Attachments and the Pains of Loss.

Attachments and the Pains of Loss.

It is on Monday 5th November 2018. The clock reads 9:03 p.m. I have been sitting in front my computer for the last five minutes or so lingering with the thought on what I should write about. Should I write about the topic I had in mind from last week or should I change and write about a yesterday incident that happened to me?

All along I had prepared to write about discipline. In mind, I had this Mzungu (Caucasian) guy I meet every morning taking his walks. In his hand is a rungu (Walking stick) and ear plugs; all in his world. The other week I met him at the junction along Limuru road at Gigiri. He must be so attached or even addicted to his walking I bet. Then there is the Chinese lady I meet in the evenings. She too must be so attached to her daily walks.

In the mornings, I meet this old African guy running or rather almost walking. He is so determined that I often stand to look at him fearing he might triple and fall. In the evenings I also meet this guy who is more of black American doing his evening running and really think that he too, like the old man, loves the running thing.

It is funny that today I also decided to run. The difference however is that I ran all the way to the bus picking point along Kiambu road. All the way I was trying to dissipate the excess pressure that built up inside of me yesterday after a tragic loss. Yesterday was Sunday. A very dark and gloomy day. I lost something I am so attached to. I don’t know how my friends could react if they woke up one morning and discover they cannot run or walk any longer.

Attachments are very strong. It is a bond that is created over time. At least I understand myself and this thing to do with bonds. I get attached to my things. I have special attachments to my family and closest friends. No wonder I told them of my loss immediately I learnt of it yesterday.

I had my gadget in the pocket throughout the day. What happened in Githurai is unexplainable. How a thief made it possible to pickpocket my phone is a thing I have failed to understand to this moment. The phone was safely in the pocket all along. But then Githurai 45 came knocking and all things changed. Stealing the phone meant stealing everything.

As I ran along the road today, I missed the cool music I could be listening to as I run and breathe this fresh air. I couldn’t come to terms to the dads I lost with the theft. I have exclusively chosen my fathers over the long haul as Sunny Bindra calls them. I lost my favorite books with the phone. Books I love to read while in the vehicle. I lost my photos. Not just photos but our story. How we started our journey as a business, how I have grown since my studentship days to this far to photos that give a glimpse of those places I have travelled to over time.

I don’t miss the Facebook or even WhatsApp thing because I will get them if I decide to get myself a smart phone again. But I miss some chats I had kept that I could read and laugh and be happy. I lost my messages of inspiration from friends. I miss the tabs I had kept to be reading one at a time. I can’t bear the thought that I lost some love poems I had taken time to write and never thought to keep, back them up in drive or even email. I have not shared them with anybody either.

That explains the fact that I have every reason to be mad at the thief. I can’t do my quick research during article writing. I lost my contacts. I have this Indian guy I had planned to strike a deal with and I am not sure if I will get to strike the deal any time soon. The Chinese contacts I had created, the Malaysian friends, Nigerian friends and many more from other countries. At least I will still get in touch with some of them. I am sure of that. The only problem is that it will not be that soon because I need to heal and in the process I will be in the general ward with my “mulika mwizi” (those small analog phones).

I know many of us could connect with my story. What could happen if your car was stolen today? What if your gadget with specifications unheard of this side of the Sahara were stolen too? Actually people get serious depression from losing their so much coveted things. Imagine that your lovely girlfriend or boyfriend is leaving you with all those attachments you got with them. Some people could not love to even think about it. But we better start thinking and preparing for them.

In the movie Three Idiots, there is the professor who is nicknamed Virus. At some point, he tells some guy called Joy Robo who is so obsessed with making remote controlled robot drones that he won’t graduate. He is far behind schedule in his project. When Dr. Virus asks him if he is ready with the drone, Joy asks for more time because his dad had been sick. He loves his dad so much. Dr. Virus tells him, “Mr. Robo, my son died in a train accident on Sunday afternoon and I taught engineering on Monday morning.” Imagine this quick bounce back with the attachment parents have with their children.

I thought I was that strong like Dr. Virus but I realized last week that my attachments are a little stronger and intoxicating. I love my gadgets, I love my friends and I love my family. I get attached with them so strongly. Perhaps this loss needed to come to help me realize that my attachments with gadgets needs some revision. It is all vanity as the teacher says. Perhaps I will not do that with family and friends. I still need to love them exclusively. They consoled me in my time of loss.

I almost get so attached to my gadgets the way people get attached to their pets. They mourn them when they die. Others do funerals for them. Is it sensible anyway? I can’t tell, it is for you to ponder. Only that I want us to start thinking seriously about our attachments and pains of loss.

We need to be prepared for anything. The best or the worst. The greatest thing we can do is to understand that we and all the things we have have a time tag. We need to be prepared because that time is never far away. Perhaps the phone could have not been lost in my case, but it could have fallen down and ‘died’ there and then. It could have fallen in water or even stop working by itself. Perhaps having that understanding could help us move on from such situation when they do finally happen to us.

There is always tomorrow. And we have to heal from the pains of today to make the best of that tomorrow when it does finally come. We need to be prepared for anything anytime and be ready for the healing process. I will talk about the Caucasian man in details in the coming days.

End

Copyright @ 2018.

Geoffrey Ndege

Geoffrey Ndege

Geoffrey Ndege is the Editor and topical contributor for the Daily Focus. He writes in the areas of Science, Politics, Policy, Technology, Current Affairs, Opinion, Agriculture, Energy, Education, Entrepreneurship, Governance, International Emerging Issues, Society, and culture. For featuring, promotions or support write to us at ndegegeoffrey@gmail.com

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