It is times like this that I am ‘happy’ that I still am unmarried. My flatmate has this ongoing conversation with his wife. I swear I can tell the whole tale, blow by blow, word by word. They have been married for nearly 15 years, his Nigerian employers passed him over a couple of times for a promotion - piquing him enough to make him quit - with a hefty pay off - and head back to school after relocating his family to Europe. ...
I have unfinished business in this town. I had always sensed that when the time came to finally cut my ties, I would still have to come here one last time, to cast my eyes over the horizon and remind myself of all the things this town means to me. Today I lug my knapsack to the park and ask for a cab. I point in the general direction I am headed in, the dirty strip of land bordering the ocean that became my chill spot during those long arduous weekends. Unsurprisingly, the fare has doubled from the last time I was here, as it did for every one of the years I spent here. We haggle a little over the price. He retorts that there is no fuel, and that I shouldn’t be a cheap skate, after all I am a big boy. Perhaps I look the part - a knapsack that looks like it has a laptop, I wear glasses, am plugged into an iPod, and am speaking English untainted by the default accent one acquires around these parts. Truth is I might have once been one of them, but I am not now, which is why my trip to the waterside could end up being painful. I am off to eyeball UX5 for the last time. ...
Moments like these, when insomnia induced by deep thought strikes, are when the harsh reality of the things we try to suppress often come to the fore. The overwhelming desire of my heart and my hand is to pick up my phone and call long distance. But my head - ever pragmatic - intervenes, short circuiting the commands and forcing me to think. I wonder if she remembers me, or if indeed there is someone else making her laugh, hearing all her foibles and making her giggle at pointless jokes and wise cracks into the wee hours of the morning.
They say a bird in hand ‘is worth two in the bush’… But where do we draw the line between being content with what is in hand versus craving the potential two in the bush…… Sometimes I fear I have a death wish - an inordinate attraction for the eccentric and the esoteric - to the detriment of the normal and available.. When I was younger, I chalked it down to an insatiable curiosity; that essential criterion for a life of continuous learning. Now though, I fear it runs deeper than that, maybe it is a desire to be unconventional, or a longing for the adventure that comes with the risk, or plain old restlessness.. I don’t know anymore….
Age, chronological or otherwise, slowly creeps up on us. Once upon a time we were a tiny cell, birthed by the fusion of gametes which then morph into a tiny organism. With time, we grow bigger and then get birthed - being thrust out into the hardened world called life. We age: grow bigger, develop facial hair, deepened voices, broader chests.. and then the gray hair… leading to the inevitable slide towards old age and death… ..a self-perpetuating cycle. ...
Whoever said Don’t Fix what ain’t broke was speaking out of the right side of their minds. Best believe me! In a queer way, I am a victim of trying to over-elaborate. Life was good – great job with decent prospects, a fair amount of money in the bank and the security being around family afforded. In a fit of petulance at a work decision that went a tad bit awry, I headed back to school to chase an MSc. ...