This is the Wild. Do you think you could survive here?

Somewhere in the plains of Savannah Grasslands, I find myself lost with only my backpack containing one bar of chocolate, a bottle of water, a packet of peanuts and a pack of biscuits, and as I went about my merry way, trying to find a way back to civilization, I had the honor of meeting these extraordinarily handsome fellows…

Mr. Elephant, too busy munching all the grass he can eat until I interrupted him.

“Excuse me good sir. Can you please point me to the nearest exit?” I greeted. “He didn’t seem to be too willing until I mentioned I had some tasty peanuts with me. “Gimme peanuts first,” he answered, “then I will show you.” Well I shouldn’t have, because his answer was, while eating my peanuts, “I ( munch munch) really( more munching) don’t know. See, I am lost myself. Have you seen my wife?”.

The sun was dancing on my eyebrows as I looked to the east, west, north and south for any sign of life. I could feel my sweat pouring from all the wrong places as my brain was steaming deliciously like the soup damplings I had the other day at mr. Wok’s.

The plains were shining gold and yellow with scattered spots of green where acacia trees stood painstakingly in the scotch of the November sun. I am going to dry up here. I heard my brain warning me. I could feel my lips turning into dry scabs and pinching my mouth at the sides. I took out my only bottle of water, fear gripping into my parched throat as I observed what was the last few drops inside of it. Damn!

There goes my last drop of water, I thought to myself as my spongy throat sucked up every last trickle.

It has been two hours since our tour van broke down in the middle of the wild grasslands. I recalled how excited I was to join my friends on the tour of our lives. While everybody else sought the normal way of paying a company to take them to Masai Mara, we thought that was way too boring for us. We needed a different type of adventure, the kind which saw us coming to the wild, with just a van and one of us as the driver. Nobody thought we would only last a few hours before the greatest tragedy of our lives happened. Nobody cared to inspect the van either, we took what we could find under a very short notice and stormed our way into wildlife territory, where only normal human beings, well fed ,watered and sheltered under the cool roof of their van could make it out alive. We didn’t care for the nitty gritties of survival. How could we, when this was going to be the best adventure of our lives?

So we drove through into the wild, with only our thirsts for excitement and hopes to have something extraordinary happen to us, something we would never forget. It wasn’t just the safari experience we were after, for that was too mundane and lame for us. We wanted something more. And the wild grasslands happily obliged. Fast forward three hours later, and everyone is everywhere, all by themselves, trying to find help. I still think splitting up in a place like this was the dumbest idea, even though somehow we convinced ourselves that that was the only way we could find help more quickly, or locate a passing tour van since we had not even seen one for the past several hours when we had started our drive. One of us pointed out also, that certain territorial animals who have a taste for human flesh were more likely to notice us, if we stayed as groups, than if we dispersed.

So here I am now, with no water and missing a bag of peanuts, two hours later, with no idea where I was going to go. Come to think of it, Masai Mara is a popular destination for tourists all over the world. If I read the reviews on Trip Advisor correctly, this place should be swarming with cars going round and round all over these endless plains with excited tourists who would scream and point to every moving thing with their cameras. Why does this place look so deserted today? I followed the beaten path religiously in hopes of meeting a vehicle, but no luck. I tried to retrace my steps hoping to return to our paralyzed van, but I couldn’t remember how to get back there. All I saw were endless hills and a never-ending carpet of grass.

An ostrich running for his life after he realized I was human. I guess we don’t hold the best reputation in this place. Thanks to the poachers.

How do I survive? Will I get help?

Growth Is Painful

I am crying my eyes out right now. It is not because someone broke my heart or backstabbed me, No! I am crying waterfalls because I just realized growing up can be so painful.

I have been someone who cannot stay put in one place, job or interest for long. I get excited about someone, something or someplace like a little girl’s first trip to disneyland but this ecstacy soon fades away like melted cotton candy. If it was upto me, I would spend the rest of my life excited about the next new experience and the next without a care in the world. I would not be committed to anything too difficult or monotonous and I would jump, like a frog, from one thing to another until my last breath. But I can’t.

The choices I made bound me mercilessly like some prisoner on a life sentence. I chose law, graduated after almost being sure I wasn’t going to. I then took a break from studying under the excuse of getting work experience, when it was really me quitting this whole legal business and hoping to land a job doing nothing legal. I landed that job, but it was everything to do with law. So law became this clingy ex-girlfriend who couldn’t register the fact that I just didn’t want her anymore. I gave up fighting and just when I was starting to enjoy my job, it turned out it wasn’t interesting anymore and work became too boring and stressful to even try. Plus, it didn’t help that my position was only temporary lasting only until the project I was working on was completed. So instead of waiting to be bid good bye, I tensed up and made another dumb attempt at making up with my ex, by going back to advocate training program. It was something only couples who break up and make up a gazillion times would understand; no matter how many times you make up, it would not delete the reason why you broke up. As long as it is the same people involved, there is always going to be that elephant in the room; we are just not compatible! And that is me, with my girlfriend, law.

