Cost of Friendship 

​Ever thought about Cost of Friendship? 

By any chance you are a Kenyan reading this, you belong to some WhatsApp group owned by some bossy chap who by extension imagines he owns all of you because that WhatsApp group is his. He started it and God perhaps granted him absolute Powers to run it. Absolute Powers corrupts the mind absolutely for that chap will wake up at 4 am in the morning before everyone else can notice and remove Ramadhan because Ramadhan said “hello” to a random girl in a handwriting cooler than the admin’s and feeling threatened he goes ahead to flex his powers by acting to safeguard his inadequacy. Sadly there is not a thing you can do since your hands are tied at only one option; lefting. And lefting is a lonely path.

But that’s beside the point. The point rather you happened to come across the following Narrative which second to the githeri man’s fiasco was shared the most of times;

“My  house is about to be locked on date 29th just because I was not able to raise rent.I  post it on fb seeking help, i get 2 likes zero comment.  

So i send 100 messages to my contact list requesting for a loan ya 15, 000/=.  Sadly only 10ppl  reply.  6 out of the 10 are claiming they can’t help. The 4 who can help tell me ningoje waende bank kesho.  Kesho mmoja ako mteja,  the other 3 never pick.  So jioni imefika,  door is locked.  

_I have no where to sleep.  I walk in the dark seeking options and sadly goons meet me. Flash foward   the next day current issue that broadcasters feel warrants the interruption of scheduled programming is am dead. 

1500 ppl post on my wall how they knew me. How great i was. A committe is formed by my loyal friend.Friends contribute 200,000/= to feed guests at my funeral.

My staffs  team up and bring another 200k for coffin tents and chairs.  

Iam burried in a coffin worth 15k but since they purchase it in haste they meet a cartel who middle mans it and sells it to them at 45, 000/=. 

Relatives meet again,  its a rare occasion for them to meet,  so they meet .  /For my send off/.  They collect and extra 350, 000/=. 

Everyone wants to volunteer in order to appear they r helping.  Youth print t-shirts with my image,  each T-Shirt costs 1000/=.  The 400 youth  all pay, so the T-shirt man gets 20, 000/= profit from my death.   

Everyone wants to speak in my  funeral.  There is drama all over from people who never knew how i survived. Rumours fly in the air about how was murdered by my friends.  Peolple blame my sucessful relative for having sacrifised me Speeches are made on how talented iwas  even if non attended my events.  The few friends who supported me  don’t get chance to speak in my  funeral even if they know the Truth. In fact they are prime suspects for my death.  

#Dont show people Love when they are gone show when they can appreciate you. Call people when they can pick not when gone and you pretend with crocodile tears they are not picking…”

Sorry but that what you are driving at is beggar_mentality_society

So let’s just not chat that path. *The world owes you nothing. You owe the world leaving it better than you found it* what I want to mean is, you will die desperate if you live thinking that someone else other than you is responsible for your failure. Friends bailing you out or not is a matter of choice not reason. Plus financial legions advice nor do borrow for recurrent expenditure.

Like they should collect money and give it to you  for you to reach your goals? Naa. That will be a zombie society and economic models survive on scarcity, choice and preferences. It’s why you see everyone else work hard. Yes the equilibrium of demand versus supply must exist. Similar thinking might prompt you to imagine governments should print monies and distribute out to the citizenry such that we have no poor but all rich country man. Blind to the fact that in so doing, the monetary value will be corroded and the economy will fall. In a nutshell, there is discipline in gradual wealth creation.

In another setting and on this platform, we will talk about ‘friendships’ in the wider perspective of making and keeping friends but today and if you don’t mind good people let’s look at the cost of Friendship from the perspective of the price you pay for having friends and visa vis picking top down from the above Narrative. Yourself and me got friends. And having friends is a damn good thing. Very good indeed. My thinking however is, as far as friendships are concerned, expectations should be open and preferentially communicated. Friends ought to operate from a point of knowing where it starts and stops with their friendships.

