As I was standing there on a normal day thinking about going through my next strategy or rather, item on my to-do list as the clock face was heading towards mid-night, I had sudden memory flash of what used to be. I’m not sure what’s harder to believe, the fact I was there (that was me) or that it was so long ago that I almost forgot.

My first flash back was when I worked within a legal team and the newly appointed head of the department was basically (as expected) finding her around how things worked. And, as one of the team members (me being the youngest), I was both anxious and more than willing to help. And boy, did that woman push and stretch me. But come to think of it years later, those moments were the only time that made feel productive. I’ve always been keen on getting my dirty, keeping busy, learning, learning and learning and, clearly this hasn’t changed (I like being active because I know how it feels how to be inactive and I never want to feel that way again). And guess what? My results/ achievements during the brief moments with her is one of the things I boast about in my resumé today. But let me get to the highlight of this memory. Her bag! (I know right). Whenever I’d stepped into her office, I always thought she was polished and classy and I often wondered, “Am I ever going to afford a bag with that label on it with what I’m paid”? (at the time, HA! Fat chance). Not when the idea of spoiling myself took me on a sub-conscious guilt trip I never spoke about. It was just illogical and let’s just end it there. But I could dream about it...

Rewinding further back a few years before I even went to college (and this is a memory that made me smile), I remember a time whenever a close family member brought us clothes, we’d be ecstatic about it. The fanciest clothes were those bought from Kariakoo or back when our dad used to travel a lot (hey, as long it was from a shop and wasn’t second hand, we were royalty, it’s funny but true). But my point is, we were happy with the simply tiny things (may be because we felt loved just by the mere fact that we were on their minds), who knows why. My own used to do most of my shopping, (second hand or not), from Ilala, to Manzese to Kariakoo (or any other places I had not the mind to enquire about). If it was secondhand, it was thoroughly washed, ironed & it was then ours and we dressed to kill. We just didn’t care about the social classes (you might call it childhood naivety but most of us wear secondhand outfits to this day, we just don’t say so all that much). But dreaming of always dressing up like her or her…I could dream about it...

The truth is, in the beginning dreaming is all we have. Wondering of ‘what could be’ is a luxury that comes to us for free. The only down-side to it is if dreaming is all you do. Turn a dream into a goal/ idea, an idea into an action and in daring to do so, embrace the entire process of trial and error until your mere dream is a reality. Make it so real that you’ll forget that was ever about a ‘someday’. Claim it for if it’s yours. You have the power and support system (whichever way you want to chew on this part) to get you to where you want to be. Naysayers or those who gave up too soon & especially those whose path isn’t the same as yours (which is pretty much everyone else), are not the determinants of your ultimate destination. It’s never been their choices, it’s yours and I wouldn’t advise giving people such power. It’s not theirs to have over you.

Finally, I still dream… I mean, working so hard, I can get ‘that bag’ and, I probably have the ability to buy fancier clothes than second hand ones…but I still dream of more….of bigger…and by God’s grace, I’ll get there as will you. So, all I can say is, I’ll be seeing you on the other side mates!