About this year’s dos and don’ts

Happy New Year. Isn’t it great that we are alive? At least for now? That we can get up and brush our teeth and walk, and our kidneys and liver and heart are all working fine? And if they aren’t, isn’t it great that we are here?

That we can go on Twitter and switch on the microwave? Because a lot of people can’t. A lot of people can’t get out of bed today. Even more, others won’t get out of their graves today. Or tomorrow. Or on Valentine’s Day.

I don’t have any New Year resolution other than to work as hard as I have always and play even harder this year.

Here are a list of things I want to do in 2018 and things I won’t do.

WEDDING COMMITTEE

I’m not going to be a part of any wedding committee or send anyone money for their wedding this year. I’m done with that charade of playing nice.

Plus they are a waste of time and money especially when a couple breaks up after one year and two months. People in love should find a way of loving each other without bothering the rest of us. Elope or save.

DOOR OF NO RETURN

I thought I’d go to Senegal when I turned 35, but then I drank tequila on Mexican night and I was hospitalised for three days due to a violent allergic reaction. I’m 40 now and I don’t drink tequila, so I should be able to go and learn about slave trade and how ugly it was.

I’m fascinated by this Door of No Return where slaves passed through as they were readied to be shipped off to America.

I hear people cry there. I hear it changes you. I also want to see the land of Youssou N’Dour, whose music I love.

POOR CHILD

Out there is a smart orphaned child who sleeps on a mat in her grandmother’s house. Maybe they have never worn shoes in their lives. Or ever eaten chips.

Maybe they have two pairs of old shorts. Maybe they do their homework by the flickering paraffin lamp and when they walk to school the next day, they smell of paraffin and have sport red eyes.

They have no one, and their future looks bleak and desperate. That child is out there and our paths are going to collide.

He/she will be my pet project and one day when he/she is successful and I’m an old man still squinting through thick spectacles to write small books from my verandah, I will not fear meeting God and him asking me, “What did you do for your fellow man to make their lives better?”

PROSTATE TEST

I hear they stick their finger up your rectum. I hear it’s humiliating and embarrassing, another man doing that. (How many female urologists do we have in Kenya?)  I’d rather a woman did it, if it came right down, ahem, to it.

But this is the year I do the test, and I’m holding my breath. I’m sure it’s the kind of test that the doctor says, “just relax, bwana Biko, just relax,” and you wonder how one can relax under such dire circumstances.

GOD

My father will be embarrassed to read this (or what I just wrote before this), but I haven’t gone to church in a long time. I pray yes, just not in church. I find church banal because I sit there and after 30mins my concentration is completely gone. I have left the church in mind and I know it’s deceptive to God and to his day. It doesn’t help that the church I was born in starts at 8am and ends after 1pm. Surely, that always felt like a labour camp.

Then I tried another church that only lasts for two hours, but it was just as boring; they drone on and on and the choir  that was supposed to fill us with beauty and vim just didn’t show their heart or teeth.

I have been telling God, “Lord, I was made in your image and likeness, you gave me very little concentration power [and a lot of forehead], how do we remedy this? Show me how I can serve and praise you in a more fun way because I’m sure you are a fun God, it’s only people who want to make you sound serious and boring.” (I’m sure God is reading this and shaking his head with a smile, because he has a sense of humour better than most of you reading this.) 

And so this year I want to find better ways of building my relationship with Him; be it a better church, works that serve him or just going on top of a mountain every so often and telling him thanks or please.

PILLOW

I thought it was the pillows that I was using, but then I changed to these fancy ones that cost me an arm and a leg but my neck still felt like a taxman stepped on it. I’m starting to think that I’m not a pillow person and this year I want to completely unlearn sleeping with a pillow. I can’t go through life turning my whole body to look to my left or right. I suspect I have a greater purpose on earth than that.

Learn Photography.

So that I can document every year of my children’s life. I think the boy photographs well. The girl just needs to learn to smile more often. She has terrific hair, though.

MBIKO

This year, I will not respond to anyone who calls me “Mbiko.” Or “Bwana Biko.” I think I have been patient enough.

Happy New Year, good people. Good to have you here.