Photo of Stingers Hockey Club Players.(definitely living their twenties)
I feel that twenties are the most fulfilling fun years we have as mortals. We are full of energy, ambitions, novel ideas and libido. These are the years we want to kick start Friday night at K1, club hop to town and find ourselves in a strange studio apartment in Nairobi West after a house party. We have strong livers that can stand cheap liquor; I mean we are maybe students or fresh employees with little coins in our pockets. They are also the years when a little rudeness, a little failure and a little careless can be condoned.
Twenty is the year one becomes self-conscious after all the eruptive changes of adolescence, there is the urge to cross-check and test the waters. That is how a new girlfriend other than Njeri from the village gets the invitation to your small crib in Ngara. She is ripe, recently legal and is probably trying it for the first time while you, the dude, are all set for the fling. Definitely you have watched several sex tapes where the man does a whole hour and the girl is asking for more. The dude lights candles, cooks Biriani reading from an online recipe, and the little queen is impressed. You seem so independent, mature and confident that she opens up to your demands. You try too hard not to fail that you miss out on impressing making the first one quick and sudden. The second one is improved and the girl is involved to a point she gets to participate at the big O. She boosts of getting a new boyfriend but you in your twenties are ready for new challenges and not settling soon. She walks away leaving stained sheets behind while you bid her good riddance.
“Babe that was intense, but I need explosive,” you whisper to yourself.
He has learnt and seeks to perfect it.
The girl will hang around but soon enough she will realize things went south and it’s time to move on, that is the famed heartbreak.
Away from sex and clubbing, twenties have taught me a lot. Whom to interact with? Who to call friend? How to save a shilling since Nairobi haipendi ujinga? How to love? How to start a hustle? Fail. Start another and watch myself climb the ladder of life. I remember the days when I was a freshman, living from hand to mouth and even the hand was not mine. I had dreams and I still dream. I learnt that from Kenya Polytechnic to Gikomba was fifteen minutes and that a day in a hardware shop in Gikomba is six hundred shillings wage and that six hundred pays for rent, food and a date. That is twenty. Twenty one pushes harder when you are all alone and naïve. The pan becomes quite hot and the fire blazes, storms come from all over but then there is an aroma that comes with it. You are the boss, you either start off with marketing agencies, save up and the modern twenty-one year old is no dumb ass. We know of IFMIS, Name search, and some bureaucracy associated with registering a company or just a business. The good thing is that failure is not ridiculed here, someone picks us up.
Life has its set hurdles and it takes the best to overcome to the last. Perhaps this notion fits a twenty five year old best. Having given the best shot at dating, business, life and always failing, one gets a clear perspective and becomes polished up for serious stuff ahead. By serious I mean real hard stuff that besides life skills you need balls and guts to tackle. There is pressure from all spheres of life and that occasional phone call from Dala.
“Murimi, did you get a wife?” Your mum pressures you to marry soon. Wait. Are wives gotten, found, given or what? I never get it.
Your boss expects your input to be felt in the organization, the society is watching, your relatives are watching but funny enough not all are willing to see you prosper. Some call not to empathize with you but to confirm a rumor they overheard.
“Hello… Naskia ati ulifutwa kazi? ” They ask in a flat tone.
“ Eeh, nliletea kampuni profit ya 2 billion wakashindwa kunilipa,” you reply arrogantly. In fact you should add a few harsh words.
The trick is to appreciate the hormones that keep us vibrant while they last, the zeal to learn more, the spirit of adventure and the desire for success. These are the years we lay foundation for another turbulent fifty or so years. Fifty years with a spouse, kids, jobs, investments, allergies, lemon grass, Moringa leaves, budgeting, arthritis, fear of becoming sponsor, collecting fat around the waist and receding hairline. Gad! I so hate growing up.
Hey, we’ve a slight change in dates. Continue YOLOing.
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