taking my work home

in less than 6 weeks. I think about performing in Nairobi, in front of my parents, my friends, the world I grew up in, and I begin to hyperventilate. A bubble in growing inside me, compounded of joy, terror, exhilaration, disbelief - it threatens to knock me off balance each time I whisper to myself "I'm taking my work home."

Last night I sat in the Temescal Cafe and read, in the latest issue of Kwani, a piece by the son of legendary Kenyan writer, Ngugi wa Thiong'o
Ngugi and his wife Njeeri returned to Kenya in 2004, after 23 years in exile, and were attacked and tortured (Njeeri was raped) in their apartment. His son writes about returning for the trial of the men paid to carry out the attacks. He says "Home is still home."