It is a normal business as usual Tuesday morning.
Then almost out of nowhere, six men, nondescript in their appearance, emerge. Some are wearing the traditional Swahili kanzu; the others are in your standard shirt and trouser. If they walked past you at any other time you would hardly spare them a glance, there is nothing extraordinary about them, they would blend in seamlessly with the scenery.
You have to start somewhere. Usually at the bottom. Typically doing the hardest, least desirable item on the description box.
It didn’t help matters that our school teachers thre the term “regret” at us every chance they got. It was, they warned ominously, what we would suffer with if we didn’t work hard. Our future would be ruined, they foresaw, if we didn’t step up; if we allowed our socks to remain at ankle level instead of pulling them up.
What scares me the most is coming out of this having learned nothing. Going back to our selfish, self absorbed ways. Running around like headless chickens trying to prove ourselves. The question is to who?
Somehow in the quiet, without what would have been sounds from masaajid all around the neighbourhood, it feels more like Ramadhan than it ever has. For with quiet are we able to hear what would have otherwise remained muted.
It might seem stupid to suggest spending time with the family when you are all indoors together but don’t be surprised when everyone is absorbed in their own things in their own corners of the home.
You may be thinking that we can’t sum up and navigate through all of life’s adventures, challenges and demands by simply following certain rules.
Who says we can’t?
Because we also cannot keep a clear logical head capable of meeting issues head on without them
I want the quiet of the sticks, to breathe in; and to use a tired cliche- fresh air. I want to hear the birds sing, to awaken to the crowing of the cocks. Not by the screeching of alarm clocks or matatu touts calling for passengers
Your worth is not defined by your day job or your designation. Your worth is not directly proportional to your career.
What happens when you lose the source of your livelihood?
You are unique down to your fingerprints. Your path is not going to be the same as anyone else’s. Don’t check to see where people your age, your academic level, in your community are at this point in time.
Forgiveness does not alter the facts and neither is it meant to. They still did you wrong and you are still traumatised about it. But imagine refusing to see yourself as a victim any more.
