Decluttering: A Cultural Battleground of Minimalismpisode

Kwame Otieno Bala

Welcome to todays show, EVERYONE..

Kwame Otieno Bala

Maryam, Todays episode feeds onto an idea I have been thinking of the past couple of weeks, and that is Decluttering, or rather Minimalism. Your "clutter crisis" isn't about stuff. It's about how capitalism convinced you and me and everyone else that your ancestral ways of keeping a home is somehow wrong.

Kwame Otieno Bala

Let me ask this question: When did keeping your grandmother’s hand-me-down kitchen supplies become a problem? Seriously, like when? If you think about it, this whole obsession with decluttering, with tossing out anything that doesn’t fit into this ideal of a pristine, minimalist space, it’s not just about “tidying up,” is it? It runs much, much deeper than that.

Kwame Otieno Bala

The truth is, this anxiety around clutter—it’s not just stress about stuff lying around. Oh no, it’s cultural. It’s inherited. And honestly, it’s pretty colonial. Let me break this down. The idea of “excess,” of too much stuff as inherently wrong, takes root in a capitalist narrative: the one that tells us our value lies in how streamlined and efficient we are. But, let’s get real here. That streamlined lifestyle? Sterile countertops? It’s not universal, not even close.

Kwame Otieno Bala

Think about this for a second. In many African traditions, objects aren’t just objects. They’re stories. That chipped plate your mom won’t throw out? It’s not clutter. It fed your family on every important occasion, every celebration, every painful moment that brought everyone back to the table. That overflowing photo album shoved into a corner? It’s not disorganized. It’s a living, breathing archive of memory, a thread through time connecting you to generations before you.

Kwame Otieno Bala

Now, here’s the kicker. The whole minimalist movement? The one that’s all over Pinterest, or those apps that help you catalog and discard your stuff? Yeah, that, it has roots in colonial thinking. It pushes this idea that peace, clarity, even happiness only exist in a blank slate, in spaces so empty you could hear an echo. But do you know what’s lost in that? It’s the chaos that holds a community's soul.

Kwame Otieno Bala

When I visited my great-aunt’s home a few years ago, I’ll admit, at first glance, it was overwhelming. Tables crammed with mismatched mugs, walls lined with wooden carvings, sheets of faded newspaper stacked high. But then, as I sat and listened to her stories, piece by piece, it clicked. The mugs were gifts from friends who cared enough to share their Sunday tea with her. The carvings were from my uncle’s trips upcountry, symbols of craft, of connection. And the newspapers? Well, those kept the family tied to the struggles and triumphs of home even when the world outside seemed distant. Everything had a reason, a family connection. It was, messy? Sure. Meaningless? Not a chance.

Kwame Otieno Bala

And that’s where, honestly, Western minimalism falls flat. It looks at these homes, at spaces so full they seem alive, and it sees a mess. What it misses is that every item tells a story. These homes, they’re not disorganized—they’re curated galleries of survival, of abundance, of love.

Kwame Otieno Bala

So next time someone tells you to toss out those “excess” plastic containers or asks why you “need” all those family relics, here's something to think about: whose standard of beauty and order are they measuring by? And why should it matter more than the collective memory these objects hold? Lets start the show.

Maryam Bala

Now, Kwame, let’s talk about ubuntu. If you’ve never heard the word before, it’s this beautiful African philosophy that says, “I am because we are.” Simple words, but wow, they hold so much, right? And it’s—it’s kinda the opposite of how Western cultures often operate. In so many ways, ubuntu is about connection, about seeing yourself as part of this bigger, vibrant whole, not just an isolated individual.

Maryam Bala

Imagine this: a family compound in, say, Lagos or Accra or somewhere like that. It’s more than just a physical space. It’s a hub. Maybe there’s a courtyard where everyone gathers, a kitchen where you can always find a shared meal, and rooms full of people, full of shared lives. No one’s telling you, "Hey, your compound should look like this hyper-organized Airbnb with zero character." No, every corner, every little overflow, it’s full of life, memories woven into the day-to-day.

Kwame Otieno Bala

Thats right Maryam, Western sensibilities, though, might walk into that space and immediately see… well, they’d see chaos, wouldn’t they? But people living in an ubuntu worldview would see layers of connection, of community. That’s the key here: context. It's not messy; it’s meaningful.

Kwame Otieno Bala

And, okay, get this—it’s not just about physical spaces either. It shows up in the way we communicate. Take WhatsApp, for example. You probably have that family group chat that never, ever sleeps, or maybe you know of someone who does, you know i do have one Maryam. The one where everyone, from your aunties to your nieces, has a say—timelines be damned. Or those marathon voice notes—you know, the ones your uncle sends where he somehow greets twelve different people before he gets to the point?

