To being Ducks and Goats and Birds
Ever thought of yourself as a duck? Floating on still waters in some
eerie pond in those ‘Ushago’
neighborhoods? With half-naked boys running around and throwing things in the
water to scare you but being used to them you just float there unperturbed? Or
probably being a more civilized duck and wading the waters of some tourist
resort on rugged hillsides of Naivasha? Having some corky photographers and some
old tourists taking pictures of you? Would you even smile at them? Do ducks
smile? I bet you’d be a little passive, partially rigor mortised by the cold
water, you’d be proud and shelf any excitement that’d come with strangers
lining up to take pictures of you.
Wouldn’t it be cool to also just be a goat? You know, to climb on
ramshackle sheds over the Kariokor
market and cause women selling groceries to freak out? How’d that feel like? Exciting?
Maybe a little invigorating? Would it scare the shit out of you when they yell
and throw banana peels at you?
Now forget ducks and goats, here’s a better one, how about being a
bird? Do you watch birds fly and glean some vicarious pleasure imagining how
good it feels to birds now that they don’t have to worry about bumping into
some overly-muscular guy whilst walking down Tom Mboya Street? Being a bird would
be glorious. I mean you can confidently spot those overstayed weaves and poop
on those heads. Give those ladies a little push to change the weaves. You know,
doing the society some justice and relieving yourself at the same time. We
humans call that killing two birds with one stone. Would you also call it that?
I bet you wouldn’t – it would sound illicit to you – a bird taboo.
Speaking of Tom Mboya and Moi Avenue streets, why are there so many
reckless walkers on these streets? It’s like the number of people that find
bliss is aggravating others is on the rise.
You know those college kids that form a line of four and then expect to
walk the entire pavement at a snails’ pace. And the lovey-dovey chaps who
insist on holding hands in a crowded street. I absolutely find that rude – not the
holding of hands, the part where you do it in a crowded street. It’s simply
rude to be oblivious; of situations and people.
Well, I have. I have thought about this thing of being a duck and
all. It is weird in a way; especially because I don’t even remotely believe in
re-incarnation ideologies. Who in their right mind thinks someone died and now
they came back in a body of a cow? No way I’m falling for that. It looks more
like a government conspiracy to keep us from eating beef sausages for
breakfast. It’s even worse when I think of the birds I killed as a kid. Were those like real people? I killed real
people? No, I can’t live with that. Re-incarnation is not real. I’ll be damned
if I let it be.
Actually the reason I pictured me as a duck – of course in a highly
civilized tourist resort, is because of how systems imprison men. FYI; even if
re-incarnation is true I cannot come back an Ushago duck. I’d fight really hard in that other world to come back
a civilized duck. I’d even form a duck-only gang over there to help me fight
for the right duck body – and promise the gang seven duck virgins when they
come over to this world. I’m sure some would even take a bullet for me over
there ;). Maybe some would be bold enough to do a ka-duck suicide bomb thing
for me. I’d be the MVP over there.
Now back to this system-infested world. As I was saying systems are
our own little prisons. They blind the beautiful horizons. They have a way of
making us comfortable thinking that’s the best we’re ever going to get. The
cell windows are so small that you can barely feel the orgasmic breeze beyond
your comfort zone. I talked of a floating duck, a wild goat or a bird in the
air because these creatures have freedom. They do what they want. I don’t think there’s a
duck code where they assign roles based on what a duck-degree certificate says a duck can do. I also don’t imagine that birds are restrained by a system of norms and
traditions. Birds do what birds want to do – I hope they often do want to poop on
overstayed weaves.
Ok, let me get this off my chest. I loathe bad weaves. Not that I care
so much about women’s hair. I’d count the female hairstyles I know and they’d
only cover up to my middle finger. I just don’t care about hairstyles! However,
thing is, when you have had that horsehair on since Noah was still nailing
hinges on the ark’s door and am here seated next to you in traffic that isn’t
just endearing. And no, I am not being spiteful. It’s just that wafting that
corn chip odor is unsettling. Especially when you’re a little under the weather
and all you care about is getting home in one piece; a piece not ruined by evil
smells. Can we agree you’ll change that thing after it goes stale, or whatever
expired weaves go? Yes? Awesome.
Moving on.
You see the way you literally cannot be a floating duck, you had to
be human, is the way some things in life are inevitable. But you can
figuratively become a roof-climbing goat. Different and distinct. You become
that bird by following the route that makes it happy. You get to be the driver.
As my barber (the Felix guy) told me, for shits’ sake you can’t let things run
you. You get to run things sometimes; in fact most of the times you need to run
things. You get to be a duck or a goat or a bird when you lose the imaginary
prison confinements. You do this by taking charge of situations in life.
It’s true when they say you’re in charge of your happiness. Also true that you’re the sole variant in the equation of your success and God is like the constant integer that you multiply with. So the bigger you make yourself as a variant the sweeter the success. (Who says you can’t use mathematical jargon in writing? See your life!).
If I were a preacher I’d tell you to poke you neighbor and tell them
they’re a duck – a human duck, or at least they have a chance of being one.
Once you're out of prison, you'll make mistakes and own up to them, try and fail, lose your way and find it, and the grind goes on and on. However, this won't dim your candle. It won't dwindle your spirit. You will be gladly in charge. You'll not just beat the storm, you will be the storm.
Once you're out of prison, you'll make mistakes and own up to them, try and fail, lose your way and find it, and the grind goes on and on. However, this won't dim your candle. It won't dwindle your spirit. You will be gladly in charge. You'll not just beat the storm, you will be the storm.
To being
ducks and goats and birds.
Me me me... I wana be a duck
ReplyDeleteThis is my favorite piece yet 😍
Funny and....how do I put it, it has made me realize all obstacles need some wheelbalancing and steering forward. FYI I farmin Kinangop so I know where it is.
ReplyDelete