Getting Older

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by Nancy Cherotich.

It’s a week to my birthday and as usual, I am totally excited. Maybe a little too excited, but who cares, it’s my birthday! I can’t wait to see the number of strangers and friends who will go on social media to wish me a happy birthday and send me photos of cakes and gifts that they will never actually buy for me. But more importantly, I have a grand plan for that day. There will be no party or cake; there has never been one. I will go to work, spend my day replying to texts and posts, go home after the day ends, write a long post on how the Lord has been good to me and how wise I have become (sic), shower and go to bed. On the issue of gifts, I have given my friends all the necessary hints that all I want is shoes. If they do not get it and I fail to get any gifts, I will thank God for the gift of life and ask him to remind me to ignore any hints from my friends on their birthdays.

In my family, birthdays have never been a priority so I will not be shocked to receive a call two days later and be asked “Cherotich, kwanini haukusema juzi ilikua birthday yako? Si ututumie pesa tununue cake we celebrate”
This has always been the case since I moved from home. You sponsor your own birthday if you want people to celebrate it. I remember when I was young; I used to tell my classmates that I was adopted every time they asked me when my birthday was. I was lucky enough to go to a private school which was a huge sacrifice for my parents. As some parents had enough money to throw huge parties for their kids and feed the whole class with goodies, my parents were looking for school fees. A birthday party to please strangers was never a priority. I knew if I admitted that I actually knew my birth date, my classmates would expect me to hold a party in school and failure to do so would mean I would not be allowed to eat anything on their birthdays. They all bought the adoption story and I was able to safely enjoy the goodies from my classmates.

Earlier this year, I realized that my dad has no idea how old I am. Either that or he has refused to accept that I have grown old. At the time when I was having crazy asthma attacks, he decided that my doctor was not doing enough so he took me to see his own doctor. As I was filling the insurance forms, I started coughing so the secretary took the forms and started to fill them in with my dad’s help.

“Is she married?”
“No, she is still young.”
“How old is she?”
“25 years.”
“Daddy, I am 29 years old”
“Aiiii! Sijazeeka hivyo. Andika 25.”

I did not win that argument despite showing him my national ID. The funniest part was when I was told I can see the doctor. My mum followed me into the doctor’s office. I knew better than to argue with her. When the doctor asked me to explain what my problem was, my mother took over and talked about the asthma. She was so passionate, you would think she was the one who was sick. She was able to explain my pain way better than I could have and even proceeded to answer questions I was best placed to answer.

“Is she allergic to any drugs?”
“No she is not.”
“Nancy, are you on any family planning?”
“No she is not.”
“When did you last have your periods?”
“Ni siku gani hiyo uliniambia uko na cramps? Ni ile siku baba yako alikuja kama amechelewa. Nakumbuka. Last week Thursday, sindio?”
“Mum, can you leave us alone for a few minutes with your daughter?”
“Sawa, but I hope you are not injecting her. Yeye husumbua sana”

The doctor was so amused and went on to share how his wife claims that all their three kids are 16 despite one being married with two kids. I can only imagine what my dad will tell my husband to be, but I do hope that in the manual he prepare on how to handle his precious daughter, there will be an entire chapter dedicated to expensive birthday gifts.

The few boyfriends I have had miraculously all seemed to disappear or make me really mad to the point of dumping them just before my birthday. The most expensive gift I have ever received from a man as a birthday gift is a set of luminarc glasses. This is after he kept insisting for weeks how he has this wonderful surprise that would blow me away. I was totally blown away and so were the glasses.

My new year starts next week. I am now expected to get serious with life; join a lot of chamaas, buy a car, buy a home, get married and stop twerking. Apart from reminding my family members that this year I have rewarded each of them financially on their birthdays and I expect the same, I plan to go have my last twerk even if it will be performed with a limp. From next week it will be a new year & a new me.

My knee is getting better. Thank you so much for the prayers although I really dread getting on the scale bearing in mind that I have been such a couch potato. But I will face the scale soon.

Ps. My shoe size is 39. Just in case someone wants to surprise me. Other gifts like the latest Discovery will not be rejected. My new age dictates that I should be very ambitious. Don’t judge me.

