“A rapid rash of bubbling energy strikes across my entire being. “

It is only 8 in the morning. I slept late last night, and have just been awakened by the muttering noise of children playing outside-amplified by the enveloping musical cacophony emanating from my neighbors tin-and-wood shacks. Privacy and peace of mind are precious luxury. This is typically how I begin my day here in one of Nairobi’s most populated and noisy slum, kawangware.

I peep outside the irregular, almost oval window. It is all filthy and chaotic ; numerous crazy activities, congested and suffocating.

 “Today, I have to write a winning story that I have been planning for months.”

According to my simple diary, It’s now three months yet all I have managed is a mere three sentence paragraph. Stuck. But the deadline is soon approaching. Only three days to go, and I am totally confused and anxious.

After taking my humble breakfast in haste, I am soon outside my hole-like shack. With a wrinkled, aging leather bag and no particular plan, I stroll down the crisscrossing meanders of the overcrowded dusty streets. Occasionally, I am greeted by an old man, a dreadlocked youth, a cobler, a reckless damsel smiles my way, a village madman. They all know me.

“Hey” I bark, waving back.

Minutes later, my random walk takes me a kilometre away. Indecisively, I survey my environment; everything feels changed. No more chaos, no reckless music, no shouting…only serenity.

“Gosh..I am beginning to regain my equanimity.”

Steps away, there is a little browning river sitting comfortably in the crude valley separating Kawangware slums from the bordering Kangemi slum. Having dominated this red-soiled valley for years before human activities conquered, the forest now seems malnutritioned and deteriorated, just like in many other informal settlements within Nairobi city-where shrewd businessmen have continued to conduct illegal commercial-driven deals with no regard to the implications of destroying such natural homeostasis.

Despite its gradually fading biodiversity, the high towering trees, midget thickets , and various animal species make this forest a natural photogenic spot . Although I have in the past occasionally passed by, why have I never thought of visiting this breezy bush, yet it is merely 20 minutes walk away?

Crossing the dying river, I venture forth within. This is my first time here and it is dead quite, yet I am not scared. Few steps further and I am sitted under one huge old tree. I am surrounded by several tree stumps- evidence of over-exploitation. Up above, the beautiful canopy looks down at me with a friendly smile. Down at my feet, insects occupied in their purposed endeavors.

I hear the birds whistling melodiously around my ears. Leaping from tree to tree with pride. The fresh whiff of wet earth and leaves feels nostalgic, familiar and assuring. The wind is brushing over the trees, producing a rhythmic humming choir. I shut my eyes, open my mind and relax. I am not certain how long I do this, but when I open my eyes again, I am engulfed in the universal hue of essence. Suddenly, I am energized and revived. Burning with raw passion.

With a micro-book on my trembling laps, impatient pen in hand, and curious eyes up in the sky, I scrible down something. It feels natural, unusually smooth and effortless. Just like the flow of the river whispering musically behind me in the background. In this rare mood, I trace the way back to my dark, binding shack. 

Few days later, rather than the usual morning noise, I wake up to a heart-healing surprise message. My story has been accepted by a leading international publication, soon to be featured on their prestigious website. I am definitely elated, yet lost of words. Then strangely, everything becomes apparent. The forest. 

“I just found my creative muse.”