Not discouraged. The target is 350 pages and I am more than halfway there. We'll worry about the money when we get there. Please keep the criticism coming. Thank You.

Dear Book Lovers,

I hope to publish my new book before the end of December 2018. I am still open to suitable title suggestions from you. Please go through the excerpts pasted below and flog me with your criticisms. Happy reading.

Just be yourself. That is probably the greatest challenge I’ll ever attempt to overcome in my life. For many years I have struggled with being myself. In my unprovoked attempts to prove myself I became someone else and at this point in my life it is possible that I may have mismanaged my life. The choices that have led me to this moment of truth have all been guided by my quest to fit in. The harder I tried the more I lost fragments of my humor, my joy, my charm, my creativity, and my identity. I became a stranger to my authentic self. I forgot that the easiest way to disappear is to fit in. The tragedies in my life have been of a personal and self-inflicted nature and I take absolute responsibility for however it has turned out. I went through a crisis of identity, financial loss, hopelessness and a depression. You see, I was born with a physical disability. My right hand is deformed. Instead of a wrist, what I have is very tiny finger looking stubs with cute baby nails; but that is not the reason behind this chronicle. Allow me to quickly state here now that this is not another essay about suffering and injustice. Despite my obvious deformities I have lived an exciting and interesting life: In fact I have probably cavorted with a much higher number of more attractive women than the average able bodied man. I have tasted betrayal and bitterness too; for six years I worked very hard at a job without a promotion. I have since shifted my quest for fulfillment to other deserving areas.

There are millions of people with disabilities all over the world. Most of them have it worse than me but have been able to overcome their challenges admirably and also accomplish great things. Being born with a disability alone is not a big deal; it is the attitude behind the disability that really matter. Clearly I have not managed mine very well and this has reflected negatively on my lifestyle, my relationships, my spirituality and mental health. It is no longer news that life is hard. Life is already a struggle even for those born with all their limbs and faculties intact. Yeah right; but being born with a disability in this hard life is tough. Apart from the usual challenges that every human being strives to overcome; the disabled person contends with the extra baggage of social stigma, discrimination, marginalization and poverty. The situation is much worse if you are a person with disabilities born into an impoverished and educationally disadvantaged home. Anyone from any walk of society, background, and life experience can be or become disabled, and often, disability amplifies an existing oppression. However, in order to focus on the primary intentions of this book we will try as much as possible to not delve deeply into the murky waters of disability advocacy today.

This is not the lamentations of a failed person but an account of a journey of self rediscovery and redemption undertaken willingly by someone fortunate enough to see the light and crazy enough to use his hands to exhume the skeletons of the past with the hope building a meaningful memorial out of them. You will not find tips here on how to have self esteem, self confidence and how to think positively; but you will definitely pick up something that will make your navigation through life much easier, less burdensome and much more rewarding than mine. To everyone who has ever tried to fit in: You are not alone.

My parents are educated, enlightened and thankfully able to exist above poverty level but I still had issues growing up. For my first birthday my daddy bought me a cool BMX bicycle. Oh how I loved that bicycle and rode it like no mans business! I can imagine how the neighbors must have whispered and gossiped about how the choice of a bicycle as a present for a one year old child with one hand was inappropriate and thoughtless. It was clear from day one that my parents truly love and believe in me and I know for a fact that my life would have turned out messier if not for the support and understanding that I enjoyed from my family. Suffice to say that if I had listened to them I would have saved myself from much of the struggle that has dogged my footsteps. Experience, as they say, is a good school but the fees are high.

When I became of school age my younger sisters and I were sent to live with my maternal grandparents. My mother was still very young and trying to further her education and it was clearly not convenient to take care of young children and still cope with the challenges of school work. My folks knew the value of an early education so without delay I was enrolled in the best primary school in my hometown. I was elated! I still remember the red and white chequered shirt, blue shorts, white socks and the brown sandals which served as our school uniform. Before you start getting ideas let me state here that it was a standard primary school filled with children of people who were considered to be elites.

I enjoyed going to school and meeting new friends. I also loved football, volleyball and athletics and I couldn’t wait to join the other kids in sports but that never happened. I was excluded from all sporting activities. It didn’t matter how long I stretched my hands and how loud I shouted pick me! Pick me! Pick me! All the cool kids at school, even those that were not interested in sports belonged to one or more sports teams but I was not considered worthy even for the school band boys or the literary and debating society. It wasn’t as if I was an invalid or at the bottom of the class. In fact I was consistently at the top three in my class and could read and write very well but I felt worthless. Being excluded from team sports did not help me at all. My teachers were great educators with good intentions but I don’t believe that they had the training and the experience for counseling and helping people with special needs to reach their full potentials. I recall a particular children’s day; I think I was in primary 4B. I had trained so hard for weeks in swinging my arms and in making sure that my shirts were always well pressed and tucked into my shorts but I was not selected to participate in the Children’s day parade. Being selected for the march pass mattered so much to me and I was heartbroken. Writing about this even after so many years still brings tears of anguish to my eyes. It is unfortunate that the people around me back then did not notice that I was going through excruciating pain.

I enjoyed playing street football with the other kids in my neighborhood but in my school class I was never considered for a tryout. It’s not as if my class was overflowing with good footballers; at best we had six good footballers and a mediocre five which I was better than. I didn’t understand and shortly afterwards I started withdrawing into my shell. I became difficult, stubborn and rebellious too and my teachers countered my mutinous acts with flogging by the cane. They also profiled me under the students with lack of home training. I began to lose my sweetness and spiral down the rabbit hole of destruction. It is amazing how individuals respond to the actions or inaction of the people around them. I went to a primary and a secondary school with a guidance counselor but I don’t recall ever being invited or dragged to the counselors office for counseling. Yes, there was an office with guidance counselor printed boldly on the door; someone was in that office working (I suppose) but that person was not counseling anybody. Unlike me, my wife went to a school where the guidance counselor actually counseled. I think our educational curriculum is too focused on subjects like Mathematics and the sciences without recourse to other vital social areas necessary for the development of good mental health. The role of a sound mental health in the society in my opinion is underrated. (to be updated as soon as possible)