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65 Comments
  1. Reminds me of how my mum has never accepted that we are growing. She tells people am 22 yet am 25.My bro has two birth certificates. One with the actual age and another minus 3 years. Nice piece Cherotich. Hope your knee gets completely healed

  2. Chero!! We share a birthday!!! Yaay me i share a birthday with a celeb!! yes Biko i said it CELEB! Its my birthday month i am allowed! *goes away to tell other colleagues..walking with a spring

  3. Hehehehehe. Very funny. Nancy it’s true our parents don’t know our age. I think the years have gone so fast for them.

  4. I relate to the part where you are told days later ‘kwanini haukusema juzi ilikua birthday yako?’ It’s a good post – keep it up

  5. Get as many size 39 to fill your shoerack then pass across those without a place to keep i will do justice for them! duh

  6. Nice read. To our parents, we will always remain children even when we grow white hair everywhere. And I mean everywhere!

  7. Chero, I do not know about you, but the reason as to why I wake up at 5.00am every morning to run 10Kms everyday is so that I can be able to drink tusker, eat pizza, eat KFC chicken and enjoy life.

    I really do not get it when people go through the pain of exercising then proceed to cut back on their favourite food and hobbies.

    I always increase my running distance by X2 on saturdays morning to take care of my tusker and nyama choma calaoriesconsumed over the weekend.

    Exercise to enjoy life.

    Btw, Do not worry about the weight, worry about the composition of the weight,if its fat then you need to be worried if its muscle you do not need to be…I’m leaner but with 85kgs worth of muscle…Just forget the weighing scale and ensure you have no parts of your body hanging

    1. Mr. Nduta, do you happen to know ‘our’ Nduta? the kneeling girl? you dont,, ? the Yogi Nduta? okay, she doesnt run to cut wait, she goes for yoga, and she kneels,,,,cough,, too

  8. Hahahaha…nice read…i totally relate…i dont think my parents even know the month i was born…hehe

    Oh…you write so well..

  9. now expected to get serious with life; join a lot of chamaas, buy a car, buy a home, get married and stop twerking

  10. STOP twerking….waah that is part of growing old too..though you will have to do ua last twerk..HBD bIKOZULU..

      1. Boss stop being all fluffed up because you have been wished happy birthday. Accept and move on, I know it has an issue with the last twerk bit.
        I too read that bit with shock like, this jamaa twerks kumbe? Had to scroll back up to confirm it was Chero not you. Means her writing is soo good some of us mistake it for the master himuselfu(ok, that is said with a coastal accent…)

  11. I love the piece Chero,,reminds me of my dad who still wants to be in full control of my life yet am a big man who should be independent.

  12. awesome h.b.d chero.like your posts n @ bikozulu. been reading all the old posts,n its the best thing since sliced bread.!

  13. How did she even imagine it was biko zulu? Can biko twerk? maybe he can,yes,even with the forehead.but didnt she read where the doctor asked about the last period? i give up!

  14. Chero. Your mom is a comedian. Had me dying. The doctor must have had on a priceless look on his face listening to her. Gotta love mothers. Happy Birthday girl. You have a beautiful gift. Never forget that. Keep writing.

  15. Always look forward to your posts. Chero dont stop writing … haha mbona haukusema…like it will make any difference.

  16. Great piece there Chero. I have to say you are getting better at this writing thing. I am enjoying your pieces more and more each week. Awesome job!! Pole sana about your knee…praying you bounce back real soon. And Happy Birthday!! May this be your best year yet. God bless.

    P.S. Ungeongeza paybill number. I absolutely hate shopping so your shoe size does nothing for me. But maybe…just maybe…for being audacious enough to ask for shoes without camouflaging (if that’s how we spell it) and saying oh you need some cash to go for a knee X–ray, ningekusukumia pesa ukajinunulie.

    God bless!

  17. He hee.This is my birth month too and I totally relate. That’s what I will do on my birthday too..receive virtual cakes,confess of how wise I have become, go home,shower and sleep..and wait for next year..Chero every time I read your posts it reminds me of why i should not take life too seriously.

  18. happy birthday Chero. Birthdays are not my thing too, never celebrated one, never had a gift. As for parents and our ages, they perhaps remember the seasons and events when we were born but probably not the year, let alone the month. I remember someday back, my parents were arguing on when one of my young brothers was born while he tried to fill a certain school form he had brought home. I can easily relate. Thank you.

  19. Oh no I’m turning into my mother and I didn’t know. Had to take my daughter for a medical check up for form 1 and they had the audacity to say they needed to do a pregnancy test. How now. She’s not sexually active. I know. I’m her MOTHER!!!! NKT
    Poor doctors and the crap they have to put up with.

  20. It interesting that you were waiting for your birthday with so much eagerness. Mine has always been wrong I have even had to fix my names to remain at school