In Ndejje Hill, I Finally Become A Writer by Frank Njugi

As a person with a desiriousness for non–fiction, there are three writers whose mention might ignite the eccentricity in me, and make fireballs of excitement begin to dance in my pupils, as I go off on a tangent quoting and paraphrasing. These are Philip Lapote, Joan Didion and Teju Cole. So on 16th of October 2024, in the first session of the African Writers Trust (AWT) short course in the writing craft, editing process, and the business of publishing, when a facilitator, Otieno Owino, endeavored for us to discuss Teju Cole’s words, I almost flailed my arms in a fit of irrepressible excitement.     

This would have been an odd occurrence, because I usually exude a quiet, almost reticent demeanor and words usually leave my lips in a measured staccato, partly because of the full lilt of a Kikuyu accent coursing through every syllable. It is easy to dismiss me as one who is not given to lending myself easily to others, especially around strangers. 

I had applied for this short course due to nudges. A link sent by the 2023 James Currey Prize winner, Peter Ngila Njeri, and a persuasion to apply by Natasha Muhanji, a CC Adetula Fellowship for African Women in Creative Writing fellow. To say the idea of going for a workshop all the way to Kampala can ever be my idea would be a lie. This is due to the fact that I have often carried my identity as a writer like a walking question mark. My physical stature in general is usually shoulders hunched and eyebrows raised. And when I introduce myself as a writer while looking this way, it is as if I am apologizing for my written words, or for any questionable decisions that often seem to inspire them.

I have long heard, and read, that retreats and residencies are conclaves for writers. Soirees considered initiation into the crave world of real writers. So I had conformed to the nudges. Followed my gut. And when my application went through, I had booked a ticket to Kampala to determine if this is true.

And oh boy!! I am more than glad I did.

The AWT short course proved to be a life changing experience. From tutors with diagnostic and comprehensive hyper-precisive eyes for detail, to fellow attendees whose feedback provided much needed assurance that my hyper-verbose words have a literary merit to them.  The experience proved to be a transformative one, affirming not only my talent but also my place in the literary world, and giving me confidence to pursue this craft with renewed purpose and direction.

I have spent my brief writing career in a state of profound culture shock. Winning and getting nominated for prizes, and getting published in journals only intensifying the question of how I got here. ( Do I belong ? or Can I belong ? ). But for the week spent on top of Ndejje Hill, at Hotel  360 Degrees, through moments of  conversations and advice, I  gradually uncovered my true self and realized a worth present.

The after–class activities  might have been the icing on the cake to this profound experience. Dancing to Amapiano around a bonfire. A poetry slam at Makerere University. Street food on Entebbe Road. Chicken and Egg Wrap Combo at a CJ’s somewhere on Nakasero Road. Hanging out with writers. Writers like me.

Joan Didion has a saying  on writing being the act of saying “I”, and of imposing oneself upon other people, of saying “listen to me, see it my way, change your mind.” I am more than glad I got to impose myself on peers and facilitators who have inspired me from now on to walk in the literary scene with my head held high. As though to the clouds I belong.

Frank Njugi is Pushcart nominated Award–winning Kenyan Page Poet, Writer, Culture Journalist and Arts Critic. He lives in Nairobi.

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