THE GOLDEN YEAR by Daisy Waitherero Wambua


23. Not any clearer than 22 or maybe a different kind of clear. Having a birthday that falls close within the reigns of January is pure havoc. People have recently recovered from being ‘broke’ to being ‘kinda broke’. At this point you can spend with less supervision on the decimal point but still within the confines of January’s ghost.
…….’ Young dumb and broke high school kids’……
Its overbearingly painful singing that part in the song knowing very well that you are no longer in high school and have had enough college education for two people. The transition from saying my 23rd is coming to being 23 is the most traumatizing experience I’ve had. Literally growing 10 months old in two weeks is as nerve wrecking as Chyna- Rob relationship.
At 23 we listen to Papa Wemba but still dance to Tekno Miles because he understands. We choose whoever we fall in love with, and we hate on whoever has watched Black Panther. To share a month with Rihanna and in the same month have a premiere of the biggest blockbuster movie is truly extraterrestrial. I foresee a life extension perhaps or extra dollars under my pillow.
At 23, we feel more and react faster. We are adults but are still not grown, we cry and reminisce of previous relationships ad jump into similar relationships just because they seem familiar. We dance less in the rain and become more of it leaving marks in people’s lives. We are less afraid of new interactions but more skeptical about putting an arm over anyone’s shoulder. We drink from the floor and stay up on the stairs; we still break all the rules and make new ones as we go on.
At 23, we have discovered ourselves only to lose ourselves again in the very same discovery. We make mistakes, we eat, we laugh and we live to tell of our faults to other 23 year olds. We believe a little bit less but continue working towards our dreams. We have less people in our circles and deeper conversations in our corners. We spend more time listening to our thoughts and less Cardi B’s. We believe in the agenda of our gender and delve into more self-acceptance. We have nothing to lose so we set our souls ablaze and burn our youth bridge little by little as we light up the path to an ‘adultier’ adult life.
At 23 I am swallowed up by obligations that most adults past 25 consider trivial and advocate for patience. They are probably right but I like expensive things that can’t buy themselves. Let’s revisit this when I’m 24.
Life is pretty good at this age; the air is a little cleaner, the waist a little thinner and nothing a little shimmer can’t fix. When I asked a former mentor what they wish they did at this age, she responded with a profound “be less serious”

Happy birthday to me and all my peeps from PISCES.


DISCLAIMER; This article is biased towards the 23 year olds in Moi University who have overstayed and are now on the same rank as other forefathers of this institution.



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