We started, started out, Started.. out with nothing, Nothing in our hands, nothing that we could hold, Beheld dreams, in far away in lands where bo Kgogomudumo lived and man conquered them. They used to tell us about them, them that were us. And we would marvel in their might, reassured of possibility. Carving out a world in which we would win, a world in which we would live. A world in which we are alive, real…unimagined. And now…we have them that tell us that we are not, what we are. We are not who think we can …be! Because our being is strong mighty and courageus, our stories di simolotse ka gatwe e rile…a narrative that is being told for us now, they have long taken over the reigns of our story. But who are they, why are they the ones to tell it? Why are we not telling it? Whose story is it anyway?
I have been a writer now for over half of my life, I started experimenting with wordplay when I was in my mid primary school years. I remember taking a risk while writing an English composition in my Standard 4 and thinking afterwards about how great it felt to have used phrases that I knew would potentially get me an as whooping. There was bloodrush about being that risqué, it felt natural; and I’ve been addicted since then to writing stories in my own way. The form never really mattered, looking back I realized that I’ve been carving out a narrative that was very self expressionist.
People love stories, they love telling them, listening to them, they look out for them, fiddle with the idea of them and we usually find ourselves energized in trying to wrap our imaginations around them. In this series I will be attempting to capture and expose what the modern day Botswana narrative is with periodic look backs and how we’ve told our stories in the past. We’ll be looking at this from a creativity, ideas and urban cultural view with the hope that this can help start a thinking around how those telling our story and the stories they tell (the stories we tell) can help shape stronger storytelling platforms