Simpler Times

 Happy New Year friends :) 

I will write a little because we have some catching up to do and this is Pato's post. Pato might just be a regular guest writer on this platform. He reminisced about simpler times. An epistle ...perhaps? 

Enjoy. Xx

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Hi, it’s me! Pato! It has been a hot minute, hasn’t it? You must even have forgotten I exist LOL. Well just in case you are wondering. I have been doing fine. “Fine” is an understatement really, I have been doing great actually. Thanks for asking. I am sending you this because you abruptly stopped responding to our conversations, you outrightly ghosted me, or we unexpectedly fell out of contact in some way. I am of course devastated beyond repair, as your attention was all that was sustaining me in these troubled times, but somehow, I’ll soldier on.

You have missed my writing, haven’t you? Today prepare to have your mind blown. But I haven’t been practicing. Writer’s block is still a thing so also lower your expectations because I am still rough around the edges. Don’t you just want to catch a break or a hiatus sometimes? You deserve to be by the beach, with turquoise water, eating fruit with someone legit. Her wearing little to nothing. And you wearing sunnies and shorts with an endless supply of golden hour sundowners, being at your happiest as Dumebi is playing because it is a timeless song. 

Recently don’t you choose to find solace in old memories? Back when times were simpler. When you didn’t use to pay bills. When the only thing stressing you was whether to tell the Maths teacher lies about your homework, it was either “I forgot my homework at home” or the more believable one “The dog ate my homework”. Either way, you would still get a whooping. Now you convince yourself that you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed because only a fool will believe a dog ate their homework. You used to color outside the lines in those animal drawings, you used to think babies fell from the sky and you were convinced, Mrs Jane teaching you CRE had a big belly because she used to eat a mountain of Ugali. See, not the brightest crayon in the box.

Miss Ashley, your first crush. Back when a crush meant something. Not like today, when you text someone – I have a crush on you and they just bluetick and plainly ignore you (how rude), it hurts your feelings and your ego. Perhaps it doesn’t hurt as badly as you sitting next to the most gorgeous girl in a matatu, and you make zero moves and then you never see her again in this lifetime, sad! That was your soulmate. Your ancestors are well embarrassed in you but posterity will have it that you tried. They had it the easy way. Back when matchmaking was the thing. You would turn 20 and boom! your grandma shows up with Nafula, the girl with big bosom who she saw fetch water from the well and balance it on her head. Nafula the one who men used to bow to as if she was a diety. She had caramel skin, teeth white as snow, she had a smile as charming as a summer day and your great great great grandma handpicked her for your great granddad (good times). And you appreciate her for saving your lineage because some part of the flawless genes that you inherited can be traced back to Nafula.

Sorry for digressing! Have I lost you? I bet Not!! I know you are still hooked on this story because I promised you it’s going to be good.

Back to Ashley. She was the life of the party back in lower primary, class three east to be precise. She was such an extrovert and you were an intense introvert. She was the ying to your yang, the apple of your eye. Ashley was your sunshine. You used to meet at the pencil sharpener point and you intentionally forgot yours at home so you could borrow Her’s. She would tell you not to blow her sharpener. A classic love story. Before you knew her she was the class prefect. You used to appear on her naughty list of noise makers and she used to write “times two” to prove to Mrs Musau you were an empty barrel who made the most noise. You liked her regardless. 

One Sunday you used up church offertory money to buy sweets. Mind you failing to pay sadaka was a cardinal offense back in the day that was punishable by going to hell because being “mtoto wa shetani” created an unimaginable fear in you. That same Sunday your aunty showed up over the weekend with Dairy Fresh, strawberry flavor, your favorite (and also Ashley’s favorite). You had to endure your brother’s endless torture and tease for saving up your dairy fresh for Ashley (man, the things we do for love!!). You thought this would be one way to show her you liked her and get off the noise makers list for good and leave “times two” to Maina the most untidy person in class who used to lick off the mucus coming down his nostril when no one was looking and stole your stationeries. You caught him with your staedler pencil you’d just been bought for which you left a mark so that no one would steal but you couldn’t ask it back because he was a bully.

You sat two rows behind Ashley and you cannot quite explain the joy you had on Monday morning when you sneaked into class early and snuck the daily fresh in her desk and the sweets. You watched her open her desk, she peeped to the sheer surprise of her favorite - dairy fresh strawberry flavor. She looked around the room trying to find a clue of the culprit who had swept her off her feet and your eyes locked. You smiled, she smiled back, a sign of approval. The kind of smile that will turn your bad day into a good one. That infectious smile, you know, the one that brightens the room and spreads like a ray of sunshine (see why you call her my sunshine). You still remember that smile. That smile assured you, that everything was going to be alright. That smile reminds you of that UB40 song that goes like this…..” you got a smile so bright you know you coulda been a candle, I’m holding you so tight you know you coulda been a handle, the way you swept me off my feet you know you coulda been a broom and babe you smell so sweet you know you coulda been some perfume”. And that little glance she gave you with a smile as if acknowledging she appreciated the effort. Man, you still feel that thing to date, 18 good years later, and you can still relive that moment when you talk about it. 

You lost a lot of that childlike innocence and simplicity along the way. Heartbreaks, traumas, and the test of time have slowed you down. And the taxes. Especially the taxes. It is only a matter of time before he subjects love to a 30% tax and probably calls it “mapenzi ya thati”. But just before he does that you want to eat life. To go to Watamu where life slows down, soft as a whisper. Hang out with friends on sunny Saturdays, a feeling only beaten by ethylene from a juicy mango. You want to travel and enjoy what the world has to offer. You want to learn how to dance well cause last time your friend told you how bad you are at dancing. You dance again, still very bad but you are still enthusiastic. 

You are riding in a matatu on a rainy day thinking about the year that has passed, watching lights and buildings as you pass. The scariest part is…when does it end? Do we just keep going until this unregulated desire consumes us? It was a promising year. You asked for a captivating story so here’s a little 2024 present. I am sure the prose flows like a bumpy ride. I need to find a new North Star soon..the one I was using turns out was just a firefly. Or I could write a book..And don’t be a stranger, Okay? I hope you have a dope year that makes your heart feel a little lighter and dreams within reach. Adios.