Learning How To Write

When I was growing up, colouring and writing was an issue. Like most kids, when I was presented with a box of crayons along with a colouring book, the colouring book was tossed aside in favour of the walls, floor, dads briefcase, his white shirts and anything that could possibly be coloured and plastered with some form of ‘art work’.


I am sure Mr. Bukumunhe, my dad that is, must have wondered what went wrong. “Why won’t the boy colour in the colouring book and not on the walls or my briefcase” he must have asked on a number of occasions.

But it happens. I was not the first kid to do it nor will I be the last though today, some kids whose parents did not give them crayons or colouring books have decided to pick up stones and do their colouring and writing on cars as happened to mine last week. They wrote their names using stones or a metal object into the paint work of my car. Not content with just their names, the also drew circles, lines and a house!

Ivan and I think it is Shem, you little f***ers, the day I lay my hands on you, I am going to goof you because my ride now requires a complete re-spray.

Getting back, in my teens I liked to write. My writing was neat and readable too. I also experimented with pens and found that Bic didn’t do it for me. It had to be a fountain pen and as I type, the few people that I know who are seriously into pens are NSSF MD Richard Byarugaba, lawyer Peter Mulira and his son Oscar Mulira. We live in a world of pens such as Parker, Mont Blanc, Sheaffer and Waterman for example.

We sneer at people who use Bic, Nice House of Plastic or any pen bought from Nakumatt, Uchumi or the kafunda shop. We are more than a class above you all. We are the elite and we rightfully belong to an elitist sect.

But since the advent of the computer and being in the media, I no longer write. Rather, I type. My laptop has replaced my Parker as my writing tool. I spend more time typing than I do writing that Parker Pen wonders why I bothered buying him or not allowing anybody to use him but me.

The most Parker Pen does, is to write out my name or to sign my name – period.

I had started keeping a dairy – a written dairy at that which necessitated the need to write more than just my name. And that was the beginning of my woes. Minus the letters that appear in my first and last name, I had difficulty remembering how to write out the rest of the letters of the alphabet. I had problems with the letters ‘G, Z, Q, Z and X’. I remembered how to write them out in capital letters but in small letters, bleak. There was the need to ask Ghana who naturally gave me a: “Dad, you mean to tell me you can’t write out the letter Q in small letters?!” look.

Suffice to say that I have thrown out the whole idea of a written dairy in favour of an electronic one.

But pause for thought. The only adults that are still able to write are those in the police force. They can write out ream after ream of statements and in joined up hand writing too. It’s the only thing about the police that impresses me.