It’s been one year since I launched my blog.
No matter how little I have achieved, it’s worth a celebration. And the only way I get to throw myself this self-rewarding party is by having every one of you—my excellent and dependable readers!
I started writing without a big plan, only to test my courage of doing this complex thing called creating. That is the only reason I write today, and I will continue doing it for as long as possible. But like we say in Africa, you can only walk for longer if you have good company. It is only by having people read what you write, when you can know that regularly clanking a keyboard is not a delusion.
It has been a year of all sorts. I had planned to launch this discourse mid last year, and four months before the set date, the pandemic checked in. It somehow worked for me, and I managed to do the launch amidst all the confusion.
Three months into the journey, I lost my mother. For the first time in my life, I found myself grieving. I did not know what grief was until then. I came to learn that grief is a form of extreme mental stress. And that, oh boy, numbs your creative nerves. For two good months after the funeral, I could hardly write a paragraph. But somehow, I managed to wrestle back my mojo, and here I am today.
I can only say that this is the first step of a long journey, whose destination I do not know. All I do every day is try to make another step and believe that I will arrive somewhere one day. That place will be built with the inspiration I receive from your readership.
And I hope and pray that you will remain my reader, for I promise to continue writing some village and elderly wisdom.
Have a wonderful May Day weekend.