IT JUST HIT ME!… Okay… Let me breathe and start this story from the beginning.

I’ve always been the young responsible gentleman from as far as I can remember. Being a first born made it worse or better, depending on how you look at it. I remember being left at home to take care of my younger bros when I was 7 years old when my folks went to work, no househelp. Why they trusted me, I have no idea coz the things we used to do, wacha nikwambie… The other day, when we were having a family dinner, we revealed to our folks all the things we used to do when we were kids. The expressions on their faces, oh my word! Dad barely trying to maintain his none reaction face. Mum was having trouble controlling the whole load of volcanic activity happening on her face.

The best part was how we used to handle it. When they leave, we would say goodbye like good little boys and by we, I mean me. It was always me who opened the gate, took the last-minute instructions and ensured there was bread for breakfast. Bread was 7bob, 7BOB!!!!!

After they left, we dropped our little angel wings, and hang our halos hapo kwa store near the gunia of chicken feed. We became the full rascals. There’s nothing we didn’t do. We knew where the TV key was hidden and we were very precise, we even noted that the key was facing North and ensured we returned it exactly that way. Oh yah, we also used to wipe the static from the TV screen. We learnt that after being busted one day. We’d roll down the stairs with cushions. How they never got torn; I have no idea. We’d sword-fight with kitchen knives. Me being the ‘responsible’ big bro I’d make sure no one got hurt. We’d melt plastic into hospital needles to seal the hole and use the syringe as a gun, the needle as a bullet and using the built-up pressure we’d shoot at the villains who happened to be pillows. The game was to see whose needle would penetrate deepest. Again, I being the ‘responsible’ one I ensured no one shot at each other. Mum was a nurse so we had tons of syringes and needles in the house, plus we knew where they were hidden. We pretty much knew everything; the phone lock code which was their marriage anniversary… easy, how to unlock the wall unit where vyombo za wageni used to be kept. We’d use them, wash them and put them back. We knew where the toys were hidden… You know that point where your mum says “Now you’re being too much! Can you bring that thing here if you’re not going to do any house work”. We’d just get them and put them back before they came back from work. We knew how to open the gate even when it was locked. We’d go ride our bikes and be back in time. We’d eat the forbidden fruit – Never leave the estate gate. We’d go play in other neighborhoods and be back home in time. Remember we were giving my folks this information juzi juzi. You should have seen their expressions. Any hopes they had of writing a “How To Raise 4 Boys” book were thrashed that night.

The best part was how we used to cover our tracks. Everyone had their role. If the car horn caught us unawares, we knew we had approximately 3 minutes to get everything in order. I was always the sitting room guy; cushions check, I’d quickly wipe the coffee tables to make it look like the house was clean, arrange the sofa vitambaas properly, wipe off TV static, rush and take the key back in its exact position, clear the table and they’d walk in in time to find me feeding the guppies. Guppies are little fish we used to keep in a fish jar.

The twins would handle the kitchen. There were hardly any dirty dishes. Normally just a cup, a plate or two. They’d wash them, wipe the tables and go to the backyard to pretend they had been playing with their bikes all along.

The little one was the staller. He’d waste the folks time, clumsily helping to carry stuff into the house, ask “umetuletea nini? Nataka goody-goody” and snitch kidogo “Kush alinichunaaa”. It always worked.

And my folks would walk in. “I can see you have been good boys. Mnataka kuona cartoon?” Mum would ask. And we’d chime “yesssss”. In our minds we are thinking ‘come on, get that key quickly, Ragdoliana is about to end’.

We always had this flip sides of us that we kept to ourselves. The world thought we were nice responsible little boys, who used to sit still in church, never got into any trouble, always respected our elders and always using the magic words; please, sorry and thank you. We were always used as good examples to emulate. BUT when it was just the 4 of us, wah. I remember us jumping through class windows at hometime in primo when the classes were locked. The game was to climb in and out through the windows. Even disciplining us was difficult. When we were chapwad we used to cry-laugh. You know that annoying laughter that sounds like umechange gear vibaya kwa gari. The only way to handle us was to separate us. I remember hiding someone’s homescience homework book as a revenge for something he did to me. He never knew who hid it, I never told anyone. I was just happy when he was being chapwad by that cruel homescience teacher. I remember in class 5, about 15 of us were lined up outside the headmaster office to be caned coz of playing a game of throwing stones. When it was my turn, I walked into the office, gave a well prep’d speech about how I was not part of it. I was not caned, just lectured. But of course, not to be left out, when everyone was talking about how much pain we were feeling I’d chime in, “even meeee”.

Then I grew up, still Mr. Responsible Gentleman… but with a flip side. In high school it was Mr Young Responsible Gentleman with a touch of flip. I remember we skived school – do people still say skive? – went to watch games in a neighbouring school. Actually, not to watch games as much as to hit on chics. We were busted. A cop saw us but we ran away and made it back to school. But he had already seen us and he wrote our names and took them to the teacher on duty. Everyone was called out except me, apparently ‘there was a mistake. Mwamisi can’t have been there. He’s a good boy’. A prefect actually came and told me that.

