I miss the version of me who’d use phrases like, “don’t flatter me.”
It hit me recently that it’s been years….maybe a decade, since I’ve said that to anyone. Somewhere along the way, it got replaced with “don’t gas me up…” I can’t recall when and why the shift happened.
And honestly, thinking about it now, “don’t flatter me” had something softer about it. Something almost delicate. That era of my life carried a certain kind of charm one rooted in innocence, in trust, in a quiet kind of belief in people.
I used to think that if people loved each other, they didn’t cheat.
So when Kevin would disappear for three days after telling me he was going to “study in the library,” I believed him. Fully. (He was in UoN I was in MMUST)
Haaaah!. Hi Kevin.
That version of me existed in purity. In trust. In not knowing any better but also not needing to.
And I think… I want a piece of her back.
I’ve decided that this week will not end without me saying “don’t flatter me” again. Whether it comes out naturally or I have to force it in somewhere, I’m bringing it back.
I used to be so eloquent man…and very creative. Do these two things fizzle out as we age or did I just grow too comfortable.
My Swahili? It’s soaked in slang. Effortless. Unfiltered. Mine.
I remember back in second year at Masinde Muliro, my friend Mburu (the only guy Mr. Ouko allowed to present in Swahili) summoned me aside… outside LBB. On the benches. He wanted to talk to me about stepping out of my comfort zone. I obliged.
And somewhere in that conversation, he said something that stayed with me….
“You sound like how I’m supposed to sound.”
The euphemism behind that….was that my Swahili leaned too ghetto, too masculine.
And he wasn’t wrong.
I was the kind of person who would say, “manze hiyo ni ngori, sasa tutado?” without a second thought.
Saying “hiyo ni shida kubwa sana, sijui tutafanya nini” felt like I was auditioning for a set book play.
But I heard him. And I respected it.
Still… you can’t teach an old dog new tactics. (Yes, I know I’ve probably butchered that too)
So even now when I’m speaking to my mates I say things like “manzeee“
And when I greet my dad in the morning, it’s a casual “mambo dad” instead of a polished “habari yako.”
The latter just doesn’t feel like me. Nikiwai enda kwakina ndoa I know I’ll have to work on that.
But don’t get it twisted, I know exactly when to switch my other side on.
And I’m grateful that version of me always shows up when it needs to.
I deeply admire people who speak fluent, clean Swahili so effortlessly.
Not a bunch of “rada,” and the likes. Ngori manze. Just smooth, intentional language. I truly stan.
Anyway… I’ve digressed.
I’m really looking forward to using “don’t flatter me” again.
Also, I’ve come to terms with the fact that my Sheng is very millennial.
If you made it this far, this was a very good waste of your time. Exactly as intended.
Big ups, Mburu, if you ever come across this, send me a voice note. Kuna kitu nataka kuskia.
By the way in our voice notes there are times when twin flame with dreads would use “mpenzi” in place of “babe”. I remember this one time he said “mpenzi jamani” my knees went weak.
Okay si tuchekiane basi…?
Love and light huns♥️
Shadow to my light. 