When I was growing up it was an anathema to show your wealth, bandying it about like a golden robe that all you meet should fall instantly to your feet prostrating their person before you in veneration of you and your wealth. This is not a diatribe against those haves, no it is about those who shall enjoy their wealth in the quiet reserved manner that I believe is incumbent borne of years of hard work and perseverance which I admire immensely for this is the manner I wish to be perceived when the money train does finally make it to my stop with sufficient remnants for me to move to the ‘burbs and sit in the garden penning my best-selling books as I watch the birds sing in the 2 acre garden that is my back yard.
New money, the stench of which, evident from the purveyors obnoxiously parading their new found wealth, in rims, fancy cars, swanky apartments, mobile phones and the ever present and particularly annoying band of hangers on whose motivation, very clear, purpose being to act obsequiously hoping that by hanging out with this person perhaps shall magically cross the valley to join them in the promised land and end up looking the worse for it. I do prefer to be the vehicle to my own success and not make it on someone else’s coat tails; you do know how odoriferous the exhaust from a person who misguidedly mixed several continental dishes then proceeded to drown the result with a cocktail of questionable content in an effort to look sophisticated is, right? But I digress.
Excesses were punished severely in my day. What do you mean you want a transistor radio for your bedroom? Such was reserved for the community room or as it is referred to in this day, the living room. There was a black and white television, one radio, and several sets of sofas lining the walls of said room, we happened to be a full football team, if you include both mom and dad in the count so seating was at a premium, the main armchair, dad’s, no one else ever sat there, and to his left mum, the rest of the rug rats fought for what remained of the seats and no arguing was allowed.
I recall that a staple supper consisted of sukuma wiki [kales] and ugali, most of the week, and on odd days we would be lucky enough to be treated to beans or beef stew with rice, but never more than the one day of the week. So you can only imagine the anticipation of the days when we heard dad driving in his Peugeot 504 with suitably loud, aggressive revving as only a vehicle of that caliber could issue as he parked it in the garage for the night and us rushing to receive him, taking his briefcase and whatever shopping he may have brought home that evening. I would mention that he always came home at the same time every evening, such that you could set your watch by it? No? That shall be an entire article to be penned on a day more auspicious.
He had his group of friends, of means we could not discern, such dignity, come over to his humble abode, not that he could not afford colour television, he saw no need for he extravagance, perhaps he understood that he would have to put his progeny through school, which was not free, all the way till university, might have crossed his mind. Goats routinely lost their lives, or as my friend puts it, they lost network, on national holidays and more so over the Christmas holidays where we did indeed gorge ourselves on goodies like chapatti, soda and Tree Top which on other days would be a most limited commodity on any other day. Perhaps this was the reason that we did look forward to the end of the year. Now with all this being available to me any day that I wish to partake in it, the end of the year ceases to be magical and those of the new money look to exotic holiday destinations, charged on their credit cards to remote locations like Lamu, Zanzibar, South Africa and their ilk, seems to be fast becoming tradition.
Should we pick the mantle from our parents in the living of a modest life even when we feel great pressure to proclaim that we are on our way to making it? How do we distinguish faux wealth from true wealth? Has life today perhaps become all about what front you project, where you live and all about what car you drive or where your children go to school, even if that means you go to bed hungry, so long as you have the latest motor vehicle you get validation?
Is it acceptance within certain circles we seek? Have we lost our intrinsic value and now only have a single yardstick to measure person, failing that we have friends we have family that love us beyond measure. I suppose it is the grounding that we lose to the pursuit of material wealth we do not notice the slip and slide that leads to tears of keeping up with the Joneses by borrowing from Mary. It’s a time to reflect on self, find what success means to you, not looking at society to provide the yardstick to measure your progress. Call it lack of ambition but if all I require to be successful in my own eyes is a group of friends who will take a bullet for me, food in my tummy and a roof over my head, then society can take a long walk off a very short plank.
Shiko-Msa
savvy
val
Miss Cheri
Mushki
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atii the goats lost network……………..you may need help, as in serious help.
Yes, bedfellows in a way. I believe validation comes from different things, depending on who you are, how you were brought up and what you have grown into.
A lot of people find their validation in being able to show people that they have “arrived”. Either because they had a deprived childhood or because they are surrounded by an ovver-achieving person. For others it is entirely the reverse. They thrive on being humble because they come from a background of humility. Others strive for humility because their fathers had none.
In my case, validation is a mixture of things, and money is defintely one of them. BUT not in the sense that I want people to see the money. Mostly in the sense that I want to be able to give back to my parents, not have to worry about my son’s future and treat myself to the good things once in a while. I don’t care who is watching and I don’t care what they think.
Very deep post. I really don’t know what more I can add.
I know what you mean… Peolple who truly have do not have to flaunt it.
My picture of success does not include hangers-on, or me being a hanger’s on… it is about being contented that I lived my life the best way I know how. It is about doing the best to help others where I can, a comfortable house I can call my own even though no one ever has to see it..
Interesting read, it is like in all homes, my dad too has his seat that no one sits on, even when he ain’ there.
We should most certainly pick the mantle from our parents who’s level of success I’d say was much higher and yet they did not show it. My dad for instance educated his whole brood of 20 children (It was polygamous). At some point we were all in school at the same time! Spread out through primary secondary uni and various colleges. And yet we all got an equal chance.
Mum was a teacher and what was the teacher’s salary those days? Yet she always managed to save and do stuff for herself. True our standards of living are much higher but we’ve also elevated ourselves to some ridiculous level. For example lots of us grew up on Githeri or sima sukuma and a glass of water. But today we want sima sukuma AND meat or fish downed with mala or soda. We do not want to go eat githeri in restaurants or even at home yet that’s the stuff that brought us up. It has to be githeri special. No wonder we’re so stressed!
That black and white telly of yours. Was it a Great Wall? I can bet my little finger it was ama?