For the past 7 weeks or so, I have been trapped in a cocoon of official clothing. Nothing but office-wear. I got no complaints, none at all. It saves me from a whole lot of laundry, you know. So for two months I’ve been that young fellow, walking along these dusty streets of a town stereotyped for alcoholism, vicious women and (most recently and embarrassingly) chicken-violators. First off all let me categorically state that animals have rights too, and that I am boycotting all chicken products till this vacation is over. Hatutakula kuku, kwa namna yoyote inayotambulika.
I digress. I’ve been that young lad, who everyone is used to straight jeans, black sneaks, and a goth tee. That’s always been my brand. So shock on my PK guy’s black behind when I turn up to buy my usual morning PK Lemon Ice and I’m dressed like I’m about to address the UN General Assembly. Come to think of it, if I ever got that chance at this age, maybe I should just dress in tree bark, animal skins and leaves coz, you know, all this stereotyping that Africans are behind and whatnot. All I want to do is fit in, yoh!
It was kind of foreign, considering my liberal clothing ways prior to this engagement. It took an entire wardrobe overhaul! *looks sadly at wallet* Strangely enough, I’ve never been able to bring myself to slot these formal attire into my wardrobe. It’s almost like it was shouting out to me “Don’t do this to me bro! We’ve come too far for you to turn on me like this!” And trust me, we have come real far, that wardrobe and I. from times when I would lock myself up in it to hide from mum, or the elder siblings, or just to play around with matches. Well, that should probably explain some of the holes in clothes that I got properly spanked for.
It felt even more foreign when on some forlorn day the universe conspires to throw every single former primary school teacher and friends of my mother into my path! Whether it’s just walking out of the estate, getting out of court for lunch or walking home, EVERYWHERE! Adults enquiring into your life and whatnot, I hate that! Especially that awkward moment when I was stopped by one former teacher, then another happened to walk right on by at the same time. Trust me, I have never imagined such a double interrogation…in the middle of the street and midday traffic! Agony defined.
To be honest though, it’s going to be tough getting back to the usual fashion code. I know if my wardrobe had a voice, this house would be shaken right now by the mother of all groans. But hey, we’re only growing older, no backtracking here. Things have to change some time. And laundry has to be avoided at all costs!