I have a confession to make. Guess what! I am one man who idle a lot in people’s WhatsApp status. I idle a lot there than the whole time I have allocated myself for idling. Sounds weird! Yes I do have idling time. #Therealitiesoflife. We all idle at some point only that it takes some courage to exhibit. Enough of digressing. Despite the idling, I’ve been able to learn and fathom some meanings as far as WhatsApp status are concerned.
Take for instance my friend, Jane, not her real name, when she shared with me her predicament. She couldn’t understand why her parents, whom she describes as financially somewhere though not there, wouldn’t appreciate her consistent stellar performance unlike her friends’ parents, who’ll acknowledge every single achievements of their daughters. She’s been raised not to demand for anything but to just appreciate what’s brought on-shore. Consequently, even after I have tried to give her a piece of my mind on the same, she still went forward and in a faint red font posted, “I am inadequate with all that life has shoved in me…” At the end was several broken love emojis. You know what I mean? Having the above information, you’ll definitely link the WhatsApp status with what she’s going through.
Just like Jane, many of us express through WhatsApp status our deeper feelings, thoughts and experiences. Though differently, it will still somehow betray our subconscious feelings and thoughts. The following are five WhatsApp status and their meanings;
…#FearoftheLordandnotman; You probably must have come across a whatsApp status similar to this. Actually the bible proposes in the book of Proverbs 14:27; The fear of the Lord is the fountain of life, that one may turn away from the snares of death [sic]. I therefore not intent to criticize such posts in their entirety. Nevertheless, a majority of such posts have no any bearing on anything to do with God. A lot are instigated by human to human normal setbacks. Such a post should appear to you as an encouragement. However, that is not always the case with such authors. Mostly, they are exhibitions of a defense mechanism efforts to guard their own internal fears or fear from others.
I am more than you can think; This would still imply, what you are thinking about me is right but since I don’t want you to read more about me, I should distract your thoughts of me with this statement. We are thinking objects. We extract a lot of wood from the timber. If I am to quote Friedrich Nietzsche, “There are no facts, only interpretations.” I am therefore entitled to my own interpretation just as the owner of the statement is. And we could both be wrong altogether.
All I care about now is self love; Normally accompanied with exaggerated number of emojis of the joyous swinging lady in a red pouf-like dress. With this kind of posts, there’s more than meets the eye. Mostly, heartbreaks and disappointments from meeting expectations propel such sentiments.
I am my own me; This is mostly associated with fellows who struggle with self-esteem. It portrays an individual who has been plunged in trying to please other people by living a phantom-like life. By the time they reach this point, they have matured to realize the facts of the statement and they are in the process of trying to live it. That’s basically idealization defense mechanism.
Give me a break, I have a life to live; This will come from an individual who is blind to criticism but gives every reason to be criticized. They can’t hold their horses and every time they will be acting in a way that will draw your attention and still expect you not to express your freedom of speech and opinion. In brief, they are attention-seekers.
Pam was a cocoa skinned, hour glass shaped lady. In her scarpin heels, blue slim-dress, corn-rowed hair and dark blue sun-glasses you would think she’s just won Miss America. On my part, a blue casual slim fit shirt, a black skinny pleated pants, a suede on my feet, a black baseball cap and my common pair of aviator eye glasses wore me that afternoon.
I guess her curiousity to meet me couldn’t give her peace of mind for she was there half an hour earlier than the agreed time. She had chosen the table at the far left corner of the hotel. You would see everyone within as well as those who walked in and out. Our orders were served immediately I arrived and the first arrow she shot.
“May I know who is this that I am sharing a table with, this afternoon?”
Do I really know myself! The question threw me back to the many occasions I’ve had to live other people’s lives in a quest to impress them. I have had as many soul-searching sessions as the months I have spent on this planet of why I need to be myself and not my funny cousin, my eloquent speaking friend, my liberal thinking mentor and many more. But I still go out and want to live like them. Call it a lost identity if you would like. Or am I the one getting it wrong? Could I be possessing them all in one!
“I am Bob.”
“How did you get my contact?”
“Really Pam! You can’t be serious!”
“I am very serious. I need to know how you got my contact.”
“Well, for the sake of the memory lapse, I will remind you how.”
Kishna had given me eighty percent if not hundred of this poor girl’s information. I knew as much about her just as much as she knew nothing about me.
“Did you attend the Forum for Women Empowerment held in Radisson Blu Hotel last year in August?”
“Yes I did. But I can’t remember seeing this face.”
“Equally so, I can clearly remember seeing this face. You then gave me your business card.”
“And why have you taken this long to contact me?”
I had not anticipated for this question neither had Kishna prepared me for it. I was to think in a double-quick time and give a response that sounded rational or rather something subject to rationality.
“I had misplaced the business card. It is just recently when I was going through my documents that I came across it.”
“Can’t well remember but you seem a cool guy to get along with anyway.”
“Pleasure is all mine.”
“Excuse me for being suspicious at first. I am just cautious not to fall prey to rackateers.”
“I understand. We need to be keen with new people we meet. What do you do for a living?”
“Well, I am a procurement officer as well as other businesses that I run.”
My shock was that Kishna had not mentioned this to me and seemingly, she wasn’t even aware. The feeling that there could be a lot more about Pam unknown to Kishna then surfaced.
“Yes. I run a number of businesses. Would you like to join me?”
I was not sure the right response to accord to this
all-here-and-uknown-offer. Could this be an opportunity to hit two birds with one stone? I thought. No. First things first. Get down to your mission and give it the attention it deserves.
“May I know what is the nature of the business?”
“If you are really interested, then let’s meet here tomorrow at 8a.m. Hope your wife won’t be holding you by then?”
” I am not married.”
The following day came and she suggested I take her to one of her client where she needed to clear her unfinished business. Pam drives a black Tata Nexon SUV with a petrol engine of 1198cc and wheelbase of 2498mm. Immediately a fraction of me was in, the car detected my metallic ring in my right middle finger and the signal went on. She asked me not to worry for she had already seen it. It is when it dawned on me that she had been observing me very closely.
“I know you are not married. But what about the potential lucky one?”
“Let me put the record straight. I am not dating neither am I ready to.”
“Hehe. Men…you are never saints to be trusted. Anyway let me hope what you saying is true.”
“Tell me something about your other half then.”
“I’ve been in a number of destructive relationship. And whenever I try to forget the past and revamp myself the cycle still seems to repeat itself.”
The conversation rolled on and on and Ted as I later observed, was a partner in the business that I am yet to find out but as well, was the highest bidder amongst men Pam recognized as of the current moment. So far Ted had been very loyal, caring, understanding and present whenever she needed him. So she said.
The client was living adjacent to the Bliss Hotel in Nyali and was of Indian origin. We went through three gates with the first two tightly secured with men of green-brown patched regalia, with guns intact you would think they are in Mogadishu set for any terrorists attack. We took a whooping half an hour being scrutinized and for a second, though upset, I thought I should recommend them for DCI considerations. The third gate was with Graffiti of icy rock Archipelago arts and it was designed such that on pressing a green button of a machine similar to a BVR kit, on the right section of the gate, both you and the host you would see each other and a radius of ten metres of the sorrounding environment. After which the host commands the gate open.
We got in and in a way Pam kept talking to avoid my inquiries at least when we were still here. One of the elevators that leads to the living room opened and a plumby-diamond shaped, triangular headed, curly hair and in a gold colored Kanzu appeared. Pam stood to shake his hand and I followed soot.
“Is he good for the business?” He asked this pointing at me while looking at Pam.
“He’s my personal assistant. Bob is his name. Bob, this is Paresh Patni. My manager.”
“The last lot we send to Qatar has really created a profile for us. I have received four feedbacks of satisfied clients. One has offered to pay double the price for the next delivery.” Sounding as if he wasn’t bothered knowing me. “We need to get hotter ones than those we sent before.” The first impression you will create out of Paresh, is the bossy, demanding and not-to-dare-with individual. I was disciplined by the curiosity that was aroused from the conversation. I wanted to behave as if I wasn’t listening, but my pretence was being betrayed by my presence.
“Then can he be a good trainee for the job? I mean he can help us recruit more.”
“Leave that to me,” staring at me, “I will talk to him.”
“Well. Hope you won’t let me down!”
I felt as if I was an inanimate in a market place going for a price. The conversation had come to an end and I wouldn’t pick any single piece that made the conversation.
The car refused to start off and we had to inquire help from Paresh. We later learnt it was being scanned in case of any data that could have been collected within the premises before it’s released. No information in any form should leave the premises without his knowledge. You call it neo-colonialism! I call it neo-fascism. By now any normal being must have smelt a rat but I decided to push my suspicions at bay.
On the return journey, any attempt to inquire the kind of business Paresh was engaging in, was being met with a response of what he owned. It is when I noticed, this was the most safest and ideal time to quit all these Kishna’s rubbish assignment and forget the beauty and the other prospects that I have been chasing after Pam to concentrate on my career. For it had proven to be a thorny path I was in pursue. On second thought, I felt as if I was quitting in an anti-climax manner now that the trailing had now taken a sharp twist. My anxiety to know what business was connecting Pam to Qatar and to find out what Paresh had seen in me that he was considering me a perfect match for his apparent lucrative business handed insomnia over to me that evening. My night was full of pictures of what had transpired during the day. Our parting with Pam was on an agreement that we were, the following day, going to meet one of her business partners but still nothing was revealed about the business.
I slept with a made-up mind that I wouldn’t quit at least before I had enough information of the nature of business that was now within the reach of my sight though proving too impossible to be revealed.
At this point I agree with Albert Camus that you can’t create experience, you undergo it and this indeed saw me go places but as one in bondage.
I can only pour every single happening of this experience in a novel. What had started as a two month assignment or so, had now culminated to two years and was still kicking and quitting proved futile, harder than how joining had seemed. Alluta continua.
“Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.” ~Confucius~
It was yet another one of the many scenarios that I’ve had to make a decision that do not appeal to my inner soul but still try to create an impression that it is one of my most comfortable decision that I would still have made had there not been any external manipulation.
She had called in the early hours of that morning and had asked me to meet her in town. Apparently, our meeting in town was meant to be a strategic planning ‘conference’ for an assignment I still regret to date.
Kishna and I had been a thing until when she started lamenting of my non-commitment to the relationship. Indeed, I wouldn’t tell apart where the relationship was taking me from, where it had placed me and neither would I tell, where it was leading me to. We lived as existentialists. We were not to talk about yesterday because with all it’s dark side it was to be treated as a bygone. Thinking of tomorrow was considered an abomination. Reason; it would jeopardize with our living today. We were to live our today to the fullest as if we had no past to learn from and our future to plan for.
That at some point failed to work for me and I decided to alight from this vehicle and she remained. However, thereafter we continued to remain loyally in touch but anything that was to happen between the two of us was to happen outside that vehicle. This was like T&C of that separation and we faithfully obliged and my turn to oblige had now arrived.
Ted, Kishna’s current hook, had extended an olive branch to yet another clande, who was well-known to Kishna, and threatening enough, possessed a majority of what would steal a man’s heart even before his hand in marriage. This had caused jitters in Kishna’s vein and she thought it was now time she should share the spoil with Ted. I was to hook up with Ted’s sidedish to portray to him of her unfaithfulness. I had no slightest idea of both of them but she still insisted that I was a perfect candidate for the assignment and besides, I had the command of language she falls prey to, so she said. She was to sponsor the mission fully and that there was a lion share at stake should I perform this duty to the latter.
Apparently, I wasn’t chilled by the later but more anxious of the encounter itself now that the target had been placed in my hands even before setting my eyes on her. Actually this came in handy in boosting my confidence. But still, endless questions lingered in my mind. What profile did Ted posses? And how long has Kishna been together with him? What kind of a lady is this causing a revolution within Kishna? How will Ted react when this come known to him? And how will Kishna salvage me from his rage?
All to hell, I thought. By the time our meeting was over, I had been provided with this lady’s contact, work place, her car’s number plate and her favorite joints just in case she turns out to be non-cooperative. The mission was to kick off right there and then.
Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “the lonely one offers his hand too quickly to whomever he encounters,” and indeed I felt my acceptance of this assignment was an indication of a gap within my self that I was out to find it’s bridge and I am personally very eager of saying yes yet at the same time very doubtful of it.
I called her at 2pm on the dot and thanks to Truecaller that identified her as Pam which I confidentally used to refer to her. She turned out to express an interest in knowing me and we planned for a meeting in town at 5pm when she leaves from work.
It’s now six years and I still remember the intrigues of the whole scenario as if it were yesterday. My encounter was absolutely dramatic that I’ll have to take a breather before taking the risk of reviving the memories. Join the progress of the story next week exactly a time like this when all shall be laid down for you.
“Be kind; Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
I can feel the Valentine aroma dominating the air. This is the moment the cupids have already drafted some captivating pieces of messages to their loved ones. A period where the heartbeat of some gentleman is really in a high pulse rate not certain of whether that proposal is going to get a nodding reception or not and probably, he’s not in isolation. Yet others are already couples or partners or just enganged and having some overated plans to have a flourishing season.
However, more often than not, a good number of misunderstandings root from this point. Running from a promise being unfulfilled, to an expectation not being met all the way, to the other receiving end feeling disgruntled of over-burdening in addition to many more other reasons.
Unfortunately, individuals easily cultivate the culture of ungratefulness in themselves and forget to remember the other side of the coin. Take for instance in the case of our police officers. They are not only unappreciated but also they face inconsiderable level of criticism and hate. All those who’ve spoken about the police within the peripherals of my ears, have confirmed knowing all the individuals in the police service. “Mapolisi wote ni wafisadi,” (all police officers are corrupt) so they have always said. We have selectively looked aside whenever the issue of them putting their lives in line of death for our sake has been mentioned.
I strongly believe it’s high time we start holding individuals for their own respective mistakes and shun away from generalizing mistakes basing on profession, tribe, religion and gender. I can attest of police officers whose hearts are after the well-being of the society and advancement of morality amongst our young generation. Personally, the first Sunday of this month, a word of God was administered to me by a prison warden who by all means did not portray any suspicion of a crook like the many 310 scenarios nowadays. AP Constable, Joash Ombati could as well have decided to pocket half or more than a half of the cash he managed to recover and present Ksh. 200,000 in disguise of total amount of money recovered. Unfortunately, the ubiquitous perception about the police, will still see individuals like Mr. Ombati being categorised as ‘crooks’.
How many of us after agreeing with touts for a less fee to board the vehicle ever believe them until we’ve handed the cash to their hands? How many are the times you’ve appreciated such a tout even after realizing you’ve paid less than what others have paid for the same distance covered? I mean, Booker T. Washington considered such and no wonder he advised us, if we want to lift up ourselves we got to lift up other people as well. An ordinary gratitude to you is some super-powerful aspect to someone else.
Hanging on this opportunity, I would like to thank Daniel Mwaura, the Kenyan tout who handed a forgotten wallet with Ksh. 30,000 intact, to the owner. Man, you’ve given the PSV sector a new face. If those in the top-notch seats can’t lead as an example then it’s our time to show them yes we can. Change is gradual and much effective if it’s to start from the grassroots.
Just as well I Render my appreciation to my high school principal for putting austerity measures on my progress and repeatedly reminding me that I can only do better if I cease being a hoisted flag. Joyce Meyer, who taught me there’s power in being a man of gratitude and indeed, I am now experiencing it. Matt Mulenweg and his co-founders who came up with wp that I am now using to educate my readers about the secret behind living a life of gratitude. My mum and dad, for their being apart and partly away from me, gave me an early freedom to make my own mistakes and learn from them. All those who’ve told me no, for I can now do it alone.
Wishing you a valentine season full of honest gratitude.
“So you decided to put everything for the world to know?”
“Yes I did. Do you have any problem with that?”
“You stupid bachelor. You are risking not only my life but yours too! Can’t you think that! No one dares Paresh. He finds this out, we are all tossed”
“Listen Pam. I don’t give a hoot of what Paresh is gonna know. Speaking of being tossed, you guys have tossed me already. You’ve succeeded in stealing away my identity and have nothing left to lose.”
“That’s the rule of the game dude! You got to lose something for you to gain the other. I lost mine too. Lost my virginity. Lost touch of my family. I mean, I lost everything.”
“Does that justify why I should be singing with joy for losing mine? Pam you had options to choose from. That’s the path you chose for the greed of the money. You duped me so that you can generate more money from me.”
“But you also had an option of quitting Bob! What held you if not the same greed for money! Tell me what!”
“Money was the last thing I was after. I wish you knew. Only if I had known it would turn this way! However much you’ve taken all that from me, I won’t allow you, and of all the people, you, steal my writing away. At least this is what I am left with for consolation.”
This altercation arose a week after I had published Part Two of my encounter with Pam. It was a whole debate of why she thinks I should not be letting you know this. Attacks upon counter-attacks defined the motion. We spent six hours of agreeing and disagreeing. She eventually threatened to orchestrate my incognito no matter how hard I try to exhibit myself to the world through my ‘f**k’n’ writing. So she termed it. That either didn’t do much to twist the feeling I was holding inside. I remained firm with my stance. I had resorted to drown myself into writing come rain come sunshine. I had resorted to not allowing anyone rob me off of my writing. I’d resorted to write to release the pain I was holding inside. I’d resorted to shed my tears through words. And whether that attracted readership or not was least of my concern. Of much concern was whether is going to be therapeutic towards my emotional healing. Since what’s killing me softly are regrets upon regrets. Seduced. RAPED and abandoned.
It has been a long and tough walk for me to take you through this journey. Pam even made it harder when she brought in Paresh and nowadays I have to answer not less than three calls from Paresh’s lieutenants in the wee hours of the night threatening to clear me if I don’t cease giving account of what business Paresh is operating. Informing why part three has had to take this while before it comes out. Weighing between situations, bringing in my advisors and applying rationale has had to be at play. I am not fearing for my life but fearing for what I’ve to say but I am yet to. Until when I’ll be assured I have spoken it all, then they can as well bring it on and make good their threats.
What happened to us in Saudi Arabia can’t go under the carpet. Not because I am in a vengeance mission but because the chain of would-be new victims it is already aligned for the same oppression Ted and I passed through. Ted later on turned a buddy after realizing Pam introduced him into the network having no idea of him working for Amnesty Africa. Before our departure to Saudi Arabia, we’d created a rapport and disclosed to him how my being here had started from a mission organized by Kishna to trail after him. He laughed that off. It later dawned on me that he neither had feelings for Kishna nor Pam. His feelings were all directed toward his profession. A veteran undercover Intelligent. It is his profession that saw us go through the hands of Arab fascists who treated us as pieces of trash. Paresh shifted our allegiance from him to these merciless tyrants. One of the Paresh Partner whom we later had him being referred to as Osman, suspected Ted of whom he said has once fixed him in a case, heard in one of the African states, where he had to pay wholesomely to the judges presiding over the case to release him.
He was raging with anger and confiscated all our documents to hinder our free movements suppose we escaped. He prompted the rest to develop hate against us and immediately we stopped being their business commandos and turned us into slaves. We got alternated between entertainment objects, to objects of insults, to objects of beatings and much excruciating, to objects of sexual experiment. I mean, we would lay old ladies in their sixties, young in their twenties and teenagers whose parents would have tried to interfere with their operations. We were locked in a room and any failure to lay this teenager allocated to you, amounts to electric wire stroking on your back which was all exposed for the strokes. This was to silence any opposition to their operation as well as indict us in case we were to get the opportunity to report.
This is just but a tip of the iceberg of what we went through. We were blindfolded and dropped in the middle of the town to figure for ourselves how we should find ourselves home. Not because they were willing to allow us to leave but by the virtue of the 2006 census and they couldn’t want to get themselves into the hustle of accounting and explaining who we were. We could not trace where we had come from neither could we tell where we should be going. The traumatic experience that accompanies this narration, is normally described by Ted in these five words, ‘BLACK LIVES AWAY STILL GARBAGE.’ I consider it as fear of the Black mind. Fear of the Black abilities and potential. Fear of the modern crusade for dignity for humanity. Fear of African reading the fear hidden in their veins. Fear of failing to manage not to fear. And as a result they have become slaves in themselves. Abraham Lincoln tells them, “those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves.”
Disclaimer: In an effort to paint the picture of the experience informing this article, events and names used are fictitious and any that matches a real life case should be treated as coincidence.
When greener pastures come calling we all rush to give them a honorary reception. We talk of how God has heard our prayers. We start building castles in our minds. It’s when you can freely talk of the upsets of the previous occupation to your close friends and relatives. “Fukes! No more making fake smiles,” remarked one of my friends. She had received a call from one of the government’s institution that had considered her for a job she had applied for a year earlier as an accountant. She had been working in a restaurant within Nairobi town for two years now. And it had been a whole 36 months of grumbling and lamenting you would think she’s getting nothing for a pay. But at least she is now happy and so I am for her. Keep basking in that glory lady. Indeed if you managed to grab that opportunity then I can grab a much fatter one. “I am your litmus paper Dunny,” as she always say.
After my forth form, Just like any other person who has finished high school, I was admiring to get an employment as I await for my fate and if successful, while I am on the queue to join campus. Not only did I want an employment but I wanted an employment specifically in a Supermarket or anything that involves selling of outfits.
Though that wish did not translate to reality then, I was glad to get a better opportunity compared to the one I had wished for four years before. I am currently working in one of the best outfits shops within Mombasa.
It’s now the seventh month of my encounter with all sorts of clients. I mean clients of all sorts.
Talk of those who will pester you to give them your contact even when you try to convince them that the only contact they can call is that of the office and that staffs are not allowed to give their personal contacts to clients. Some who will arrogantly call you to unhung for them several outfits only to try one after realizing they can’t put up with the price. It means you are tasked with redoing the hunging and getting them back to their respective location all day long. Talk of the impatient lady about fifty years of age of Indian origin interrupting me when I was attending to another client and threatening to report me if I won’t give her attention. Those ladies pretending not to be aware of their fitting rooms and putting an eye on you when attending to a client then quickly sneaking into men’s fitting rooms. Marque ladies have five fitting rooms and men have two with both having two big drawings one indicating ladies fitting rooms and the other indicating men’s fitting rooms. Why ladies still want to grab men’s portion it rather baffles me! Or is it still within the realms of the plight of women! Women fighting for their place in the society! Still I don’t know. Some ladies would want to persuade me to allow them to fit in men’s fitting rooms even after telling them that one, in a minute it would be a chain of them when other ladies realizes that(the quickest lady takes a minimum of five minutes to do one fitting), two, it will cause discomfort to the men when they realize ladies are occupying their rooms hence shying away from using them and consequently causing a commotion. Three, they will have exposed me into a possible firing when my immediate boss walks around and finds them there for I would have failed directing clients appropriately. The boss is always right you remember?
Looking at my time is almost midnight and I should be deep in slumber right now after having a whopping ten hours of standing and walking around in the name of making clients comfortable. But I am not. I have instead carried the shop and the clients with me home. I am having a reverie of how the day has been. Thinking of how tommorow will be and this chain of thoughts have conceived a sort of insomnia. And the only remedy that should counter this, is me writing something in the hope that I will catch up with my sleep. And really what is it that I am going to write about? Reason why I ain’t asleep at this hour when I got every solid reason why I should!
Yet still I am not complaining. I have a section of the clients that I will admire to attend to over and over again. They say, instead of complaining that the rose bush is full of thorns, be happy the thorn bush has roses. And that is exactly what I have decided to put my focus on. I can’t quit my job when I think of all those clients who will be so concerned about how your night has been. All those who will help you pick the clothes and hungers dumped down by others in the process of checking their suitables. All those etiquette-rich clients who’ll politely ask for your help. Like the other girl around 13 also of the Indian origin who aroused cutis anserina in me by the words she used to sort help. “Kindly sir, I will really appreciate if you help me get this dress,” she requested. And Immediately after, she was quick to say, ” Thank you. You are such a kind person.”
Just as they say there is always a black horse in every family so there’s in every occupation. Focus on the positivity. Going by Christopher Columbus words, ‘you can never cross the ocean until You have the courage to lose sight of the shore.” Yes, it is a courageous step to turn a blind eye on negativities.You could probably be working where many admire to be but they are not. And where you are admiring to be could be more of a hell than where you currently are. Of course we shouldn’t be stagnant beings but before we try to catch the sky we should first learn to get contented with where we are and what we got.
Take a survey of those admiring your occupation and I believe you’ll have a satisfactory February.
Are you having a feeling that 2018 just came to have a pre-visit of this world only to leave earlier than expected to the other world God-knows-where, to give its report?
This occurred to me on Monday morning before new year. My little buddy, Samba, 8, shows me a plane that had moved beyond and above where I was by some miles. A feeling that I deserve to be part of that flight then emerges and inturn I absentmindedly focus on the plane as it slithers away.
In my re-union with my little Samba’s world, she remembers not to forget to let me know that the plane is the father’s as if to indicate, “why are you worrying? You should have asked for a flight. Its just a word away.” I ask her why didn’t she board the plane and quickly she answers, ” I have my own plane” claims she rushes hurriedly home to corroborate by coming with her toy.
Two insights dawn on me from the short period and conversation I have engaged with her. One, as first as the plane was fleeing so has 2018 for me. I don’t know about you! Many are the resolutions that you drafted down before the year began. How successful were you in executing them? That having little to matter, what effort did you put in, in having a mirage of the very resolutions? Samba admired a plane for her father and so to start with, she acquired a toy plane for herself. She must have gone through some hustles. You know how kids are good at nagging and how difficult it is to nag for an adult. Finally she got a step further by acquiring a reflection of a plane and that is what matters most.
Two, contentment. Coming to the end of the year with uncleared task, a feeling that you did not meet your own expectations arises. You feel like you are a failure. You say you deserve not to be having resolutions because you feel you won’t achieve them. You get embarrassed when others speak about the strides they have made as far as implementing their resolutions is concerned. Worry not. Assess what you did just as what you didn’t. They both have a stake on your progress. Focusing on your failure blindfolds you from seeing the positive strides you’ve made. Don’t be intimidated by the water that sorrounds your boat. Remember it’s aiding your navigation. Those that are around you and making strides much better than yours, should not make you sink rather, they should be your source of inspiration. If you can’t beat them join them so they say. Not by stumbling on your ambitions but by using them (source of inspiration) as a stepping stone to reach your success.
For you who think you’ve made no step in as far as your resolutions are concerned still, worry not. Go back to the drawing board. Ask yourself this, “did I bite far beyond than what I could chew?” If yes, settle on resolutions that are within your capacity to achieve. If no, then review the steps you followed and assess what you skipped or what you didn’t do rightly. Listening to sundowner and Catherine Ndonye is reminding me to tell you that you should seize every opportunity knowing what happens today shall never repeat itself.
I can also here this guy say, ‘what is this resolution thing all about?’ I can hear you say, ‘I have worked with no resolution last year and here I am! In fact much better than those who spend the last month of the year, year in year out drafting their resolutions and still year in year out, you can’t tell the difference.’ My dear, you too worry less with the inclination of this article. Eat! Drink! And be merry for tomorrow we shall die.
Wishing you a decisive 2019 and God bless you all.