I met a little seven year old girl named Bibi today, during my Picture the Story presentation, in which I presented Silly Chicken in which the chicken’s name is Bibi!

Poor little girl, she looked worried.

During the presentation I showed the kids previous drafts of the story, first where I called the chicken Sally, but then changed the name, thinking that there might be a girl in the audience one day called Sally, and wouldn’t the kids just start calling her Silly after that!

I know too well what that feels like so I then changed the name to Millie. But Millie and Silly was too close, sounded contrived.

When I was sixteen we had a budgie named Bibi. At first I named her Samia but that name didn’t stick. The budgie was blue and often made the sounds, “bee, bee.” So we called her Bibi.

Only problem is I know a lot of ladies with Bibi as the first part of their names. It seems to be a kind of tradition among my Guyanese in-laws. But what they don’t realize is that ‘bibi’ in that regard actually means ‘miss’. Maybe this little seven year old was Guyanese or something. I don’t know.

Since Silly Chicken is about sibling rivalry with a chicken, and the girl’s name is Rani (which means queen) it made sense to name the Chicken, Bibi, which means ‘miss’.

But I can’t help worrying about this little seven year old Bibi.

I asked her if she thought the kids would start calling her silly, and she said, “They already do.”

Oh! So I gave her a hug and I told the other kids around her not to call her names.

I wonder if that will work.

Bullying, it just never goes away.

I wonder if it’s part of human nature.

Even on this online group I belong to I’ve seen vestiges of it. One lady was particularly adept at twisting what you said to put it in the worst possible light, while others were trying to kick others out and take control of the group.

And then there’s the vast silent majority.

I was watching Dr. Phil and it was about that poor girl in Massachusetts who committed suicide. What a tragic story!

And how some of the bullies started a facebook page saying how’d they’d murdered her!

I deal with that all the time when I go to schools and do my ESL to Author  presentation. Rich, poor, doesn’t matter, when I start talking about a girl in my grade eight class who attempted it, you should see the kids go silent and start looking side to side to see who might be watching them.

Maybe some of my confidence is back. Today has made me realize how important the novel I’m currently working on is, the one I was scared about, the one I thought would get me a lot of flack.

I’m sure it will, but if it will prevent even one kid from committing suicide, then it’ll be worth it.

When I think of how I used to dream of it. Wanting to just die so that the pain would be over.

I never dreamed my life would end up the way it has.

I never dreamed that I’d actually have my dreams come true of being a children’s author.

Maybe it’s why I connect so well with that age group: grades seven and eight.

They are my favourite group to present to.

Oh, I’m feeling dogged. Determined. And my old confidence is returning.

There are stories to write and a difference to make.

Onward ho.