Writing: Commonly misused words, their corrections

• advise (give counsel)/advice (the counsel given)
• discrete (separate)/discreet (careful to avoid embarrassment)
• crush (compress)/crash (collide)
• been (past participle of be)/being (state of existing)
• am (meaning I’m or I am)
• principal (person taking a leading role, as in a school)/ principle (rule guiding behaviour)
• its (showing possession, e.g. its length is unknown)/ it’s (abbreviation of it is)
• your (showing possession, e.g., your book)/ you’re (abbreviation of you are)
• affect (verb, e.g. sunlight affects the colour)/ effect (as noun, results produced, e.g. the effects of alcohol; as verb, bring about, e.g. the boat was used to effect a rescue)
• a lot (a large amount. Do NOT write as one word)
• councillor (one who serves on a council)/counsellor (one who advises)
• disinterest (unbiased, as in a disinterested observer)-- not to be confused with lack of interest (the boy appeared uninterested in the book)
• flaunt (to show off)/ flout (to express contempt, as in to flout the rules)
• fewer (use when referring to numbers, e.g. fewer people)/ less (use when referring to quantity, e.g. less reason to complain)
• razed down (the correct word is razed, since it means destroyed completely)
• requested for (should be either requested or asked for)
• access (Do not say “he was unable to access the compound”; either say, “he was unable to gain access to the compound” or “he was unable to get into the compound”. The word may be used as a verb in some cases, e.g. “he accessed the data” but do not over-use; instead find a more precise verb.) 
• middle-aged  (give the exact age)
• military officer/police official (give the title)
• lady/gentleman (say woman, man)
• “area” as in “area chief” (give the name of the place on first reference and after that just say “chief”)
• on the other hand (does not mean ‘also’. It is used only when two things are being discussed: ‘on the one hand…on the other hand’).
• whopping (large, as in “The con artist stole a whopping Sh2 billion”)/whooping (as in “The child contracted whooping cough”, an illness)

Online Newspaper: The Burning Splint Daily, A Week Old and Going Strong

“The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be ignited.” Plutarch

.

Am happy and humbled to announce through this post the week old online newspaper The Burning Splint Daily created using my twitter account on paper.li.

Exactly a week today after it maiden edition the online newspaper is pulling readers which is also directed to this blog.

Using my twitter account @ManuelOdeny, the paper on Monday 11^th July 2011 to glean articles, blog posts, videos and photos shared on Twitter into an online daily edition for ease of access.

Averaging about 60 contributors daily are The Economist, CNN, BBC, Times of Undia, Daily Nation, Business Daily, Guardian amongst other newspapers. Journalists and bloggers listed include Sunny Bindra, Aly Khan Satchu, Wamathai, FanyaBizna, Techmtaa and WhiteAfrican along with others.

The list is endless.

The need of sharing information which saw the creation of The Burning Splint Daily was also core in starting this blog about two years ago. With articles and cartoons (see the label on the right) in both soft and hard copy, I started the blog as a means of sharing information.

Now with over 270 posts and 22,000+ readers, the online paper has been aided in traffic flow.

May I take this time to appreciate support of friends and readers globally, both physically and online for this step.

You can join other global readers through:

·         Facebook Group (Burning Splint, The Blog)

·         Twitter Account (The Burning Splint) Or join the conversation by clicking on the right tab.

·         Online Newspaper (The Burning Splint Daily) Or click the tab on right hand side, and share using your Twitter and Facebook Accounts

Poem: Sometimes I Write by Manuel Odeny

Sometimes I write

because mine is a face

that dreamt a thousand dreams

captured in a thousand-and-one words

In silence and solitude

i write the wailing quietness

delicately picking the sound of a pin drop

capturing floating, settling dust

In ghastly realism.

Sometimes I write

in cacophony of city bustle

my words roaming the human jungle

capturing city’s hustle

out of impatient honks,

hurrying thumping feet

to filter meaning from the gibber.

On the Mara boulders I cat call

words free reining plains, hills

before me pen, me notebook picks:

on rustling grass

whistling foliage

on lull of lapping cool rivers

to the roar of dark, foamy Victoria

the echoes of the cat call.

Sometimes I write

in heady African prayers

throbbing with the bul*

shrilling with the asili’

with clap of hands, gyrate of bodies

dropping with sweat libations

raising slowly amid chants

before letting my words hung loose

accompanying invoked spirits of ancestors.

Sometimes I write

(like now)

in a warm insomniac night

amid soggy sheets, sleep disserted

when the world listens

to some things I don’t say.

·                     bul From Dholuo, a Luo drum.

·                     Asili, from Dholuo, a Luo flute

The Ectasy of Being Published and a Poem

When the journalism bug bites and the urge to write unquenchable, a young writer always find it hard to believe on his pieces. Always unedited and done by self with little assistance from peers who find writing boring, I resolved to find some other quarters.

I send a series of my poems to different newspapers and Magazines. Always I could not afford to follow up on publications due to financial ditches. Among the newspapers and magazines I did send my poems and articles are The Drum, True love, Nation and The literary discourse in Saturday Standards.

I still wonder where this poem appeared but some three readers found it uplifting enough to write back to me. They become my first comments and gave me energy and self esteem to write on and start this blog

 

Monday, October 6, 2008 7:58 AM

From: "David kamwela" Hello! Manuel, my name is David from Da-es-salaam in Tanzania, I have read the poem of yours 'IN THAT VILLAGE OF MINE' it was very nice poem i can say your a really poetry , i love your work. Wish you all best in that mail of mine.

Monday, August 4, 2008 5:31 AM

From: "ESTHER MWAURAH"

Hi! Surprise, my name is Esther; I happened to peruz on the newspaper and found a poem that you wrote. Am a big fan of poets and wished to congratulate you that was job well done. Gooddai and keep in touch

POWER OF THE WRITTEN WORD

Thursday, July 31, 2008 6:54 AM

From:"WANYOIKE esther"

Hi

Hope this email finds you well. I read some of these books and they were beneficial to me. I thought i should recommend them to you. Hope you find them helpful. Enjoy

Regards

Esther

Of the three only Esther Mwaurah replied back.

and goes tho poem:

IN THAT VILLAGE OF MINE

In that village of mine:

Which is like every other village

People do not work

People gossip and eat talk.

In that village of mine:

Which is like every other village

Women scream 24 hours a day

Those maimed women are beaten black ands blue

Because men aggressiveness have got an outlet

In that village of mine:

If you happen to be there friend of mine

You will never find girls

They were all defiled and ushered

To womanhood at five months

Will be husbandless mothers at ten

Undisputed grandmothers at twenty

And finally greatest grandmothers at twenty-five

In that village of mine:

Which is like every other village

There is no need to marry

Because your neighbors wife

is in surplus and was your ex!

In that village of mine:

Which is like every other village

Every child never resemble the father

Because every one has cajoled the mother

In that village of mine:

Which is like every other village

I do give it an abyss abhorring

Abysmally big bodied, big bellied

Women with unmemorable age

Are shameless boy-mongers

In that village of mine:

Which is like every other village

Men work at chang’aa dens

Bragging and boasting of sexual escapades

Bring home: monies which never pay fees;

Beatings and bags of STDs to their wives.

In that village of mine:

Which is like every other village

Youth good-byed school once upon a time

And are the best idlers, drunkards and thieves

These le grand football donators of balls to girls

Know it is the in-group thing

In that village of mine:

Which is like every other village

Poverty is past epidemic

It is pandemic!