Greetings TGHP supporters!

I know it’s time to update my blog when I get emails that begin, “So are you still writing about the General?” or “Are you alive?” The answer to both of these questions is a resounding YES. And I’m very busy keeping up with both.

I reviewed my last blog entry from (eek!) February and was pleasantly surprised to read how confident, albeit out of breath, I sounded. My form is continually evolving—getting more streamlined, tighter, understandable, better. Most of the improving form is thanks to loads of practice and great coaching. I have a lot of updates for you, so please excuse my bullet-points as I try to make this entry’s length less intimidating.

Here we go:

- A while back, my mentor (“Dr. Ted”) sent me information about a conference on oral history organized by the International Oral Historians Association (IOHA). He encouraged me to submit a proposal to present my work with the General and represent TGHP. I rolled my eyes a little bit, thinking that my mere bachelor’s degree might disqualify me, but I sent in a proposal anyways. It was accepted. (To be continued in a later bullet point…)

- I finished a first draft of the manuscript, the General’s life story, on April 1st, 2010. I had set myself this deadline before realizing it fell on April Fools’ Day. But, wouldn’t you know, I made it.

- On April 2nd, I sent the manuscript to four scholars (professors, writers, historians, super smart people) who agreed to read it and give me their feedback. I vowed not to touch the manuscript until I heard from them, and I caught up on life that I’d neglected for some time. Those six weeks not working on the mss were brutal. I wavered between states of withdrawal, excitement, anxiety, boredom, anticipation, and self-doubt—sometimes, I experienced all these conditions in one day.

- On April 26th, I received the following email from one of my readers: “I’ve read your manuscript. . .My overall impression is very positive. You are certainly fortunate in your choice of subject: King’ua’s life story is profoundly interesting, not only at a personal level but also because of the light it throws on many facets of Kenya’s history and on the way of life and pre- and post-independence experiences of the Meru people; and his way of telling it, no doubt stimulated by your way of eliciting it from him, is always engaging and often engrossing. Congratulations to you both. More later.” Yay.

- In the subsequent weeks, I heard from my other readers, and I received a full report of comments and line edits from the one quoted above. Reactions were generally positive, and they took the potential of my work with the General seriously. They gave me detailed feedback on their impressions and how they think I can improve it. Basically, the consensus was, “It’s good now. It could be excellent.” Or, in Professor Mason’s words, “You should be confident in what you’ve done and humble in what you have left to do.” The critiques were thoughtful, sensitive, thorough, and extensive. This was good. (Read: But I have a lot more work left to do than expected.)

- From the end of May to early-July, I retreated to my workspace in Daytona to begin revising and try to make the manuscript excellent. This, admittedly, was also a pretty tough time. While for the most part, readers did not directly contradict one another, each had something different that he liked, disliked, or wanted to see more of. The scary part had begun: I had to be the “authority” on the material. All of my readers were far more accomplished than me, yet now I was supposed to accept or reject their critiques? Hmm.

And, of course, there was my ever-present awareness that I have no foreseeable income or degree (honorary perhaps?) coming from this work. I’ve fully devoted my last eighteen months to it, and I’m getting close to having a final product, but I’m also squinting at my savings account and watching it trickle down like sand through an hourglass. I’m living in the richest country in the world, yet my biggest donation has come from the General’s fundraising efforts on the ground, in Kenya, from tea farmers (see December blog entry). While I absolutely love this aspect of the project, I’m not gonna lie—I kinda wish a Western friend or fan of TGHP would help me with fundraising. But I’m reminded of the words of my old boss, Director Kenny Leon, when he would say, “You have the right to the work but not the reward.” (He was actually quoting playwright August Wilson, who was actually quoting the Bhagavad Gita.) So, for now, I’m focusing on the work until I can’t afford my weekly ice cream consumption anymore, when I will be forced to find a reward (I’m predicting this time will be at the end of this year.)

- On July 5th, I flew to Prague to attend the IOHA conference. I presented my work (entitled: “In the Shadow of Mount Kenya: Conversations with a Mau Mau”) on July 9th. I spoke for twenty minutes and used audio and video clips as well as pictures from my interviews with the General. I remembered the General’s advice about public speaking:

It is a gift, even, to speak. Not all the people, whether white or brown or red, can speak in front of others. Once somebody stands in a big crowd of people, where he knows these people are of different categories—some are older, some are highly educated—once you come to thinking of that thing, you fail straight away. You get mixed up and once you are nervous, that’s the end of you. You are thinking too much, “How do they see me?”

They are not there to intimidate. Tell them what you prepared to tell them. Forget what they know. Leave it—never think of them. It is you who has the material, and they are listening. Whether some of them [already] know it—that is good. They will hear now the way that you are putting it. If they do not know, then they will hear it first from you. That’s what I think. Those who know it will be shaking [nodding] their heads “Uh-huh!” Others will just be attentive; they want to hear from you because they have never known that before.

I think my speech went well, and the General would have been proud. I met some very interesting people at the conference and learned a lot. I also desperately needed this break from the manuscript. I think just by rubbing elbows with some scholars in this field, I’m feeling just a little more legitimate. I’m going to try and put up excerpts of the speech online. Now that my technical guru, Lindsay Tabas, is back in the country, perhaps she can help me.

-On August 10th, I will retreat to Daytona again to (I hope) finish this wave of revisions. I’m shooting to complete it by the first of October. I will send the manuscript to my mentor and his wife, Dale, for proofing and any final comments. Then I will take my first step into the unchartered territory of getting this thing published. (Cue “Duh-duh-duhhhhh” music.)

So, I think this pretty much catches you up on things right now. I will promise, as I’ve promised many times before, that I will try to keep this blog updated on how everything is going, but, in case I disappear from cyberspace again, you know what I’m doing.

Thank you so much for your support, your positive energy, and your belief in me and the mission of TGHP. I feel you, and I appreciate you.

I’m. Still. Going.

All the best – Laura Lee Huttenbach / Nkirote

Ps – No need to worry about me—I’m still optimistic that this Grand Idea will come to fruition. I’m keeping faith that a good story will find its place, and I know this is a dang good story. In fact, I can’t wait for you to read it. But I just wanted to be honest that the process has not been easy, in case anyone was thinking about writing a book. I would tell you: Absolutely do it if you think it’s a story that deserves to be told. But, it’s a lot of work and kinda hard. The General trusted me with the history of his life, and gosh darn it—I’m making sure that gets told (because it’s extraordinary).