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My mum once found me sitting outside, pouting. I can’t recall why I was pouting, but I know the decision to sit outside where all could see was strategic. First, I needed everyone to know I was unhappy without having to say I was unhappy. In a typical African household, you can’t just go ‘heal’ in the darkness - everyone must know you’ve been hurt and why. I mean, is it even a pout if there’s no one to witness it? Second, I needed specific members of the family, a.k.a. my mother, to see me pout. It doesn’t count if it’s just your siblings because they’ll sympathize and then go back to doing whatever they were doing before. So, there I was, my mouth pushed out like I was literally trying to touch my nose with my lips. After a few unsuccessful attempts to get me back into the house with the rest, my mother stood there and looked at me. This can be unsettling for an African child. Do anything but look directly at them without saying a word. They’d sooner have you yell or throw something at them. Before I could become overly self-conscious, my mother asked a simple question that’s stayed with me for the longest time, ‘If you’re not happy now, when will you be happy?’. At the time, I couldn’t understand what she meant, my 10-year-old self knew nothing about the things that contort adults into these mysterious aliens children can’t figure out.

‘If you’re not happy now, when will you be?’

What a question to ask a 10-year-old. And yet how else can you explain to a child that a time will come when their happiness will be as elusive as a shadow. There are so many things you’re not told about adulthood. It's like that dirty secret immigrants keep to themselves when they ‘return’ to visit their loved ones. Engulfed by the adoration of the ones they left behind, the numerous perfumes, gifts, and ‘I love NYC’ shirts they hand out, they keep the long hours, biting cold, tasteless McDonald's meals, and aching loneliness to themselves. They wait for you to find out when you get there, when ‘the West’ goes from being this beautiful enchanting world where anything could happen to the soul-crushing, dream-stealing monster it can at times be.

But this isn’t about America, and it’s not about childhood, it’s about the things we fail at. The things that slowly chip away at us. The things that steal the spark from our eyes when we wake up to realize we aren’t exactly who we thought we would be. We aren’t making what we thought we’d make. We’re not where we thought we’d be.

In life, you’ll fail at a lot of things.

You’ll fail to love people as you ought.

You’ll fail to apologize when you should.

You’ll fail to hit your targets.

You’ll fail the exam.

You’ll be skipped over for the promotion.

You’ll sit for years and fail to get a job.

You’ll gain weight and stay that way.

You’ll lose money…lots of it.

You’ll lie…and then you’ll lie to protect that lie.

You’ll lose someone you loved. You’ll fumble their heart or their trust.

You’ll fail at your job, and your boss will call you lazy.

You’ll fail your kids, and they’ll talk about you like that’s all you did.

You’ll disappoint your parents.

You’ll fail your spouse.

It’s just how it goes. It’s just how life is.

You’ll fail so much that the skip in your step will disappear a little. You’ll look in the mirror and fail to recognise yourself. And then you’ll hit rock bottom and realise at your very core that you've failed.

This post isn’t about failure, not exactly. It’s actually about what happens after. It’s about what happens the day after you hit rock bottom or perhaps the day after. The timeframe doesn’t matter, but there’s this moment after an epic failure where you gain otherworldly clarity. You stand outside of yourself and hear a wiser side speak. I call it the Holy Spirit, not just me...the entire Christian world. Anyway, you hear this voice tell you that you’re going to be okay. Yes, you cheated, lied...failed, but you have a chance to make it right, and here’s how.

You’ll feel a weird sense of calm, the clichéd eye-of-the-storm level calm. You’ll look around and realise you still have a lot to be grateful for. Perhaps you’ll realise you’re a healthy human being which means there are tons of things you can do or learn. Or you look at your children and see that at least you got that part right, or you dust your CV off and remember that you once had a dream. Sounds so cliché. Why are all the most important things in life the worst clichés?

So, you’ll look around and count your blessings. At this point, I hope you’ll hear my mother’s voice. Kidding. That would be weird. I hope you hear your ‘wiser side’ or the Holy Spirit whisper, ‘If you’re not happy now, when will you be?’

And when you hear this, in the shower or while dodging Kampala’s epic potholes, I hope you finally choose to be.

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