Where are the love letters?


Not so long ago, in a land of a thousand dreams, probably the 1950s, somewhere in an old bungalow lived a sweet youthful woman that I now call grandmother (Clementina).

All alone and in a relaxed composure, she sat and wrote love letters to her husband far away in the cold confines of Mbale Prison, working day and night as a warden. These moments of solitude evoke strong memories of the love letters I have written all in the name of cupid.

As if to ascertain that she was alone, she would hide her palms beneath the sheets of paper just to exaggerate that the letters were only for her eyes. People write letters so as to feel good about those moments they had or never had. Others would go as far as to spray cologne so as to add that aromatic aura synonymous with romanticism.

Sadly, letter writing seems to fade fast as the time that swishes by the day. It’s much harder to believe this tragic death as an utmost evolution of survival.

Yes, email is a wonderful invention. It links people across the world, destroying in an instant hurdle of geography that confronts snail mail. Yet it’s by nature ephemeral and lacks the spark of character that only handwriting can provide. When you get an email, you can never be sure that you are the only recipient or even that it’s original”.

In a world run by these machines we call technology, deep inside, slowly, dies the art of letter writing in place of buzzing social media. When the aspect of social media comes into play, the first thing that comes to mind is the instant messaging that seems to take the bragging rights.

The anticipation never dies in the letters. With all the hushy and pushy feeling of email, it never gets better with the impatience that seems to breed so fast in our dotcom era.

Sometimes people go as far as breaking cups because a reply hasn’t yet arrived, say on their Whatsapp platform.

Let’s re-ignite this form of expression. There’s so much more to tell in a love letter than meets eye.