Disclaimer: This post is sappy. Don't complain about the
writer's personality after reading it.
My life is on the right track. It is where I'd like it to
be. Of course in a way that would mean I haven't considered where God wants it
to be. But then I honestly don't know where He wants it to be. So according to
me, it's on the right track.
No. It's not.
I've just been given some news. Interesting news. So
captivating that I can't seem to get my mind back to the Mother's Day concepts
I was working on.
I'd like to go back to 2 weeks back. Take you there and
explain why today seems to have the same effect. But I won't. I will try.
When I was in Class 2 (at Hermann Gmeinner. That spelling
was confusing. So I'm not sure that's the correct one and if I take time to
Google it, I'll lose my mojo. So let's work with that for now), the teacher, I
think it was Miss (or Madam) Bilha told us to write a composition about 'My
Best Friend.'
So you're reading this blog post. With its many
interruptions such as this one. Where do you think my story is headed?
I didn't know what to write. Long story short, on that occasion
and another one later on in Nzoia Sugar Company Primary School (different class
and teacher), I picked one of my close friends and wrote about him, sure that
no one wrote about me.
In both occasions, I was struck by fear when this subject
came up. Best friend. I was everyone's friend. I was no one's best friend.
Because? Inspite of? I dunno. I picked that up (dunno) last year.
Fast forward. Pause. High School. Moment of reflection as
people 'pair' up and same situation. Fast forward again. Pause there. Right
there. Back kidogo. Ummm...there! There. First year campus. Cliques. I knew
everyone. I joined campus three weeks after official orientation date but in a
week's time I knew almost (80%) of them. I was the guy people would ask who
'nani' is when they needed help and didn't know the name of the light-skinned
guy at the back of the class. Yet I was not strictly part of any clique. At the
periphery of some but not full member.
You're wondering about people in the estate back home and
probably feeling sorry (if female) and bored (male).
The best way of explaining this phenomenon, I found out much
later, was my growing up. When your life pans out in such a way that you move
after every 3 or so years of living in a town, it becomes difficult to sink
roots. It's almost impossible to have the kind that mango trees have. You probably manage Mangrove ones that just keep you afloat.
So, when you finally think you've managed to carve out
something and then it slips through your fingers, well, it can be damaging. But
that has nothing to do with the news. Which I won't share for now. Just know
it's depressing. 6 months (probably less) and a day after I've seen my work on banners and gone through
the shock and elation of it, this isn't what I expected.
I await confirmation-via email. So I'll go kneel and tell
Him to do something.
Before I got the news, I had come up with this plan (as I
walked to 'mbeiz' for lunch);
1. Purchase everything for the house by the end of the year
and then focus on investing.
2. Start on a Marketing course so that in 2 years I can quit
and market what I love most: Music.
All that might have to wait. For now, pull up a chair and
sit. Watch as I mend (or try mending) my friendships (God knows I value them),
I take on all the projects around and finally as we ( God and/through me) pull
off weird maneuvers with projects lined up.
