What Flies Faster Than Time?

 I meet new faces everyday. I see new birds, cars, motorcycles and even cows for the first time. Sheep and donkeys too. I meet kids and drunkards whom I'll never meet again. I do and experience new things everyday. These all happen because time allows. But I sometimes question the essence of time; why is it not generous enough? Once it is here and disappear, the very same time will never reappear. For instance, I saw a very handsome man four months ago along the streets of Nairobi. I might never see him again and even if i do, he might not be looking the same way. Time.

As 22 years as I am now, I never help but everyday recall how i used to find myself in a confrontation with my mummy, way back in highschool during holidays. Sundays to be specific. I don't know what was always captivating in staying out until late. 8pm that is. According to her curfew. I would spend time with admirers, who were also in highschool (I can't help but laugh) or even friends without even noticing that time was flying. By the time my senses would travel back from California and remind me that I was supposed to be in my mother's house, most probably preparing ugali or just seated somewhere she can see me, ofcourse doing nothing, our gate or the door would be already locked. If not, mummy would be waiting for me in the living room full of energy to yell and call me all sort of names. And to make it clear how I would spend the night outside or go back to whoever I was with since. But after almost 2 straight hours of arguments, she would let me in and I would sleep so angry at her. And wishing that i'm in campus. Or even staying alone. Worse than that, married.

My mummy would always be furious just because I wouldn't wake up early (6.30am as she defined it) just because she's already up. Mark you, there was nothing specific to do after getting out of that damn bed. Sorry, warm bed. Ati the night is over and so she doesn't find any valid reason as to why someone would still be in bed when the sun is already out. That's my mama. Upto date. I sometimes wouldn't care about any of that. I would afterwards wake up only to be met with a good morning inform of "ndo kiongozi anaamka" (the king is now awake) and "afadhali wewe tajiri" (you now a rich kid). That's how my mornings would begin. But her critics were funny though. I would laugh from the inside.

And now here I am. A comrade. No boyfriend. Not rich. In campus. I got my life to live. All time in the world. Men left, right, centre (I aint interested though). In my own rented house and extremely far from my mother. No specific place or someone to visit on Sundays, I have to decide when to wake up, how to do my housechores, when to come back to the house, what to cook, who to hang out with, uugh the list is endless. I sometimes feel like my life is so boring. So unmonitored. To the extent that I miss mama's drama and over reacting.