It’s my birthday!
So surely I should write
something… right?
It’s my first post this year and
I know you might not take this kindly…but just hold that thought just yet… I
might just surprise or better still remind you of that day you turned my age
and even better of the day you will be lucky to reach mine.
Well, before I start you might be
guessing that there is no bash since who’s got the time to tailor up an article
when he should be busy sending E_Vites and finalizing on the reception, drinks,
food and of course managing the hysteria of exciting gifts to come from his
unending list of friends? Well you are right.
But am not disappointed either,
coz I wasn’t that expectant anyway, save for that feeling at the back of my
mind that ‘somebody is gotta surprise you this time round!’ Well, as it seems
they have kept the surprise for next year (hopefully).
The better thing about all this
is that the last 22 of them have been no different. At least I score on
consistency! Maybe hope has grown too…and definitely the ‘god of Height’ has
been quite generous the last ten years. I recall when I was in form one in a
class of 250 I was among the 20 shortest people. Actually I almost missed out
in the Class one intake since I failed an ‘important’ requirement those days
where my left hand couldn’t touch my right ear! It took some serious convincing
from my mother for the headmistress to allow me but I was to be monitored.
Thanks mum.
Now I can confidently comment on
short people and indeed assert there’s something that just not right with them.
I’d say in there thinking but more evidently in their self-esteem. While some
might disagree with me, remember, I’ve been there…or better still watch for
traits like short-temper and incessant talk and whining. Quite a number though
might overcome this…I’d say with therapy, but that would be too cruel, right?
So at five, or six (my memory is
quite fuzzy), I remember attending a birthday party for one of my not so
distant cousins at Nanyuki barracks, he was turning 8 I think. That was the
first I ever attended and it was really well planned and attended. I marveled
at the gifts the kid was given… we also brought a gift. Everything was new for
me; the storeyed building, staircases, a water closet that I had to be helped
to use, a double-decker bed, a mountain bike (I only learnt to ride a regular
bike in class 8), the VCR with a color display and the most exciting riding
next to the driver on our way back in my uncle’s Hilux Pick-up van.
Now I remember it was in the
place that I watched my first episode of Redykulas and I just dint want to
leave. (Damn! Mudomo baggy, Kajairo, Kiare John and Nyambane have quite been
around!)
That day I dreamt of my own
birthday party with all kinds of gifts (the brick game in particular), foods
and visitors. All there because of me. Celebrating my life hugging me and saying
good things about me and my future. And that was my best birthday party, in
that dream, coz when morning came, childhood calls came calling
When February 27th came early the
following year it was my elder sister who accidentally looked at the only Supermatch calendar on our wall just
after our noon meal and announced it. Keen not to disappoint me, mother
slaughtered one of her cockerels and some wheat flour was bought. I was happy.
You need to hang in there coz
it’s my birthday… you gotta listen... I’ll tell you why soon enough.
One day in class four our class
teacher asked us a question that all of us must have been asked severally and
maybe some still are answering it even past my age. “What would you want to be
when you grow up?”
This question always stirred
excitement, utopian thinking and hope in the eager children who had just learnt
that the multiplication table was the new greeting in upper-primary. Being
among the arguably ‘bright’ students in the class I was among the first to be
asked.
Others had enthusiastically
raised their hands shouting “lawyer” “doctor” “engineer” “pilot” “teacher” and
the like. When my turned came, I confidently said “driver!”
The teacher was beside himself
with laughter. There were giggles from
my classmates and subtly noticing my unimpressive answer half-whispered
“policeman!” this time round the teacher controlled his laughter and tried to
explain to me how I needed better aspirations.
Truth of the matter is I had no
clue about what these other careers meant or required of me, but neither did my
classmates. My choices were guided by what I had already interacted with and
grown to admire. For instance travelling to my grandma’s place in rural, rural
Meru was always a nightmare in those Face_Me pick-up Matatus that could comfortably carry well-over 25 grown-ups with a
very uncomfortable seat facing the door that made sure stretching legs was
immoral. But the driver was in comfortable seat taking control of our journey
and at his own discretion deciding what speed and where we stopped.
To young me, the driver had
incredible power and comfort and to have such control over people was a
sensible thing to work towards. Or take the case of the policeman who’s
presence in our village caused unease, their powerful LandRover Defender engine roar could be heard from afar and
signified some notorious loggers were
about to be apprehended, or even the magnificent guard of honor they displayed
on Moi Day that we always watched in our neighbour’s Greatwall TV. Surely I must have thought well.
 |
| The legendary Greatwall TV |
Years later after becoming
exposed to more information and interacting with some kids from urban areas I
had what my class four teacher would have called ‘divine intervention’ and
decide that I wanted to become a lawyer. That time we even had a Greatwall TV of our own and a VCR with
foreign programs and Movies further reinforcing my resolve.
Today am in my final Year at Journalism school and just completed a professional certification in IT. Am actually laughing right now. These things am doing right now, that class four boy who wanted to be a driver could not even have dreamed of. The TV itself was a mystery enough, leave alone a computer that one day in class eight a boy from town told us that it could actually sleep and wake up when time came for it to!
Like I said, it’s my birthday and
so I have written… so it’s different. And I guess I could call myself a writer?
Well a storyteller maybe?
Maybe next year a day like today,
I will tell you what am dreaming right now.
Kindly type a HBD down here since
my E_vites didn’t have a venue!
