These are sad realities of turning 40:
Once the euphoria of campus is done and the excitement of your first job settles, you fill in your first tax return and it stings abit. You have big dreams, you focus on buying a car, moving to a bigger house, buying a bigger car, getting a better job. Big dreams, big ambitions. At times you can look too far ahead and miss the simpler things and opportunities of shorter-term goals like wearing a suit, or buying your mother a handbag, or doing a diploma course in flowers just because it makes you happy.
You blink twice and you’re 40 or 50yrs old and are suddenly staring into the abyss of your insignificant achievements. You don’t feel 40/50, but socially that’s how society sees you. When you say 25 years ago, it’s still the year 2000. You reflect, have I done enough? Have I achieved enough? What could’ve been different?
The once volatile lifestyle is replaced by pragmatic logical pursuits that linger around fitness n health, private BBQs, watching plays, of course there’s still the occasional binge weekend to remind you of your virility (with 3days to recover).
People seem to die a lot, parents, uncles, aunts, even that shopkeeper in the hood who used to give you bread n eggs on credit, you’ll bump into an old neighbor and he’ll ask you, if you remember “Kamau wa mkate? he passed away”. And you’ll reminisce of the mayai ugali bachelor food. You become an expert in funeral contributions spreadsheets. You’re now the guy people depend on to accompany them to the mortuary.
You frequent Ushago to check if your “Simba” hasn’t collapsed as you contemplate building a nice house. Subconsciously you think about death often. Some call that Ushago house dead capital, others call it peace of mind. Your conversations with your peers are laden with talk of “you remember that time….” and other abunuasi stories. If your folks pressured you enough you probably have two of three kids to carry on whatever legacy you’ve worked on and the only reason you stand your boss’ annoying self is because school fees is a thing, and rent is non negotiable, and you need bundles to watch Tik Tok videos you can’t even partake in.
You reflect more about things; you have philosophical arguments with friends, arguments that stem from the silliest of premise but generate a lot of meaningless deep thought.
Many new clubs have opened up, but you only know the old ones, K1/2, F1/2, Zeep, L’Ora Blue, Choices, and of course you know new ones NSK, Alchemist, Geco n such but mostly you go because they have an artsy vibe that doesn’t cause discomfort of spirits. You can’t dance long coz you’re rheumatic of shoulder, arthritic of knee.
Sundays are for visiting farmer’s markets and buying Ankara shorts/hoodies and drinking Balozi or some other prosecco type drink. You look back n smile, that was one heck of a ride. You wonder if there’s yet another chapter? Of course yes. So go forth n write that chapter my dear Watson, you’ve done well thus far!