Once in a while, it's essential to break away, have a debut in the unmined, and see a poignant reflection on the losses brought about by obstinate sedentation. A chance to peer beneath the surface of the familiar and cultivate a reverse-engineered outlook that melds everyday experiences from moving parts into a new synergy of working parts. Along the way, you encounter the full spectrum of life's emotions: clarity, suspense, dilemma, manifestation, humor, pain, and epiphany. It's a divorce from lingering desires, a moment to appreciate life's subtleties as if measured by a teaspoon, with the finesse of an artist's touch upon tender fingertips. So, step out, catalog the mental inventory of your thoughts, and allow yourself to indulge in the richness of existence to find out what sparks joy.
During a random walk late last year, I encountered an individual who struck up a conversation seemingly out of nowhere. He shared an observation about how Africans tend to overlook and underappreciate the milestones they achieve in life, implying a lack of adequate recognition and reward. While I couldn't ascertain whether this perspective was racially bigoted against African people, it resonated with a certain truth that was difficult to refute entirely. Our dialogue was prompted by the sight of a recent graduate walking home with a female companion. It sparked a conversation that unfolded against the backdrop of a late afternoon stroll, a routine I customarily indulged in at that time of day.
Several weeks after our initial encounter, I crossed paths with the chap again in a different locale, again ambulating. In the unspoken code of men, names are rarely exchanged, so I've dubbed him T Makeli. A moniker that makes you want to list down things when you read or hear that name. Maybe he is a farmer, a mechanic, a potter, a barber, or a caretaker. Upon greeting him, it was clear from his perplexed look that he was wondering why a stranger was acknowledging him. He didn't immediately recognize me or recall our previous interaction. Unlike those who might explain such a situation, I chose not to elaborate, sensing his overwhelming confusion. His look reminded me of the guileless bewilderment of a child who can't quite remember where they've seen you before, despite a sense of familiarity.
I recall T Makeli sharing with me that their family was accustomed to eating traditional vegetables ("mboga za kienyeji"), and whenever he passed an exam, his mother would prepare omena for them to celebrate the achievement. This was the delicacy they craved, the one they eagerly waited for with bated breath. Poverty might have been their portion, but this simple pleasure was sensational.
In my childhood, being rewarded for achievements was uncommon. My upbringing dictated that attending school and passing exams was simply part of life's routine. A vivid memory I have is of the time I invited my parents to a medium-high-end restaurant, a place we often visited to enjoy the ambiance after school with my fellow pupils. As we perused the menu, my father immediately remarked on the steep prices, leading us to depart in favor of a more affordable eatery, despite his initial agreement to explore the establishment.
In light of this, I concluded that this man was strapped for cash. Luxury was not his portion. His approach to life seemed to mirror his financial situation. Which I assumed was anchored on the hardness of a minimalism and a frugality on steroids. In contrast, I've adopted a different perspective on my life's philosophy. I've embraced a reward system for myself. Whenever I achieve a significant milestone, I prioritize celebrating before considering any repercussions. While these festivities might seem typical, they are intentional and richly merited. They are moments of discovery that transform into cherished memories. They involve going to the club, savoring my favorite whiskey—Jack Daniels—and enjoying it with friends. It's a departure from the usual drinks we're accustomed to, but I find it adds a special touch to the occasion.
Many individuals tend to purchase tangible items. Conversely, I allocate minimal time to such visible entities. For instance, while others have upgraded to smart TVs, I continue to use a traditional television set, which adorns my wall without a connection to an aerial or set-top box. Its use is limited to monthly occasions when I connect it to my laptop, primarily to enjoy music. For yours truly, the true value of a purchase is derived from the immersive experience it provides, rather than its frequency of use.
Anticipating life's unpredictability is something I've come to enjoy. Despite attempts to plan my days, I find myself drawn to spontaneity and the thrill of unexpected experiences. Structured schedules don't just work. While I appreciate the concept of investing in items that can grow in value over time, I find words to be more captivating given their ability to evoke emotion. My style of composition is variant, sometimes vibrant and lively, other times direct and succinct.
In my opinion, there is a significant correlation between the desire for the fine things in life and the quest for attaining them. Being nurtured in an environment that fosters success often propels individuals towards prosperity, assuming there is no settling for mediocrity. This is the crux of existence. The tendency to fulfill only average expectations is our tipping point. That may even apply to tots. Kids are like sponges, soaking up what we tell them. If they never hear they can achieve greatness, they might just settle for "good enough." And that's how mediocrity becomes the norm. It is our role to make the possibilities appear attainable. And it applies even to adults.
We often settle for less due to various reasons. It could stem from fear that our efforts won't be appreciated or rewarded adequately. It might also be a result of having a limited mindset or lacking the confidence to ask for what we truly deserve. Many of us find ourselves in this situation because we haven't been encouraged to expect more and strive for better.
Hasta La Vista, Baby.
