“We sing, we dance, we steal things.”

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Let’s call him Patrick. Patrick works and lives in Minnesota. Green card and all that jazz. Last time he was in Kenya was 9 years ago. Patrick and I grew up in the same neighborhood- a couple of gates from ours actually. We were good friends. Then he flew out and our lives took a fork, the emails trickled and the phone calls ceased all together. Life happened. I didn’t mind, such eventualities of life stopped breaking my heart.

Anyway for the longest time our friendship hanged on the thin string that was Facebook. We would inbox randomly, but we had largely become strangers of sort and our conversations were marked more by our peculiarities than similarities. We had grown apart; I was a father, he wasn’t. I was still obsessed with Toni Braxton and he couldn’t understand why. He thought Lil Wayne was the shit; I thought Lil Wayne was shit. He listened to T-pain, I listened to Kidum. You get? Life has a way of diabolically reaping out the soul of friendships.

Just before Christmas I received a call from a Safcom number. The voice had an accent. The voice said “gawd” instead of “God.” I thought it was one of my phony friends who say “twirra”. The type who would die if Blankets and Wine suddenly ended. But it was Patrick. A voice from the past. He was in town, he informed me. Let’s have that drink, he said. I suggested Slims bar because it’s unpretentious and you won’t meet anyone in skinny jeans there. But he wanted to meet at Bacchus. I don’t like Bacchus, hell, I don’t like any pub in Westlands. Westlands is overrated and it’s full of goons who thug you and drunks who scratch your car. But I went because I haven’t seen this guy in ages.

I rock up in Bacchus at circa 9pm. Since he’s the full jang I find him holding court with some yellow yellow in a short skirt which exposed about an acre of her yellow thighs. I’m so damned happy to see him. He rises from his seat. We hug for as long as straight guys are allowed to hug. He says I look fit, I say he needs to lose the gut. He grins and rubs his paunch, “The ladies love this baby.” He introduces me to the bird who smiles politely. We sit. He has changed. He is bigger, more boisterous and clearly made some money. We catch up. I order red wine which he calls “gay” (can’t a man drink red wine in this town without being called gay?) The yellow yellow sits silently and smiles politely at our loose conversation.

Patrick has an accent, which means he talks like P-Diddy…or whatever he calls himself now. Patrick is also a big talker. He prattles about his “assets” and his “hustle” and I’m cool with it. I understand that he is playing to the gallery. I understand that he is trying to impress the girl even though I can tell it isn’t necessary because the bird looks like he she doesn’t need any grand convincing; flogging a dead horse is what he’s doing. We reminisce. Guy stuff.

“By the way what happened to Lucy Gakuo?” he asks about some chic he didn’t

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have a snow ball’s chance in hell with those days. Hell, neither did I, only difference was that I knew it. He didn’t.

“Married, two kids.”

“Damn! She still hot?”

“Well, her waistline isn’t the same.”

Miss Yellow chortles, obviously glad Lucy is off the race.

“How’s fatherhood?”

“I’m rubbish at it sometimes, but I try. You see kids in the future?”

“Yes, when I look with a real powerful telescope.”

Miss Yellow looks a bit stung.

“Hey, kids are fun!” I admonish him.

He laughs and asks sarcastically, “By the way, what time should you be back home, we don’t want to keep you past your curfew.”

Miss Yellow spews a patronizing giggle.

In my best Mandingo voice I growl a rejoinder “A lion goes back home when a lion is ready to go back home.”

Then I theatrically take a “discreet” peek at my watch. We all laugh. We are getting drunk.

Meeting Patrick makes me feel like he has made a million steps and I have made two. It does. I’m not insecure or unhappy with my life, but hell if you were in my shoes you would do a postmortem on your life. He seemed to be doing okay and he made sure all and sundry knew it. From experience I know that the guys who work hard at making impressions are not worth much… but still. Plus I was a bit tipsy and these things have a way of getting to you when you’ve had three glasses of Frontera.

At the end of the evening, we wobble out to the pavement outside and say our goodbyes and at that point I dunno what came over me, but I ask him a dumb dumb question. I ask him (and please don’t judge me): “Are you happy?” Which is a very weird – not to mention questionable – thing to ask a fellow man. Weirdly disturbing. Morbid. Filthy. Grotesque. Ugly. Look, that’s the kind of thing you ask a woman but only when you can make her happy. Unhappy women love being asked that question, they do. Their unhappiness begs it. But to ask a man that question? Come on Jackson, what, now you want to make men happy? Shit.

You ask a man questions like, “what timepiece is that?” or “what’s the engine capacity of your car?” or “what’s the story with that bird?” or “Are you sure you want another drink?” You know, guy stuff, not “Are you happy?!” Jeeeesus! But yes, it just came out and as soon as it was out I kicked myself. Hard. Anyway I asked him this when Miss Yellow was still inside powdering her cute nose in the washrooms so that his answer would be as close to honest as possible.