If there is something that you can pick from the above Narrative that opens “my house is about to be locked…”  Then it’s entitlement. Friendships of today’s world are awash with entitlement. Yes everyone thinks that they are entitled to keep you as friends. Just as you think you are entitled to keep them as friends. And the world watches. In that fallacy of entitlement, deep down lives the lie that your friends are entitled to help you out and may be perhaps you too are… As the guy who penned the above piece brings out evidently. It paints the picture that friend’s helping you is a matter of reason not choice. Which is well, flabbergasting. Cumon, that’s zombie_ish. I will say that again.

It begs the question of who really is your friend? To which extent rather who’s not your friend thus? So it’s said friends of your friends are your friends and enemies of your friends are not necessarily your enemies. That means we got a couple lots of friends. All of them angling for our damn attention.

Back to that our story above but in haste to move away from it with speed, am entirely not against the idea of bailing a friend out here or there once on a while. After all that’s what we do often and it’s a good thing. What am totally against is the notion that it gets wrong when a friend is not able to help out in some instances for reasons communicated or otherwise. Why wasn’t it a matter of contention when he once helped? Why couldn’t you go loud against it? Why the hell on earth should the world all of a sudden know that a friend is unable to help? Where did it become a written law that a friend MUST help. Don’t they have the glory of choice anymore? Couldn’t they do or not do it independently without fear of reprimand, force or coerce. I mean what went of the mavericks of these world? Which earth gulped them?

Friendship demands understanding. It demands being cultured to know the stretches either of you can take. Yes it asks for commitment and time by extension. Friendship could be an art just as it would be a science. We all make friends. Friends we share a background with. Friends that we’ve entirely no backgrounds with but we are friends nevertheless. Friends that we meet and talk to often. Friends that we seldom meet nor talk to but they know we’re all douchbags and the friendship still finds the light to survive.

Just as we make friendships, so do we end friendships. The reasons are varied as days of the week. A fair majority of them friends will rub you the wrong way and the hatchet will be buried. But most common and probably recently all of us have this friend (or friends) we lent cash. Then things went deep South.

You will have a busy as hell day drifting from meeting to meeting. They will call your line and you will hang with a rejoinder sms “in a meeting calling back” As if they dropped English at primary school, they will call back in succession. You will hang up and try your luck with swahili  “niko mkutano. Nitakupigia.” You will smile at your proficiency in that rare language because everyone would have gotten stuck at “how do you write ‘meeting’ in Kiswahili?” The meeting will move on blind to the fact that some guy is calling your phone over and over. You will move out and into the next. Then the next.

Just about lunch hour you will be at the lavatories. Seated doing your thing as you catch up with the world from your phone. Instagram will be full of girls slaying. That nigga will call again. You will have forgotten that he called during meetings. It will feel guilty. But you can’t pick then. It will be a missed call. As you step out, (hands washed and waved under a hand drier) you will call them back. Between now and when you talked last, it will have been 572 days apart. That’s about two calendars. Rather one and a half calendars apart. You will greet hastily and he’ll go straight to the point that he is damn stuck and he needs you bail him out to the tune of 270 dollars. “That’s a lot!” you will exclaim. “plus the financial gods have not been favorable to us guys in shiara owing to it being an election year and the big boys ask we talk after Elections” you will interject to darken his prospects of seeing hope. He will nod his head so hard from his end you will hear it via phone. It will prompt you to change your hard stand. You will look at the phone screen. It will be thirteen minutes gone and mostly Bob will be preparing to sound his weird warning (Tiiiiiiiiiiiing) “Look, guy, give some time I get back to you over your request by close of business today.” “Yes my guy. I will appreciate big time.” You’ll hear that final bit from him, hang up then ramble with a grin “but am not your guy!”