Another time it happened, form 3, we were in class and games were going on in our school. I decided, by the way, it’s afternoon, there’s no teacher, there are games, there are girls, what are we doing in class. I’m not the type to incite people into doing something, I’m more the type to do stuff solo. So, I just stood up and said nimeenda games. Someone said “ningojee tuishie”. Then a few other guys joined and we went to the field. It was epic, I had fun talking to the beautiful ladies. The only problem was that I hit on a girl who was a girlfriend to one of the form fours. I was threatened that night… That’s a story for another day.

So, we were busted and during night prep we were called to the deputy’s office. We were about 6 of us. He took his cane, gave us a small lecture then started caning us. I was the 2nd in line. He looked at me and said “I know you. This is not how you behave. Which of these boys made you go to the field? Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. Sometimes we make bad decisions.” Of course I didn’t point anyone out, 1st coz that would be an idiot move: 2nd coz if anything, it was my idea in the first place. I got my 6 strokes of the cane.

I made it out of high school with a well maintained good-boy record. This was probably because I used to do things alone. I was never associated with the bad boy group. Oh yah, I’ve just remembered. I never ran for the school bell. I always used to walk. My excuse “my leg is injured” and I’d limp slightly. Of course, the prefects knew it was bullshit but walinizoea. I never used to sweep, coz ‘I had a chest problem’. I got a doctor’s note when I had a flu at some point and since she forgot to write the date, I used that note in form 1 and 2. By the time I was in form 3, I had already established myself as a none sweeper. I once joined two of my pals who were on punishment just to escape math class. I hated the math teacher. Though I still got an A in math in KCSE. They were slashing grass. Tulipiga story all morning and afternoon. I once faked a fainting in assembly coz I was bored. I just told 2 of my pals, “nimeboeka. Tuishie?”

“Aje?”

“Nitafaint. Lakini msiache nianguke kabisa, then you support me tuende class tu chill huko.”

“Sawa.”

And that’s exactly what we did.

I was good in drama. I got an award for it. One time we had gone for drama festivals at a girl’s school. After everything was done, we were waiting for our bus to come pick us up. It was around 7pm. I was bored of waiting in the assembly hall with everyone else so I went to the form 4 class, borrowed one of their green sweaters and sat there chatting with the girls. The teacher on duty came around. She scolded the girls for making noise and left. She didn’t see me. The green sweater worked. Oh yah, the bus almost left me. Well, the bus almost always left me. I have tons of epic stories about that. I’ll write about it one day.

Campus, my Mr Young Gentleman and my flip side basically became one. Hweh! Campus also needs its own story.

Out of campus I slowly matured into the ‘fine young man’ I am now… until… It hit me…

I’ve been 28 or 29 years for the longest time. When I was 26, I got the once-in-a-while “you sound mature for your age”. “You must be around 28, 29 hapo”. As I kept ageing my age kept at a stagnant 28/29. When I celebrated my 33rd birthday, my epic 33rd birthday someone actually thought that I was celebrating my 28th.

Then suddenly something changed. I was at Artcaffe on my laptop the other day. I was on earphones but they were on low volume. I was with my pal with whose around 7 years younger than me. He was on his laptop too. He sees a middle-aged lady on the next table. She’s seated with her 10-year-old son. They know each other. I continue working as they exchanged greetings. Then I heard it, “Are you here with your father?” making a slight gesture towards me.

Wait! What? Nooo! What? Noo!!!! How!

Well, I consoled myself with the fact that my beard had overgrown… a bit much. And I was looking down the entire time.

Then it happened again. The gym instructor asked me, “where is the other lady today?” I was slightly confused coz I always go alone or with my buddy. “Which one?” I asked her. “The one you were with the other day?” Still having no idea what she was talking about I answered, “which day?” Then she goes on to say something I wasn’t expecting to hear in a million years. “The young lady who was next to you the other day, the one you were talking to on your right. Was that your daughter? I thought it was very sweet of you to bring her along.” My eyes have never opened so wide…so wide I saw the winner of the next election. I still can’t recall who the gym instructor was talking about but I don’t think there’s anyone there younger than 23. Unless I got a daughter when I was kaodo 10 years old. That would have made me an epic juvenile Don Juan.

Then it happened a 3rd time. This time it was a simple guess-my-age game. That’s when it hit me. I’M AGEING! Wah, wacha tu niwaambie I have made a huge jump from ‘you-look-hapo-28-29’. Ladies and gentlemen, for the next 10 years, my new stagnant age is 40. Someone actually guessed 40. Aki nikama nazeeka tu roho safi. I’m 34 by the way.

#40IsTheNew29
#CantWaitForMidlifeCrisis
#BeardsMakeYouLookOlder
#WatuWa40WanafanyangaNini
#HowMuchIsTheCheapestGolfClub
#INeedToReduceTheVolumeOfMyLaughterToSoundLikeA40YearOld
#IStillLaughLikeAHyenaInPuberty