Patrick, in his almost drunken state, mulled over this peculiar query for about four seconds then said thoughtfully, “Sometimes you don’t have to be happy, you just need to be alive.” Of course he didn’t say it in those words, I mean he is a guy who listens to T-Pain and what not.

I’m a sucker for sound bites and that one stuck in my mind and got me thinking about life but most importantly about being alive. We pursue happiness with such vim that we often forget to live life. I instantly knew that his words would shape my new year in one way or the other. And it did.

After the New Year I stopped by Kisumu on my way to Rusinga Island where I was to do a travel piece. For those who come a stone throw away (Nyeri), Rusinga is in Lake Victoria, not off the Caribbean. In Kisumu I had a drink with my pal Gordie who showed up with his pal who works for a bank. Hot shot type, drives a sleek Subaru and all. His girlfriend had left him a day before the New Year (who said women aren’t capable of charm?). I know because he wouldn’t shut up about it and it was beginning to irk me to tell you the truth. It made him look weak. Men shouldn’t whine when they are left. If I was left by my woman and I was hurting like hell, I would sooner die than whine about it. My God, you would have to tie me to a pole in a market and threaten to singe my nipples with a hot rod before I’d admit that I was hurting.

 

Anyway, here is the thing. There are two things I constantly find puzzling. One is people- during a group conversation – telling me, “Please don’t write about this, don’t write about me.” Makes me look like a dishonorable spy. And two, people always asking me for relationship advice by the virtue of what I do. What do I know? And I feel sorry for them because my advice is always as useful as a broken watch.

Anyway after a brief moment this guy I’ve known for exactly twelve sips of my wine turns to me and asks. “What should I do?”

“About what?” I ask to which he looks at me like I’m a complete imbecile.

“My-girl-friend,” he says slowly in case I miss it.

“Well, she isn’t your girl-friend anymore, is she?”

“Yes, but well….look you know what I mean.”

“Don’t call her. Don’t stalk her. Don’t beg her. Don’t buy her best friend gifts.”

“But I love her.”

“And don’t say you love her, you might just start believing it.”

He looked more disturbed than he was moments earlier.

Now concentrate, you will see where this story crosses the same railway with Patrick’s story. So I tell him that I thought his girlfriend, er, ex girlfriend was pushing him around because he had given her many reasons to believe that he would be miserable without her. That his world would come crushing to a halt if she left. He had sucked up to her so much and in the process lost his pants. And she was now taking him to the cleaners.

“What do you do when you are in a hole?” I asked him. Funny how when you ask someone a question like that they imagine it’s a trick question.

“Er, I dunno, climb out?”

“Close. You stop digging.”

“Oh.”

I said “You will be fine. Don’t do a thing.” Then I added (and this is where Patrick’s story comes afloat), “Sometimes it’s not about happiness, it’s about being alive. And right now you aren’t living, you are killing yourself.”

See how phony I am? See the kind of con-artist I have turned out to be? How corny can a man get? Corny and shameless. Even more sadly he thought I was actually smart. And when I said this the chick who was seated across me had that look of someone who had walked into the Finger of God church; a bit of awe and disillusion. But anyway, the point is it shut up the guy because it gave him food for thought.

But the thing is we are too geared at being happy. Too poised for it. But happiness is very abstract. Life on the other hand is tangible and very present. It might not be the stellar of life at some point, you might not be very happy at some point but its life and it’s precious. This New Year I have made a pact never to whine no matter how low I’m feeling. Remember that expression “wake up and smell the coffee”? Forget it. It’s corny. Just live.

I got to Rusinga Island and checked into this amazing lodge called Rusinga Island Lodge. I must have been the only guest in their history to take a boat to the Island and show up at their gate on a Tuk Tuk, the rest land their chattered planes in their private airstrip. Pitching up abound a Tuk Tuk is not happiness, that’s living. Kirsty, the owner, sent me out to visit neighboring islands like Takawiri and Mfangano and at Takawiri I did something that was totally out of my character. I stripped down and swam buck naked at the beach. That is not even happiness, that’s nuts (excuse pun) but it’s living. I was taking Patrick’s axiom too far I realize, but that was the point; worry less and live more.

 

Over the weekend, I went to buy my daughter school shoes and there was this homeless blind man trying to cross Kenyatta avenue. He stunk…not at crossing the road, but as in hygienically. I held him by the hand and helped him cross the road. And I’m not saying this because I want reader brownie points, I’m illustrating something vital here. Helping him didn’t exactly give me happiness, but it made me

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feel good. Not happy necessarily, but good. That’s living.

