Sundays

Sundays.
Don't you just love the feel of good Sunday mornings? The ones where you wake up exactly where you want to be, and when you want to. Although, some of us unbound by an alarm clock, would wake up in the afternoon (or the next day).

 Anyway, you wake up feeling like you could do anything. Be anything. Then outside your door, a fresh easy breeze plays around and the sun is so right you could sit outside all day.

Then you have an amazing breakfast. Breakfast is my, hands down, favourite meal of the day. I could have breakfast for lunch or supper any day. Does anyone even know why there are other meals? Maybe they wanted to create diversity or something.
 Clearly they didn't think breakfast would be this awesome. Because one does not just take breakfast, they experience it. And if it's not there, we just have to settle for the other meals.

But I digress, (I could go on and on about these things) Sundays... Then picture, after a good breakfast you just chill, either at home or in a place that feels like home. With like minded family and friends. Just whiling away your afternoon playing board games, listening to music and holding discussions about the stuff life is made of, or deep and meaningless stuff. Like the difference between love and limerence.

 Then as the evening sky chases away the light of the sun, you grill meat(and vegetarian patties) and joke around as you share a meal with your people. And finally closing the day with the best sleep of your life. That a perfect Sunday or what?

Alternatively if you're busy on Sundays like me, those mornings start super early preparing for gigs, or church. Then the day will  zoom past in an exhilarating pace as you do all the things you love.
For some creatives, Mondays are usually your Sundays and you lazy around all day while everyone else feels kiwaru for you. Lucky humans.

Usually my Sundays are filled with meeting new people and hanging out with old friends. In church. Lately, I'd been church hopping. It was so much fun. I know quite a bit about churches now.

 I know where to be if I want beautiful worship,or a good visitor's welcome, complete with a breakfast or lunch. Or where you would go if you don't even want to be introduced as a visitor.
I know the churches with short services and extremely long ones. I've even been to a service that had a smoking break (crazy, I know).

All of these however, have not been half as interesting as this one Sunday I was in Laikipia county.

To start with, I showered in a latrine... Yes, you heard me right (read me right) a latrine. Then went to a high school service. I remember laughing a lot that day. And I drank quite a bit of milk tea even if I'm not a fan. I also remember shopping and devouring a really good supper. It was so good, I still have dreams about that food. I also remember being in a long skirt.

 Now if you know anything about me it's that I loathe dresses and skirts. They give me limitations. Apparently, decorum says I should not climb trees or roofs of houses in a dress.

 Its not like I go around climbing things, it's just nice to know I can. You know?
I don't know how the Scots do it, with their kilts. I mean, what do they do if someone or something is stuck up a tree? Do they excuse themselves and go change, then come deal with the problem? Do they send their women up?

They probably can't tell anyone they wear the pants at home (get it?) Hehe, don't get your bagpipes in a twist, I was kidding. Mostly. But what if it was a million dollars stuck up there? Does one still have to go change before they go relieve the tree of such a burden?

Dresses also generally make me look less tough, like I can't handle myself in a fight. Which is true.  But you don't need to know that just by looking at me.

 Yes, maybe I can't thrown hard punches, but that's because I've never had to learn how. With my normal attire I look, dangerous and tough and like I could knock anyone out if they even looked at me funny. With a dress I just look, Delicate. And like an easy target for a Maasai nomad to steal me and carry me off to his village when I'm fetching water at the river.

I  was trying not to think about it in Laikipia county that Sunday. I was at mission. Working. Mission working. Trying to keep my head above water with guys who'd been doing it for years. I felt like a cat swimming with sharks. But I made it through that Sunday, they went easy on me.

And It turned out, I wasn't a cat. I belonged in the water. With much to learn still. Like a guppy. Yeah. For those of us who are rushing to Google,  a guppy is a baby fish. I know this because of a kid show I watch called guppy tales. Stop raising your eyebrows. Do I sense judgement in your facial expression?
 For those of us who already knew what a guppy was, ( mostly because you also watch guppy tales) let's pretend I didn't explain.

I know what you're wondering. You're wondering if penguins have knees and if there's a point to this story. Both answers are yes. This particular date a while back, marked the beginning and end of alot of things for me. And I completely forgot  about it. I'm pretty forgetful I'll admit.  I'd forget my legs if they weren't attached. But if big things of the sad variety happen to you, you tend to remember when it happened.

I used to wonder why people keep Anniversaries of sad happenings. If something happened that was so painful, why remember it year in year out? Keeping the date in your memory as a type of anti-holiday.

Now, I think sometimes, you don't keep the date, the date keeps you. They remember you. Dunno if that makes sense. Plus, you feel honour bound to carry that day. And kind of guilty if you don't remember.

So what did it mean that I forgot mine? Is it a good thing or a bad sign? What do you think? Because I think if the date hasn't carried you, you shouldn't carry it. Easier said than done though.

At the same time, I feel like somethings you're meant to carry with you. In form of lessons, experiences. All which shape who you are. If you lose something/someone and you say it hasn't changed you, you're either lying or whatever you lost wasn't important.

I asked a sixty year old what he thought and he said
"If I kept track of every big blow that changed me as a person, I would have to mark most of the days in my calendar. But that's just me, I've had a bloody hard life"

 It's hard to deal with the past, especially if you've had a bloody hard life. And a few well put words won't change that. How can they? But hey, maybe we aren't meant to deal with the past, maybe we're just meant to accept it. Say, "yes, that was my past." which is also easier said than done.

The past is the past is the past. It does not do well to dwell on it. You could end up a sorry version of who you were meant to be because of that. Too stuck there to see what's going on now. This coming from someone who did dwell on the past. As I'm sure some of us have.

We carry so much of what isn't ours to carry and so much of what we could leave behind. Let's Let go.
That sounds like a campaign. We could hold a 10 km run with that theme. Or even a 1km run,  I'm not picky.

And at the risk of sounding like a motivational speaker (be inspired before you expire!!) Maybe it's a good idea to accept your past. Before it catches up and you have a crash course of trying to cover up the monsters you've been lying to others about. Because they grew too large for you to keep taming.

 Talk about it, if that's your thing,  and even if it's not. Cry even. A friend of mine calls it wasting water. If you have it,(the water) why not? Huku sio ukambani (Hehe).
 Make amends. Burn some bridges, repair some.  Do whatever you need to do. I won't judge, I mean I watch guppy tales. Plus who am I to stop you? Who is anyone really?
And if the only dates you struggle through are those super sweet things the Swahili love to eat (too soon for humour?) you're lucky.

And if not, maybe, just maybe, and I say this with a small whisper; it's okay to laugh and be happy and enjoy life.  Even if it's your anniversary of sad happenings. Maybe it's okay to remember the good times without the pain. And maybe it's okay to experience an easy Sunday morning feel on those days.

If you forget the date, it means the date didn't keep you, it didn't remember you and that's okay too. Maybe they want us to let go.