Maryam Bala

Yeah Kwame, i know you use Whatsapp quite abit.....In a Westernized framework, that might seem inefficient, maybe even frustrating—but it’s, honestly, genius in its own way. It’s what ubuntu worldview looks like in a digital world. Everything ties back to relationships, to connections. You’re not just sending a message to one person. You’re talking to a web, a community. Every interaction reinforces, strengthens, acknowledges the ties that bind.

Maryam Bala

But here’s where it gets interesting—and, honestly, frustrating—when Western digital design tries to force this onto platforms that were never meant to embrace complexity like that. These platforms just, you know, they want to streamline everything. They want “clean” threads, clear start points, neat little archives. And in doing so, they kinda miss the whole point of how people actually connect, how ubuntu thrives in layers and overlaps.

Kwame Otieno Bala

Yeah, That group chat where everyone chimes in on your cousin’s decision to get married? That's ubuntu. That 12-minute voice note that seems like oversharing? That’s oral tradition refusing to die, even in a world of TikToks and tweets. It’s saying, loud and clear, "I am because we are."

Maryam Bala

Let’s talk about this idea of “tidying down.” It’s not a phrase you hear often, right? But it’s about exactly what it sounds like—slowing down, digging deeper, and reconnecting to what matters most. And honestly? It’s a way of flipping the script on all this pressure to purge and minimize, especially when that pressure kinda ignores the beauty of the mess.

Maryam Bala

Here’s a thought: What if the clutter we’re so quick to get rid of isn’t clutter at all? What if it’s memory? Think about family spaces, particularly in cultures where objects are more than things—they’re extensions of people. That mismatched set of plates in your mom’s cupboard? Those aren’t just dishes. They’re witnesses to decades of meals, of laughter, of stories shared over some really good jollof rice or pepper soup. They’re, like… anchors.

Maryam Bala

And when we “tidy down,” we’re allowing room for that. For the mess. For the layers of history our spaces carry. It’s about leaning into the stories, not erasing them. And honestly, that’s so counter to the way modern organization works, right? It’s like we’ve been so sold on the idea of simplicity equaling happiness that we forget happiness is often layered, multifaceted, and yeah, a little chaotic.

Maryam Bala

Now, here’s where I really want to pause for a second—because this isn’t just about physical clutter. It’s about a clashing of philosophies. In much of the Western world, order is often imposed. Objects have to fulfill a function—or else. Homes are meant to look as if no one even lives there. But in other traditions, a home isn’t just a space; it’s a living, breathing story. And everything, even the smallest objects, serves as a chapter in that story.

Maryam Bala

Take my grandmother’s home. I still remember walking into the living room and seeing every single inch of it filled. Baskets tucked under tables, shelves with books that weren’t really organized by subject or anything logical. And pictures—oh, so many pictures—some faded, some with those crinkled edges where tape held them up too long on the wall. But here’s the thing: in that space, nothing felt random. It was all connected, even if not in an obvious way. It wasn’t a showroom. It wasn’t minimalist. It was layered. It was full of life.

Kwame Otieno Bala

And that’s the thing about “tidying down.” It’s this refusal to treat history—our shared history—like it’s disposable. Marie Kondo might tell you to only keep what sparks joy, but in some cultures, it’s not about individual joy. It’s about collective joy. Collective memory. And sometimes, memory isn’t always neat or Instagram-worthy. It’s raw and honest. It overflows. And you know what? That’s okay.

Maryam Bala

So when you see your family home—a place overflowing with items that might seem “unnecessary” on the surface—take a minute. Instead of reaching for a trash bag, maybe ask yourself, “What does this really represent?” Because odds are, it’s not just stuff. It’s survival. It’s heritage. It’s the story of how your people navigated life and kept each other afloat, one hand-me-down at a time.

Maryam Bala

And honestly, that’s why so many decluttering experts—especially the ones trying to sell you products and courses—they miss the mark. They don’t see the fullness of these spaces as a feature. They see it as a bug in need of fixing. But the people whose homes hold lifetimes of objects? They’re not clinging to things out of some misguided fear of change. They’re holding onto connections to their roots, to their humanity.

Kwame Otieno Bala

Completely in agreement, Maryam. The next time someone points to that chaotic family space and calls it “cluttered,” maybe think about what they’re really saying. What lens are they looking through? And what might they be missing about the story that space is trying to tell?

Maryam Bala

All right, let’s talk about something that, honestly, doesn’t get enough credit: the way our family members use technology. And I’m not talking about the Silicon Valley-approved way with perfectly organized folders, clean inboxes, and two-minute responses. No, I’m talking about the chaos, the creativity, the marathon voice notes that you play back at 1.5x speed just to survive.

