“Dear Younger Me….”
I take a look at the crispy white blank paper and try to gather my thoughts for one last time. Every minute turns out to be as daunting as a blinking cursor as I did not know where to start but it had to be where it was. Winking ever so sadistically but fairly spaced out in it’s intervals like synchronized monochromes. Perhaps I could begin with the time I got chased down by monkeys just to learn a lesson on always having your carrier bag. Or the masterclass I got on stealing when I picked a mango that had apparently been dropped by a barrel of monkeys and they decided that class would be in session. Or probably just start off with an advice to stay off monkeys all together because as I found out a little later, this time when they got hold of my sister’s feet, it’s probably a generational feud. Genetics. Or maybe I should be a little useful and give him a piece of advice and tell him not to turn right and startle the German canines at the next junction while making his escape. Because sometimes, life puts on a show and God becomes a comedian.
Admittedly, it’s the kind of show I’ve been stuck at for the past twenty years. I’ve gotten to see really impressive tag lines along the way but I’m still waiting for the punchline to this tale. For every time I think it just stopped, it just gets started. Like how I would think this is it and yet migrate to five different schools every time in a span twelve years of primary school like some sort of scaled down version of the exodus. Or probably an unnecessary Jack Snyder cut to the all time favorite Bible story with a twisted end where I go back to “Egypt” where it all started. And then we would have weird looks as I faced Mr. Danson and the consequences of my early mid day tantrums. Literally being welcomed with “Our baby has returned”. Maybe that wasn’t intentional, I wouldn’t know. But it was damned poetic!
And I remember the times I thought I had my life sorted out only for it to turn its’s back on me as a whetted dagger transfixed a well spelled out “sike!” How I twisted an ankle barely two weeks to my KCPE Mock trials and I would have to walk to school in my Dad’s oversized Swahili “Gucci flipflops” we like to call makubadhi to compensate for the club I had for a foot. Literally “filling his shoes”. But even then, that wasn’t the punchline to this lame joke. Pun definitely intended.
Just after the last paper, excited to be filling my own Bata shoes for once, I went on to play football and this time actually broke my wrist and the “club” moved up for an all time favorite handover in history. Pun also definitely intended. So for the next couple of months I would train to be an ambidextrous. It did come with it’s perks though since when all efforts were heightened with dozens of assignments and notes and tons upon tons of compositions and the dreadful inshas, I was cruising writing down A B C D’s and having my one composition a day that was conveniently “to go”. But at what cost?? Luckily I would have the cast removed the Sunday before my final examinations and as people were busy doing every KNEC paper that ever existed, I was ironically practicing my a b c d’s with my wasted right arm with the blue and red handwriting books that I ironically had to take back for “marking”. Though looking back now I’d say “Levels, brother!” You literally sang the alphabet for your KCPE!
I come back around and got met head on with the blank sheet of paper. Ed Sheeran wraps up on my Spotify playlist and I have to say, the pangs that his song delivered was unfathomable as every sentence triggered a part of me that I wanted to tell to my past self. What I wanted to say but couldn’t, couldn’t say but wanted and what I would have said but did not know how to. But yet this, this loudly delivered my every silent thought.
I swear it’ll get easier
Remember that with every piece of you
I fidget with the pen between my index and ring finger in glitchy but no less impressive thumb around spins as it all started to come together. And so as I leaned forward to have my first cut, I smiled for I precisely knew where to first cut.
Dear Younger Me……”
To my past self……”
“To what I wished I knew….”
Scratch that, everything
Life is more than fitting in your jeans!!”