The vanity of being young

The vanity of being young

Refusing to age is an art that has being perfected by many middle aged people who hate it that they are unable to stop the time and count backwards. They live in history .Not studying history so that they may avoid the mistakes of the experiences they laugh silly at themselves when they recollect as they continue denying that the skin is folding and the eyes need glasses.

Cosmetics advertisers lie to customers, especially the ladies so that they buy cream that irons out creases, rejuvenates the skin texture and does an overhaul of their looks. They promise a makeover home edition. Unsuspecting end users buy heavy metal-laden skin tightening creams to look younger and more beautiful. Question is, have you ever asked yourself what you will be remembered for after your beauty fades? Just like love, beauty fades. It has a Simon Makonde lifespan. Swahili saying that ujana ni moshi na ukienda haurudi could not have been so apt. it is such a sobering reality that anyone withering and drying find hard to accept.

No wonder people have resorted to living for the moment. I am by no means endorsing flat lifestyle. If you have looks, don them. After all, that could be the only moment and chance you will ever get to glorify your God. Being young is synonymous with energy, vibrancy and liberty. That is the time you will walk kilometers and still wake up next day fresh and ready to walk again. It is the time you do not have dependants demanding attention like a computer game.

Living in the past has the danger of failing to enjoy the present and look forward to the future. I wonder what those who struggle to look younger yet the bodies are refusing are up to. What do they want to achieve? They fail to notice that they have literally and figuratively eaten a lot of salt. That they are more experienced in this world and have accomplished more than the kids barely out of their diapers.

I was joking to my grandma that she has (we were drinking morning tea) drunk millions of litres of milk, water and breathed atmospheres of air. I posed: Don’t you get enough of it? She said no and ordered me to serve her another cup.

Such is life. Vanity.  Nowhere is vanity more evident than during the peak of life. The working class, the labour force, the top cream and the independent. They bury themselves under layers of make- up. They spend hours in barber shops and salons sprucing up and tightening this and that. They spend billions of shillings doing plastic surgery and achieving secondary virginity to tighten their pulleys which look better when tense than lax.

What if you die tomorrow! Or you just drop dead now and dry stiff like a log?  What if something happened?  What will be your legacy? Would you like to be remembered as the fellow that caught cancer by design rather than by risk-exposed default? That guy which died due to pursuing the excitement of performance-enhancing pills. That girl which popped cyanide and mercury pills to be like a white. That child which shocked its parents by insisting to have a baby face and going all the way to buy herbal concoctions that left black scars on her knuckles and palms. Whose face was dotted with red marks. She spent her twilight days on a big godfather hat shedding herself from sunlight. The parents were too shocked to live. They succumbed to devastating heart attacks.

Of course this is a tragedy. But I have an option. How about getting a more insurable cause and case to live for? How about shifting the paradigm from beauty to brains? People will cherish to have lived with the best brains. The intellect that discovered the medicine that they are using to live longer. The genius that made their life easier. People still remember Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton and William Shakespeare. I am yet to meet a scholar who told me he fell in love with Romeo and Juliet because Shakespeare was a handsome guy. I have not met a quantum physicist who said Einstein was the man who swept her over her feet due to his photo. Neither have I met a space astronaut who confessed oh! the gravity with which Newton attracted women was stronger than a magnet.

Students remember these great brains because of their works and not because of their youthful figure. For your information Einstein was full of hairy afro and bushy mustache.

Critics will say Musyoka is being jealous. That he is ugly. He thinks everyone must be a scholar, a scientist or a writer. He should get a life. All those scathing criticisms are welcome. But before you cast the first stone think about the worthiness of the effort you are laboring for. Why are you panting chasing the wind? I am a conservationist but not a conservative. Google the difference.

I am one keen observer of the surrounding so much that I cannot let an improvement of nature go unappreciated. I laud smart clad. I admire wit. Substance. Conscience. For the record, I don’t wear specs. I can see. I see.  In fact I see in multi-perspectives. I see mountains, valleys, hills and beaches. I see good hairstyle; I see nice adult toys such as phones, tablets and laptops. Most importantly, I pat the wearer. I congratulate the owner. My endorsement has been sought like cure of leukemia. Like an influential politician telling voters to elect so and so because they have confidence in them, I am sought for advice and correction.

This puts me on a needle-tip-resting delicate balance.  I am torn between telling the truth and keeping a friend. I am asked subjective questions whose answers are already predetermined. I wonder why one would ask the obvious. It is like investigating facts.

“I look good. Don’t I?” I am made to say yes but deep down I know you look like something the cat dragged in. The very same seeker of approval seals goes ahead and pins their nude photos to show how much cleavage they got, how big a behind they have been blessed with, how thick a bicep, how cubic an abdomen, how round a skwembe etc. truth is the facebook likes and comments are insincere. The best adverts go unsaid. They do not scream. They go by oral testimony. They are like a good lawyer. He will be noticed even from a crowd. Why the rush and hurry to uncover and undress when the intended audience can see through the dressing? Chema chajiuza kibaya chajitembeza.

At least even if you are young at heart (read old), do me and my dear readers a favour and grow up. You are growing old and not growing up. That former glory is no longer easy to bask on. There is a reason why the world is a stage. When you are on the stage you entertain. It becomes your time to crack ribs. Entertain. Make them laugh tears of joy. But keep a mental note that every stage has an entrance and an exit. The more you linger the more likely you are to bore the fans. The fans will start throwing bottles and inner wear and shouting toa! The booing will cage your confidence. Retire at the zenith of your career. Don’t allow the embarrassment of the upcoming because they will oust you. The best you can do is to accept and move on. Mentor and mould them not only to be like you but better than you. That is what teachers and coaches are for.  If you are bold enough, start meditating about the afterlife. Get closer to your maker and preempt your death. Thank Him for the life and times. The ultimate judge who you will be accountable to after all that beauty has faded and youth drooped. Enjoy your moment while it last. Savour it.

The writer studies Bachelor of Arts degree in Communication and Media at Chuka University. He blogs at musyokangui.blogspot.com

PS: Today we celebrate the 1000th page view in my blog. Thanks all for your continued visit, comments and criticism.