I just realized that out of the many friends I purport to have I can only boost of knowing a handful by their three names ,slightly more by a single name and the vast majority by pet names conjured from the events or persons of mutual interest. You know am not alone in this if you have friends that you only know as Jakom, Baba, Mzee, Ondiegi, mtoto wa Wenger, Torres, ODM just to mention but a few. The names get more intriguing if the buddies are from the same tribe. Most of these names depict fondness in a flattering yet hilarious way that is unique to just a select few.
There are those guys that we meet, shake hands, mumble greetings or engage in some phatic communications that before we know it we become bosom buddies. It just becomes a matter of time before they become our football comrades, accomplices in little crimes, laughing over some jokes, hanging out, engaging in life defying stunts that one would mistake us for having known each other our whole lives. With time as is synonymous with most if not all aspects of life we begin to share intimate details such as our worst fears, passions and even life projections. That is why it becomes quite embarrassing if you have to introduce your mate to other pals or in formal scenarios where those pet names will simply not suffice.
What motivated me to do this piece is an incidence the other day that was just so awkward I wished for the first time superman and I were buddies. Maybe I would just have pressed the distress button and he would have waltzed in and spirited me to a safer ground. Onyancha- if you thought that self confessed rapist/serial killer I couldn’t begrudge you. But this Onyancha was a friend of mine from school to whose shoulders was bestowed the task of continuing his legacy. Never mind that the chasm between their physical statures and their ways was just as wide as Saddam Hussein and Desmond Tutu. Let’s just say that the reasons are not necessary to follow this story. But if you cough up some dollars I might just be kind enough to let you in on why the name came to be.
As would be planned by none other than capricious gods, he invited me over to his home after realizing that our homes were merely walking distance. I found the entire family on the lunch table- but he who I was looking for.
Strangely this name had become so embedded that I forgot he had a real name in the first place. ”Is Onyancha around?” I asked .What ensued was some awkward moment before his siblings broke into pearls of laughter after filling in the gaps. The noise did not abate an iota with the father politely explaining that I had the wrong house and my insistence that I had been there before seemingly failing to convince him. The situation only took a turn for the better when Martin-or should I still call him Mzee Onyancha came to the rescue. This I later realized was a hoax that was orchestrated to teach me a valuable lesson-the value of getting to know each other-by name first.
This experience has just given me the fresh impetus I needed to make a meaningful life course. And I know exactly where to start-to replace the contacts hitherto replaced in my phones as lady x, y, graduation square, Eldoret with real names. I know this process may cost me some points I had previously earned or even some friends but don’t the Swahili say it’s better kuziba offer than kujenga ukuta. That’s my New Year’s resolution-to get to know my friends not just as Hulk or Osama but by their anointed names as well.
I can only urge you my pals to follow suit to avoid scenarios such as, “This is Hitler, Hitler this is ……, sorry where are my manners…I should let you do the introductions yourselves”
