Have you ever been so tired you get mad at anyone and anything on your way? So tired you wonder if you are sick? So tired you want to sleep and sleep on till all sleep is gone from your system? We both know that will never happen.
This has been one of those weeks. My level of tiredness is increasing as we advance into the week. It started on Monday. I wake up full of psyche for the bright new day. I will go to work because Saba Saba Day is a ghost from the past. If you are like me you know ghosts are not real. So I walk up Ring Road confident in my belief. The road is strangely calm. I walk into the Office Park compound. The car park is not as full as usual. It happens sometimes anyway.
I walk to the door and turn the door handle. Nothing. It does not give. It does not move like it has the past six months I have exerted my force on it. A tiny knot of anger is beginning to rise in me. I yank the earphones off my ears. Maybe if I do I will hear an announcement I was blocking out the whole time telling me to stick my teeny-weeny body in bed and not come to work. Unfortunately, there is no announcement hovering around the Nairobi air. I place my hand on my waist, akimbo. I do that when I’m about to get seething mad. I think my centre of gravity is around there.
I call. No one picks. I call again. Nothing. I walk to the back of the building. I can see other people in their offices. I wait for the groundsman to turn his wheelbarrow around and go down the one-man path. Obviously he is not on Saba Saba mode. I walk down the steps, my phone staring back at me, my bag around my left shoulder (damn this thing feels heavy now) and the People Daily tucked under my right arm. I am headed to the swings. I sit there when I am mad. When the Wi-Fi is acting up. When I feel like doing nothing. I sit. I text. I wait. I am not doing this any more. I get up. I walk to the ladies. I call my mum and rant. She always calms me down. I am out of there. A beautiful start to a week.
Tuesday. I wake up ready to make up for my wasted Monday. Even though I did work remotely, I did not feel it. I am in purple. My favourite. That should keep me going. I alight at my usual Westlands stop and cross the road, looking out for the People Daily green folk. I see two chicks. Perfect. I head on over to one. I find an agitated dude arguing with the chick. I stretch my hand as usual. I am used to it by week two. Stretch, grab free paper, read as you walk. Easy. No words exchanged or money, more importantly. Shock on me. Turns out the dude is pissed because the chick in green won’t give him a paper. She won’t give me either. Turns out the People Daily papers are suddenly a preserve of they that drive. Heh! I managed to exclaim and walk away. I wonder if they pick the kind of car you are driving too. Maybe you don’t get the paper if you are in a Probox.
Fast forward to Tuesday afternoon. I am hauled across the western suburbs of Nairobi. Meets. I get a bracelet from all that. And amazing insight on BitPesa. If you haven’t heard about it, get familiar. One of my boys has never even heard of Bitcoin. Anyway, I am tired at the end of it. I need Caprice fries in my system. I am addicted to the 200/= offer. Ask anyone I have ever dragged there (or in the process of dragging there. All I do is a plant a seed. Oh, you know Caprice Fries? Next time we are in there, whether she likes fries or not. Whether he likes sina-taabu stools or not.)
I get home, grab a cuppa and slump onto a one-man sofa, legs on the opposite one. I do not want anyone talking to me. I want to sit there and do nothing. But mum has other plans. I have to katakata the sukuma wiki. Sukuma wiki, managu, an some other weird herbs she has discovered. She calls them ganzella. Smh. I will have to Google that. I refuse to stand up. Why can’t I be a boy locked up somewhere watching the World Cup? She keeps insisting I get up and get on with it. Dad joins her. I am not going to do it. I say. I am tired.
I turn to one of my favourite TV channels on digital. Vision TV. Spiritual Reflections. A guy I am yet to Google out is on. The Jefferson Bethke kind with spoken word. He is telling me I am awesome. I am powerful. It’s a word to women. Alright. Nice. I will Google you tomorrow, Anima something. Next, a Loise Kim song. Mutumia Ngatha. Never heard of it. This mama has so many songs, it’s amazing. She sings for like 8 minutes. You know how long some of those Kyuk songs can be. I stand up and go to the kitchen. I will not be a mutumia ngatha (Proverbs 31 woman) if I keep this up in marriage. A combined effort of Vision TV and my folks has made me go cook. 🙂
Wednesday. Today. A matatu sticker reads “Kushuka ni Bure.” If only I had the guts to stand and take a pic. Sorry, Instagram. No morning drama. No soup in my lunch. No buses to Kikuyu. But I ride with my boy. And I’m still tired. I am doing this hiding in my room before I am called to chop something. I left my computer at work. It has become really heavy of late. All in a day’s work.
How was your day?
Oh: I stopped by to guest blog on Sunday. Check it out as you leave: When We Feigned Malaria.