The heading of this piece – and the album title to one of Jason Mraz albums which I’m listening to as I write this rumbling- illustrates the mood of 2011 for me. Loose. Unhinged. Projected. Floaty. Carefree. We sing, we dance, we steal things.

Happy New Year gang!

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78 Comments
  1. “Sometimes you don’t have to be happy, you just need to be alive.” Lost the battle dude….. if you are not happy change the equation until you find it….. just do not expect it 24/7.

    Gr8 post as per usual.

  2. happy living man..its all about appreciating the small things in life which actually bring real happiness in people….do you have a name for male blondes..those that imagine in their small heads that the more expensive whatever they are doing guarantee them happines……

  3. I remember a quote ‘The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results, if you not happy, make changes.’ AND dont whine about it…..

  4. hmmmm…unhappy women love to be asked if they are happy? Really?
    C’mon, no unhappy person likes being asked if they are happy…it makes the unhappiness more real…magnifies it…And why risk announcing you’re unhappy when everyone’s singing “…Coz the whole world loves it when you don’t get down…” you’ll only end up being dismissed as the party pooper…

    PS: My take on happiness? It’s fleeting and chasing after it is like chasing after the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow…

  5. “I arrived at Bacchus at circa 9pm” *Circa 9pm*????? Is *circa* a word?!!! how now? or is it the latest sheng i haven’t been brought up to? And you wonder why i score -5 when it comes to sheng? Anyway, whatever lingo that is, be sure i won’t use it, coz it just sounds so wrong!

    On the habit of Kenyans being on flossmode abt their wealth and trying so hard to make impressions, i promised myself, i make my good chums, i say zilch! (U c, am trying hehe). No brag, no detail, no nothing. U c for urself and conclude for urself.

    1. Circa is old English.It means, just about..especially when something took long time ago and the exact time isn’t known..like you can say the English premiersship club Arsenal was established circa 1870…you get the drift…

  6. I don’t see nothing wrong with being happy…or working HARD towards it.

    We all live, but very few of us are happy. And feeling good, causes happiness Jackson,..

    That butt naked swim is the way to go… Pretty close to being a free spirit.

    Oh, and yellow, yellow is so 2008… Just saying 🙂

    Nice to have your writing back.

  7. ‘…you would have to tie me to a pole in a market and threaten to singe my nipples with a hot rod before I’d admit that I was hurting…’ Biko you are absolutely crazy!

    Great piece…great way to start the year. Most of the time, we chase happiness so much that we forget that we find it in the simplicity of enjoying life. I am going to simply live this year…

  8. Biko there are some drinks that attract the wrong kind of attention. You should know these. Here’s to living and being alive.

  9. For those who come a stone throw away (Nyeri), Rusinga is in Lake Victoria, not off the Caribbean. ….. I am “Nyerian” and I know where Rusinga is DAMN you but I like the article. esp when you talk of doing things out of character. Whoever talked of character.

  10. hey Biko..its me the one n only petite!!!ati you swam buck naked???mmmh
    I’ve missed you..when are we doing a reunion like yours and Patricks..

  11. I like this piece. It’s very well written and flowed beautifully right to end. It made me smile.

    The quote may have been ‘phony’ but it sounded really smart, and sometimes, perception is everything. Nice.

  12. Eh, speaking of peeps who brag about their wealth, Angie Angwenyi just opened a pandora’s box on the easy fm page jana. When she claimed that her son now goes to St.Mary’s (which i hear is lavish) but apparently she wanted to take him to Strathmore coz its a “prestigious” school. Only thing is according to her, Strath doesn’t accept students who come from single parent families. (Wait, is that true? anyone? if it is….i’ll just nod my head. whatever rocks their boat. but what kind of a strategy would that be?) And instead of guys sympathising with her everyone was up in arms on how she doesn’t have to brag abt how wealthy she is. Anyhoo, in case she reads this blog biko, i do agree with most peeps who “attacked” her.i didn’t go to all those prestigious skls, even if i can’t deny i would have loved to, but i turned out pretty much alright. So the school you go to doesn’t define you. It’s just silly stereotypical Kenyan labels. but i aint fretting, as u say, we live, we dance, we steal things.

  13. “……and threatened to singe my nipples….” Lol
    Thanks Biko, up or down I looove being alive and you just gave us best advice to start a new year.

  14. A pal sent me this text on new year’s day: ” Happiness is attached to many things these days for anyone to wish it on anyone lightly. So let’s just wish each other a bile-less New Year and leave it at that.”

    I thought it was one of those nutty texts people forward to others, but on deeper thought, I realised its true. Happiness (and good life) is attached to too many things nowadays, depending on the person in question: Cars, children, money, alcohol, sex, assets, houses, church attendance, wives, laughter, pooping, dancing to ‘Bendover’ after the supposedly magical ’30’ for women… etc etc, in various qualities and quantities, all serve as diverse measures of happiness and living. Just dont try to insinuate to others that you are happier than them….thats when relationships, friendships and families start breaking down.

