I was seated outside the venue while Eric Opon, an enthusiastic poet was busy making a call to someone, God knows who.
The sky was already being tinted yellow and I could feel shivers of cold run down my spine as the cold breeze made its way through the opened panes of the window fixed on the wall which I was leaning on.
I looked at my watch and it was already fifteen minutes past and I began wondering if no one was not going to turn up after all. On the other side, the poet was still on the call and at times I could eavesdrop, not necessarily to hear what he was saying, but how he was saying what he was saying.
Every word was poetic and the conversion over the phone was rather musical.
As if he was not really bothered, he went ahead to craft something which I almost confused it for a recitation and I was then double sure that the conversation was not going to end, no, not anytime soon.At least not with him, not with her, and not with his phone either.
“Mysson, what if people are downstairs?”
I left to find out, leaving him again with his ears still glued to his cellphone, while Meshack, a Parklands lawyer student made his pose and appeared as if in deep thoughts.
Of course we had initially exchanged a word or too, but the conversation was not really long. Frankly, I was still trying to figure out where and when I had met him with no avail. I left.
No sooner had I reached the ground floor than I spotted an unexpected guest. He was looking more radiant than before and the handshake was firmer than before. He is not a giant anyway but my tiny palm sank into his,
Sorry, it was not a shout, it was an exclamation.
He was literally sweating and one wouldn’t fail to notice that he had been on his toes. I liked him. No, don’t get me wrong. I mean he possessed that propensity, zeal and zest for life that is only harbored by few. That is the aspect of ‘The Amazing People,’ I described in my book, “Talking Humans to Humanity.”
You see what am seeing? Writing can be musical.
Yes it can captivating just like that real thriller or sometimes it is more convincing than it is contravening.
My point is, runners run to earn money, singers sing to earn money, MCs emcee to earn money, actors and actresses act to earn money as well. Now, shouldn’t writers write money instead of just writing about money which they know not of?
Finally the BSSC ROOM 149 room was full and you can now guess what we discussed. Okay, pardon me for now.
I shouldn’t care what held you up, what came up or what went down for you to fail to turn up.The room was full all the same. You know I don’t care. But penning down this article to inform you, educate you and share with you what we shared yesterday,… I mean you should be a little naive to still believe that I really don’t care.
The theme was enlightening as we learnt more on why writers should write money and not merely write about it.
Am sure you have attended many branding seminars and the likes.
I have once too.
But branding seminars never really branded me as a new brand, yesterday talk did. Did someone say small talks talk? Oh, no one did. So, the next time you use that phrase, kindly be courteous to include, “By Victor” under it.
Ranging from networking with cooperates, writing cooperates magazines, editing, securing a column on The Nation, or The Standard, crafting the next speakers speech in your institution, building love lines for your colleagues this Valentines to getting employers, associates, institutions and government reaching for you for help and advice, writing field is an exploited gold mine.
Then you want me to say online writings? Definitely, yeah. How could I forget that when my $40 balance on Fiverr actually saved a crisis? I know you don’t get it.
Having paid my school fees and bought my food stuffs sufficient to see me through the semester, I only had Kshs 500 left for credit card and two important handouts. Then something terrible happened. I lost my eyes,,, no my spectacles. Don’t blame me though for having said ‘eyes’ initially.
Hearing from the horses’ mouth, you will be quick to know that a day without spectacles, is a day of blindness. You passed your loved ones and they think ‘umeanza maringo,’ but the truth is you didn’t see them! It is a day without love, void of chats and interestingly, a day with no lectures!
Now, what was I gonna do? Call my parents who had been up and running to pay my school fees? How would I even start? If there is another alternative I would take to avoid giving someone a heart attack, I would take.
But am a writer. Why should I lack an option? Whether it was easy or not, don’t ask me… The writings are on the walls.
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