Tag Archives: Storytelling

The Morning of the performance……

Canal Cafe

It’s the big day of the performance and I haven’t slept much. I had a strange dream that Freddy Krueger was after me. I hated Nightmare on Elm Streets when I was younger my dubious cousin use to turn off the lights open the windows in our house and make me watch it. This film I scares me. I woke up and realised it was my nerves getting to me.

There was an e-mail from my dad in my inbox it said” Dear friend I invite you to watch a video of Lemmy Lisika on YouTube in memory of our father, uncle and friend” WOW! That’s creepy. Maybe Freddy Krueger is playing a game with me!!!!?? Nah! It has to be someone close, someone I know a common source.

Turns out, it wasn’t nightmare on Elm Street, it was my younger sister Phew!!. I called her and we talked for hours. I was happy for her when she told me she wanted to be a fashionista and asked me to teach her how to blog. I guess am rubbing off after all. So I gave her a brief know how on wordpress, got her to translate it in French format and off she went.

Midday

I needed to loosen up on my overloaded excitement so I went for m

Excited and Nervous

y morning jog . I tidy-up my flat and started baking. My friend asked me on the phone if I baked when I was nervous . The truth is No! I eat when I’m nervous. I’m getting ready to leave the house and still nervous”I don’t want to be late” I panic but I’m okay for time! No rush, no need to worry. Yes! I manage to leave on time. Today I will walk down elegantly I will stroll even. As this is my premiere storytelling night.

Evening………. the big moment

Everything is good, I reach on time and my first three guests are already there. I give my them all a hug, hello and a warm smile and rush upstairs. Everyone is rehearsing so I sit and watch quietly with bubbling excitement. As we are getting closer to the time we gradually see people coming in, The sound man, then the Pianist, the Podcast & video man (Matt) and finally the audience. This empty theater instantly transforms int a saloon with the piano playing in the background.

Now Joanna goes on stage to welcome and introduce the first act. In the back the Storytellers are talking amongst themselves and it is actually making me more nervous so I go somewhere else to see if I can focus.

Stewart goes first, than Habie, and after her its Me. In the backstage just before Habie comes off, Joanna holds my hand as she sees the terror on my face and tells me to breathe. I listen to her voice, this slows down my heart rate and the volcano of emotions in my stomach. Matt asks me if I will be seating or I standing I say both.

I walk on the stage and say “Hi” then I start I stutter a little then take a deep breath and continue. Then I really get into it and at the crucial moment I seat down, finally I finish. Silence, hesitation from the audience and then………….. applauds.

I slowly get off stage trying not to run and tell everyone my accomplishment. “I have told my first story”.

to be continued…………

In the next part of “Becoming a storyteller” you will have the opportunity to see and perhaps hear me in action..

Great news!!

Last week I sent an e-mail to Spark London and Wed Evening, I got a call from Joanna the founder of Spark. So I, alongside others, will be performing. My first storytelling event, in London, on the 7th of June, 7pm, at the Canal Cafe in Warwick avenue. I’m well excited!!!

More about Spark -

Spark is the first storytelling event in London whose theme is solely based on real life stories. It is very powerful and fresh. It’s like reading a book live! They’ve been around for 5 years and host monthly and sometimes weekly event http://www.sparklondon.com/

I have only a day to go and I have being rehearsing at the Canal Cafe all day yesterday. I will only have 7 minutes to talk. Even though I know what to say, I have to be both focused and timely with my words. 3 hours before I went to rehearsal yesterday, I decided it would be a good thing to record myself and hear what I sounded like.

Little did I know what effect that would have. After minutes into my private rehearsal I felt warm tears on my face, then the sob and the slow break down and crumbling to the floor. I cried “papa, papa, papa, papa” I couldn’t control or help myself. I know I haven’t spoken much about this but it hurt! I STILL HURT! I want to help others but I know it doesn’t matter how much I tell this story he’s not coming back? My daddy , My papa is not coming back is he? So who’s going to take care of me and who will protect me?

I’ve been there for all my friends but who will be there for me. Every hero needs a friend and every hero has a weakness. even Superman has kryptonite. My father was both my friend and my kryptonite. I will never have him back but all who read this will have the pleasure of potentially knowing who he was. And knowing me in my darkest hours, my saddest moment.

The Mathy that I never openly share with everyone because I’m too scared of them knowing my vulnerability. I’m too scared the will laugh and scorn me, they will beat me with their humiliating eyes because of their own shame and association with loss,depression and death. Because no one likes to talk about it. It’s not going to happen to you!? Loosing your father or your mother through a terminal illness, or accident, or even war. These are the things that only happen to people when they get older.

“But I am older! I am 31 years old!” Is this the right time? they’ve never even had the chance to say goodbye properly. They’ve never even had the chance to see me married or have an opportunity to meet their grand-children. My father will never know or see this blog and say ” well done my daughter you’ve finally decided to become a writer. You’ve done it I’ m so proud of you. I will never hear these words, nor see the joy in his eyes, nor hear his friends say you know your father is so proud of you. I will never know. All I know is that I have a burden to carry. My choice of life nailed to the cross and ready for me to carry.

My story is my baggage, my strength, my superpower, my ability and weakness. I take it wherever I go.