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Adults Don’t Exist
We only think we do — the evidence is all around us
The crowd hung onto every word in silence as the exceptionally gifted crew, Too Early For Birds, described the scenes that played out on the island of Rusinga after their international star was taken home to be buried.
Thomas Joseph Odhiambo Mboya was an icon. History books describe him as such. For a country that was still three years from gaining independence, he still graced the cover of Time Magazine. There was no doubt that he would ascend to the top seat.
Other leaders didn’t like that idea.
After those bullets created a one-way valve for the country’s future figurehead, his death revealed one of the utmost truths among us: adults don’t exist.
Wails could be heard from every corner, path, and homestead. Tom Mboya was dead before his time, a phrase we all like to use when a budding star suddenly extinguishes.
As Marjorie Oludhe Mcgoye described in her book, Coming to Birth, the whole nation was in tears. The concerned face on my mother as she recollected the dark days that ensued following Mboya’s death fell in the same sadness spectrum.
Mboya was a nationwide example. Inside our homes, we relive the same episodes after one of us dies. We revert to our initial language…
