Many More Years of This Day

First it was my wife, Joan, who wished me a happy birthday and asked how it felt. I hadn't noticed any change I said.

Perhaps later in the day. Perhaps not, really.

It was Rege next, who shouted it out while I was in the bathroom. And then he was gone to school.

He's a big boy now -- a man, he insists. Not the skinny lad he was when he was littler -- before all the iron pumping and the rugby (like Kwach). I myself was into basketball at that age, but so do some things go. As others don't.

Then Kwach, the eldest, wished me before he too rushed -- to work.

Then Chikka -- only girl in the house (beside her mother, that is):

-- How old do you feel?

-- Eh?

-- How old do you fee-eel?

-- forty two! (without hesitation)

-- Yeah, you're as old as you feel.

-- Sometimes I feel like 25. (Was I stretching it?)

-- Ha ha ha!

Her mother, beside her at the dressing table, took note of that, with a chuckle spiced with her take on this day. And she added, besides:

-- I feel like...exactly 22.

-- That's the way (I added)

Though what I should really have said, if I was into that kind of talk, was, "Yenyewe!"

By which token she was even younger nineteen days ago! Perhaps nineteen at heart.

In my house, we eat a lot of cake in February, for some reason! In my father's house there were not so many rooms -- though we added some.

February is a nice and cosy month, most of the time. Certainly for Februarists! Stretched by the savouring, it ends none-too-soon. Too much sugar. Spoilsports, I venture to say, are the exception that affirm the rule -- when we shutter our windows and remain quietly inside. In the creeping shade that's creeping all across Africa, quietly inside.

And none-too-soon.

And then there are other events which do not spoil but simply be, tagging with contending, inescapable reality days such as this: Like (Joan's) Uncle George's passing this very same day, revealed to us as we drove to work.

Everyone I know that mentioned his name called him Uncle.

Lucky the day that ends as it had begun. And lucky those that see it through. Things, so many things, happen.



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P.S: Brian, who hadn't woken up when we left, and who opened the door for us without a word when we returned home at nine in the night, comes to me some twenty minutes into nine (can you see the conspiracy?) with a smile in his face and an envelope (with a signed card) in his hand:

-- Here's a surprise birthday card (he/they surprise me alright).

The Year, It Seems, Will End With a Whimper!

The year 2008, it seems, will end with a whimper -- such as it did not begin with. So it seems, at 5.14 p.m., here in Nairobi.

Of course, I know there is bloody fighting over there in the Middle East [Israel does have an inalienable right to defend itself, and Palestinians have a God-given right to a safe and secure home. So, where does that leave the Hamas militants who unilaterally provoked the latest bloodbath?]

But I'm talking about Nairobi and about Kenya, as I watch the year tick away toward the last midnight. The bloodbath that began this time last year was here, not there.

And yet, as they say, it aint over till it's over. There are a few hours yet.

How was your last day of the year? Quiet and ordinary was mine. A little pensive, thinking back to this time last year; which is why this year began, for us, as it did -- and seemingly will end quite differently. A lot pensive, in fact.

Did a little walkabout in town. Bought two (perhaps contraband) CDs of Congolese Oldies and Goodies (Veve's music). Some memories die hard.

Even bumped into my VC at a supermarket in town -- completely unexpectedly. He was gracious enough to step over for to exchange a few pleasantries. Of course he is always gracious in those one-on-ones. That's my experience. But we hadn't previously met at a supermarket, or even outside the campus. It was, then, a surprise encounter -- and I was rather surprised at my surprise.

It has been a quite year for me, and in several ways quite re-energizing. I think Joan, my wife, would agree. But I have to stop this blogging now, for I have to go see her, before the year runs out.