Letter To My Unborn

Son, I know you’re in there, and when the time comes I know you’ll run the fastest and win the race against your other million brothers, just as I did many years ago. And nine months later, Boom! you’ll enter into our world, a world where with just a few thousand shilling notes, it’s possible to make all the ladies like and love you, both beautiful and ugly in equal measure.

Now son, when you’ll reach my age, you’ll be on your own; by then I probably shall have died in war fighting for my country against the Americas, or probably I shall have been stoned to death while looting goods during another post-election violence. Yes I do loot at times, that’s just how hard I work to make sure I bring food to the table. Don’t get me wrong here son, am not trying to advise you to join the army, or loot, no dad can ever advice you to do that. Just don’t follow my footsteps. And by don’t I mean DON’T! Sorry I’ve yelled at you, it’s rude to yell at anyone, unless you’re having an argument with your wife of which I advise you to yell, yes YEEEL to the top of your lungs! But again remember you’ll never win that argument. No man in the history of marriages has ever won it. Speaking about marriage, I still have hopes of marriage, though very little hopes. There’s this girl I used to like and she liked me too. We used to play together since childhood, till the day she grew breasts, now she doesn’t even notice me. I hope she’ll come back. But anyway that’s about me, now back to you.

Son, I’m going to be straight on point with this one…you’ll be ugly. Yes I said it, you’ll be ugly, sorry for that but there’s nothing I can do about it. Even if I were to marry Angelina Jolie, Scarlett Johansson, or even our very own Lupita Nyon’go, still there’ll be no effect on litmus paper. The ugliness gene runs deep down in our family (at least you won’t be as ugly as my brothers), but you’ll still be ugly. Anyway don’t let that bring you down, at least am sure you’ll be a clever, bright, intelligent et cetera et cetera. That cleverness gene too runs in the family, but do I say!

Just make sure you work hard son coz I won’t leave you anything to inherit, I have nothing except for this Samsung TV that I looted from some supermarket over eight years ago, and am so broke that am already thinking of giving it to these guys who give out loans on items, I hear they’re called shylocks. Now you see why you need to work hard, and by ‘work hard’ I mean work extra hard, there’s nothing worse than being both ugly and broke. It’s either you’re ugly, or broke, not both. Ugly + Broke = No Girlfriend. But don’t let that bring you down too son, I know you’ll have many girlfriends, both beautiful and ugly as I told you earlier.

Just make sure you don’t be like me, I was smart, or clever (that’s what they told me); I enrolled in nursery school at the age of ten, sat for my grade eight national exams at 18 and was the first person to ever graduate from secondary school from our village at 22…but one day son I did something stupid, I stole your grandmother’s brew (they call it chang’aa) and drank it. And that’s what brought me this permanent damage I guess. I stopped reasoning…even now as I’m writing this letter, am still not in my senses…and so I became poor, and ugly…the worst that can ever happen to you. But I know you won’t make the same mistake I made son, or rather you won’t drink that chan’gaa I drank coz unfortunately your grandma’s nowadays a born again Christian. Now that means you’ll be ugly, smart and rich; and riches can buy you anything son, anything! And with money, the girls will start flowing in…and one day son, one day you’ll fall in love and find that one girl who loves you, you know that lady who makes you want to delete all the other numbers in your phonebook coz you’ll think she’s the one….that almost perfect lady that every man prays for.

And so I leave you with one advice son, don’t make the same mistake I made; don’t delete those other numbers; don’t fall in love. Fall down, fall asleep, fall ill, fall ipupa…but DON’T FALL IN LOVE as I did son. It’s a long and sad journey. Remember what I told you about this girl that dumped me as soon as she grew breasts, huh? Just stay young, wild, free, uncaged, untamed etc. etc. so that you may live longer than I have. There’s this saying that goes “cham thum ka pod ingima tho luro’ which roughly translates to ‘eat music when you’re still alive, death is sneaking’, or in the language of our time just translate it to YOLO. In short it means have fun to the fullest, but don’t fall in love; you can’t YOLO when you’re in love. A private research has proven that 65% of those who die before the age of 30 die because of heartbreaks. And I don’t want to see you heartbroken and crying son. I can’t imagine an ugly person crying…sounds scary doesn’t it, like a horror movie character.

Now am tired, I think I need to go out…beer’s calling! I know I can’t see you, but I know you’re in there. Just hold on, that day will come when I’ll find a girl and let my bear out of its cage. When that time comes, run the race, win it and you’ll join us over here.

Oh and one more thing, don’t come here empty handed, at least come with your plate coz some musicians over here are have successfully convinced me that ‘Mungu akileta mtoto analeta sahani yake’ or something like that…In short I think it says “babies come with their plates” if am not wrong.
Goodbye for now son.

7 thoughts on “Letter To My Unborn

  1. Pingback: Till The Fat Lady Sings | Marvin's Room

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