Across the bridge

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There are days you wake up empty. The creative juices run dry at times, many times in deed. As Murphy’s law opines, anything that can go wrong will go wrong.. In my recent life, many things are wrong. And when I weigh my life on a scale, the bad seem to be winning. At this moment, therefore, I am on a pendulum swinging to the forces of nature. It is hard to explain my sanity at this moment of my life.

I turned out to be a slob, something no one wants to be. When life is pushing you to the end, sometimes you don’t know who you are anymore. In simplest terms, you don’t really comprehend what is happening. Everything around you is moving, but you are stuck. In this maze, it is extraordinarily hard for you to find balance. You are forced to give up your principles and life’s adored treasures and give in to the forces of nature.

From this description, you can now easily tell that I have been flirting with unknown fate. Fate which had enabled me to court things highly associated with a slob- laziness that cannot be beaten by anything. I sleep an entire day, watch movies all night, eat, indulge in excessive thinking, and at times, sob weakly at my weak resolve to beat the odds of ill fate. At the end of the day, I comfort myself that these are passing winds.

My job does not include moving out of the house; if at all it is a job. Currently, I am working on a book. As many of you might have known, those who have tried out this crazy art of writing, you can’t write the same story every day. It is possible to write every day, only if you’re writing on diverse topics. This means that I am able to gather energy to write about the same boring story line twice or thrice a week maybe. In between, indulging in unproductive activities is my potion.

I have never so wished to work in an office. I prefer my freedom, to work from anywhere, travelling and having great times in an array of destinations with people from diverse backgrounds. This freedom, however, is expensive. My job, something that turns out to be seasonal, has lost the zeal that it once had. Now I am craving to join the bandwagon of men and women who slave in offices for a better or is it improved life.

The fact that I am stagnated in my little crib pricks me to find a job behind the desk. Places that beckon me to wake up every morning and bust my ass all day, kissing someone’s ass so that I can have perks that will make my life look buttered. I want to get busy, to at least, have some place where I can take free 10 am tea religiously.  Where I sit on a swinging chair and close my eyes for a while, wallow in my thoughts without borders or walls that allow loud music to sieve through when I need silence.

I want to know how it feels working in an office. To understand how systems work. I want to experience the wrath of a boss, and see how I can cope with pressure and harshness from a nasty boss. I want to mix myself with others in the corporate world, so that in the evening we can meet in bars and pump ourselves with egos on how, as men, we don’t tolerate women who can’t wash and massage our feet once we get home.

There is a desire in me to know how it feels to wake up every morning at 5.00 am so that you can arrive at work early, which is at 8. 00 am. I want to understand where all these hours between 5 and 8 go, how they’re used. And if they’re spent in traffic snarl ups, to understand how one does manage to stomach all that.

I want to know how the stinging cold of the morning affects people. If they cough, if they cry, if they blow their noses often, if they laugh, if they listen to the howling sounds of the wind that whisper at times, or even if they ever rush to board a bus like little kids so that they may get to the desk before the boss checks in.

I want to be given a heap of work. Work which I can’t manage to finish in a day so that I have to carry it home, and when I get home, I am wiped out to even look at it so I slumber after looking at the first page. Again to wake up early enough to go and finish it before the day breaks again to welcome another heap that I’ll keep pushing and killing my sleep over for days.

I want to wear a suit. In my life I have only worn a suit three times- during a wedding, when I was vying for the vice president post in college (this one was borrowed), and during my graduation. I want to wear a suit every day to work, to know how it feels like wearing a suit and people thinking you have everything in life.

I want to know how it feels like when I get to the bus station after work and realize that the bus fare has hiked from 60 bob to 70 bob and I only have 60 bob ‘nyuma na mbele.’ I want to know what people do during such circumstance, if they go to M-shwari for a loan, and when they’re denied, if they walk aimlessly around town till the bus fare drops to the normal 60 shillings.

I want to know how it feels when your boss doesn’t like you; to understand how it feels when your boss promotes your junior who just started working there just two months back and you’ve been around for three years. I want to feel the anger of not being given equal opportunities with your fellow employees.

I want to know how someone manages to subdivide his 40k monthly salary so as to cater for his needs- rent, fuel, food, clothing, water and electricity bills, school fees and other pressing issues. I want to know how they’re able to save.

I want to be involved in the middle class bourgeois. To join fellow employees in indulging in every kind of raha that this town offers- to go for Subaru road trips to Nanyuki, to attend Concours d’Elegance, to buy expensive smartphones, to live in palatial residences that we cannot afford, to go to vacations and fill our social media pages with selfies, to always throw a photo on social media every Thursday and caption it Major throwback #TBT, to go to Mombasa, to visit expensive massage and nail parlours to get wet, waxed and smoothened, to grab a new ride from the showroom on loan and of course, to scream YOLO because you only live once.

I want to know how it feels to talk in this hybrid English, you know jana I came to angalia you but you were…blah blah. To know what ego feels like now that I can’t afford to mix with the jobless blokes in my hood. To know the best bars in town, to know the best strip clubs in Westlands, to know how to drink twenty bottles of rum without getting inebriated.

I want to visit all the malls in this country, to hang out in cool joints with exclusivity where drinks are on the house. I want to use my card and not cash, to spend mindlessly and at the end of the day, to carry some drunken lass to my room facing a waterfront, and smash her all night. In the morning, again we exercise the morning glory service with reverence, not minding if safety is of concern- we’ll get tested later.

I want to be able to have an uber app on my phone, to use one any time I am going somewhere. To be able to have a story to narrate to my friends, because apparently, many stories happen in uber cabs. I want to be in the circle when they tell theirs, to belong, so that I can tell them how I made out with a chic I only met at a bar at the backseat of an uber.

I want to wear designer clothes and sharp shoes that shine even in darkness. I want to wear flashy watches and colognes that can swipe anyone off their feet- colognes that people know only by their scents and say that is Sir James spray. I want to wear happy socks, socks that are in a happy moody even when I am blacked out, so that every time sadness pins me down, I can be able to look at my happy socks and laugh. Happy socks! Happy, radiant face!

I want to go to the gym and work out. I want gigantic muscles; so that when I cross the streets everyone wants to have a second look. Muscles which the ladies at work would want to touch every time and comment how big they are. I want to have a big body so that I can scare these small boys who have only a few pounds of mass but think they can clip anyone.

Most of all, I want to have peace of mind at the end of the day. To have a woman by my side to push this YOLO life with till the end of times. To have beautiful kids and a functional family that I love. To have a home where I can come to and spend time with my lovely wife and kids. To sit down at the end of the day and relish on a book, the bible, for some inspiration and sanity.

Have you ever been so lost?

 

PS

I came up with an eBook, a collection of 26 short stories from this blog, for you. I am doing so because I believe there are so many stories I’ve written that you’ve not read and I want you to read them. It retails at Kshs. 400. Of course, we give discounts to those who buy it. The funds are going to help me publish my first book which is currently hanging by the wings. Only you can make it end very well.

Kindly get one (An open letter to Kenyans abroad among other stories) by contacting us mokuajustin@gmail.com, 0716503589/0736015845.

Thank you for the support.

Mzangila Snr,

Where shall we go, we who wander in this wasteland in search of better selves.

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About Mzangila

Mentor, media consultant, photographer, editor, poet, writer, and counselor.

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