I would go to Uganda. They say a fifth of Uganda is covered in water. I would look for some of the unpopular water. A river or a lake. With a nice old balcony overlooking the water. Better yet if its surrounded by the water as some places are there.
A place with no human contact. Or minimal human contact. And a boat that can be summoned at my will.
And that’s what I would do. Stare at the water, read a book with tea, black mint tea preferably, as my partner in crime. And then stare at the water some more. Take pictures and some more of the same place but different angles. Trying to be the photographer I think I’ll one day be.
And then I would forget. About everything and everyone. I would forget about my semester, about the start of 2019, and how intense it has been.
I would forget about anyone who matters. Really forget about them. And concentrate on myself. Deep in Africa alone. And for that moment in time, only I will matter.
Then I’ll forget about my life. Especially this phase of becoming. Especially these times when I don’t even know where my life is at. I’ll forget about my dreams. The unlikely ones, the ambitious ones, the possible ones, the ones I’m working towards.
I’ll forget about who i’m supposed to be. But before that, I’ll forget who I am. Not that I have an idea anyway. I’ll forget my attempts at getting the things I want, and how successful they’ve been so far.
I’ll forget about my fear. My greatest fear is not succeeding at what I think I should succeed at. About this deep seated fear of getting a C instead of an A in my upcoming exams, and how it doesn’t make a difference anyway.
I’ll forget about my worry of what next after the next 11 days. What do we do with ourselves then?
I’ll forget about tinder. And its myriad of surprises in the middle of its inactivity. I’ll forget about Facebook, and the kind of identity I’m getting there.
I’ll forget about being Kenyan. This is an abusive relationship I’m willing to trade for another. I’ll forget about how we laugh at out trauma and collective suffering.
And for that moment, I’ll be a bird. Or a chimpanzee. Or anything really. I’ll just be. No stress from yesteryears. And no worries or anxieties about the future.
For that moment seated in that boat, I’ll smile. Because of nothing. Because of having escaped it all, even if its for that one second.
For that moment, I’ll let my mind rest. And sleep. Our worry will be that we aren’t worried about anything.
I hope its cold. The kind that will make me drink lots of tea. And I hope I’ll be able to watch films from Mali. Their brazenness. Their audacity. Their sarcasm. Their pride. And their mad story telling skills.
For that moment, I’ll just be. No one. Someone. Anyone. In the middle of somewhere. With herself. Because right now, I don’t feel as if I have myself.