Doing Nothing with Inspiration

The first time I read Mark Mathabane's "Kaffir Boy" and "Kaffir Boy in America", I was inspired to start my autobigraphy, some kind of trilogy which would trace my childhood in Mazvihwa, then follow me to my A-Level through university life in Harare, and the third installation of the book would follow me to the United States. Everything seemed perfect; somehow some aspects of my life matched that of Mathabane, and I also wanted to appear on Oprah Winfrey and talk about it all.

That was ten years ago. No single sentence of this autobiography has been written, but I still remember my source of inspiration, and I know I have done nothing with the inspiration. So here I sit again, looking at a paperback copy of "Kiffir Boy", getting inspired again, but aware that perhaps I would write a biography before I attempted an autobiography. Besides, I have to get ready to go to work now.

Memoir? Now that's another story....

For those who don't know, "kaffir' is the Afrikaans' (in Apatheid South Africa)equivalent to the N-Word. Mathabane's book does a good job of cataloguing not only events in his life, but also the oppressive context in which they occured, which led to his being smuggled out of the country. It is what he does with his life once he gets to America that makes you want to stop reading and start your own story.

A good book to read for Black History Month (and, of course, any other time).