoyed learning history as much as I did in my O Level education. Adding to my knowledge of African history, I learned about the tensions in Western Asia since 1948, the Cold War, the civil rights movements in the Americas and democracy in India and South Africa. I even wrote a paper on the rights of Indigenous People in Canada. We regularly watched historical dramas and documentaries in the school’s cinema. Our history teacher, the Australian globe-trotting Argentinian-tea-drinking Mr Hunt, shared interesting articles in politics and history on a Facebook page he had created for the class and, I think, he was a communist.

    By grade 12, I wanted nothing to do with STEM. I was set on studying political science, international relations, or even writing (gasp) in university. I decided to give it a shot and try getting into the IR world. I ended up studying IR (and political science, I guess) and history for my bachelor’s and international affairs and EU governance for my master’s.

    With only an IB Diploma to my name, I got an internship at the United Nations Climate Change (UNFCCC) HQ in Bonn, an experience that changed my life (overall positive). I went on to do internships and student jobs at other prestigious dreamy places yearned for by IR students: the International Renewable Energy Agency, Germany’s GIZ, the Research Institute for Sustainability and the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research. I grew my network and collected experience for work in the climate and energy sector. For five years, I was laser-focused on building myself for a full-time role in the sector, somewhere in Berlin, where I am, Bonn, where I previously was, or Brussels (*laughs in my non-EU passport*), where I now know I’ll never be. I even co-founded a student club for African Policy and led a cool week-long event with great speakers, lots of in-person and online guests, and great food! My graduation was at the Berliner Philharmonie on a beautiful summer day in 2024. I fully believed that the future was mine. In other words, I was delulu.

    graduation at berliner philharmonie (2024)

    And then the mass rejections came.

    I had received rejections before. This time it was too much for my frail little heart. At the same time, I was taking note of the nepotism and blatant discrimination in the hiring process in this particular field. It was sad because these are the same people who claim to be for fairness, human rights, sustainable development bla bla. I got all my previous positions by applying for them, so I thought it would always be that straightforward. I never knew anyone in the teams I worked in prior to joining, but now I heard that it’s all about “who you know”. Someone even told me not to apply for jobs if I don’t know anyone in the team/office hiring. Huh?

    In my unemployment era, which started exactly a week after the Eras Tour in Hamburg, there were several periods when I felt completely detached from reality. This can’t be real, I thought. I was the girl who had turned down an interview for an internship at the Green Climate Fund just four years prior because I had a better offer. Now, I was in people’s inboxes, both E-Mail and LinkedIn, desperately asking them if they had a job, any job, for someone like me. I got a total of two positive responses. One invited me to a chat that led nowhere, probably my own fault because I glitched when asked a technical question, and the other was encouraging and acknowledged that I’ve got “a really strong CV” in the areas they work in and that I should apply when positions are open. I had, in fact, applied for four positions just a few months prior, and, each time, I was ghosted.

    My ego was bruising faster than my bank account was depleting. I applied for a mentorship program for young women from my region (SADC – Southern Africa) in climate and energy which was supposed to be a year-long thing, but I terminated it after 8 months. I was in a dark place. I had started to fully spiral some time in the summer of 2025 after not getting a job following the only interview I had that entire year. That Monday, several hours after receiving the rejection E-Mail, I went to see Tyla at a club and allowed myself to dissociate as the same Amapiano hits were replayed every hour while the MC strung us along saying, Tyla is on her way, until she actually showed up at almost 1 am. Tuesday morning, basically. The ticket was 16€ so maybe I shouldn’t complain too much.

    Tyla at Maaya (Berlin, July 2025)

    My last proper job application was on 01 January this year. I sent what others and I thought was a very strong application for a position with an old employer. It was the perfect role for a recent graduate who was familiar with the specifics thanks to having worked in an adjacent team not too long ago. I even tried the who you know thing and asked an old colleague to put in a good word for me. After a long search, it finally felt like things might be working for me. An interview? I hope. A job? Let’s not jinx it, but OMG it could finally be time (some thoughts in my head from at that time).

    I got the rejection E-Mail a week later while I was at a Lidl with my partner stocking up for several snowy days ahead. Grocery shopping is one of my top 5 all-time favourite things to do (seriously), but after reading that E-Mail I wanted nothing more than to abandon everything we had in our cart and go home so I could cry until I passed out.

    Then, two months ago, I made this poster on Canva and said fuck it and posted it on LinkedIn.

    hire nibwene.

    You might have noticed the pattern if you made it to this point: rejection, crash out, try again. Believe me, I hate myself for it.

    The response to my poster was very positive. Don’t hold your breath though; I did not get a job offer simply because I couldn’t bring myself to apply for most positions that were shared with me because of the ridiculous requirements for experience and videos (wtf?!). Or maybe that’s just what I’ve been telling myself to avoid applying for anything. Staying away from the application process for nearly five months has helped me heal a tiny bit or, at the very least, kept me calm and untriggered long enough to feel okay and stop regretting my life choices. Who knows what another “we regret to inform you” might do to me. I know I have to get back into it at some point soon.

    To end this very long entry on a positive note, I did get one promising lead for a freelance gig because of my poster. Someone I didn’t know at all actually reached out to me after seeing it. In a different time, I would be scared to even mention it on the internet out of fear of bringing bad luck. But this is 2026 and not many of the established ideas and beliefs make sense anymore. To quote a famous songstress, I ain’t gotta knock on wood. This also made me realise that I want to be a freelancer for now so that I can continue to have the free time to explore my other interests and craft new less delulu dreams for myself. Without a doubt, my new dreams won’t involve politics (seriously, I don’t want to end up dead) and will be fully in line with the saying secure the bag.

    I’m still a believer and I don’t know why (mirrorball, Taylor Swift)