I haven’t written in a while. Wait no, I write every day. I haven’t updated my blog in a while. And I have good excuses. Let’s start with Hplylori, remember that. During that one week I felt like I may not wake up in morning when I went to bed. I woke up, I always did. I wrote a lot. Shared with my friend “the editor” and he took 2 days to revert. When he does that I know I am going nowhere with it and I trash it. I respect your brains too much to fill them with crap. This blog is my life lately.I feel like I have abandoned my new born on the corner of the street.I am not ever going to do that again, so God help me. Today as I left the house I was wondering why we do the shit we do every day. You wake up at the break of dawn and go sit on your boring desk and leave at 17:00hrs. Do you enjoy it? Do you love it? Then I also wondered why we choose the partners we have? What made you pick him/her of the 7 billion humans on earth?
I sat on the front seat in the bus. I intended to read all the way to town. I didn’t. The driver was from “The fast and furious” premier. Or maybe he had a dental appointment but first, had to drop off his cargo. I kept thinking, what if I die? What will my life count for? Why would I die just when I have almost kicked H… that thing’s ass. My friend calls it H. He says the full name sounds like death. I agree.
I had a meeting on Ngong road after which we decided to grab a bite at Uchumi. Among other things, I picked the biggest yoghurt, paid and went to pick a straw. Guess what, Uchumi had no straws! Not even for sale.
Reminded me of when I had a meeting at Sarit last week and my colleague got late. To kill time, I wandered into Uchumi Sarit to get chewing gum. Guess what, Uchumi Sarit had no gum. I asked the attendant and he said they don’t stock gum. I am now left wondering what they stock at Uchumi. I have seen things in the newspaper like everyone else but I had hope. I still do. Uchumi is not making it easy though. It is like looking for drinking water in Kitui. You must dig deep, walk far and wait. That’s also a principal you can apply in life.
Speaking of Kitui I just remembered I once went to a science congress conference in Kitui. That was back in high school when my dreams involved being a doctor, a pilot and the president. Wonder what happened to those dreams. But then again, I always lived in the moment even back in high school. I once refused to go for a trip because my parents were going through a rough patch. It was fully paid for and everything but talk about being a sensitive considerate teenager. Apart from considerate, I was also stupid in primary school. Not the normal kind kid stupid, I was abnormally stupid. I went to boarding school. When you are in boarding school you are given money for upkeep (to buy sweet nothings). This helped alleviate homesickness and blinded you from the fact that your parents had kicked you out of home – in a way. Every holiday, from class 5 to class 8, I went home with excess pocket money which I diligently handed over to my mother. When I first returned my savings, my mother felt and looked richer. That could be the reason she was always happy to welcome me home and never gave me a piggy bank. That and growing up in the village could be the other reason. In her ingenious ways, mom was instrumental in developing my saving culture.
In Kitui there was no water. We spent the night at Kitui girls. We woke up at 2.30am to fetch bathing water. Back in Meru, we rarely had problems with water. And when we had there was always plan B, C and D. In Kitui there were no plans. I took a bath with three cups of water. Three cups zile za white za flask. I think our deodorants could not hide our stinky armpits from the moderators. We could not wait to finish and get back to the bus. No wonder we were in fifth position with a girl called Sylvia. I think I should redo high school. This was also the second time I was on the school bus. I was the most awkward high school student. I missed out on way too much. Can you believe I received only one “love” letter in high school. It was not even a love letter, it was a very passive aggressive way of professing love.
I feel like a scatter brain in this article. Going back and forth and all over. This may be because I have written many articles for the blog but nothing pleases me. I might just have to crawl into a dark hole and stay there until this thing passes. I hate me too. Sometimes.
There is this theory in my mother tongue that, “Warega guitithia mungerere uri mwiji ukaitithia uri mukuru!” If you don’t spin an old tire as a kid you will do it in your old age! Is this true?