By now I bet you have already made peace with my disappearing acts and alienation from this house which has lately been devoid of satire. Life never prepares you for certain eventualities. Like we get into marriages totally clueless how they will span out. Like in every party which has two kinds of people: those who want to go home and those who don’t. The trouble is they are usually married to each other. Many suspect I disappeared because I’m happily married, with adorable kids who I never post because of their resemblance to our caretaker. The same zealots have no ounce of doubt that I have been getting laid and working towards tampering with Meagan Good’s monthly period, rendering me too tepid to write my monthly journals.
Truth of the matter is my Facebook, WhatsApp and Instagram friends respectively: Sharon, Shanice and Shantel finally gave birth. They also discovered that one can concurrently flock stories on the three social media spaces with their spams of joy. Now your guess is just as good as mine: they have been posting baby pictures every 30 minutes. I suspect Shantel, tells her kid to smile for the camera but she doesn’t, so she pinches her and later posts her with the caption “My Everything”. This makes me feel like am raising their children using my data. That is the closest I have come to raising a child in this epoch steered by internet of things. Shantel, if you are reading this, no offense. Sharon, I know you use an electric toothbrush and that’s totally none of my business. Shanice, you have very nice extra eyelashes. Got me wondering who invented fake eye-lashes. The last time you blinked at me it sounded like a flock of pigeons took off. She must be sending me hints that she’s too fly. Pardon my nose Shanice, I found it in your business without your consent.
While I was away, the inter-webs have been actively orienting us to life-cum-marriage lessons. Most recently marriage was given an evangelical spicy touch by a pastor’s wife. Revelations that got tongues wagging. So raw was the delivery, the mention of sex shook some congregants off their conscience. The same lot that imagines that in a normal conversation, the word ass should mean a donkey, sex should be just a gender and missionary should never be associated with pressing the baby button, and instead, it should remain to be that person who spreads spiritual nourishment. See, sex is like a secret cult everybody belongs to but no one admits to being a member, except pregnant women.
The lesson of the year on marriage cannot be over-emphasized. So alluring were the lessons I can’t resist the urge to reiterate the importance of dancing in the sheets. The sheriff in town has advised that couples need to lock legs and swap gravy regardless of where and when their bodies yearn for a pants-off dance-off. Word has it that we are over-utilizing our beds if not over-shaking them while doing the matrimonial midnight jockey ride. It was noted that the kitchen does have hots for this act of roasting the broomstick. She will be innocently bending over to pick essentials from the lower rack of the fridge but the man amidst picking his whiskey glass, will presume that she is inviting him to tickle her tummy from inside with his funny business tool. The backseat of your car should also be fully used by sneaking in a few sessions involving two-person push-ups just to test the vehicle’s suspension.
Parting shot. Only bad sex ruins friendships, maybe relationships too, so if you go for it, make it count.
Football has played a significant role in invigorating celebratory euphoria this year. It has also been a home that owners constantly slam the door because the there is no flair in that relationship. Some have stuck to their relationships because well, some relationships are indelible. Arsenal fans are in such a relationship. Arsenal fans have made peace with the fact that: Any lady you have chosen deserves the charisma there is to go around, open the car door for her, pull back her sit, and tickle her insides with the little clown left in you. It doesn’t matter that you have been living together for dog years or she now comes to bed with a branded T-shirts written “Tano Tena” or “Webe ni ure ure” and a canopy of stockings on her head. She deserves that charm from you. Nonetheless, Arsenal has been the wife who goes to work in a mini-skirt just above the knee but coming to bed dressed like an Astronaut. It is driving the fans bonkers.
Supporting Arsenal, hitherto, is now turning into a cult. It’s like some strange strong dogmatic religion. It’s like believing Pastor Ng’ang’a performed miracles dog years ago in the hope of even greater miracles in 2019! But then belief leads people to accept the most ridiculous things as the absolute truth. If you are used to glory as an Arsenal fan I would suggest you just stick to embracing your morning glory. It’s more reliable, realistic and you are guaranteed a glorious morning (read moaning). And if Arsenal is still your cup of tea, here’s a parting shot, the difference between Arsenal and a cup of tea is that the tea stays in the cup longer.
Kenya is country that shoves politics down your throat just as much as spendthrifts in Nairobi surprise their liver with a tsunami of over-priced whiskey. Those new to politics find their feeling being tossed from the frying pan into the fire. Parting shot: Taking politics to heart is a waste of emotion and energy. Politics is meant for the head not the heart.
Again, it is that time of the year when people with broken families feel it the most. It shall get better. Nonetheless, family has eroded part of its identity which promoted cohesion. Family used to be a time when you can go to your grandma’s to eat together, make merry and create a solemn aura that depicts the family footprint. Not anymore. Nowadays everyone choses who they want to deal with. Aunts and Uncles choose which kids they want to deal with. Siblings treat their friends and drinking buddies more like family. Your level of income is directly proportional to the amount of respect and attention offered to you by your extended family and the only time you see everyone together is during a funeral. Parting shot: You don’t have to go home and see family if it damages your mental health. Sharing the same Bloodline does not automatically cushion you from toxic relatives. Isolate yourself if you have to. Get home, fix yourself some coffee, sink in your buoyant couch or bathtub till thy kingdom come, listen to the loud silence swallowed by the room, let the world decide for itself if that is loneliness or freedom. Because the greatest responsibility you have is to your own well-being and happiness.
By taking care of yourself you will sometimes rub people the wrong way or even anger them. Some of your personal decisions will anger some and derive speculative judgements regarding your life’s trajectory. You will constantly bump into a myriad of pre-determined ways of life. You will be told thing like, Guys your age already have a Masters, a wife, a house with a pool and a poodle, a bouncing castle and a bouncing baby boy. You need to buy land before buying a car.You need to get married to a woman from this part of the continent or your marriage will fail. Moral of the story and a parting shot: You cannot and never will please everyone. Drink your whiskey, eat your chocolate, turn up your music, have lots of sex, you don’t have to do it the way the missionaries intended, bite your partner’s ears if they like it. Go thee and buy new underwear. Be happy!
Maybe it finally dawned on me like cosmofilius-cum-Cecelia Mar, that I need to uncomplicated my mind. For the longest time, it feels like I have been trying to make sense of life but now I see there is no sense to be made, only life to be lived. There is no set purpose to fulfill, there are no checklists to complete, just an ephemeral moment to breath, to love to be kind, to feel. Life is in all the simple little things that we often overlook. Uncomplicate your heart. Be here, be present, embrace your own journey. There is so much beauty and wonder to be found where you are.
Here’s to a Merry Christmas and a new year filled with thrill.
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