To be honest, my girlfriend is not bad at all! There were moments I felt guilty for resenting her the way I have. She is someone many people admire as prestigious and noble. Some of the people I know, secretly wish they had had her. It is an ego boost just to be connected to her and her status. Only those who are seen as smart and intelligent can claim her, but why do I feel so smothered by her? Why am I crying because of her? Well, it is simple, she might be all of that to everyone else, but to me she has been like A Nightmare on Elm Street; my worst horror movie experience when I was a child.

She has demanded many precious years of my life in what seems like an endless race to the non-existent finish line. She has forced me to stay up and read uninteresting and tasteless statutes which sucked the life out of my creativity. She challenged me to face exams after exams after exams. Even right now as I write this, I have to suffer rising levels of panic and anxiety for oral exams, which is all everyone in school talks and freaks about. That is why I cry. I cry because I have to suffer my worst case of anxiety and depression since I was born, for something which does not even tug at my heart strings; something so rigid and bland like frozen carrots. I could be elsewhere right now, writing my first novel, making and acing reading goals where I read dozens of books I ENJOY every day of my life. I could be spending my days, inspired by that fresh and salty sea breeze sweeping across my face on the beach or that calm rippling of the sea, with a playful swoosh swooshing back and forth of the peaceful waves breaking by the shore. I could be somewhere writing about ideas and philosophy of life, describing the other-wordly feeling of being in love , or sharing jewel pieces of wisdom from my own experiences in life. I could be taking pictures with my Sony Handycam of everything and everyone that spiked an inspiration for a feeling or an idea and went with that for my next blog and the next. In those lucky days where I could travel, I would write about my adventures abroad and hold them dear to my heart.

Why am I here instead? Watching myself become more and more miserable as I lie to myself each day that today will be better, today I will get some reading done on that daunting pile of statutes or law books, which already gave up on me a long time ago. Is keeping on going like this, what is referred to as growing up? Is this what it means to take responsibility for my life, and for all the money my dad spent to take me through school? If pushing on despite the urge to give up is what growth means, then it is indeed painful!

Not My Jam But Here I am!

It began with an invitation. A harmless group of girls and firm mates in my class wanted to hang out and “put the face to the voice,” as they called it. Since I joined law school, we have only heard each others’ voices over teams so everyone was eager to meet. But I wasn’t!

Four months ago, I made a decision that would change my life. I decided, after waging several coup de tats over my will, passion and everything I was, to go back to school. This is no ordinary school mind you, it is Law School; that final race to the finish line of becoming a practicing advocate of the High Court of Kenya.

To every other lawyer, Law School is not only expected but accepted. To me, how do I put it? Let me just say, I was prepared to get cast away to a small island in the middle of the Indian ocean where the only source of food was coconuts, than to have to go to hell, I mean, Law school!

So believe me when I tell you that it had to take a pretty desperate, no-choice-but-to-go-back-to-school kind of a situation, to make me acquiesce.

Everything was all well and good the first few months, since learning was online( thanks to Covid, but no thanks) and I did not have to leave my comfort zone to move two cities away just for the sake of school. I was trying to avoid having to surrender familiar surroundings, for a cold stranger’s land, in the middle of a rich suburb, that had no compassion for poor students living in subsidized student hostels. Honestly, the fact that I would have to live with only two options for food for a year:Maizemeal and ramen, was only an excuse. The real reason I wanted to stay home was deeper than that; I have a hard time accepting change. I fear the worst. Always.

If I was that apprehensive of change, why am I bowling with strange girls and having so much fun?(I was the champion of the day).The old me would do everything possible to avoid hanging out with the girls. She would rather spend Sunday alone in her hostel room, trying to think why at 27, she is still single and miserable as hell( and also wondering if it is not too late to leave everything and go back home. The world is brimming with lawyers, one less wouldn’t kill the profession!).

So, long story short, four months later, as I write this piece, I am happily housed at the student hostels in the school , which I previously dreaded with my heart and soul. I find this whole experience very exciting, the city, everything I have wanted and dreamt about. If the Law of Attraction had a home in Kenya, this would be it! This is the land of manifestation of desires, angel numbers, signs and synchronicities. I am not alone. I am not a stranger. I am home. And this is where I want to be for the rest of my life!( And yes, I love bowling!)

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