There’s this quiet blissful moment in the morning just as you wake up when you don’t remember any of your problems. Then suddenly the brain system loads up and you’re groaning at your life and the thing called responsibilities. Like, do I really have to go to work today? Do I have to run those errands for Mutesi? Even if I stay home, I’ll be transformed into housemaid extravaganza, I’d rather sit in a boring dusty old office in dignity than bend my tired self in manual labour.
I love those first 5 seconds of the morning. I wish there was a way to make it semi-permanent. Is that what ‘vacation’ feels like? I pick up my phone, scroll down my Instagram and look at vacation spots and the pretty girls who seem to be the only ones invited there. They’re as young as I am, younger even. Don’t they have responsibilities? Are they ALL funded by people’s fathers? Are they the ones who take those HD photos? Or these girls are all from like, super-rich families?
I scroll until I am jealous enough to get out of bed and try to do something with my life. Wow, I can’t even say that I’m going to make money. To make matters worse I look into the mirror and I seem to have added some chunky inches to my sides, I’m much farther away than those vacation girls, by looks and wallet size. Wonderful! I run out of the house in a brown body con dress and some old heels. Had to add a plaid jacket to hide the side rolls but it had sheer panels down the sides which made it pretty.
The rest of the workday drones on till I hear a notification sound on my phone, only to see Akello’s name pop up. She is wondering if I am available to go out for drinks. FINALLY!! Something to do that doesn’t make me want to rip my eyelashes out! Akello is a breath of fresh air in my life. She is a slim girl who is almost as tall as I am. She wears these thin round wired glasses and is as intelligent as she looks. Far more in fact.
She isn’t much of a dresser, usually greys and blacks. I’m dying to get her into a bright blue floral dress probably, I think she’d look amazing. I have never seen her hair; it’s always roped into some long box braids, and she has one lipstick, it’s a deep maroon. Despite all this, she and I have had some amazing conversations, she is a mad creative, with a great listening ear. Matter of fact, if you ever want to know my secrets, ask her. But then again she won’t tell you. Someone’s tried before. Isn’t she amazing? I reply in the affirmative and continue work with something to look forward to.
Before closing hours, I look down at my heels and cringe. I wore the ones that have leather peeling at the back of the heel. Wow, I can’t even change it now, home is too far away from the lounge we are meeting at. So I take them off and take a good look… I only have office supplies around me, but I have to make it work someway. So I start to peel the leather off until it’s all gone; leaving the white fuzzy layer beneath. I grab a black marker and stain the white section until it looks like the rest of the shoe, so it looks like it is simply a different texture. I seal the bottom with some clear cello tape and it is good to go!
Akello is already waiting for me with a glass of red wine when I arrive. She’s always on time, jeez. I order my combination of Uganda Waragi and Coke, and we get to catch up.
“What is it about these Instagram girls that have you so perturbed?” she inquires.
“Well they are all year round having a great time, they seem not to even be disturbed by any sort of responsibilities”
I then explain about the chunk of them that are blogging and doing it for money, while I’m here struggling to get a four-year degree and no cash in hand or account. Akello put me back into reality mode asap:
“You realise they only post about their fun times, right? Kirabo, no one is going to go like oh here’s my eviction notice from the apartment, lol, #hard times, #broke af”
She has a point, but my disgruntlement comes from the fact we have this whole system that has us sticking to about 24 years of education, where only 3-5 of them (if you’re lucky) have to do with what you actually want to do. She is giving me examples of countries where they have systems where education is talent-based or even more specialised, mixing math and English in there for the child’s benefit. But in comparison with here where I was doing a course that was simply suitable to get a job, so I can save up money to go to another country to finally study and do what I want to.
“What do you want to do, Kirabo?”
Sweat. I never reveal my true dreams, as they seemed silly in my head. Unattainable, almost. “I want to be a fashion curator for a magazine, I know, it’s silly”
She looks at me intently, her face unchanging. I can’t tell what is going on in her mind. Is she judging me? Think I’m daydreaming too much? Her reply throws me.
“Why do you think it’s silly? Look at you, look at me, we are both wearing clothes. Look around, is anyone here naked? (There was a girl who seemed a little naked, but she had a hint of clothing on, and she seemed okay, so no I guess) These clothes are all talked about and advertised in those magazines, of which I know you are an avid reader. “Your dreams are valid; you should have followed them from the start. You don’t have to be led by the system, lead the system yourself.”
She is right, to an extent. She doesn’t know the true extent of struggle I am dealing with; I have to do this the way I know-how. But expressing my true desires has started a tiny fire inside me…