Hangover.

Now that the first anniversary party is dying down, I’m slowly getting over my hangie. It’s like that time at the crack of dawn when the DJ is folding up his sound, a boring track squeezing out of his weak laptop speaker to chase away the last man standing. The last one year has been phenomenal to say the least. Now I’m wondering how we’ll do another year. It’s like I’ve just realised that I finished all the cash in the hang buying my pals drinks.  I now can’t even pay for Uber chap chap to get me home on this cold morning so I have to walk. I’m having that ka inadequate feeling.

This is my first article of my second year of writing. Just like the first article last year, I don’t know what surprises the year has in store for us. I titled my maiden article last year ‘New Beginnings’. For lack of creativity maybe I should call this one ‘New Beginnings Part Two’. That’s as boring as how my fellow tribesmen name their businesses. John and Mary are a couple running a hardware called JOMA hardware. Then that business grows and gives birth to a transport business called MATAWA transporters, after their three kids Martin, Tamira and Wangeci. So I officially resist this naming style that’s in my DNA.

I’m a teetotaller to say the least. I’ve heard of people who swear they will never drink that much again because of the torture caused by the severe hangie. Others even say they will quit all together. Unfortunately, these solemn vows only last up to the next invite to a party.

So maybe I am at that reflective stage where I’m happy with this writing bash that has lasted one year. I’m now wondering where we go from here, and not White rose VIP drycleaners. Folks my age remember that ad on TV back in the day?  Last year while in Biko’s writing class, Oyunga Pala told us that you just have to open your computer, stare at the blank screen and start typing. Type anything that comes to mind and a storo will start forming.

As I embark on my second year, I trust that life will give us more stories and lessons to add colour to our existence. At least more colour than my tribesmen show. Woi my people from the mountain, sijatumwa so don’t denounce me. I’m one of you. I pray that I will have some helpful reflections to share weekly. Maybe we can go a notch higher and have some of you share your reflections here. As my daughter says, “Sharing is caring.”

Here’s to an even better year of doing life by sharing stories. See, we have even gotten home as we chatted since we didn’t have cab fare. Let’s do this.