By Kabelo Mollo
For the longest time I believed “my happy place” was a geographical location. In my early twenties, I understood it to be Rhodes’ House. Which incidentally remains my favourite night club. Pity it no longer exists! As time went along I found a new happy place.
My parents’ house in Maseru became something of a haven for me. I loved being there. Then one day it struck me. My happy place need not be a physical structure. It is actually quite self- explanatory. One’s happy place is where one feels happiest. My happy place was never actually about the structure. It was about the people I was with. People I love spending time with. People whose space I enjoy inhibiting. My happy place is with my favourite people. I was always at Rhodes House with good friends. Always! Then my parents’ house. It seems a no brainer. Literally surrounded by my kin folk. The people I love most. Happiness is…
So there’s that. But then as time moved further along it hit me. There is no place I love more than inside my own head. Writing has actually always been a favourite past time. Even before Jill Worth encouraged me to keep writing I knew I loved it. I always had so many thoughts. Lots of them silly, more of them ridiculous, but every so often there would be a nugget of wisdom. Incidentally those nuggets have let me better understand myself.
I suppose writing is like an exercise in catharsis. I always feel that little bit lighter, freer more relaxed after getting some thoughts on to paper.
This happy place is awesome! It’s always freely available and doesn’t seem to get old.
When I was younger and a lot less jaded I hoped to teach English. I loved writing poetry, and though I wasn’t that good, I really gave it a bash whenever I could. I wrote a poem for my old man on the occasion of his 60th birthday. I wrote one for my brother and sister-in-law when they got married. Just about every important moment in my life includes a poem of some sort. That said, I hated poetry in matric! I no longer had any desire to survive on a teacher’s salary by then any way. Just as well! I’d have made a terrible teacher!
With all of that said, I’ve decided I want to publish a book. One hundred of my favourite essays in hard copy. As a birthday present to myself. Honestly, nothing will give me a greater sense of achievement than being a published like such as luminaries as Kim Kardashian, or I don’t know “Black like you” Khanyi Mbau… That’s a touch facetious and cheeky of me, but you get my drift.
Words are such an interesting dichotomy. On the right day they can be carriers of love and hope. On the worst days, they are weapons of mass destruction. There’s no truer saying in my mind than the pen being mightier than the sword.
Thus, I hope my columns are a series of words that take the readers to a happy place. I know having a published book would certainly make my happy place that little bit happier!
