Debora MbalukaComment


Debora MbalukaComment

Like a musician, artist, instrumentalist or anyone who is talented would say, they began to master their skills at a young age, i would not say the same for my writing. My writing came to me at a time when i desperately needed to belong. I normally say, my writing maintained my sanity when the world became too loud. How it began is an interesting story.

From as far as i could remember, i always liked to journal.  I remember i used to go fishing for my dad's old dairies for previous years and i would cut out the pages that were written on and every night before bed i would write something. At that age, it seemed like an activity log where i would input the activities of the day. For example, 'had uji for breakfast [uji (porridge) was our daily bread, literally]', 'school was fun''so and so looked at me badly', or 'those boys on the bus teased me'. After that, i would soundly fall asleep. Little did i know that this was a preparation for the future.

As i grew older and life started changing, my journal  became that one constant thing in my life. My journal was the only thing that got to know my deepest thoughts, fears, wishes and dreams. When i thought no one was seeing through me, my journal would. When i would battle with my insecurities, esteem issues, my journal would give me solace. Not noticing, my writing sort of became my therapy. I remember times when i would get crazy angry or frustrated and i would just take a pen and paper and write my frustrations away. Thats one thing that hasn't changed up to today.

When turned 18 and was out of high school, journaling seemed childish. I saw myself as an adult, like any other 18 year old. However, i still had the need to write, but i didn't know how to go about it. Because i loved to read, i knew a little about blogging. I remember when i was young, my dad would always buy the Saturday and Sunday newspaper. They both had these articles that i loved to read. They were always fun and exciting to read. So, i thought to myself, how hard could it be? How hard could it be to write? To tell you the truth, it hasn't been easy. There are good and there are bad days.

 I see my writing as art, as it is my way of  turning words into something beautiful. There is something about words that always leaves a mark on people. With that, my writing has become a way of expressing myself in ways i wouldn't by talking.

I always thank God for giving me this gift and opening my eyes to see that i have something that can be used to make a difference. I no longer write for myself. I do it for you, who is reading right now, hoping that my words will make a difference with you. It doesn't have to a life altering change, just that one second pause that says, "hhhmmm, never thought of it that way" is all that matters.


With all said and done, i pride myself in my writing, however, every new day is a chance to work on me and improving myself. I will leave you with this beautiful quote;

"You cant wait for inspiration. We have to go after it with a club"   ~ Jack London