Alone Together

I started the new year delving into Zack O’Malley’s Empire State of Mind. Because you know, resolutions and whatnot. And what better way to kickstart a new year than reading anecdotes about the powerhouse that is Shawn Corey Carter. The writer intricately builds up the mogul’s life story by piecing together fragments from the rapper’s peers throughout his life. As he tries to chronicle the impeccable evolution of the once soft-spoken young hustler pushing weight at a street corner to the most suave influencer of generations, it’s his shrewd adaptability that sticks out like a thumb.

There is something almost eerie to be said about the quickness and ease that he was able to morph into whatever environment he found himself in. Instantaneously even. Most times at the cost of some relationships. Before this turns out to be a biased book review that nobody asked for, I think while Mr Carter might have fervently refuted to be identified as something so ‘gauche,’ he might have even been the original ‘baddie paid promoter’ what with his morphing abilities. He took to great lengths to not reveal any financial connections to any brands, but all the while loudly endorsing champagnes, sneakers, luxurious Maybach cars and capping it off by sitting courtside with his mega star wife for Nets games. All the makings of today’s social media influencer

If I could will that kind of effortless adaptability, my first white Christmas, away from family for the first time in forever, would have been much more bearable. The romantic illusion I had envisioned in my head of what a snowy Christmas would be like was myopic and a far cry from the reality that dawned on me like a ton of bricks. Classic case of what I ordered versus what was delivered being as similar as day and night.

I stayed hunched up indoors, hiding from the harsh weather, and the world, whenever I could. Reminiscing on all the holiday moments I took for granted, like having soul food dinners back home over hearty laughs, rhumba music softly buzzing from my dad’s record player and kienyeji chickens roasting on the grill outside, was viciously emptying me. Then I made a deliberate effort to go out, exploring under the cheery bright lights.

The city seemed to come alive at night. It was buzzing with something palpable in the air. Now spicy aromas hung about courtesy of lots of street foods, pint stands where I got introduced to hot mulled wine (that has become a staple in my house), karaoke singers and saxophone players, the latter who have quickly become my favourite sights in the city. The ballads they blow, without fail, conjure up some inexplicably sublime feelings. The first time I encountered a sax player in the city, it felt magnetic. That euphoria arrested all my senses and sent me to oblivion. A place I sometimes will frequent after having a scrumptious meal, a delectable kiss or lost in a good book. It felt so good and freeing! Even when the audience was made up of myself and a flock of pigeons.

With my boots crunched in the blanketed snow at 7 pm, I zoned out to the whimsical music. And then, in a twist, I felt guilty. I mean, I was so relieved that I could stand wilfully in the shattering cold and smile at this random man playing a solo so beautiful that it made my heart smile. But I also got a little saddened because it meant that I was getting so comfortable, so many miles away from home at a time when I should be with them.

So, you see, I am envious of people who can reinvent on the spot and be vulnerable with strangers over and over again. Even more admirable is doing it with the knowledge that most of the relationships might be more self-serving than we care to admit and can be discarded at will. And once their season collapses into a new one, get to do it all over again, fervently still, with different strangers.

Anyway, whether you chose to recite incantations, stuff yourself with 12 red grapes under the table while simultaneously running in circles with empty luggage bags in tow at the stroke of midnight, here’s to another year of hopefully growing without hating the process and morphing into kinder versions.

 

 

Read previous chapter here. 

 

 

 

Photo by Олег Мороз on Unsplash