the first epistle of mzee varaq to his people

Caroline Mutoko, the self confessed queen of radio has been hoarding much of the media limelight for the past fortnight. And it’s not because in her sensational style she picked a quarrel with one cabinet minister or her favorite customer, Alfred Mutua but for,wait,you not going to believe this………copy, pasting!  Her inspiring ‘piece’ a letter to my twenty something old self apparently had done its round on the net before it graced our Nairobi Star columns. The letter has raised furore hitherto unseen with most tweeps calling it a perfect epitome of plagiarism.

            There were others however who remained steadfast in their belief that Kenya’s version of the iron lady is capable of no evil. Others in her defense used the famous line “he who is without a sin cast the first stone”. I however refuse to judge unless you execute the villainy I teach you. Who knows you might even better the instruction. She must have however seriously underestimated Kenyans reading culture.

            She has however inspired me to do something new, write a letter; not to my twenty something old self but about my twenty something old self.

This got me thinking about the tones of letters swiftly gathering dust in a certain metallic box in my father’s house. I remember most of them were from some Angie of Moi Girls’ and others that am having a hard time remembering their names. Unlike these ‘missives’ as we called them then, this epistle is not of a hopeless romantic but rather of a sober man. It’s not of a little boy who will tell the love of his life how food tastes different without her. It’s definitely not of a man who’ll insert babe, sweetie, honey, dear before every full stop just so as to be seen as romantic. I know Macabre might be disappointed after all those preps in form two green that we spent to fine tune that writing.

Dear Pals/ Acquaintances/ Family/sweetheart e.t.c …... (Tick as appropriate)

Am just a young man trying to find his niche in the society, when you see me try up different things like Yoga or Spanish lessons or even aerobics, don’t judge me. Don’t ask me why I quit the Sarakasi dancers just after ten minutes. Just take that as youthful energy without a solid home. 

Am not writing to you so you would understand me totally. No, I could never play such huge responsibilities on your feeble shoulders for even I don’t understand myself at times. I don’t know why I do certain things, I don’t know why I am the way I am some times, am writing to you just so you would fathom where am coming from, my motivations and maybe  what makes me tick.

Somebody once asked me why I like to complicate my life, why a simple life wouldn’t just suffice for me. A life that involves doing the regular things that normal people do. Never mind that normal is relative. He wasn’t the first and am sure he won’t be the last, I ask myself the same question too and just as it beats you, so does it me. So don’t ask me that, when I get the answer that befitteth I assure you you will be the first to know. 

Sometimes you look at me and shake your heads in disgust at the boisterousness and noise that accompany me. You don’t understand why instead of taking advantage of the free texts on my android device to alert somebody 200 metres in front of me to stop, I’d rather shout at the top of my voice to achieve the same effect. You don’t understand that where I come from, that is how we used to call that guy who passed by our village to hawk ‘mang’ich’ (fresh fingerlings from Lake Victoria). It’s not like am trying to be loud and unruly; my past is just catching up with me.

You wonder why I stop to greet virtually everybody I meet on the streets of this institution of higher learning. You don’t understand why instead of saying a simple hello, smiling or doing that quick shuffling of the eye, I have to bend low like Mulo Mutisya during those that days that ‘alikuwa anafuata  matako(sic) ya baba’. Our people say that it’s only a man that you deeply revere that you greet while staring at his manhood. Maybe I respect you a lot or maybe am just laying ground for my quest to be the Sec. Gen of Kenyatta University next year. 

You definitely don’t understand my fascination with the female folk, you think just coz I sometimes stare at what their mamas gave them for a second longer, am definitely a playboy whose favorite banquet is these lasses’ asses. You look at me and see the devil incarnate. I don’t deny that once or twice I fall into temptations, who doesn’t? Just because I fell for Maron doesn’t make me a Moron. When I call you sweet, dia or babe, it’s not that I want you for myself, I just ooze sweetness. If I call or text you regularly don’t read between the lines, just pick what you see from the lines.

I may cut the impression of a confident man, sometimes profoundly overbearing, I may act as if am a brave man unperturbed by the challenges I face. It doesn’t mean that my path is straight or I have all the answers, it’s just a façade I wear to scare away my tormentors. Maybe deep down am just as scared as you are, may be more. So before you think of me as that guy, see me as a normal man who is scared of something and is just putting a brave face for show.

If/when I don’t communicate, don’t for a second think that you weren’t that important to me or you not worth the time. Maybe am equally dying to hear from you, after all who doesn’t want to feel needed. Maybe I sit by my phone whole day waiting for you to call. If that’s the prize I have to pay for taking my pride as my bride then I’ll bear the consequences like a man.

Above all, if I expect less from mere mortal men, it’s not that I consider them inferior beings. It’s not rocket science that great expectations make frustrated beings. If I think less of you don’t take it personal, I think so of everybody including Mzee Varaq. It’s just my insurance against panache, heartache or disillusionment. I fear am not well equipped to handle disappointment. Am not of course saying you’ll disappoint me but then again, you could.

Am not what I say, am not what I do, I am who I am. Every day I strive for perfection, every day I strive to be a better person, sometimes I fail miserably, other times I fall just short, other times I just make the mark but one thing is for sure, I do try. So before you rank me, just try to understand where am coming from.

Yours faithfully, yours truly, yours affectionately, yours sincerely….

(Once again feel free to tick where appropriate)

Mzee Varaq