You will spend the remainder of your day thinking about that guy. (not in a not so straight way. Hehe) You will think about what the hideous urgent issue he wants to solve could be. You will question if it’s as bad as he puts it on phone on a voice so disturbed. But then again you will think of his whereabouts for the past 572 days. You will wonder if he goes to church. And whether he cut on his whiskey. And what happened to that chick he was hanging out with. The one he said they were just friends. When no man is just friends with a girl in this town especially in the wake of that famous Sacco. Your mind will drift to the 270 dollars he’s asking. Kwani of all his would be friends why you specifically? Ama it’s the God of Abraham who showed him you in his dreams. Then that would mean he’ll pay back because perhaps he still goes to church and God visits him on his dreams. Another pointer that he might have joined the church choir. God showing him you out of a crowd of friends means you are in the right books of the guy in the clouds. (ego things) But you hesitate and think harder (what the boardroom people will call outside the box) doesn’t this guy have relatives and other closer friends and maybe a balling girlfriend who could sought him out? Cumon, what of his bank? Forget the banks, they are recapating from that interest capping jab by Waweru from his oval office at CBK. Think of a Sacco he belongs (not the one above) But he’s calling from a Safaricom line why can’t he try Mshwari or that mobile loan facility by KCB. Ama the many mobile loan apps popping up in our online articles when all we want is to read? Why didn’t God show him those options? But you do go to church. It gets you concluding that those thoughts are the devil standing in the way of God’s call to mission. Your mind rings “a brother in need is a brother indeed” You are confused as to whether it’s some verse in the Bible or just some phrase you picked on the Internet.

You retreat to some restaurant upstairs, sink into a couch to the border and order guacamole tea. You fish out your phone, fire up the data icon and tap twice on that Mango green M_Coop cash app. You pull that amount from there and send it resting on your MPESA account. You think about your guy again. You sip twice on your guacamole tea. I think people sip guacamole tea when about to make mistakes. Scrolling down your phone book, you settle on his number, copy pastes it and inputs it into the Mpesa send money option. You get his third name. It’s laughable. You bill your order and find your way home. He says nothing. Days go.

Life happens. Elections come  and go. Supreme Court happens. Maraga becomes the next big thing. Kuria and Muthama book a date with the police. I mean even Munya gets to join NASA and back to Jubilee. people even start ferrying shopping in boxes not plastic bags anymore! The nation looks forward to the repeat elections as eager as a kid would be to move classes in the 80’s when the year was twice as long. In between that three months deadline goes unnoticed. Your boy says nothing not even acknowledging the receipt of your  270 dollars whose fate of salvage  now lies in limbo.

Once in an idle while you take a trip down his social media space for that’s the only way you  can meet. You see him move on with life like your 270 dollars dying a natural death inestate means nothing. You see him post pictures of him. And his girl. And of his wife. And of a bubbly new born. And of him at work. Them on weekend. Then those posts of sijui watching Manchester United versus Arsenal at B_Club with so and so. And it reminds you your  270 dollars could afford you his damn life. And it pains. So on that morning you are totally in a financial mess and after you can’t find a Shylock who doesn’t ask for a pound of flesh for surity nor an NGO that rescues broke niggas perhaps, you send him a text  reminder. Nothing. Then  move with speed to WhatsApp. Double  Blue ticks. Then  check social media again, he posted less than half an hour ago something to do with what Bill Gates says on financial mastery. Then you reply in your head “but he doesn’t say you trick people out of their hard earned 270 dollars.” Then you  dial his line with  resolve to tell him just that in his damn face but it goes an answered on the third trial then busy on the fourth and final trial.

Then you go back in time and read this from the top and stop at the point where that guy (not he who owes you) writes about the amount of money raised in his funeral. You  want to find him (in case he didn’t die) and ask him to read on but instead it’s you who reads on and further stopping at that point where you were requestioning your  thoughts, you  bite your little finger and want to wish that something heavier than Rick Ross seats on that guys destiny. “But an eye for an eye will leave the whole world blind Mr” some voice echoes in your  head. You  conclude that’s the cost you  paid to get rid of a friend who doesn’t feel sorry for people’s 270 dollars. Auch!




2 thoughts on “Cost of Friendship 

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