I envy those who can string together words to create tapestries that move you, make you feel. How I long to write something that flows from within, like the life force that makes sure I am alive. I don't want to move you like the waves of an ocean crashing into a surfer, But that which gushes in between your toes, wetting them, leaving them cold and sandy and takes back with it a bit of the earth beneath your feet. Is it too much to ask ? That you read my words and remember the victories you had facing imagined conquests with your playmates That you remember your mother's cooking which was simple, filled your stomach and sustained your soul. That you remember how you felt when you saw the one you loved, like something moved in the pit of your stomach. Is it too much to ask that you live my words just for that moment? That you remember the bitterness in your past, be grateful for the good times and maybe, just maybe wonder what could be, if not this?
This piece of writing is shit, get out while you can. Honestly. Lot of poo-talk coming up. Ok I warned you. I began writing this article when I joined the organisation I work for today. The biggest boss asked the new employees to write our "Sanitation Story". I am not sure if I was supposed to take a look at my life with a sanitation lens or sanitise my lens on life. I half wrote that piece and left it alone, like almost everything I do. Honestly if my life was a short story, it would be left incomplete, trailing, gathering dust and moths for years. After spending more than three years working here, I started going through these half baked lines of verbal diarrhoea and thought there is something here I should explore, and finish, for a change. So here is a small part of it, just the beginning because the middle is not written yet, I am still living it. Sanitation as a word was introduced long after I was able to think coherently and I don't remember when I just knew it. ...