By Philip Mwaniki
I remember telling an 18-year-old cousin how old I am turning and he looked at me like I was something out of the History channel. To him, being 12 years older is something his mind can’t comprehend. I might as well be older than his dad or grandmother.
My older friends welcomed me with open arms not believing how “young” I still am. Confusion galore. I am at that age where most of my statements start with “I remember when” because we live in the past and everything from our childhood or youth is regarded as “the good old days”.
I remember when (See?) the only things my friends used to post on Facebook were images of Megan Good, Gabrielle Union, Halle Berry and Eva Longoria. Those pictures have since been replaced by images of their wedding, ruracio, and babies.
Oh, babies have taken over my Facebook timeline. If this one is not showing off her protruding belly in some nice silhouette, the other one is posing for engagement photos and the other is raving about how her baby just gained one kilo in three weeks.
Explorer
I bet that if I logged into Facebook right now, I will find nine new photos of babies with like 200 Likes and more “Awwws” than an Oprah Winfrey Show.
The same people who used to watch blue films now know more about CBeebies, Ben 10, Dora the explorer than they would want to.
The dudes cannot post pictures of Halle Berry anymore, for their own security. They no longer post raunchy comments, they are more inclined to warn you to do a thorough check on your new house help.
Remember when our mothers could not trust us with the house helps? I am sure some of my friends still cannot be trusted with the help only that this time, their wives do the distrusting.
How times have changed. I am at that level where staying indoors a full weekend is the norm and I actually get shocked when I hear one of my mates was “turn’t up” the whole weekend.
Speaking of “turn’t up”, these days, one night out means you will be lying in state the following day.
Gone are the days when I could get home at 5 in the morning and be at the office at 7 looking fresher than a daisy or even Daisy herself. Going out has to be planned days in advance because like many of my friends, we have to obtain “Visas”.
Dancing mentally
If you think I am talking about some paper document to allow me entry into another country, you are too young and you probably think Nyayo is an estate not our former president.
Once the visa has been obtained, then it is time to paint the town red.
Ok, I am lying, there is no painting that goes on when I meet with my boys, we go to the same club and if we cannot find a seat in seven minutes flat, we are out.
Dancing still happens but mostly mentally. Even watching someone dance is enough to tire us out. When we do find ourselves at a nice pub with seats and not-too-loud music, we start talking about who bought land where and how much or why mortgages are not a good idea.
I have left clubs because they are too loud and I once thought of walking up to the DJ and asking him to turn the volume down but then I remembered that I was not at home.
Hold up, did I just turn 90? When planning a nice outing, my friends will want to know if it is child friendly because they will show up with their brood. When did we get to this level?
Remember how every relative’s favourite line was “Wow, na umekua mkubwa…”? Well, I have turned into one of those relatives and I can see how pissed off my cousins get when I say that.
Almost everyone I knew was older than me. Now I literally see kids grow from infancy to teenage. That is when you know you should start saving for retirement; when you realise that people born in 1990 are 24 years old.
Those same people give you grief from how they talk, walk and dress and I remember that was me just the other day. Another hint that you are old, when you start using lines like; “just the other day.”
But this age is not all gloom, far from it, it is the age. So as I look forward to another decade, I can only thank the one person who went into labour on Labour Day.
@Mwanikih
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