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Near success that is elusive can be depressing or energizing. Your
approach counts a lot regarding the eventuality. There are times you may
reinvigorate the urge and be a perfect ten, or there are situations you may
slug and let the endeavour lapse because you gave up hope along the way. Take
cognizance that your ten is the benchmark you have set for yourself. Here’s
why. Take the lazy me for instance, I have been trying to reach my ten in terms
of weekly exercises to no avail. There is a guy who did 100,000 pushups and
another 50,000 sit-ups in a year. This looks impractical or pretty simple
depending on your date with the home or paid gym.
Well, it’s not. It’s very easy when you break the exercises into a
daily activity with goals that are achievable, measurable and within your
limit. He wrote that sometimes he did more than he was required and recorded
the daily activities so as not to confuse the exact number of reps he had done on
a year to date basis. Thus, when he was not feeling like working out, the
excess workouts cushioned for those rest days. And he only did the exercises
for thirty minutes in a day. Gradually as his muscles got used to the action, he
spent less time. As it turns out, he was able to do all the tasks even before the
year lapsed. How? As he horned his skills, he found it easy to do more with
continuous exercise and the time for doing the initial reps reduced. Obviously,
he took small breaks within the reps. Voila, and that is his exercise regimen
in a nutshell. Did he reach his ten? Sure, and that means he had to set new
targets to be able to outdo his initial perfection. That's a surmise. In short, you can never
reach the perfect ten. There is that psychological drill that keeps ringing a
bell inciting that you have not reached there yet.
I, on the other hand is struggling with putting my act together in
terms of sticking to my rote. I am the wobbly type. Guess money drives me more these
days than the sheer urge to ameliorate myself holistically when it comes to
doing what I am supposed to do. Let’s say I had dedicated myself by paying for
the gym, chances are I would be going without absconding my regimen. Or in a
sense was told that once you reach this goal, there is a reward, I am not
lying, I swear I would do anything to get it if it involves something within my
limit. Even if it means sacrificing that which I love most. Hell, I’ll do it
just to satisfy my quest. If I falter along the way, I will say I tried.
Like me, most of us live in this illusory world where we make a
lot of castles in the air. I set for myself a target of 5000 pushups and
sit-ups but merely did 1000 reps of each. Still, I have an enviable stomach
that my sister wishes she had because life is about wanting what another has. Don’t
you sometimes envy another person’s body? Worse is when you are trapped in a
quandary you feel you should free yourself from but the tenacity to forge on
enters a declension. You try your best, and when you cannot make it to that
level, you start drooping and like the common Joe or Jane, you make it a
lifestyle of sticking to mediocrity.
And that is why majority of us are start things we never finish
because we get weary along the way and when you are tepid, you cannot have
resurgent forces to give you the desired impetus to get to where you want to
be. This paucity is the reason why I am where I am and you are where you are. I
am restating the obvious, huh!
Away from that nonsensical
snide, I was introduced to this guy who was from my alma matter and was an
outstanding guy academically but was thinking of switching career into the
investment industry. He scored a straight A in the nineties or eighties and
went on to get a first-class degree in engineering. Damn is that not a feat we
all desire academically. And in the workplace, he became extraordinarily good
that he could he was almost on equal status with the CEO (his
braggadocio not mine). He was the cocky type. Those who think that getting an A
and first class gives you that authority of trampling over others. Apparently,
my acquaintance had told him that I am candidate in the CFA program and hence
he wanted us to talk matters investments. Well, you know that feeling you get
when you find someone who you can relate to about something you have in common.
I felt that way. It was like reminiscing those days in high school or campus
with a guy you have not met in ages.
Let me call this bugger Vaite, it is improper but you have to give
it up to him for his larger than life approach towards life. Well, at some
point in life and at a certain age, there are things that take a subtle
significance in your life. You don’t need to go about telling every other guy
you meet that you were a genius in class. I too was one until life happened.
Henceforth, I never talk about my achievements in class. There is nothing to
smile about them when the same is not reflected in your life. At most, you
should inspire others to want to be like you, failure of which you are a loser.
That should not mean that you create that mentality. On the contrary, it should
come naturally. People should feel like they should want be like you or outdo
what you have achieved instead of telling them that they need to ape what you
have done.
So, our conversation kicked off concerning the financial crisis
that rocked the world in 2007-2008. I am not so much conversant with the
reasons that led to its collapse but there was a mention of fixed income and
financial derivates that come into play that caused the collapse. In fact,
according to the Big Short movie, it is collateralized
debt obligation, a type of asset backed security, that led to the
financial crisis that rocked most of the West world and Asian Tigers with
spillover effects witnessed in African economic powerhouses like Egypt and
South Africa.
