We all had those instances when ol’lady, rarely ol’man would borrow some money from us and for some of us it would get to a point when you had to remind her. Sometimes she might have forgotten, other times, maybe she just wasn’t at her best to give back. I remember once either one of my siblings or I nagged mum so much to a level she said “Do you know you would never pay for all that goes on in this house?” Now I totally dig this phrase and couldn’t understand it any better.
A few weeks ago, I thought I had grown big enough, rich enough and responsible enough to move out and start living on my own. It is pretty interesting when it starts, with my bag my mattress which doubles up as the seat and the table I bid “home” bye and moved out. Whatever’s been happening in between that day and this as I write must be the greatest lesson I’m yet to learn. Thank God though I have people who care, who call to find out how I am doing and provide support in whatever way they can and one special one who offers company every once in a while.
Life alone can be lonely, and if you are a non-telly person like yours truly here then you would find very little to do between the time you open the door in the evening when you leave the office and the next morning when you have to hop into a “matatu” again to work. At times the nights grow so long that you wonder whether you will wake up to find your age mates grew into grandparents already.
After all the loneliness, comes the deep thoughts and the budgeting synonymous with moving into a self-sponsored establishment. This I think is the bit that has hit me most. You wouldn’t want to believe that one week into the month I had no single coin left in my account, and not only did I have my entire July salary booked but with it came a deficit of eight thousand one hundred, the bank chooses to call it “only”, I wonder why, that’s quite a sum. Did I tell you that is what my second semester fees at Moi University always amounted to? A lot of people claim I was educated for free but wait till the HELB guys come knocking, then my free will just turn into something else.
Back to mum’s statement and God!, don’t I miss this lady every time I want to have my dinner, or at least have someone cover up for her. Deciding on what to eat each evening has become a daunting task. Not only do I have to think of what to eat, I also don’t have the requisite equipment to prepare food with. There are times I think too much, before I realise it’s morning, I slept hungry and I have to catch a “matatu” to work again. This has forced me to turn Chicken House on Moi Avenue into my dining room, speaking of which shouldn’t houses have extra rooms for breakfast rooms and lunch rooms, just a thought.
Anyway these three weeks have been an awesome lesson to this son of the soil. At no point had I thought I would ever float in any of my trousers, and never had it ever occurred to me that a weighing scale would ever pass for a scare crow (I look more like a scare crow by the way after losing weight), but out of me emerges a more organised “dimwit” (as one of my classmates in uni would always call me when what I did went against her expectations), and oh, probably I’ll soon feature on an inspirational talk show, you should have heard me advise my friend on how he should plan well before giving “moving out” a thought. And yes I now appreciate the importance of family and company even more.