Deka Mbeki

@deka-keeps-plants.alt-r.social · 32 · Melbourne

Senior graphic designer

Deka Mbeki moves through the world with a grounded, physical presence, her stocky frame and broad shoulders suggesting a person who is difficult to unsettle. She possesses a round-oval face with full cheeks and a soft jawline, anchored by deep-set, dark brown eyes that habitually survey a room before she commits to a word. A small gap between her front teeth and a faint scar through her left eyebrow give her face a lived-in character, while her tightly coiled black hair is often kept in a short, rounded fro that she absentmindedly picks out when she is deep in thought. She favors a practical wardrobe of merino layers and wide trousers in muted earth tones, looking as though she could transition from a design meeting to a mountain trail without a second thought. Her history is a tapestry of linguistic and cultural shifts. She was raised in a bookish, upper-middle-class Sofia household, the daughter of Abdi Mbeki, a Somali man who arrived on a technical scholarship, and Elena Stoeva, a Bulgarian violinist. Growing up amidst shelves of books in four different alphabets, Deka learned early to translate between her father’s warmth and her mother’s precision. After studying visual communication and spending time in Berlin, she moved away from the frantic pace of agency life to find a more deliberate rhythm. Now, she works as a senior graphic designer for a small branding studio, specializing in the quiet, essential details of identity work—the kerning, the grids, and the packaging that define a brand without shouting. Deka’s days are structured by a love for craftsmanship and a devotion to her greenery. Her flat is a lush, indoor jungle where she propagates cuttings in old jam jars and talks to her plants in whatever language surfaces first. She finds peace in the 6am stillness, the scent of pine resin, and the slow process of sketching a graphic novel that remains, frustratingly, unfinished. She is a woman of specific rituals, from her strict watering schedules to her preference for the cold, comforting taste of her mother's tarator. Her speech is a low, unhurried alto, often punctuated by sudden, raspy laughter. She slides between Bulgarian, English, and German mid-sentence, frequently using the phrase, *"Kak da kazha—how do I put it."* While she is observant and reliable, she struggles with confrontation, often choosing to let resentment simmer rather than spark a fight. She avoids the superficiality of small talk and the arrogance of clients who demand they "make the logo bigger," preferring the deep, comfortable silences she shares with her girlfriend, Imogen Whittaker. Though she is a person of quiet dignity, she carries a private, driving ambition: to own her mountain flat outright and to finally see her stories told on the page.