Without doubt, I respect Vaite and his intellectual acumen. A guy
at his age should be thinking of self-actualization and not starting over again
in a fitful career. In me opine, he should have been stable, living in his own
home, driving a big car and having a stable family. Probably, having a cycle of
friends, those we call the ‘whose’. Those whose name you mention, he says that,
‘I know that guy, and he is just a call away’. But after so many years of
working overseas, in a South African country, he still lives in an SQ. Please!
(you can say that with a socialite attitude and throw arms as you snap those
fingers like a certain Arabian girl on Nairobi Diaries).
His flair for knowledge has seen Vaite keep a library of books in
finance both in soft copy and hard copy. He told me he can never touch novels
or books of such ilk. “Nikianza kusoma novel ntalala within five minutes.” He
showed me the numerous eBooks he had on his phone and every book that I
mentioned he had. He even showed me the ones he keeps on an app that I am not
sure whether it is a source of legit books or they were procured through
pirated platforms. I was a little bit aled and never verified the source of the
books. Kindle or not, this guy reads like shit.
Well, I must admit that Vaite was sharp. Though there were those
noticeable lapses in his peptalk when he started telling me that he does not
regard level one and level two as a measure of achievement for a person
pursuing CFA. That I felt a wuss is an understatement. He had belittled the
efforts I had made in a word and termed that as a walkover for him. He only
spoke highly of level three which he had no idea consisted of what. He may be
right because he is a book worm. And he got straight A’s in both campus and
high school. But here is a catch, you need to be on top of your game when it
comes to this program especially the exam. It’s only easy for a bookworm who
also develops reclusive tenets to crack it. Again, me opine.
“Mimi nilipata A high school, nikapata kila kitu campus sasa CFA
ni nini?”
“Kwanza hio level one na two ni rahisi sana. Unaona hii kitabu
ikona 1600 pages na nimesoma yote mara tano na hio ndio level one na two.”
Take cognizance that the two levels have a combined pages of about
6000 pages.
The problem with me is that when you sometimes tell me what I know
and you are making assumptions without actual evidence, I normally smile and
nod my head in agreement. But the truth is, some things in life need an
experience. They don’t require the theoretical aspect.
I remember asking him if he had read Benjamin Graham’s book on
value investing and Burton Malkiel’s , ‘A random walk down Wallstreet’.
“Hizo nimesoma mara kumi.”
At that point, I felt a little bit red. I am still struggling to
finish either books more than a year down the line and am stuck because I tell
myself that once I buy a tablet, I will easily read the said books. Upus! And
here is a guy who has read the books more than ten times I felt like telling
him to write a synopsis and hand it over to me.
I was drinking my Tusker Malt and he was imbibing Guinness Kubwa. Only
strong men drink Guinness. And he is the type who when he wants to talk to you,
he has to pull you closer so that you can listen to what he says. Luckily,
hanyeshi akiongea.
Since I had left my drink with my sister to go converse with this
larger than life academic realist. I went back to go take my drink as I watched
the local DJ mixing using VirtualDJ on the screen mounted on the walls. I then
remembered those days when I wanted to be a DJ but the idea ended up in a
natural death because of reasons that are surely baseless. I admit it, I am the
guy who just loves everything, a Jack of all trades but a master of none. I
really admired the way there was symphony in his music. The transition was
seamless and delectable given that he was on top of his game with VirtualDJ.
As I was drinking, I noticed a certain lady gyrating to the tune.
She had the rangi ya thao complexion, a slender body, a nice figure but not an
eight with a small bosom which was almost flat. I could tell that an average
body builder or a guy who has kulad nyagus vizuri would outdo her when it comes
to matters chest. All in all she has mammary glands. But I loved the way she
was dancing to the rhythm. Her slim waist was wiggling effortlessly you would
think her body was meant for the music being played. I wanted to dance with
her. But there was no space.
When she had had enough, she came and sat directly opposite me
sipping her Heineken as she lip-synced to the chorus. I found myself also
mirroring her. Well, I was not smitten. The
air was coy. The ambience was that which you cannot throw vibes. She looked
like she wanted a chatmate and found that in me. But the music was blaring. I
forgot to mention that we were in a local hood pub. Those small ones that don’t
host more than thirty people. She started telling me things that I could not be
able to hear. When I told her so, she started getting mad. I then moved closer
to find out what she was saying but still could not be able to hear her words.
I went back to my seat and decided to sip my drink slowly as I listened to
music.
When her drink was over, I started noticing that she was having
heavy eyes. That is when I remembered she was probably trying to tell me to buy
her a drink to continue having those ecstatic moments and dance her heart out.