    Do what makes you happy. After all, isnt each person supposed to be in charge of their own happiness?

    Great post as usual Biko!

  15. Nice read.

    Just perfect.

    I especially enjoyed the ‘subtle’ connotation that to be gay is to be ‘Weirdly disturbing. Morbid. Filthy. Grotesque. Ugly.’

    Top notch, really.

  16. Food for thought definitely. And its not stealing and phony if you paraphrased the words from P-Diddy from New York Cityyyyy! For shizzle my nizzle! Good start to the new year. Live life best as you can!

  17. this is one of the greatest pieces of writting i’ve ever come across. thanx coz every man needs this type of message- yeah we dont need advice as every other writer (girl oriented bloggers) tries to give- we just need honest thoughts!

    Great post my brother!

  18. “He thought Lil Wayne was the shit; I thought Lil Wayne was shit” Hahahaha. Are they called birds nowadays, or could it be a transalation from kyuk for njui :)?
    Nice read as usual!

  19. Biko. In my neck of woods. Handing out relationship advice. The city crier must go!

    Life without happiness? Can I at least have contentment?

    Great read

  20. But what is being happy anyway??? It dazzles me what this thing we call happiness is- its close to another thing that dazzles me that we call love—

    lets live! Here is to living 2011!

  21. Weird. I am ALWAYS asking my friends if they are happy. Because every human being hides behind the mask that is the smiles that we wear. What your friend told you from his very quotable quote really was, that he wasn’t happy, but he is living. Totally enjoyed reading this piece and I absolutely want to “start living”.

  22. Great Read Biko….. I totally agree that From experience I know that the guys who work hard at making impressions are not worth much

  23. Happy new year Biko, I can see you are back and am glad. Frontera is my also my thing and as I told you last year I will look for you and spoil you good. 🙂

  24. Nice read Biko, i like the story build up n more this quote “Sometimes it’s not about happiness, it’s about being alive. And right now you aren’t living, you are killing yourself.” i guess that’s what i’ve been doing. so from now, i’ll will just live, happiness may just catch up with me. Maybe ur being corny, or conny but it really make you sound smart:)

  25. i know uve heard this like a milli times be4 but am gonna say it anyway…uve got maaad talent Biko!! been reading ur posts all day…loving each n every one of em’ keep it up.

  26. Bikozulu, I never thought I’d write this, but you are just the kind of guy I would stalk shamelessly. Si you post a pix of you here 😉

  27. The luo girls from Dallas spend our “nairobi summer” chatting about you and your writing skills both online and print, you are soooo engaging ;-)………but do I say… hoping that santa would wrap you and drop you off as a gift but again…….I hope to run into you this year either in houston or our hot nairobi roads. Happy New Year Biko 😉

  28. Hey,

    Am called Kagame.
    If you’re going to write about me please use my name next time.

    And acha falasafa yako pia. Don’t disturb yourself with happy and or live!!!!!!
    You will find that you may have no say or part to play in your happy or live!!’n
    seen? Am trying to be a smart one here too. Dropping these abstract sentences.
    But fuck; I can’t stand listening to this squash music by TPain, eti ‘Lil’ Wayne us the shit’ you get brownie points for that mate….

  29. LOL! I’m with Kagame on this one! Long time man! It took a Lil’ Wayne song to get you out of the woodwork’s!!! That’s shitty man!

    Here’s to a Happy 2011 boys and girls!

  30. but i kinda feel you judged yourself way harshly after you asked your pal if he was happy.i mean,come to think of it;it really aint morbid-shows you either was thinking about something so deeply ,related to him,to a point that question popped up unnoticeable….that to me means you cared for your pal’s well being,if not of course how well he really was doing…lol

  31. Its amazing that you write such long articles and I still read the whole of it.
    Mad talent and in literary circle you are the Ish.An Inspiration.
    Keep on writing

  32. 1.Red wine
    2.You asked a guy if he is happy
    I would say that is two gay strikes!
    I also wonder if you could do a review of frontera wine.

  33. I come back to this post every once in a while, when shit hits the fan. First time was when i had just been dumped that very first time while it takes more than one thing to climb back to any semblance of your former self, I remember how important this piece was picking up a battered spirit.
    So.. Cheers!

  34. It’s great… Forget happiness just live… Then you’ll find happiness in just living. Then continue living. A paradox of events

  35. “And don’t say you love her, you might just start believing it.” and this is true..Happiness is an inside job as we say but i believe in living with intention and purpose and being present at every single moment…here in 2023