It’s been three days now, I can’t find the remote. The trips to the TV are beginning to wear me out. Last night alone, I was sentenced to watching comedians that are not funny any more because I am tired of those trips to the TV.
I have turned everything in the house upside down, inside out, but the remote seems to have mastered its hide and seek skills, I wish it was a phone; I would just call it and find it.
Thinking of what I can do to save this situation, my mind wonders and I catch myself pondering on the things whose value I realized only after I had lost them.
It never occurred to me that a matchbox held the future of my supper in its hands until one day when I came back home with pangs of hunger, dashed to the kitchen; gas was there, the tomatoes and onions were there, the spaghetti was ready to be cooked-only to look for the match box in vain and to make matters worse, the shops in the neighborhood were closed.
Then, I remembered the night when the “askari” almost shot me because he thought I was a thief breaking into my house – I had forgotten my keys at office- office was closed, home was closed- my phone battery was dead. I slept on the veranda only to be greeted with judgmental looks at office the following morning when I appeared at office in the same clothes looking haggard.
When I received a phone call that one of my friends was dead, I was grieved but most of all, I was guilty, this was October of another year but I had not replied to his Christmas Facebook message- how could I have known that was going to be his last Christmas?
Then one morning, I boarded a taxi only to realize that I had forgotten the purse at home; good thing is that this particular handbag I was holding had a hole in it, so coins had been dropping inside the lining. I tore the hole a little more so I managed to get a hold of some, I counted the coins three times but the results were the same- the total was nine hundred shillings, to reach my destination without any hassle; I needed one hundred shillings more – my heart and mind went on a steeple chase. The last thing I wanted to do that morning was fight with a conductor. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I was seated between two ladies, but the one on my right seemed like the more approachable one. I turned and gave her a sheepish look, cleared my throat and mumbled. “What are you saying?” she asked loudly. I turned exploring the taxi with my eyes praying and hoping that no one was eavesdropping. I stammered as I narrated my ordeal. I could feel her eyes piercing through my forehead after a long stare; she gave me two hundred shilling accompanied with these words, “Next time learn how to greet people.”
Even though I have not found the remote yet, I thank God for the days I had it and above all that its disappearance has reminded me of the valuable lesson of treasuring the things I have when I still have them.