Live Play Repeat.

Midlife experiences are among those that we cannot subcontract or outsource. We have to go through our own versions of them. The most we can do is compare notes with other folks in halftime. Our bodies start speaking loudly, demanding that we hear them. Any suppressed thoughts, ideas, or plans start pushing their way out. Perhaps that’s why my word for the year is ‘assertive’. I feel it’s time I showed up more for myself going forward, even when I’m unsure at times. Lately, I’ve been thinking about what defines me. Who am I, without the things I want? What is my intrinsic value as I am, detached from what I have or miss? That is a powerful question that I’m still pondering slowly as I work on my self-worth

The first half of life is often characterised by acquisition: acquiring a spouse, kids, a career, shamba, and collecting a few debtors and creditors along the way. I watched my folks do this while we were growing up, but it didn’t mean much to me as a young boy. That’s just how life was. I knew no other way, so I believed it would remain like that until the end. I didn’t imagine that my parents would stop working and try their hand at business. I didn’t think they would start falling sick and rely on us to care for them. I never imagined my mzee would be unable to meet some of his commitments and become vulnerable in the process. And lastly, I didn’t think I would ever bury him and try to carry on without a father.

As they went through these various transitions, I was a spectator from afar. I didn’t give much thought to most of what Mum and Dad did as we grew up. Perhaps I categorised it as old people’s stuff and focused on my stuff, which I believed was most important in my small world, hehe. Dad would always buy trees by the roadside on the way home to plant. Whenever he went out of town, he would return with a boot-load of vegetables. Once, he even came home with a slaughtered animal from our farm in Subukia. Part of it had been roasted, and I recall him waking us up to eat meat late that night. It was delightful, although Mum wasn’t amused as the next day was a school day and we would struggle to wake up. Now, that is my norm: roadside shopping when returning from upcountry—though I am yet to bring animals home, hehe.

I’m now convinced that life is a merry-go-round. I’m deriving great pleasure in doing all those old people’s things that I found boring in my folks. I have been on a tree-planting mission for the last few years. I carry trees to the farm and plant them with joy. I even know some of the types and where best to plant them. I look forward to one day enjoying the shade from these trees with my kids or grandkids, even. However, from a halftime perspective, I’m aware that we may not sit in the shade of the trees we plant. It may be for those who come after us, just as I am now enjoying the shade of the trees my parents planted. That’s the circle of life. We come in, maximise our turn, and make room for others behind us.

I have even gone a step further in this old people’s behaviour, hehe. I have never had a green thumb or seen myself as having one. My sister has a love of crops and the soil. I love land, for sure, but only for building on. This year, my guy at the shamba challenged me to use it for more than just planting trees. I agreed, motivated by the goal of making the farm self-sustaining, so that I don’t have to constantly send M-Pesa for this or that. We tilled the land and waited for the rains to come. Now that they are here, we have planted maize, beans, and warus.

I was there last week, of course, bringing a few more trees just as my dad would. I couldn’t believe how excited I was to see shoots sprouting above the ground. I’m still pinching myself, ati this is me, Lucas, the farmer! I even applied for government-subsidised fertiliser. Imagine that.  Maybe the lesson here is to be open to surprises in our second half of life. We may notice that we are becoming more and more like our parents, or getting excited about things we once considered uninteresting. Now I’m even planning to keep mbuzis and some free-range kienyeji kukus as I prepare for the ultimate goal of building a country home there, at the foot of the mountain. Oh, what bliss…

My son shows little interest in accompanying me to the farm. While I’m trying to pique his interest, I don’t blame him. He’s seeing his dad through the lens that I saw my mzee years ago. His younger sister, though, may have some love for the soil in her. She doesn’t mind getting herself muddy. In fact, she even adopted a bunny on our last visit to the farm.

The moral of the story is to see the whole circle of life and prepare for it wherever and whenever we can. This enhances our perspective on life and helps us to understand things better, even when they don’t seem to make sense. The aim is to remain open. Never say ‘never’, like me, lest you find yourself eating humble pie (made with vegetables you have grown hehe) when a season of your life draws you to something you swore you would never like or do.

I have joined my mum in taking herbal supplements as part of my diet. Again, I found it strange and quite weird that my mzee would be taking some bitter things instead of drinking Fanta Orange for vitamins, hehe. Now, I know why. As we age, we need to support our bodies so that they can support us in the years ahead.

It’s clearer now that life is one big repeat game. As the Good Book says, there is nothing new under the sun. The script is the same for us all. What makes the difference is what we write at each stage of the story. For me, the plan remains to keep ‘refiring’ as I do not plan to retire. I hope that in the process, I’ll be a good reference for my baby sharks to emulate in the future.

And when the time comes to exit, may we have maximised every season to the best of our abilities. That’s how we avoid the curse of overstaying our welcome in a season that’s over, and leave the room when they are still clapping for us.