100 Days of Never Saying Goodbye

100 Days of Never Saying Goodbye

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erhaps the best way to say goodbye is not to say goodbye at all. Sometimes it can become messy, long and drawn out like the KDF incursion into Somalia. Then you are left wondering how you will leave when you are tangled. Those tangos are quite chains we should have courage to break and go.

By MUSYOKA NGUI

When the time to part arrives it becomes a critical juncture that people, places and things must depart.  No matter the how many times we say we will miss each other is the point is never home. “I will miss you”, “I am going to miss you”, and “I will never let you go”, “I will never say goodbye”. And “bye is not in my dictionary”. These are some of the last sentimental and emotional words comrades uttered to each other alongside the regular wishes for a good job, healthy body, mind and soul and journey mercies.

But there is some form of connection that comes with being around. Sooner or later people will realize that out of sight out of mind and only the truly caring pals will remain in touch. But as those who ask questions for a living we’ve been taught never to be contented with superficial answers signifying nothing.  So when someone says he or she will miss you what do you reply? Miss you too? Never. That is clinical and administrative. It is like architecture; cast in stone without room for creativity and curiosity.

Someone said that (I will miss you) to me and I asked “What will you miss about me?” /Answer: Your questions. /Question: What about them? / They were many. /Nagging? /No. Searching. With that I was tasked with getting a souvenir for remembrance. Then I was left wondering if a souvenir should be an object, tangible or fluid.  Is a kiss a souvenir? What about a long and tight hug? And a handshake? A warm grip with an African angle and lingering?

Perhaps the best way to say goodbye is not to say goodbye at all. Sometimes it can become messy, long and drawn out like the KDF incursion into Somalia. Then you are left wondering how you will leave when you are tangled. Those tangos are quite chains we should have courage to break and go.

I love parting because it is riddled with a sense of challenge and freedom. At times uncertainties and risks. Leaving a comfort zone you have known for years is not easy especially for the conservative. It takes some liberty of mind and dare of body to take the first step which in turn turns out to be the first in many more on such a direction you’d love to look back in nostalgia and say, “Look how far I have come?”

The best way to leave as I said is going without a final act. Yes, you may be holding the script but you can freestyle. After all, you know the words by heart.  I left campus in one drizzling evening when the sun was setting and clouds gathering for a downpour. The symbolism of carrying my luggage with the help of a bodaboda operator and later a matatu revealed to me how rich I was that things could not fit in the suitcases. The bulging bags showed me that I needed more room for growth. Thus I was doing the right thing going away from campus for good.

I couldn’t help but notice the ghost village of Ndagani getting smaller and smaller on the rear mirror. Since I had overstayed for a week plus I noticed the vibrancy of student life had died down. The busy streets and walkways we shared gladly were now deserted. Most businesses were closed too. Those open were shy to open early or close late. They just did business briefly and silently. The Ndagani economy was crumbling day by day and will remain so for the next 100 days. Till continuing students and freshmen report back September. Until Gown Day.