Time is so construed.
The older I get, the more I realize how limited our time
really is. Memories, our thoughts, they feel so linear. It feels like the other
day, then suddenly years begin to feel like months. I think back and try to
imagine what an entire decade feels like when it's reduced to a handful of
memories. It's almost unimaginable how quickly time flies.
But for this blog, I want to equate time with knowledge.
This year I decided to learn a new language. French.
As I learn it, I'm taking my time with it. One new word
every day, almost like a child learning how to speak. Learning a new language
has become the challenge I've given myself to slow down time.
When you're learning something new, especially something
difficult, everything feels slow. Progress is almost invisible. Your brain is
trying to understand unfamiliar concepts, build new connections, and remember
things that weren't there yesterday.
What makes the difference is time.
I think memories become anchors in our lives. The more
knowledge we gain during a certain period, the richer that memory becomes. It
stretches that moment when we look back on it.
At the same time, I spent a month learning a dance routine.
When I first watched the video, I couldn't imagine myself
ever completing it. I saw the whole routine and thought, "How am I ever
going to remember all of this?"
But by the end of the month, I had done it, with the help of
my brother of course!
Now that I know the routine, it feels easy. The same dance
that once seemed impossible now feels natural. The knowledge changed my
relationship with it.
I imagine that's how it will be with French. My brain will
eventually recognize patterns, grasp words more easily, and build sentences
faster. Then one day, almost without noticing, I'll be speaking another
language.
Just like the dance.
Everything takes time.
So for now, I try to anchor my life with the things I learn.
I try to fill my days with new knowledge, new experiences, new skills. In some
strange way, it feels like I'm extending time itself.
Maybe that's why I've always loved philosophy, ethics,
logic, and the simple act of studying life. Wondering why things are the way
they are has always fascinated me.
I think about Isaac Newton seeing an apple fall from a tree.
Countless people had watched apples fall before him, but he asked a different
question. It wasn't just about the apple. It became about gravity, mathematics,
physics, and understanding the invisible rules governing our world.
It makes me wonder whether we have philosophers in Kenya.
I'm sure we do.
They just seem quiet, almost muted. Maybe it's because I
don't go looking for them. Or maybe we've come to value philosophy only as
something to be taught, instead of something to be lived. We teach ideas that
already exist, but perhaps we spend less time asking new questions, challenging
assumptions, or creating concepts born from our own experiences.
I often wonder what would happen if we thought more deeply
about our own cultures.
If we reasoned from an African perspective.
If we studied colonization, not just as history, but as
something that shaped our behaviour, our thinking, our institutions, and even
the way we see ourselves.
Maybe we'd move further ahead.
Maybe we'd build ideas that make sense for our own
environments instead of constantly borrowing solutions that were created for
different histories, different struggles, and different societies.
Or maybe I'm simply an artist.
A wondering artist.
Always lost somewhere deep in thought.
Questioning the world around me. Looking for answers, even
in places that don't matter, simply because I enjoy entertaining an idea and
seeing where it leads.
So for now, I look at time and I equate it with knowledge.
Learning one new skill at a time.
One new word.
One new thought.
One new question.
Maybe that's what the old saying really means.
That with time comes wisdom.
Or perhaps wisdom comes from what we choose to do with our
time.
