Deer in the headlights. No deer. But there used to be small antelope in the woods behind my cucu’s farm. There used to be woods behind my cucu’s farm. Once upon a time, cucu had a farm. Only 16 years ago, cucu sat me down and said, “Nyitia muthuru. Weterere nginya mwathani agakuhe muthuri waku.” Cucu is long gone now.

Like a deer in the headlights? Well, to borrow a reference that makes little sense in my world, change is to me like the brightest headlights in the eyes of a deer somewhere cold towards the north of the hemisphere. I freeze, sometimes I scamper, but most of the time it hits me hard and leaves me reeling.

I like to know what’s coming. I don’t have that luxury anymore. Change is as frequent in my life as change of day and night. One minute I’m alive and optimistic. The next I’m reeling in pain and wishing for death. It doesn’t help when other factors outside of my body join and form a cacophonous kaleidoscope of unpredictable spinning.

As irrelevant as the antelope my Uncle used to hunt in the woods that used to exist behind cucu’s farm, when Uncle was just a boy, and I was just a… nothing. Change renders so much irrelevant that the only thing that can make a body’s existence valid, is not some imagined personal intelligence and achievement, but a deep faith and hope that everything is in fact relevant.

I am rambling, I know. Worse, I am rambling philosophical brumble.

But to what and to whom do you turn to when life renders YOU irrelevant?

I have an answer about my own faith and hope. But that’s mine.

I sat up today, at 4am, looking at a bunch of pink, white and yellow pills. And the thought that occured to me, alongside the one about my body looking a pharmaceutical supermarket under a microscope, was that very few people examine that logic of the narratives they are force fed.

Example: A radical religious leader is killed very near the most decadent city in the country. The ricochet of violence does not hit the decadence but strikes at the rooftops of the leader’s own community.

Example: A man stands up preaching scripture bound hate, and his frothing followers say Amen! holding up books that preach love.

Example: Ask a man what a penis or a vagina is called in mother tongue, and he cartwheels into, “We are African, We are Christian, Head Shoulder Knees and Toes!”

Example: A woman uses everything in her power to intimidate the people she works with, and then goes home in tears because she is afraid. The group cowering in the corner retaliate with sabotage.

It doesn’t seem connected, does it? But it is. We are the deer, frozen into lulled acceptance of everything we are told. And it is too much effort to take a leap and get the bloody road kill out of the way.

And that’s my drug hazed mumble of the day. All the best trying to make sense of it.



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