Conversations start with either “Sasa wewe…” or “Nani…” Sometimes, the conversation starts with “I hope you have something important to tell me…”
The conversations can last a few seconds or even two hours or so.
But before I digress…
We all want to have the “kind, caring and understanding, soft-spoken, always there” kind of friend. You know the ones we keep in our colourful imaginary lists of must-have traits.
Imagine that you are walking in town one Saturday afternoon. Either alone or with a friend in tow. Let’s assume the second option – you are strolling in town with a friend, W. You talk about the weather and how it’s been behaving. How the week was at work and at home. You talk about everything that you can possibly talk with your friend. Then, suddenly, in the middle of that you start feeling ill. At that moment you realize that there is something terribly wrong with your body and you cannot really figure it out. You assume and keep on talking. Suddenly your friend realizes there’s something terribly wrong, but they too are clueless. Things happen so fast that you start losing your sensory abilities – you cannot feel the spoon that’s in your hand and you fail to coordinate the digits on your hand but nothing. Before you know it, a sharp migraine fills your entire head causing you to slump on the table, weak and helpless.
There are exactly 14 days to the end of this year. This will be the first time I will be truly reflecting on the happenings of the year. The last 351 days have taken me through paths and thickets I have never trodden before. I thought it would be good to share some of them with you. Even though some of the may seem too trivial for life, they have undoubtedly reshaped my life, thoughts and the direction that my life has taken.
What can we say about the devices that enable us write? Can they write a story of their own? These are the questions that plagued my 10 year old mind. It was the year 2000. In class 5.
I was in a day primary school where, I presume like in many other schools, progressing in class meant progress in one facet that is king in the world of learning. The white missionaries who harboured selfish and ulterior motives under the guise of spreading the gospel outright proclaimed the 3R’s: Reading, wRiting and Rithmetic. I’m talking about writing. If writing is king, then reading is queen. And rithmetic is the king’s side-dish. Sorry for that inappropriate TMI.
I can’t remember the day I first wrote anything. However, I have parents who filed every exercise book and school report from 1994.
Early this year I met a lady. A totally random lady. She made me get in touch with the scarce, yet crucial element of simply being human. Are you, or have you met those people who forget that everyone else is human? This city is full of such. This one was and is an exception.
Inhaling the air of Nairobi infuses its dwellers and residents alike with insensitivity to others. Whether the person in need is a friend or a stranger. That had been my notion all along. Until this day when this lady did something I’m yet to hear of.