DIFFERENT WORLDS, SAME RYTHM

At this party, I felt angelic as I was coming in, it was an outdoor kind of event, surrounded by art

pieces, and there was a grass area where people sat on stacks of hay, Maasai lessos and wooden

chairs carelessly arranged on the ground, which gave an energy of thoughtfulness and messy like

art. A musical live band was on stage and everyone seemed to be in their own zone, there was

laughter on one side, silence on the other, as majority of the crowd seemed to form small groups,

others enjoyed their own company, yet you could tell each one felt free here, some smoked

cigarettes, a habit they had long surrendered to fate,others smelled of whisky and with no

pressure to be somewhere else but here, an indication of how much freedom this place gave

them, one could easily assume they had been doing this all their life.

We made contact with my friend who had invited me there. With a smile as warm as a heated

pool on a cold winter day, he walked over to me and we embraced. He guided me to a seat

among the poker players, who were quietly focused on their game. As I settled in, we shared

nods of recognition with a familiarity that needed no words. When the next game started, I joined

in—while I couldn’t save the world by winning, I could certainly challenge the group. While

playing, I noticed each player revealing their character: some maintained a practiced poker face,

others were goofy or playful. Background music filled the air, setting the perfect atmosphere. By

the third game, I won and laid down my last card, stepping out to let the elimination round

continue.

As I sat watching the game unfold, someone approached, greeted me, and asked, “Can I join you?”

"Let’s wait for them to finish, then you will join the next game,"I said.

Since we had time to talk. He introduced himself; so, did I. Common courtesy. I could not

keep my eyes off him. He had this air about him that was intriguing, that glued you to him. It’s

like he wore his personality on his sleeves; it said, 'this is all of me'. I am confident with who I

am, so who are you? Colorful is how I could describe him. His name is as unique as his

personality. Life of a party. The first thing you would notice about him was his dressing. He wore

colors only a teenage boy discovering himself would, but somehow, he looked good, like they

were made for him.

When he smiled or laughed, his eyes were filled with good energy. He was as radiant as a young

man, yet he was past being called a youth in Kenyan law. Never have I ever met a man with so

much color and yet looked that manly. It’s like every color was a radiant reflection of who he

was within, full of joy and love. He was the type to attract a crowd, yet somehow comfortable

being alone. It’s like he had mastered what freedom was, what living was. You know, when you

see someone and they seem to have the manuscript about life. They definitely don’t have it, but

you are sure they must have had a page of the manuscript somewhere hidden, at least to figure

out enough of their life for some life lessons.

In our first conversation, I was hooked. I knew this was the person I was going to spend the rest

of that evening with, as my friend led a live band as the lead singer, a voice that could make the heavens be in awe, or as a Kiswahili phrase says ,'Sauti ya kumtoa nyoka pangoni .'  A gem so rare that it felt like only the well deserved could have a pass on hearing his voice. I had come to support a friend and it felt like I would leave with an additional one. And this new friend of mine loved music, and when he was on the dance floor, you could not help but see the traction he pulled to watch him as he danced on his own; it was as if the music was dancing to his tune as he got carried away to a place where no one else existed except for peace and tranquility.

Many friendships have been forged in the gym, where I spend most of my days, but for him, it

was only natural to meet in a place like this. I later learned that he had asked my friend about me

before approaching me. We exchanged numbers, and most of our meetings took place at different

parties. Since he was an art lover like me, we quickly bonded over shared interests.

As naturally as friendship progressed, I learned he had started running and we arranged for

a Ngong Hill run. As soon as we arrived, I instantly regretted it. I saw the steep incline at the entry, and my knees went weak. “You suggested this run, we are going,” he said as though he had read my mind. Although I usually don’t back down from a challenge, I knew I was in over my head. I still went; however, as he grew irritated that I wasn’t running, my body and mind weren't in the same page, let alone the same book. My mind was willing, but my body said, 'not today, sis.'

Anyway, I went jogging on a few hills, more fast walking. "You did good by the way, more than I expected, " he said in a congratulatory tone, as though he hadn't told me off, the first few kilometers. And after the run, I noticed his attitude had changed, blame it on the endorphins. He became more thoughtful and open in a way I hadn’t known before. It was like reading a book; where you get to read the whole story, and you know it by heart, then someone tells you to get the next book, and it’s intriguing. But it’s still him in another book with a whole different story.

In that new environment, our conversation shifted, and we discussed life and the projects we had in mind. He then offered to be my life coach. Although we didn’t explore the life coach idea further, he taught me something I carry with me to this day: never back down from something you’ve planned, even if no one or just one person shows up—do it as though a thousand people are watching. I’ve tried to live by that code. It’s not easy, but what can I say? At least I get to live by that code with one other person to share a laugh with.

My friend and I are like two different people, with extremes of our own, but what I know is that, I can

connect with him in his world, but he would not survive in my world. His world smells of

freedom, and mine reeks of years of searching what freedom means to me. He is a person

who never picks up calls, but be assured, when you meet, your interaction will be genuine and

intense, enough to keep you going for the next 6 months. He is the kind of person your friends

meet and think you might actually be losing your way. To accept this friend is to reconcile with

the fact that he will never fit in the environment I thrive in, but to always know I could escape

into his world for a bit, because for him, there is no place he would rather be.