Journey Through Exile

Yesterday I had a long conversation with one of my cousins on the name of the blog. I have received a few compliments on the name, and it makes me happy to see people feeling the title. My cousin suggested that I could do things with the title, like write a book with the same title, etc. I agreed, however, this blog is to chronicle my experiences as a writer in a foreign land. As stated previously, I have been in exile for 15 years and still counting and throughout those years one of my greatest comfort has been reading. I remember reading a newspaper (Imvaho) on a bus in Rwanda when I was in first grade, and how my dad's friends, who were with us on the bus, were amazed that I could stay focused at such a young age in a crowded, noisy place. We didn't have many material to read in Kinyarwanda, so I read the bible. The Kinyarwanda language in the bible is the purest Kinyarwanda, so I was proud of my Kinyarwanda until it almost evaporated due to not being used.
Those of you who know me in Zimbabwe know how much I read there. At one point, I read a novel a day for three months, and the benefits were evident in the compositions for English class. Chekingo should send me my notebook I left with him if he still has it, that thing will be worth a lot of money some day.
These are just small examples with reading and writing. I have always loved it, but now I want to chronicle lives of people in exile. People on a journey. I want the world to know, and recognize in themselves, the pains, joys, laughter, tears, tribulations, and triumphs of being in a foreign place.
My first play "Where Flies Flock" is about a young lady who leaves her country home for the perceived adventure and pleasure of the city. She experiences success, luck, and, in the end, destruction at the hands of the city. She fights with going back, risking turning out like her brother who had tried the city life and returned to the country a defeated man. I wanted to show the struggle we, in exile, face when things get tough. When we don't see any way out, should we turn and head back where we came from? To lick our wounds until the situation improves and we can come back? Is there a guarantee that we will get another chance? And if we fail in a foreign place, who will be there to pick us up? In the end, the moral of the story is that if you see where flies are flocking to, you know there is nothing but waste.
Hopefully, we can pick up production again next summer in Atlanta, it was a joy writing it and thanks for the feedback.
But, as you take a look at my work, identify the traveler, what is being learned on that journey, and how do you feel the world is impacted by that traveler's experiences? There is much to talk about in regards to this, but I will leave the rest for next time.
Today, I am resting, I will not read or write. I will tidy up the place and make some brochettes, and, maybe, even go to the movies with my baby. I will take a moment to enjoy my journey, to celebrate my growth, and pray for guidance. I wish you all a wonderful weekend.