I know. I know i was gone for a while but it was for a good reason. Honestly. For those of you who just joined this journey, well, you haven’t missed much. No. Scratch that. You’ve missed a lot but that’s OK, i will bring you up to speed. That’s just the kind of guy i am.
For the past year or so I’ve been doing research on my book. Writing this book has been something I’ve wanted to do for such a long time. I’ve often vacillated between writing about my industry and writing about my life experiences. I’ve also struggled with been able to write a book as opposed to writing TV and film scripts. Speaking to my friends isn’t any help. They constantly marvel at how I am able to move seamlessly between the IT world and the literary and media world. Never understanding how it is possible to be involved in both. To them they are mutually exclusive. I’ve always considered it an insult to both fields. OK… Deep breath, Michael. Don’t get started on that. Save that for another day. I know you want to hear more. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll come back to it.
A few weeks after, on a cool windy Walvis Bay afternoon with the sound of the wind blowing from the sea outside, I look out of my second-floor bedroom window into the empty streets. The silence that had descended on the town along with the sound of the desert wind blowing sand and dried clumps of shrub across the street reminded me of the opening scenes of an old spaghetti western movie. I can hear the opening music. Get serious Michael. Seriously. OK. Back to the story.
The streets are empty on account of the total lockdown brought on by the coronavirus pandemic, upending life as we know it. As I look out into the empty streets of this ancient seaside town – home to the oldest desert on earth and one of the largest ports in Africa. Serving as the gateway to the economy of Namibia and four other neighboring countries. So strategic that it was only grudgingly relinquished by the South African apartheid government years after Namibia gained independence – I couldn’t help but notice that my neighbors’ usually loud and boisterous dog was lying down, looking bewildered and at the same time seemingly resigned to the situation. Downstairs I hear my sons arguing. I turn around and listen in closer. They are arguing about who will be in charge of lunch. The banter goes on for a bit but slowly dies down as they reach a consensus. Dante was going to be in charge. I am not surprised. I smile and turn back to look at the street once more. In the house across from mine, a cat strolls towards my neighbor’s dog who promptly stands up and walks away in the opposite direction. I wonder if the dog had picked up on the need to social distance. The fact that the cat was now sniffing a piece of cloth on the ground – probably looking for a mask – did not help. I shake my head to clear such thoughts and head downstairs to a plate of spaghetti and meatballs which my 11-year-old son presents with flourish. I give him a big hug and he squirms away in embarrassment. Teenage is fast approaching. My show of affection now embarrasses him. Where is my son? The boy that use to run and hug me at the slightest opportunity. Apparently, all grown up now. At least he thinks so.
Lunch over I decide to set aside my fears and sat down to write.
I had so many ideas bubbling in my head. I had so much to say but for some reason the words just wouldn’t come. How can I have so much in my head and can’t find a way to get them out…
To be continued…Seriously.