Supporting Actor.

People in transition can be self-centred and selfish, unknowingly. When we are navigating a transition, it’s easy to become consumed by our own inner turmoil, and we get caught up in ourselves. While on our journey inward, we can become blind to the needs of those around us. Is there a way to lend a helping hand as we seek to help ourselves find a life of significance?

In the Halftime program, we help people move from success to significance. Halfway through the program, we have a session where the person in transition brings their significant other to give them a glimpse into their loved one’s world. Transitions are strange to explain; there’s no easy language to describe them. Maybe that’s why many people go through them in silence, but internally there’s kelele mingi. It’s like you’re dancing in a loud disco, but people are looking at you through thick, soundproof glass. They’re wondering why you’re moving the way you are. Even more fascinating is if you have two left feet, but you’re in the zone. You and the music are one, but you and the observers are in two different worlds.

I have often wondered what my family went through when I was in my own halftime, and what I looked like to them. Were they amused, confused, anxious, or maybe even upset? It’s likely our loved ones go through their own version of the various stages of transition as well. It almost feels unfair to them, especially if they do not need one at that particular point in time. It’s like being forced to do a mandatory course on behalf of someone else.

That’s the debt I feel I owe my clan, especially Mummy Shark and our baby sharks, plus my close family and friends. And I’m committed to paying it in this new decade after surviving my furious 40s. I am now in my fortune 50s—that’s the declaration I’ve made. They say to put your money where your mouth is. Well, that’s what I did this week. You see, Mummy Shark is navigating her midlife with much more decorum than I am. She’s swimming through it (pun intended) and is navigating upstream quite well. She and our daughter are now top national swimmers (no exaggeration, imagine). Several weeks back, she qualified for the Masters Championship in Singapore, a category for older swimmers, and I quickly offered my support, like the good guy I’ve always been, hehe.

I support my people in what they do because by creating space for everyone to change and grow, we can remain in thriving relationships. My family did that for me, and the least I can do is support them in the movie of their lives.

I have never been to Singapore and refer to it only when I’m reminded that Kenya and Singapore were at par at independence 60 years ago. Now, that comparison is difficult to make. The difference is night and day, and it was amplified when I witnessed their 60^th celebration of independence on August 9^th. Anyway, tuwachie hapo lest I get into a whole national lecture.

Mummy shark qualified for the Masters Championships and decided to go. I cheered her on until she asked me to take her, and I panicked doing the hesabu. Singapore is not a road trip to Namanga, you know, hehe. Anyway, I figured my going with her was important, so I pulled a few strings (and maybe even cut some) and accompanied her. Her sister, Auntie Nonnie, came along too. Mummy shark imported her own cheering squad into Singapore. How cool was that? We should have pulled a story to the locals there that she is the queen of the country we come from, and we are her protocol team, haha.

Singapore has Mombasa-like weather, and the people there are warm and accepting, just like their climate. I didn’t feel like I stood out as the nyeuthi compared to other countries I’ve travelled to. I found the place rather easy to manoeuvre, and it grew on me. I could stay here longer, escape the Nairobi baridi and even visit Malaysia and Indonesia, which are one hour and one and a half hours away by road, respectively, according to one shop attendant.

The only downside I found was that it’s an expensive country. They import almost everything they need, mainly because they don’t have the land to grow their food. That was odd, seeing that back home, we have more land than we are using. The Kikuyu in me wondered how long it would take to export warus to Singapore and if they would arrive fresh or as mashed potatoes, hehe.

Mummy shark had qualified for two races, and she did well. She was competing with her age mates from other parts of the world. It was some good exposure for her, and I was happy to witness it. Watching her swim gave me inner pride for pursuing new interests on a global level. I was the helper in this case, not her.

The oldest category of swimmers I witnessed was 89 to 94-year-olds. These cucus and gukas swam 100 meters in good time. That both challenged me and put pressure on me to remain fit because I could see Mummy Shark already planning in her mind to compete in that category 50 years from now, hehe. I therefore have to keep fit in my own passions, be it mountain climbing, running, nature photography, or improving my golf handicap, hehe. It’s a healthy competition, I believe. Folks, we grow old because we stop moving. We don’t stop moving because we grow old. So swim, hike, run, or dance—do what works for you, but whatever it is, don’t stop, for the miracle is in the moving.

The earth is our playground, so let’s get on with it and shun retirement. We will do that when we exit this earth. I’m travelling back home today, proud to have supported Mummy Shark in her beautiful transition journey. I feel like it’s given me momentum, too. The best way to lift ourselves is by lifting other folks.

I would have loved to stay in Singapore a bit longer, but my Fuliza has maxed out, hehe. Plus, I miss +254 already.