THIS TIME I KNOW

Because I hate rules I wasn’t going to write a 2015 summary. Everyone on Twitter is writing one, TV has those DSTV adverts that go on like a dream telling us how 2015 was so awesome. I was going to let 2015 slide by and move on into 2016 like it never happened. But it did. 2015 happened.

I want this to be well constructed, beautifully executed and real but the truth is I might not be able to be well constructed some times. I looked at the date and I knew this year is over. It is a good thing but at the same time I am sad. I am sad and terrified. Life has been like a tunnel to an unknown destination and the further I have gone down the tunnel the darker it has become. I can’t see anymore. On my good days all I have are instinct and hope.

I am scared. Every time I look at the watch that hangs off my skinny wrist I get scared. I don’t know when I became so apprehensive, so sheltered and so jumpy. I am scared of being alone and at the same time I am scared of people getting close. I am scared of losing and I am even more scared of what I will have left to do after I win. I have become so scared that I have become this special blend of busy. I am always doing something. Always. I am never doing nothing. This weekend it caught up with me. I had a headache that made the back of my head feel heavy and I knew I just needed to sit down and stop. Stop being so scared and actually start being grateful for who I am and who I am becoming.

They say a man who goes to a brothel is looking for God. I looked for God this year. I discovered that he isn’t in the arms of a lover, isn’t at the bottom of a bottle or at the end of an overnight prayer meeting. He is everywhere. I found him in those silent moments when it was just me, openly telling him I had been to the brothel and ended up empty, broke and broken. I found him in the fact that I had no real job and yet all my needs were met. I found him in my ability to smile even if my life was seemingly going up in flames. I found him in my dreams and passions. Nobody has to find God for you. Not your Pastor, not your Imam, or Rabbi. Nobody can tell you how to love him or look for him. Some people are born with a feeling of righteousness and it is natural for them. Some of us have to battle, search and wonder. Some of us rebel and question. Some of us lose ourselves to the darkness because it is all we have ever known. But right in the brothel, when the sweat of filth is still dripping; he is there. Right in the brothel you see that it isn’t not your love that matters but his.

I never know if first dates will become second ones. I haven’t figured out the love thing. Maybe it is because I laugh too loud or that I express myself too much. Maybe ladies are supposed to watch their words as much as they watch their diets and then blow up immediately they get the ring. I’m already fat and I already talk too much. In 2015 people are afraid of feelings, they embrace thoughts and bodies but they avoid feelings. I have had to admit that I am emotional. Strong willed and quick witted but emotional. That underneath the creativity and energy I am just human; just flesh, blood and the occasional ingrown hair. Maybe I fell in love with moments more than I fell in love with people this year. Maybe I got too reactive at the wrong moments because of suppressed emotion. I haven’t given up. Feelings are nice. Those moments when conversation is flowing, the pizza is hot and the stars are out; those moments are worth it. Out of 365 days of anxiety, those are the few days when I feel safe. Those are the few days I will keep believing in.

I have written all year. I have had silent moments because sometimes even I don’t know what to say. I have started and successfully finished my first short story. I am so proud of it. I haven’t read it yet and when I do I hope it blows me away and reminds me to stay passionate about my craft. I have become a better writer. I have thrown too many commas up in here then become addicted to semi colons. I have had the least likes ever and I haven’t stopped. I have actually started to believe in the voice I carry. I met Ope and artsandafrica.com. Those people are brilliant brilliant brilliant. I have no idea why they let me write with them and every time I load the page and see my name associated with theirs I thank the universe. 2016 I want to write a book. I don’t know whether to wear cleavage to its launch or not. Maybe I will sell more copies if I do. Maybe I will be taken more seriously if I don’t. I don’t even have a plan or an idea. I am currently suffering from writers’ block but I just know I will do it.

In the confines of dark secrets, dingy rooms, oily shawarmas, ugly cries and strange laughter; friendships are made. You don’t know how it happens, but it just does. It is possible to hate your friends, as possible as it is to hurt them. I learned that men don’t like apologising because real apologies suck. I learned to swallow my pride and apologise. I have had the same friends for years but this was the year I put the value on friendship; it is priceless. Allow me to boast that I have friends that don’t give up on me, friends that cook with my family, that sacrifice a whole day to simply enjoy my company. I have friends that listen, friends that I listen to, friends that give me advice that I don’t always like. I have good friends. One of them drove across Lusaka to give me bracelets. One brought me vodka when I said I was having a bad day; I wasn’t going to drink it but it is the thought that counts. I have a friend who texted me a recipe for cream spinach on her honeymoon. Another split her last money so that I could get home safe. I have a friend who is irritated by my comma abuse and I am really trying to control myself for his sake. Also have one friend who I almost never see but she always has time for my rants. There is my nigga Roxy who has proven to be man’s best friend for real; she is currently barking at the neighbour’s cat. The value they pour into my life makes me want to be better.

A new day is better than being stuck in the same one. I guess that is why I am excited about the coming year. I like new things. New things are unexpected, full of hope and there is still the chance to make them fit you. I hope the New Year fits me. There are many things that I have worked hard for and achieved this year. But there also many things I have received without being so busy and sweating so hard. I have been handed blessings and opportunities. Good things and bad things have the same chances of happening. Maybe it is time to shed the fear and adorn some courage. Time to look back at the girl I used to be and embrace the woman I am. God knows she needs it, she gets tired and sometimes she needs a hug and some tea.

Someone told me “Kandi, you deserve to have who and what makes you happy.” I replied “I know.”

Maybe it is time to actually start believing it and finally stop short changing myself. I may have said something similar last year. But this time I know.