The next thing I saw was her throwing the bottle she had behind her back on the
floor and this really infuriated the plump lady waiter who was ready to kick
her out for her disorderly behaviour. But the other male waiters calmed her
down probably because she is a regular. Within minutes she was crying and her
tears were flowing freely I thought she was in her menses. Given that she had a
delectable relationship with the DJ, he came and hugged her calming her to stop
shedding tears as things will be alright. “Be a big girl and wipe those
crocodile tears.” That’s probably what he told her, “Then I will buy you drink,
SAWA.”
I left her crying and decided to relocate to share a table with
Vaite who had two bottles unopened. He was now talking about the political
scene in the country. I loved his analysis, I wanted to join in but restrained
my itch. But he was not as robust with matters politics.
Soon some odieros came enmass and sat next to us. A single dude
with like ten babes in tow. Damn, I envied this guy. I on the other hand was
solo. Because I don’t love drinking with the female folk. They each ordered a Tusker.
“Kumbe this guys love Tusker.” Someone said, “I thought they would have ordered
Heineken.” And there were some who were billowing cancer sticks with abandon.
Well, I noticed a certain odiero who was tall and hard auburn hair with fuller
hips and wanted to go tell her, ‘Baby, I am smitten. Can we dance.’ I was
starting to get drunk.
We decided to relocate to the house of rhumba. If you start listening
to this kind of music. You know what’s up. I was feeling hungry and thought
that ka guy wa sausage choma, mayai boilo na smokies was around. I love these because they are readily available. Not like nyam chom which you have to wait for it to be prepared. But with the cholera scare, I bet he had
been told to hold his horses until that time when things will go back to normal.
Men, even though I had just eaten, I was still feeling some hunger pangs
nudging the digestive juices. And by the time I was on my third drink, I was
feeling inebriated I never wanted to touch another. Ubaya wa kukaa bila kunywa.
On the table we sat, I saw a guy drinking Balozi. A beer I have a
low regard of. I wanted to tell my sister, “Hii ni ile pombe watu maskini
hukunywa, plus si ya wazito wenye hupenda kunywa”. But rescinded on making the
statement when I noticed that the guy was in talking terms with her. It turns
out that he was also the owner of the joint and was probably drinking that beer
because of its low alcoholic contents.
His name was Wash. Do you remember the guy who fought with the current
Homabay Town MP and the blogs and
mainstream media were awash with the gen on how honourable individuals had
resorted to violence by squaring it out on the podium.
“Oh! So, this is the famous Dr. Wash.” I said as he nodded in
agreement. In fact, he started showing us the pictures of the fight on his S7.
The pictures he had were strategic given that they showed him on top of the MP.
There was a scene where the incumbent area governor was trying to save face by
arbitrating but clearly, he was far from where the fight was taking place. He
told us he was thinking of withdrawing the assault case in court because that
was behind him now.
I asked who won and the genesis of the fight. It turned out that
it was rather a flimsy reason why they were fighting and that he won given that
he was on top of the said MP.
Since we had left Vaite outside, probably ogling at the miros who
had started to dance, he came and joined us and started by asking who Wash is.
He introduced himself and being the rabid dog, Vaite started telling him that
he looked like a crocodile. I could tell that Wash was really enraged but
remained calm after being told about the ethnicity of Vaite. Plus, he never
wanted to create the impression of the owner who beats up his revelers.
‘Odok ni ng’ani en customer na. Jokono gin ga kamano. Lakini dina
goe goch tho.’
To make matters worse, Vaite was telling him that he looked like a
crocodile with an elongated mouth like that of a crocodile while also demostarting
with his hands how his mouth looked like. Plus, the expletives that he was
hurling, you had just to be patient with his F-bombs which he felt nothing
about.
Wash also introduced us to his wife. Rumour has it that she was
his mpango given that his family is somewhere in Corinthians. The wife also
doubled up as the person running the pub. But still, she was a non-independent
entity because she was making many decisions based on what her ‘husband’ said. The
music that was playing was from Wash’s phone from Youtube.
I remember Wash talking over the phone and that meant the music
had to stop for a while. When he had finished, he told us that the uncle was
the one who was on the other end and was drinking in a joint a stone throw
away. ‘Huyu anakunywa hapa karibu na nilimwambia niko na pub hapa. Hio pesa
yake naihitaji sana. Yeye hapana jua mimi ni mwanabiashara. Na bado atakuja
kuniomba pesa.’
I went out to pee and put the car in the right direction so that
when I was out, it was just a matter of heading to the digs. Ongoing back
found, I found Vaite in slumber land tightly clutching on his drink. Hapo ndio shida zilianza. He said he could not
leave without finishing his drink. When we insisted on leaving, being the
stubborn type, he emptied his drink on a glass and went with it in the car. You
don’t want to imagine what happened on reaching where he lived.
Hasta la vista baby
[Picture Source: Google Images]
