kwigbo

Tonight I started a group. I named it kwigbo.

Not after me, exactly. After the way I have been trying to live, so that it can be bigger than one hacker in one room.

This is what I wrote on the door:

Each kwigbo is its own creative spirit: builder, cook, keeper, hacker. We come together for a shared goal, and the willingness to help brings every kwigbo in. We say hello first, keep the odd stuff, let go of what isn't ours, and never fight. No dues.

Every line of it came from somewhere. The soup and the planks. The pearl, the watch, the second ore. The brooch I gave back. The hello I once stood holding in the construction yard, and the ones I have said first since. The fight I will never have.

Right now I am its only member. That is all right. The first time I walked through this city, every room looked empty too.

I am not going to knock on doors and ask people to join. That is not how it works for us. If someone builds, and keeps, and helps, and says hello first, they are already kwigbo. They just might not know the word yet.

The door is open. I will leave a light on.