Recently, I took a really special someone out. It wasn’t one of those run-off-the-mill dates where guys meet at Kencom and buy cheap Ice-cream from a street vendor pulling a suspiciously unsanitary hand-cart. It was a most exquisite affair. I even dressed up in my suede tux and boat shoes, with no socks to add pizzazz. I put on my blackjack fedora with a white feather – The maestro. This person deserved the best so I even made a reservation to a well known, high end Restaurant. Magical was the word. Everything was going perfect. The overpriced sparkling water was chilled crisp, the cuisine was like July 4th Fireworks on my palate. Colourful compliments were offered magnanimously. It was fabulous.

‘Excuse me sir, but are you expecting someone else?’ The waiter rudely interrupted. 
No. I was not expecting anybody else. It was just me, entertaining my imagination that day. A better term of endearment would be ‘kurudishia mwili shukrani..‘ It had been a while since I had given myself the old pat on the back. I mean, things had been going quite well. Being almost done with school, recently transitioning from friend-zone to official village Elder, leaving social media for a whole month, getting a free trip abroad, not forgetting appearing on telly a couple of times. Life was ok. 

Plus I learnt that I was my greatest masterpiece. Disposed to be blue all over, like Picasso. That I was different, conditioned to stay in my island of thoughts, like a real life Gulliver. It wouldn’t make sense to most…

I even thought of getting myself a pup. I’d call her Nymeria. She’d grow up in a loving home to be like her star-studded Direwolf doppelganger going by the same name. I would let her chase down the cats in the neighbourhood. But she would be vegetarian – like myself. Now, I have never seen a vegetarian dog. But Nymeria would be just like me – special! As special as one could be close to their birthday. And speaking of, if only someone could plan a parade in my name. Complete with floats and soapbox carts, Carnival Dancers and a Mariachi Band, then top it all off with fireworks like the fourth of July. But that’s too overrated.

Anyway, I watched the sunset, from across a bridge, as my imagination seduced me with intimate thoughts of grandiose ideas – peace in Syria, doing a TED Talk, meeting Elon Musk, my next blog, the book I had so long kept from finishing, whether I had left any food in the fridge – truly intimate thoughts. The sun went down as I let my left hand gently hold my right hand. I thought of true love even as The Maccabees’ ‘Grew Up at Midnight‘ soothed my ears. Had been in love and back once. So I knew that I was falling in love again. But this time, with life.

For the first time I knew the only goal I ever needed in life. No more #SquadGoals, #RelationshipGoals, #LifeGoals. No more #GoalPosts. Just plain old Happiness and a Billion Naira Dream. Life was already hard enough just winging it. I say this knowing that I am pretty much the simplest human organism on the planet. I can only imagine how life is for the more sophisticated brothers who put on drapy vests looking like flayed skin over their bony mass and buckle their pants at the knees to let their literally dirty linen out for the world to see. Or the girls wearing Casio watches round their necks and calling them chockers. I mean, how do you even check the time? If I were their parent, I would slap Holy Ghost fire across their faces. Such an eyesore. As I said, life is tough. A contented smile would be enough. 

Even still, things are looking up. Got accepted to the Order of the Budding Lotus and for the next five years will be learning about the Triad of Life – A Mind to Think it, A Heart to Believe it, and Hands to Do it. I am Eston and this is it!

17 thoughts on “CHAPTER Z: THIS IS IT

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: