Here are some of the things writers explore in their
creativity.
So, yesterday in the news we all heard that some 3 women
were arrested in a slum, claiming to be midwifes but suspected to be ‘jua kali’
abortionists. My creative juices also known as imagination decided to play
around with the idea and think of how a novelist would put this story to work.
You could have a larger story,like something on unrequited love,
told by a young Nairobian. And like any other plot, you explore a variety of
themes, based on where you place a character, his friends, dialogue etc. At
some point in your plot you could opt to start your chapter like this:
‘There were flies all over, irritatingly opting for people’s
noses or rather, faces, instead of inanimate objects and clothing. It was the
smell. Definitely had to be the smell. I also considered that it had rained in
Nairobi last night for about 5 hours straight, not just Kurweini slums. In
fact, there were rumours that houses, owned by the middle-class, had been
flooded. We were shocked. That was Bobo and I, when I went to ask him if Shiks
had called him by any chance after last night.
“Mimi sifanyingi hiyo kazi! Apana! No!”, the lady in the
lesso with orange and black prints shrieked as she was led by the askaris to
the waiting Landrover, already revved up.
It was a scene. The journalists with their paraphernalia (professional
and semi-professional video as well as still cameras, colorfully-branded
microphones and blandly designed audiorecorders, notepads and tiny pens)
haggled and pushed each other like dogs by the butchery. It was beginning to
turn messy as they were joined by the mothers who had tipped the police and
wanted to lynch the three women. Or seemed to. The sight of cameras can do
wonders. I tightened my grip on the black polythene bag with my two mandazis
and mini-packet of Limuru Milk, and almost tripped as I turned…’
 |
| The pic should help with the imagery.. Source: Goodwin |
I know, I know. I haven’t even touched on the stench of
confiscated herbs, allegedly used for inducing abortion. I am yet to mention
how some neighbor gave testimony, having seen a young girl led by an old man
into the slaughterhouse and fail to come back. None of that yet, but then if I
was to use all this, I would have had to tie it to our character’s story (see I
can’t even tell you his name) and that would be giving too much away, and yet
you just met himJ.
Well, at least you know his gender.
Have a great November! Or as Capitalists would put it, have
a Merry Christmas!
