Tuesday, April 27, 2010

This is who i am...

Catch me on any given day and you will probably find that i am energetic, full of life, annoying.
But catch me on a special Tuesday and you will find something else; an edginess, a sensitivy. I suppose on these special Tuesdays, if u touched me, however lightly, i would jump out of my skin.
It might be the cups of tea i drink on these special Tuesdays, or the coke, but its probably something more. You see, i joined a writers workshop.

Some people began singing in their mothers womb. Music was a journey that began in secondary school for me.
The one thing i probably was born to do, was write.
I started writing in nursery school (i assume). But i remember plays, little lines that i jotted down. I have books filled with words in my house, things i wrote. Writing has always been a release, and because when i wrote, i found release, i allowed myself to be free.
I wrote about fears and death. Love and questions. God and life. Pains and joy. The more i hurt, the more i wrote. Till (i confess), a part of me began craving pain, just so i could create.
s.h.a.r.ing my writing was itself a journey.
The first person who ever read anything i wrote was my father, and even then, it was fiction.
The true ones i kept hidden.
Over the years, only a few have read my real writings.

Giving my writings up meant exposing myself, and so, i wrote and hid.
I started s.h.a.r.ing them though. By letting people read, my having something i had written be performed on a stage.
I even started a blog (which i sometimes wish was anonymous), and got a column in The Guardian. Tweets. Facebook notes. Poems.... I wrote
But you see, it was still anonymous

The first time i read at Taruwa, i shook
And i hardly read there. Infact, i hardly read them anywhere

But i joined this workshop, where on special Tuesdays, i sit with a group of people, and we read what we have written.
It is the singular most complex experience for me.
First im at peace with the world, but once i start to read, a combination of factors set in
I am proud, cos i think i write well
I am afraid, cos i think my piece is stupid.
My competitive self wants the applause for my piece to be louder than everyone else’s
The perfectionist in me hates the thought that i missed something out or wrote something wrong
I feel exposed, because no matter how much fiction i put out there, a piece of me is tied in
And when i finish reading, the room is cold and silent. But i am sweating and i hear voices
They criticise the way i read each line, they scrutinise the faces that look back at me
And no matter what is said, i am on a high for the rest of the night

Meet me on a special Tuesday and ask me any question. I am at my most honest
Meet me on a Tuesday and communicate. I am at my most vulnerable
Meet me on a Tuesday and see me profess love. I am at my most flirtatious
I am high and wild and free and edgy and exposed and sad and amped and great

It is a special Tuesday and this is how i feel


  1. Bravo...I hope amongst the sea of voices, u can hear me applauding, cuz I'm always proud of you, chica!! And not just on Tuesdays :o)

  2. Good to know that your passion for writing didn't disappear with your childhood. Pls keep it up

  3. This a lovely write and from these I can tell you a beautiful writer and happy your passin grew with you. Keep is up..

    First time here and loving it.

  4. i see we have some things in common - tea and coke!

    i enjoyed reading this, the life of a writer like someone said, is like that of a boxer, once you get inside the ring, your talents are on display and there is no hiding place.

  5. That's great, I look forward to reading more from you, you do write very well.

  6. You re a very TALENTED LADY.
    And i admire you
    Where do you guys meet?
    I would love to be a part of this

  7. I used to read and write a lot before..dunno what happened.

    lovely post btw

  8. Real nice post.Shoulda commented earlier but my network's been wack
    Wish you all the best.

  9. this is nice, you write very well.x