YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHANCE by Gift Mwachofi

Today, a large procession across the neighborhood marked the highlight of my day. The vast compound with beautifully manicured hedges was now filled with parked vehicles of them who came to wish the late her last respects. The porch to her bungalow was now the platform from which the burial was being presided. The preacher had his priestly attire on and as he read some of the scriptures from his well-structured sermon, I couldn’t help but think of how fragile life can be. The eulogy read by the son was almost describing a second mother Teresa. She was loved by all and admired by many (considering the numbers that showed up for the funeral.)
I proceeded to my barber shop “Ken Kinyozi” you’d almost think only Kens’ heads were offered his shaving services. Anyway, he’s a great barber. So as I am offered a seat he cordially asks about my day and I gladly share with him the events that were, in the course of my day. As he sips his afternoon tea, I ask him if he has heard of the sad news of the passing of an old woman around the area. He declines and by now he has already started shaving my voluminous hair. As we engage in a customer based conversation, wait, I’m less of a customer but more of a friend just for the record, he makes a very interesting remark.
“Kama bado angekuwa hai saa hii, bado wangemsifu vile wanamsifu saa hii?” (If she were still alive, would people still praise her like they are doing now), my barber is chilled he doesn’t speak in English, kwani is he in an interview or sum’n. I nod in agreement and share in his sentiments too. She is no longer around to receive the so comforting and reassuring praises, the acknowledgement of a life well lived. She’s just there lying peacefully in the expensive coffin you could tell by the design and the timber used to craft it. A corpse wouldn’t really mind the coffin they are buried in, after all the body that used to house the soul is no longer functioning.
Ken is done shaving my head and I pay him his due, and as is kawaida I say my gratitude as we fist bump and I walk back home. It hits me real hard as I take a walk back home. Really, how much does it mean appreciating a dead person? What does it mean to pay last respects? Did they pay it either way while she was still breathing or is it just a phrase that is used in burial occasions? Was she embraced by the numerous people that showed up in her funeral or we they there just for PR? It greatly bothered me. It really did.
We as human beings, how often do we recognize people? How much do we appreciate them? How much do you say hi and thank you to that mama mboga who diligently cuts your sukuma wiki? Or the kange who gladly waits for you to board or alight the matatu as he charmingly reminds you to travel with the same matatu the following day? Or the house help in your homes, who do your dirty laundry, and many of them knowing the affairs of the house choose to keep them secret and protect the reputation of your home? They are not slaves, they are as fleshly as you and I are.
Have we categorized human beings?
We recognize honorable figures: the presidents, the beautiful and gorgeous actors, artists, intellectual giants just to mention but a few. Valuable awards are handed to them and hearty applauds are granted them. I am not saying that man should not be awarded for his hard work. He should actually as he deserves. Here’s the catch however. We entirely value them that do the so called “hard and recognizable jobs” and forget the important jobs that the “others” as we put them, do.
Remember the mama mboga can also choose to intoxicate you, the kange can also hurl abusive words to you (which they do more often than not) but hey are you warm to them either way? They are human beings too. Just as you praise the Jack Bauer’s and the Chuck Norris,’ recognize your barber, who plays classic FM on his old radio from dawn to dawn (hyperbole); your salonist, who regrets not being a HR in some organization claiming how she has a way with people, mama mboga just next to your rental apartment, never tires to give you some interesting realizations of the on goings in the plot, the hilarious kange who charms you of how the bus he’s currently with has Wi-Fi and unlimited supply of water (I wonder where from, but hey kuna basi za Embakassi, rivers of God). Hehe clever right?
Anyway my point is, don’t wait for either of the mentioned above and more to die so that you recognize them, appreciate them now! Life is fragile.
James says that life is a mist, here today and gone tomorrow. You never know when he or she will be no more. Recognize them now, don’t be left with the burden of not saying them while you still could.
Ni mimi wako
Msema kweli.
Maneno magumu:
Kange –conductor
Mama Mboga- grocery woman
Matatu – Psv
Msema kweli- truth teller.
Maneno magumu- Hard words