I am hanging up my boots

I used to like movies which end with the good guy running the bad guy into a bleak dead-end.

However, the bad guy doesn’t willingly succumb to his impending fate, he continues fighting in defiance as a hail of bullets cut him into half. Then I grew up.

Now, I just want the bad guy to have a clear understanding of the end, and to define it for himself.

I want this moment to find him seated by the window of a darkened room, smoking his last cigarette, waiting for the good guys to budge into the room with guns blazing.

I want the grey light to cut his profile into half, the side we can see calm, mystical and unbothered, smoke curling from the cigarette.

And when he hears the orders from the outside, “Open up, police!” I want him to calmly stub his cigarette in the ashtray as the door is booted in.

ROLLER COASTER
This is close to how I always wanted to end my time here at Mantalk - by a window, without a cigarette, maybe with a half-eaten chapati and lukewarm tea. Of course, with no one banging at my door.

I’ve written this column for nine and a half years and today I bow out. I’ve written the first draft each Sunday at my desk at home, from 2pm to 4pm.

Which doesn't sound as romantic as I make it sound, because writing mostly isn’t romantic, because as Ernest Hemmingway noted aptly, “There is nothing to writing, all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

I am 41 years old now. I have written this column for almost a decade now which happens to be my 30s. Things have happened over these 10 years; I became a man, I found my true north at 35.

I got two lovely children (one with the most beautiful eyes, the other with the overwhelming sexiness of an Arctic wolf).

GROWTH

I also lost Jane, my dear mother, and imposed upon you my naked grief year after year. I also lost my best friend, Sande, a death that shook me nearly as much as my mother’s.

But for all these losses I also got a stepmother who makes my father look 50 again. When I started out here, I was a fresh-faced man, now I grow a chunky beard — now turning pepper in some areas.

I have also lost two teeth — none of which was in a fight, unfortunately. I wrote a book called Drunk. I got two nieces, both of whom are named after my late mom. I changed barbers twice.

I rearranged the furniture in my personal life. I replaced my mechanic with a blind one. I have run on most mornings for the past 10 years. I have enjoyed great health and decent friendships.

DALAI LAMA

I have made money and lost money but through it, my career has flourished and I have enjoyed writing tremendously, here and in other platforms.

God continues to bless me abundantly. Generally, I am happy. Not too long ago I was introduced to the work of The Dalai Lama and I gobbled up his teachings when he talks about attachment.

He says, “Most of our troubles are due to our passionate desire for attachment to things that we misapprehend as enduring entities.”

He delves into how we pin our happiness to people, circumstances and things and hold onto them with dear life and we melt into grief when something changes.

But by holding onto the familiar, we limit our ability to experience more joy. Consequently, his teachings made me challenge many things.

CAREER

I have a 10-year cycle in my life. At 21, I quit my medical laboratory job and went to university to follow my passion for writing.

At 31, I lost my magazine job in the recession and found myself as a freelance writer. And now, at 41, I know I have to shake things around even though there is immense safety in this comfort.

And the most comfortable thing in my life has been this wonderful column, which to me has been a home, a paycheck and provided social equity.

I have mulled over this decision for months and finally, here we are at the Rubicon — as my brother likes to say. It’s a beautiful but anxious place to be.

I don’t know what awaits me on the other end, but since God has always been faithful to me, I want to believe that only good things await.

APPRECIATION

But, I understand deeply that to grow into something else I have to welcome discomfort — literary, artistically and even financially.

I have had a whale of a time here and grown as a writer. I want to thank my former editor, Rhoda Orengo, for giving me a chance when I was an unknown greenhorn in mainstream media.

I also want to thank Wayua Muli for being the no-nonsense editor with her whittling criticisms when they needed to come.

I want to thank my predecessor, Oyunga Pala, for preparing the path for writers like me and having been there at the beginning with advice and encouragement when I was at the rough literary sea, struggling to find my own voice.

I want to thank you, dear reader, for all the Saturdays you took your time to read my ramblings.

NEW CHAPTER
A younger and hungrier chap is going to take over this space from next week. I know very well the demons that come with it.

Please accord him patience and give him time to grow into the writer he wants to be. If you need to find me, I’m online as “bikozulu”.

Of course, it befits that I close this circus with the words of Shannon L. Alder, “The only real battle in life is between hanging on and letting go.” I guess my battle is over. So long, wonderful people.

[email protected]/ www.bikozulu.co.ke

PS: Oh, and I want to tell my father — Symon Ougo — that he’s a good man.