Literary Kindred

May I make a suggestion? 

That was his initial comment. No one knows the day of their visitation, and I never suspected either. My kindred spirit, whispered his way into my heart and literary life and parked there!

I have never met him and he has no desire to meet but he constantly teaches and guides under the guise of learning and I am deeply grateful. There have been influences upon my literary life that seem unwanted and unnecessary, of a truth, that of my English teacher in Secondary school is well known, and that of my father and his collection of books that were always available for reading also stands out but this kindred uses questions to push and prod in the direction I need to go. I want to gush about him but am not allowed and would like to shout from the rooftops what he helps me do but again, I can not. 

So I thought I'd carefully whisper that I am enabled by his encouragement and I am strengthened by his words. His innocence and quiet strength and belief make me wonder if he is certain he is speaking of and about me or someone else. He calls it modesty, I know its just incredulity at being thus revered when I am certain that I am not deserving of any such adulation.

First, I do not see myself as a writer, and this is not only because I do not have the skills I believe writers have but also, I am yet to write something profound and that is because my mind travels a lot faster than I can write and so I usually lose the plot before I can make any meaningful assertion or theory. He would like me to clearly define terms so anyone can get what I am saying. I never ever gave anyone else a thought because I was mainly writing for me. 

Second, I am not very enamoured of the English language. I would like to create a whole new language which has its basis in the sights and sounds and rich mannerisms of my people and which becomes universally acceptable to all people everywhere as the rich language of excitement and joy. English language can be boring. He agrees and everytime I coin a phrase in my excitement, he celebrates it by laughing and using it albeit less excitedly.

Third, I hate mystery. I know its what excites but I can still do excitement without mystery. In my opinion, mystery complicates lives and relationships and makes everything a chore. I believe implicitly that all of our stuff will be made bare someday and trying to hide things just heightens the stakes and makes it pretty easy to become a victim but he is teaching me mystery, demanding it of me and generally making me understand the need for mystery and the use of the unspoken elements of writing, sigh!

I can go on and on but I will lose the plot as I am wont to do and so this is just to thank you, Eze, for friendship across the distance and help like no other. I am aware that you are a writer and somewhere in my maze of living and scribbling about my life, you see writing and want to encourage and impact me and hope that by so doing, I may become a writer, but my dear, I am who I be. And am very grateful and thankful for what you do.