This could be the last blog from me, sobs! I’m taking a sabbatical. How I will miss writing.
Unlike other professions where individuals, upon age catching up with them, start masquerading as consultants, in writing there is no room for that. Once you stop writing, you can only become one thing: Irrelevant! Ouch! Thus, no writer, in his right mind, ever yaps about being a retired writer. Have you ever heard of such nonsense?
You are as good as your last piece. So you can imagine, with some readers like myself with a memory span that can only be compared to that of a bedbug, how will I remember anything about you if the last time you wrote was weeks ago? Readers judge writers harshly; you are either good or bad. No room for in between. No one, for instance, ever bothers about how recent you began writing, when you have sentences yearning for punctuation or your grammar is chaotic, readers roast you!
I suspect some impatient reader is already seething with anger cursing, Malesi, please stop beating by the bush, save us the gibberish and just get into it-already!
Ok, I hear you and in that case, here we go.
First of all, to avoid any of them suing me, for poking fun at them, I will include myself, thus usage of ‘we’.
Be mindful of our by-lines. Some of those are not our real names. Wait until you see our Government names on our IDs! We write more than one column, especially those of us who write humour. We always have another column in which we redeem ourselves by pretending to be serious by crunching figures, comparing GDP (Pundits, hope I got the spelling for that correct!), and the economy.
Folks, whatever you do, please! Please! Please! for crying out loud, avoid wanting to meet us! You will be disappointed. We are not as witty, funny, and intelligent as we sound on paper. My friend, the processing is quite different. We are boring as hell and with a devastating sense of humour! You will have to tickle yourself to laugh at our dry and stale jokes! And again, we don’t use those bombastic words in general conversation. Forget about the pomposity, it’s only on paper where we threaten you with vocabulary.
I swear, we are not as good as our works suggest. See, we have first, second, and third readers (including spouses, girlfriends and boyfriends) who go through our works and correct it before we send it to our editors to further tinker with it! When you hear most of those intelligent, witty and humorous writers speak, they sound and shrub (big time) like Papa Shirandula!
Ever wondered why we fear blogging or publishing stuff by ourselves, say on social media? Its because, without our editors Midas touch, our Achilles heels¬-thinking in mother tongue and attempting to reproduce the same by writing in English and thinking and writing in bullet points will be noted by readers.
Some of you have even, again and again, insisted that we give stand-up comedy a try but one thing you don’t know is that we either stammer big time or God blessed us with some heavy accents. I mean, after all, why twang with lots of difficulty when you can shrub with a lot of ease, in fact, effortlessly!
And there is this common question you guys like asking us; Malesi what inspires your creative writing?
I am sorry to reveal to you that, in a bid to sound philosophical, we, unfortunately, always lie when answering that question.
Much as we always sound angry, bitter, and often come out guns blazing, don’t mind us. In real life, we are pussycats. We are ridiculously polite. In fact, in real life, you might just confuse us for nuns or monks who have taken a day off at the nunnery and monastery, respectively! Thing is, we can’t even harm a housefly, even if it landed on our lips and defecated there. Bottom line is, from our hair follicles to toe nails, we are sissies! I sit next to one in the office and I still can’t believe he is the one who spites fire and brimstone in a certain column, excessively polite and cant shout you would think his throat was made in china!
We are in the habit of depicting the African bread as always having fallen down with the buttered side facing down. But what you don’t know is that, as much as we like to kick a storm over the poor leadership and get our knickers in a twist over corruption in government, ever since we discovered that its just a game of the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, and that it depends entirely upon ones ability to strategically position themselves and know how to play, we secretly envy them (politicians).
We, in fact, even wish we were in their positions because, like them, we also want to have homes in different locations- in our rural homes, in Nairobi and even install a third wife somewhere in between those two locations! Unfortunately, the only difference is that when they, unlike us, access and stick their hands in the public coffers, we are either buying the pata potea lottery cards or we are fasting and saying fervent prayers as we actively participating in bonyeza ushinde and tazama chapaa! Poor souls!
Once in a while we run out of ideas and we only cobble up mundane stuff (after all, the editors end up polishing them up) to avoid missing the next meal. We at times repeat the same sh!t, year in year out, especially when we are writing those relationships columns. You doubting? Buy your favourite r/ships columnist beer, and when he is on his fifth bottle, toss that question in his direction… You see, my point exactly!
So you thought they never read your mails? You are mistaken. A colleague got me whistling in amazement when he reminded me of a ‘letter to the editor’ I send him close to a decade ago, when I was a mere fan of his. So be duly advised, when you hate what we write and you really want to tell us off, please; don’t use clichés to abuse us. Ati idiot or kumbaff, don’t waste time abusing our grandmother either. We are immune and have developed a thick skin for such. Put in a little effort and get creative about it. Guess what, we not only dignify such by replying but also publish it haha! For instance, I am still reeling from pain I was subjected to when a reader asked me to go hug a, well, transformer!
Last but not least, if you chose to be mean by not leaving encouraging comments urging us to keep writing, be prepared to see us go back to our previous jobs- pickpocketing, robbery, et cetera before depression finally makes us commit suicide but be prepared to have your names mentioned in the suicide notes we will leave behind!
It’s been real folks. Catch me later, or better yet, always pick your copy of Crazy Monday pull out in the Monday Standard Newspaper.