It’s not all I thought it would be, growing up I mean. As a child, you fantasize about this kind of independence and you can’t wait for the thrill of making your own money and spending it how you want, when you want, without any control or limitations from the parent. You quickly realise that you are swapping one parent for another, a less forgiving one called life. But whining about my new parent isn’t about what this blog is about, no. This blog is about pigs. (And then in the deafening silence of the oppressive Kampala office atmosphere, one reader just couldn’t take it anymore and a tantrum ensued. He screamed; “Oh no! He is just going to waste my time writing incoherent unconnected gibberish like last week? “) Hahahaha. No this blog isn’t about pigs. But in my inner eye I actually saw someone throw that tantrum, full on with soundtracks and slow motion effects. I do, however, have an interesting story about pigs and a funeral, but maybe I will tell that next time. This week I just want to talk about growing up, more so for you who are living in denial and have chosen to ignore the scary numbers that make up your age, here are some other nails in that coffin. When you start to wonder why the ‘film star’ is making an obviously wrong move that is going to end very badly and you actually go on to voice your objections out loud, you are growing old. I watched a movie with a friend the other day, I quickly discovered why her friends don’t like going with her to the cinema anymore. But who am I too judge, it takes a lot of resolve not to shout at my idiot box. When you have an absolutely sober night out ( read 2 drinks) get home just after 1am and are paying for the ‘sins ‘of the night way past 2pm the next day, you are growing old. Once upon a time, you would have a night on the town, get home at 6am, sleep an hour, and be in class by 8am and be absolutely fine. But now……… Speaking of a night on the town, when you can only stand about 20 minutes of Konshen’s and now classify that music as ‘bang bang,’ you are growing old. You instead find yourself preferring to ‘break bread’ to Lucky Dube instead and suffering uncontrollable fits of joy when mister deejay plays ‘Sibaluma’ by Afrigo. Of course this normally comes with the use of the phrase ‘in our days.’ If you feel the need to explain something to someone younger than you using the phrase ‘our days,’ they clearly are in an entirely different generation and the math is obvious. Then there is the moment when you find yourself going to google to check what a certain short hand acronym means and go ahead to complain about ‘kids of these days’ and their incoherent text messages. Ummm, ya! You are growing old. And then somehow it stops being about the prettiest girl in the room. You actually begin to notice the girl behind the pretty girl. When your values in partners goes beyond hips and biceps, you are growing old. When carrying babies switches from a chore and somehow starts to bring you some form of joy, you are growing old. I could go on, but I guess that sort of drives it home. And if you were born before 88’ and are not experiencing any of the following signs and symptoms, you have a serious case of the ‘Benjamin Buttons.’ Anyhow, I assert again, growing up isn’t all I thought it would be. I definitely didn’t think I would be turning into my parents, but the signs and symptoms are all there and I best accept it. True it isn’t as rosy as our dreams may have painted but it’s beautiful in its own right. This blog was inspired by the fictitious life of my imaginary friend who is trying desperately and shamefully if I might add, to hold on to her youth. She desires to live her life in the wonder of who she was, instead of embracing the glory of who she could be, and one day she will wake to the realization she was chasing a past she could never catch and forever lost the future she would have had. So my friend, buckle up, embrace your ‘growing old’ phase and at the very least, have a good laugh the next time you feel the urge to shout at the ‘film star.’ Till next week, that’s #howdaudiseesit.
