WAZEE WA SIKU HIZI

The old people of nowadays have a problem with our generation. I am not talking about age here. I refer to the good men and women who are scared of change especially in fashion and technology. They disapprove of everything youngsters do. Sometimes justly so but more often than not they are just scared… And it did not just start recently; it began when we were born. Ask anybody who was born after 1990 and they will tell you that, in more than one occasion, we have been referred to as “watoto wa siku hizi”; the children of nowadays. We have been branded as the manner less generation that watches violence and sex on TV… and we do not respect our elders. Flash forward to approximately 15 years later… there we are in our early 20s and the “watoto wa siku hizi” has metamorphosized into “vijana wa siku hizi”.

 It is true that my generation has done many wrong things including twerking, skinny jeans and killing letter “s” by replacing it with “x” (xorry, am not apologizing!).

You do not see us condemning your generation when Aden Duale exposes his small brains and big mouth on national television, do you? Or when Shebesh and Kidero are slapping each other senseless? Or when some genius decides to embezzle tax-payers money? Do you see us shaking our heads and condemning the whole lot of you going “tsk tsk tsk! Wazee wa siku hizi!”? Many of the Wazee wa siku hizi have done a lot of harm to the society too. Well, we have out done you but that doesn’t give you the right to judge us blindly. All these feelings I have “caught” come from a single incident where my hair was on the spotlight…

I am a proud owner of a curl activated semi-Mohawk that I spent my own money to make. For those wazee wa siku hizi who do not know what that means, it’s almost similar to the box shaving style only that I have put some chemicals on mine to make it look awesome. My problems started at the salon where I was having it treated. That is right, we go to salons nowadays. A woman in her midlife crisis could not contemplate for the life of her what a man was doing under a drier.

“They do that nowadays madam… it is normal” the salon lady tried to come to my aid.

“Vijana wa siku hizi…” she shook her head in disapproval. She went ahead to give everyone who cared to listen a lesson in morality. Well, I have seen rapists and thieves who are loyal to the old fashioned kinyozi with old fashioned hairstyles.

Things took a turn for the worse when I boarded a matatu in Eldoret. It was in the evening and the wise old people of today were coming from work. I could sense more than ten pairs of eyes staring at my freshly done hair. Everyone had decided to keep their opinion to themselves were it not for Mama nani who had coincidentally followed me from the salon.

“Mimi nipate kijana wangu amekaranga nywele!” (Should I find my son frying his hair!). The all too familiar voice broke the tense silence. And just like that the “vijana wa siku hizi” massacre arose. Dreadlocks and skinny jeans were put on the table and devoured hungrily and angrily. Examples were given of naked girls in the streets and in the villages alike. Universities were cursed as the breeding ground for irresponsible youth. The driver even slowed down and threw his thoughts on the topic. He predicted that the next time we meet I will have ear-rings on my nose and a tattoo of the devil on my fore head!

I am twenty one, the hair on my head is yet to fall out when balding sets in, let me play with my hair! Plus I am not trying to impress the wazee wa siku hizi, this is for my future wife!