Of growing old, finding beauty and smoking weed

WARNING: This post is lengthy, boring and full of cliches.

As you well know, yesterday was my birthday, and this note is the aftermath of the day’s happenings. I do know that some of you are not sure how old I am, so I’ll go ahead n spill it. Am 17. Ha ha!! Of course not . Seriously, I am 26. A beautiful age to be. Not that 17 is not a good age but at 26, I do not miss my teenage anxieties but retain the youthful playfulness. It wouldn’t hurt to be 8 but well, I hated always being told what to do by my mother. But at 26, I can do what I like with(out) her permission though I retain the humor, hope and capacity to be awed by life of an 8 year old. That means if you promised me a toy, please bring it. One is never too old to play.

Every girl grows up wanting to be told she is beautiful. (People usually say that every girl dreams about her wedding). First, by her father, then the young boys, eventually by a good man. It is a rare occurrence for her to feel truly beautiful which comes about only if she is self-assured in soul, strengths and knows where she is going. It’s a culmination of years of toil, of hoping her father approves, and that the boys crave, and the young men admire. But it is a great place she is at when she seeks and finds herself in her Maker. Then she is truly secure. Her interaction with people from all walks of life eventually produces friends, which is what you are to me. And though she wavers, sometimes cranky, other times mad, usually confused; the relationships forged will last for however long they must. Those weathered over time will hopefully walk with her all of life’s journey.

What does she think of herself? She knows she is crazy. And noisy. And she knows she can be very vengeful with her humor when she’s angry. She feels weak sometimes, unsure even, seeking approval. Sometimes, self-deprecation works for her when she is embarrassed; other times pride gets in the way. Will she ever make it?

Being a late bloomer is no fun. Being in form three with a flat chest is a catastrophe (stop laughing! Am hoping you are weeping for me). Seriously. Being in a campus like the one I went to did not issue any assurances. After all, girls were the rare commodity. (Yea! Juja boys!!) Recently at a wedding reception, a former college mate told me he couldn’t hug me because ‘I look like a girl’!! Yeea! Mileage. I don’t blame him. Usually I wore baggy jeans (some were Kamau’s –my sweet cuz) and Tees especially the promo ones –celtel! Nescafe! Stand-up! Rum! And of course the C.U concert tees. And of course my workshop cover-alls. With time, even if my dressing changed, am sure this is the image of me they kept in their heads.

Where am I going with this you ask? This is not one of those Hollywood scripts of the ugly duckling turned swan!! No no. (Well maybe a little) hahaha! Really, it’s about growing old. (how depressing) and wiser (yeee!) and accepting life for what it is. While a girl seeks the surface compliments from the men in her life, it is the women in her life who build and mould. It is her mother’s approval she craves. It’s her girlfriends’ unwavering support she must have. It’s her sisters’ pride she wants. The women in her life will make this woman.

At my age, I have learnt that God, above all else is the most important person in your life. Only He can truly know you and how you feel deep inside. I have learnt that life never turns out the way you want it to, but eventually, you will have everything you needed. I have learnt that religion and faith are truly different. I have discarded my piousness for magnanimity, my narrow-mindedness for empathy, my judgement for love and understanding. In this light, I have learnt that it’s normal to want to have sex. The one question is four-fold: the person, time, place and consequence. (I swear, that made sense when I thought it). I have learnt that if a man is not good enough for me, I do not have to settle for less just because my ‘biological’ clock is ticking (and vice versa). FYI, am single –have been since 2007. Searching? Not really. I have learnt that good friends are rare, and kindness should never be exploited when it is found. I have learnt that it’s okay to fall in and out of love, and to say goodbye when the time comes. I have learnt that kissing strangers is normal (ok, only if you are psycho).

Now, I have the approval of my mother!!! Yeaah! She is very proud of me. Granted, she doesn’t know the things I do when am this side of the universe (shhh, don’t tell). My father will never tell me am beautiful. He is a fifty-something-year-old primary school teacher-cum-farmer who is a PCEA church elder (mutaratara!!). Very old school, but last week Friday he called to say he missed me!! I know my sisters are proud of me and I can be a very protective big sis and they feel secure in that –it makes them mad sometimes though. My girlfriends call me just to catch up, and to laugh and when they need help and its great!! One of my friends has a four year-old who asks for me when am not around and when I call, she says she missed me and sings to me on phone!! Aaaaw am so blessed.

Have I found beauty in myself? I am a work in progress, true. But beauty? Yes, a good measure. I cry when am frustrated, and laugh with abandon when a joke is truly funny. I blush (ya right) when I have a crush. I get pissed when am disappointed. I shave my hair when I feel like and I feel great. And when I grow it, I can rock any hair-style I like and it still looks great. Sometimes I dress like a hooligan but I still walk as if I stepped off the cover of ‘ELLE’. Right now, my hair is at that stage where it snags on the comb n I hate to comb it. And it’s still beautiful. It is my attitude –from within- that makes me ME. When I hear a song that makes me cry. And poetry pours out of my soul. When am bothered by issues affecting our country. When I pray. When am angry about injustice and crime. When I laugh in the face of a hopeless situation. When I reassure a friend in trouble. And celebrate their wins. When I affirm the young. And mentor kids. Beauty is all around me.

I got 378 posts on my wall by the time I went to sleep last night (yes I counted!!) and more still streaming in. I tried to respond to each –check yours and the ones next to it! I got countless calls, texts and I got serenaded! And the adjectives kept coming in. Noise maker, friend, sister, crazy, woman of God, chosen one, young one. Miss drama queen. Psycho sweetheart. Wonderful. Poetic. Deep. Beautiful. Smart. Inspiration. Angel (this one lied) hahaha. My personal favourites –African woman, and one who is convinced I smoke weed. You brought tears to my eyes. And I am glad that you are a part of my life. So I enjoyed it here in Mombasa –working. But am hoping to throw a bring-your-own-food-and-drink-including-water party when I get back.

I have been many things to different people. I played roles I had no idea I was until someone stops me months/years later to tell me, Sony, I admired you. And that builds me, everyday. In the words of our musicians, “Nimefika?” No. But am getting there, everyday because of the people in my life. And I could tell you many things but I hope you know this one thing. I look at my reflection and I see you. I am me, because you are. Today marks the beginning of a new year; the beginning of the rest of my life. Richly blessed because of you.

P.S: Facts about me. I have a Luo attitude. My money-scent is Kikuyu. My face and gap is Turkana. My humor is British. I speak better English than my primary school English Teacher. I know am crazy but Jesus loves me and this I know -Crazy people have no esteem issues.

P.S.S: I love books. Please buy me as many books as you can.

P.S.S.S: I blog irregularly on poeticmadness.wordpress.com when I get time. I hope you click on it sometime.

P.S.S.S.S: Whether or not I smoke weed is not the issue here.