Ducks are not in prison!

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.

To being ducks and goats and birds.