Why does it take me so long to imagine the details of the Rainbow Nation? I know that I have to allow my mind to roam for a few days before a story develops, but I had a good shot at it when I came upon Pearl Nobuntu. Nobuntu is a Zulu name; it means “Mother of Human Kindness.” Maybe I tried too hard to portray human kindness. What makes creativity retreat into its shell like a startled turtle? I never call it writer’s block; I give my inabilities metaphorical excuses and in this case I used a simile.
Actually the growth of Pearl Nobuntu’s story was stunted by an email from a friend. I plan to take thirty Bears to one of my groups next week to solicit sponsorships and this friend is part of the group. In his email he let me know that he won’t be able to join us and he asked that I save a Bear for him. Immediately I envisioned a Bear dressed in dark blue, sitting at a desk, writing a memoir. Well, it took all day, but by six last night I finished knitting him. A ferocious wind blew him over several times while I tried to take his picture. It is the same wind that sent smoke from the Santa Cruz Mountains all over my neighborhood yesterday morning. Even now, in the middle of the night, I can hear it whipping tree branches against the side of the house. The sound of the wind makes me uneasy and I turn the television up, which prevents me from thinking. And so this new Bear will be number sixty-five because none of the rainbow Bears are finished. He will go into the world without a story, but he will have a true storyteller as sponsor.
Actually the growth of Pearl Nobuntu’s story was stunted by an email from a friend. I plan to take thirty Bears to one of my groups next week to solicit sponsorships and this friend is part of the group. In his email he let me know that he won’t be able to join us and he asked that I save a Bear for him. Immediately I envisioned a Bear dressed in dark blue, sitting at a desk, writing a memoir. Well, it took all day, but by six last night I finished knitting him. A ferocious wind blew him over several times while I tried to take his picture. It is the same wind that sent smoke from the Santa Cruz Mountains all over my neighborhood yesterday morning. Even now, in the middle of the night, I can hear it whipping tree branches against the side of the house. The sound of the wind makes me uneasy and I turn the television up, which prevents me from thinking. And so this new Bear will be number sixty-five because none of the rainbow Bears are finished. He will go into the world without a story, but he will have a true storyteller as sponsor.
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