Maryam Bala

Because, here’s the thing—what we’re often so quick to label as “tech-challenged” isn’t about a lack of understanding. Not at all. It’s about adapting technology to fit cultural needs instead of the other way around. It’s about taking a system that demands efficiency and bending it—no, forcing it—to acknowledge how we actually live, how we connect, how we remember. It’s not a failure of technology. It’s technology being made to understand us. You see what I mean?

Kwame Otieno Bala

Think about it a minute. Those voice notes your uncle sends, where he greets each family member by name before diving into the reason he called? That’s oral tradition alive and well. It’s storytelling. It’s a digital griot sharing not just what’s happening now, but connecting it to the past. Every name mentioned, every little anecdote—it’s a thread in the fabric of your family’s shared existence. It’s not inefficiency. It’s intentionality. It’s art.

Kwame Otieno Bala

Or how about your family WhatsApp group? You know the one I mean—the one that lights up at all hours, with piecemeal updates, prayer chains, and those out-of-focus photos of celebrations you couldn’t attend. To someone on the outside, it might look like noise. But for you? It’s ubuntu in action. It’s connection, stitched together message by message. It’s an archive of joy, concern, and belonging that no algorithm could replicate.

Kwame Otieno Bala

What’s wild to me is how often these behaviors get dismissed or even ridiculed, as if they’re wrong somehow just because they don’t fit into these streamlined systems. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? These platforms—whether it’s WhatsApp or Instagram or TikTok—they were built from a Western framework that prizes individualism, speed, and clarity above all else. And sure, that’s one way of operating. But it’s not the only way, and honestly, it’s not even the best way for everyone.

Maryam Bala

When you really look at it, these unconventional uses of technology aren’t outliers; they’re resistance. They’re cultural systems finding their place, expanding and thriving inside these rigid structures that weren’t built with them in mind. It’s like, while the platform insists on “organizing” us into tidy little boxes, we’re over here doing what we’ve always done—layering, overlapping, preserving context. Not because we’re inefficient, but because we value something deeper.

Maryam Bala

And honestly, that messiness, that refusal to conform, is exactly where the beauty lies.

Kwame Otieno Bala

You know, there’s something incredible about how, even in the face of systems built to erase or simplify our complexities, we find ways to fight back—ways to preserve what matters. And that’s really what all this comes down to, doesn’t it? Both the physical “clutter” of our homes and the so-called “chaos” of our digital lives—they’re cultural resistance in action.

Kwame Otieno Bala

Let’s start with the objects, the tangible pieces of our past that stay in our homes not because they’re convenient but because they’re vital. Those mismatched mugs, the faded photographs, the containers your mom keeps despite having too many, they’re not just things. They hold stories, layers of connection, proof of where we’ve been. And that’s not something you can Marie Kondo away. It’s the backbone of your heritage. To call it clutter is to miss the point entirely.

Maryam Bala

But it doesn’t stop there, Kwame. Let’s look at the digital spaces we live in today—the WhatsApp groups, the TikTok storytelling, even the marathon voice notes that drive some of us a little nuts. These spaces, chaotic as they may seem, aren’t tech incompetence, they’re tech adaptation. It’s ubuntu showing up online—reshaping platforms designed for individualism into tools for community. It’s saying, "This isn’t just my space, it’s ours." And that’s powerful.

Maryam Bala

What’s fascinating to me is how often Western design philosophies struggle to grasp this. They celebrate minimalism, quickness, and isolation while missing the richness and depth that comes from what they dismiss as inefficiency. But maybe it’s not the users who need to adapt. Maybe it’s the platforms themselves that need to catch up. Because these supposedly “messy” ways of connecting have been working for centuries. They’ve been keeping us—our families, our communities—anchored through everything.

Kwame Otieno Bala

And that brings me back to my grandmother’s compound, a space so full of people, objects, and activity that it might’ve been overwhelming at first, but never once empty. That’s what ubuntu teaches us: Life isn’t meant to be pristine or isolated. It’s meant to be shared. It’s meant to overflow with the beauty of interconnected stories. Our spaces, both physical and digital, should reflect that—not erase it.

Kwame Otieno Bala

So as you step back into your own spaces—whether it’s your home that’s filled with the “unnecessary” or that group chat that never quiets—ask yourself this: What stories are you preserving? What connections are you honoring? And how can you, in your own way, resist the urge to streamline and, instead, let the beautiful mess of community take center stage?

Maryam Bala

And that’s all for today. Let’s keep finding ways to embrace the fullness of our lives, not edit it out. From Kwame and myself, Thanks for listening, and I’ll catch you next time.