I began coming home on Saturdays a couple of weeks ago, I reasoned that I go drinking on Thursday and I go chilling on Friday which usually involves drinking so on Saturday I’ll be tired and all I’ll need is a couple of hours of sleep, maybe a good movie or series and then I close my eyes to the week, wake up on Sunday and have time and energy to do something, an assignment, a dissertation anything. Plus am usually pretty broke by Saturday, very so we all win(my wallet is so empty inside sometimes i can'y help but fell it's a human being).
This i think is a solid plan on so many levels, it cuts down on drinking, it cuts down on spending and gives me a whole extra day a gift of a Sunday So i came home on Saturday a couple of weeks ago and I found that the house was empty, not a whisper of life to be found in it. No-one else had this discipline that I seemed to posses so everybody had gone out and all I was left with was the TV, and some food. I have never understood an empty house, in fact all my life I have had to share a room, I’m like one of those Indian kids Russell peters would make fun of. The white kids would show up in school and complain about being punished, how? The Indian would ask.
”I got sent to my room!”
“you have your own room?!!”
but the thing about being cramped for so long is you come to get used to periods(of stuffiness.) you come to feel like fresh air really isn't and not be able to sleep unless someone is sucking the air out of the room or house you live in. Our house carries 5 people between the ages of 21 and 25 so its usually pretty noisy and its impossible to get the TV all to yourself. Dinner can be a rumbuctious affair, I say can because am not sure what the hell rumbuctious means but it seems like a nice onomatopeaic fit. So i'll come home on Saturday and have a DVD to watch a series for some of the past month. Something good and smart enough that I feel like watching it can be equivalenced with reading a book. I'll put that on and watch an episode.
When time for supper rolls around I find my way to the kitchen and I have this buffet like quantity of liver(I love liver, just apparently not mine.) I have the opportunity to heap it Everest high and make my way slowly and purposefully up the mountain one shovelful at a time until am scraping plate and wondering where it all went but its too late(this is somewhat funnier if too late is mispronounced to sound like toilet.) but there's no pleasure in that at just that time. I serve a healthy portion not too much and then I go have the kind of dinner that I used to all the time before we moved, a TV dinner. where you carry your plate and plop your food right in front of the television like an offering to the god that brings you entertainment and provides escapism.
The images on the screen flicker on and off, the scenes change and a lot of different colours leak from the screen, they leak right onto your plate making that white ugali red and blue, green and purple, pink and yellow. Lighting it up before leaving it dark when they have one of those intermissions that are the equivalent of a blink. And then they are both over.
Its about this time that loneliness comes a-calling. Then because there is no-one home I assume there's nobody home all over the city and that making a phone call makes no sense. I wouldn't want to call someone at a club. They pick up because they don't want to be rude or they really want to talk to you. Then you have a shouting match where instead of e, ehh? Becomes the most common vowel. After a while you realise that this phone call isn’t adding much value to anyone unless you get a drunk willing to spill all her secrets and all she needed was a sympathetic ear or the subject of those secrets to say hi.
But a lot of the time there are a lot of people having a chilled out evening at home, people to call and talk to and pass a few minutes of this dreadfully long night with. Or text and wait for them to come up with a witty response before you have to, but I like witty responses enough to wait for them. Then I fall asleep before the conversation is at an end(being in bed always makes me sleep.) then towards the morning of the night my cousin will check in with his friends after a night out. They try to be quiet or they don't. Am not sure anyway I always wake up, say hi, turnover and sleep. Then I wake up on Sunday and dispense sage advice distilled from all my years of failure.
I go down to get a cup of tea. I read this article in the nation or standard a couple of weeks ago about the adverse effects of sugar. So I decided to cut down on my sugar intake. The reasoning behind this was that I take too much salt, way too much and I know. Every time I eat with someone thy make this comment about how salt will kill me and I know. I know the dangers I know about high blood pressure and right then I feel like all those smokers who are told by everyone they know that lung cancer will kill them. But food without salt doesn't taste as good, in fact I like salt so much that there's this one fairy tale from my childhood that I remember so clearly but no-one else seems to so they think I made it up. It was a child's version of king lear I think.
The story went, this old king with 3 daughters wanted to find out who loves him most. He asked them to give him presents and they did. The first born gold. The second silver. The third salt. The king was so angry at her he banished her from the kingdom. After all the plot filler they put into these things somehow she became the chief chef at the palace when the king was holding a state dinner, an important shindig where maybe he was negotiating a truce or expansion of territories or something equally important. With the reckless disregard for consequences that fairy tale princesses show she decided not to salt even one dish in that whole feast. Nobody could stand it, noone could eat. And the king asks for this chef to be brought forward and when he sees her and realises it was his daughter he breaks down and forgives her seeing that she really loves him. Does anyone else know this story? Or did I make it up?
Anyway the reason I cut down on my sugar intake is so I can keep salt levels where they are. Am sure that you can't exchange health risks like that. A drug addict can't say for example let me cut down on the meth so I can get more crack in my veins, I see that's not how it works but it makes me feel better to be doing at least this. I cut down my sugar intake by nearly 50% and the result of this is that the amount of sugar in my teacup is a distant echo. I feel there must be sugar in there but it's lie an unsubstantiated rumour, you have heard it from so many sources you feel sure its true but then again you can never be sure. I feel absolutely certain there's sugar in my cup but its such a faint whisper that I drink the rest of the tea on faith.
Anyway those are some of the changes am going through right now, am not sure for how long but for right now sugars and Saturdays stand changed.