My young niece, all of three yrs old of her at the time, used to watch me gather my things and then ask ‘Uya hamba Tselane?”(Are you going, Tselane?) and when I said “Yebo, Baby, Ngi ya hamba.” (Yes, Baby, I’m going.) she would march to the door, fold her little arms, furrow her little brow, pout her little mouth, and then shout at me “Hamba”! (“Go”! ). Hawu, and then? She didn’t want me to go, and she had learnt by the ripe old age of three to be bold and defiant instead of being and acting as disappointed as she really felt. I was amazed. So artful and so young. But when I hugged her and told her that I love her and I’ll see her tomorrow, she’d put her little arms around my neck and tell me, in English ‘I love you too’. It’s the only thing she could say in English, and she has such a lovely accent. Now she’s five. Now when I leave she sees me to the car, and she chases the car down the road as I drive away, and we both shout, ‘I love you too’. We are still in love.
I shall go and see her today. Her name is Buhle. I call her Bubu. I must take sweeties.
I slept. Can you believe it? I am so refreshed and so bewildered. I had set my laptop down next to the bed because I knew that I would toss and turn and not sleep. I thought to myself, ‘I’ll just toss and turn then, and when that gets old, I’ll write’. But the next thing I knew it was morning. The birds were singing. I woke up, had a deliciously languorous stretch, and now…dandadada!!!!!! I welcome the day with………..Coffeeee!
I thought to stop the Blog. I felt guilty about saying something, which, though true, and though I meant it, I would not normally have expressed outside my circle of friends. However, one of my friends read it and phoned me and went off about how right I was, and by the time he had finished his tirade, I thought that what I’d written was actually quite kind.
Anyway, I’m not going to stop. I like this, for some reason. I like putting stuff down and uploading it to the web. Maybe it’s a little narcissistic, but what’s wrong with that? I’ve been narcissistic my whole life, in many little ways. I’m also going to stop worrying about whether anyone has read it and if they’ve liked it. It doesn’t matter, really. It goes out to twitter and facebook and those who want to read will read, and maybe some will read today but not tomorrow. Whatever! Although, let me not pretend, I do want someone to read it. Anyone.
Lunch with the publisher today. Yay! I have the cutest illustrations to show him. I have the most divine creative illustrators. I love my illustrators. They’re so clever. They have created characters that children will fall instantly in love with. I fell instantly in love. That publisher had better fall instantly in love too.
I don’t like the book that he published. It’s ugly and I’ve asked him to burn all the copies. I do not want anyone to see them. I don’t know how he could have published my stories and not consulted me on the illustrations. His illustrations are ridiculous. I’m not having that go out with my name on it. I will not have it. Why didn’t he consult with me? Look at me. Do I look like I would approve those nasty illustrations? Is there really anything about me that says ‘bad nasty ugly illustrations’?
Anyway, I have insisted that he redo the book. I have suggested that if we can’t agree between us we employ legal council and fight. I love to fight. This one, I will win. So, he has promised to not sell any more of the books. I called the lawyer, anyway. No harm in making sure he understands that I’m serious. By May, hopefully, we will launch the book that I, Tselane, am proud of. Not that hideous thing that ………..he was under the spell of what manner of accepted wisdom when he did this? Incredible!
I must look effortlessly chic for this lunch. There is power in effortless chic. I feel great. I feel excited. I need coffee!