I have always wanted to write while am travelling because the view of everything just fills me with words. A childhood dream to write on the road odd or weird its just me. I love travelling when I was small I used to make up stories in my mind and close my eyes and watch the story unfold in my mind or I would stare out and look at the trees, the maize growing the shops we passed and everything just had me thinking about it. Its very interesting the way human beings are. There is always something that calms one down for me its travelling though at times it brings out my emotions. Travelling is magical to me. I love the way it is just me and my thoughts and the motion passing kids who give you something to think about or make you remember the olden days. Seeing couples walking others doing business when travelling its like you are on the outside looking at the world. It feels me with so much. Maybe that’s what I should do in life be a travelling something. It’s a job I love and I have been preparing for it since I was a toddler.
Chepkanga. The land I belong and grew up.
Where the wind is so strong that it talks.
When angry the wind shouts.
when happy it whispers and the trees sway gently to its voice.
where people are warm and welcoming
where people are gossips and know everything about all residents
where it seldom changes
ten years ago and today all things are same
people are born and grow up and move on.
where the skies are so blue
and matatus so rare
people gladly squeeze to make space for a neighbor
chepkanga the place that never changes and the place I grew up.
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