THE SOUND OF SILENCE.

The times are changing. Change is always upon us no matter what and inevitably we always realize that time has nothing in common with a tortoise. A cheetah may be, although I cannot claim with much confidence that the latter can levitate, later on take to the skies.

On one of those cold city mornings, in a congested suburb east of the capital, I lie in one of those single room shacks that go for a quarter million a month, albeit being the size and feel of a sheep pen. I am haphazardly strewn on the bed, time check is about 7.30 am and am beginning to squint my eyes, beseeching them to make love to the light. My sister on the other hand is on her way out being the early bird that she is. The previous night, she had brought my nephew along.
He is barely three years old my nephew. At that age however, he can operate a Tecno tablet with much ease, select a DVD of his choice, slide it into the player and skip, forward or eject when in need. I told you the times are changing.

When my nephew finally bids farewell to my sister, he issues several curt commands.
"Bring me Yorghut from the supermarket." he says.
"And cold soda plus crisps," he adds.

At the age of ten, I barely had an idea that a place called a supermarket exists. I would have probably sliced my tongue pronouncing a single word for dried pieces of fried Irish potatoes and I cannot certainly say that I had tasted an artificially frozen drink.

You see!

What I and my peers knew was the feel of cold stream water on our naked bodies as we took a dip in the afternoon sun, having slipped away from the garden, away from the watchful eyes of our parents. What we really knew then was the angelic taste of cold yellow sweet potatoes, consumed with a sugarless cup of concentrated milk, fresh from mother cow's udder. A typical meal was sweet potatoes (unpeeled and in their natural state) alone, and on a good day, accompanied with a thick sauce of green peas...

Hell, I did not own a phone until late into university. If you did watch the full Back to the Future trilogy, You have a slight idea of how I feel.

I am in no way envious of the current generation and their privileges. in fact, I would pay several drops of my ounce plasma to get back to the days when we were just as guileless as new born babes. The time when entertainment constituted of ancient stories around the fireside about ogres and mythical monsters (am not referring to Apocalypse or The Joker). To those times when we roasted fresh cobs of Ebikyoori, like giant marshmallows (i have no idea what the latter taste like, like I told you, the times are changing). Back then, stories of three year olds playing candy crush or Fast Racing were stories reserved for the English Bible. Back then, life was amazingly black and white... but not any more.

Nostalgia is bad for anyone, even an armature blogger. May bee that's why I should kick you out of my head and bid you adieu. i remain yours truly, the man that gives sound to silence.