STANDARDS

SI GAZETI PEKEE

Kwanza, tuelewane

Let us agree on one thing before we go far. When I say standard, do not run to the local supermarket looking for the newspaper. Standard si gazeti pekee, my friend. It is not just something you buy for 70 bob to read about politics while your tea gets cold. A standard is the line you draw in advance, the minimum you accept before the temptation arrives wearing a fake belt and saying “trust me.” Because in this Nairobi, the people getting finished are the ones who accept anything. And accepting anything is a full time job with no salary.

Nganya ya maisha

Picture the msee with no standards. This one boards any matatu that slows down within three metres of his body. The makanga smiles, says “beba beba, tunaenda tao,” and just like that he is seated, squeezed between two strangers, going to Rongai when his studio is in Kasarani. Why? “The conductor was friendly.” Buda, friendliness is not a destination. Now he must Fuliza his way back home, and the Fuliza itself has developed its own Fuliza. That is what life looks like when you let the city choose your route for you. You end up somewhere you never wanted, paying fare you never budgeted, and acting surprised every single time.

Mapenzi ya “niko on the way”

Now, dating. Eish. Dating in Nairobi is a contact sport, and the casualties are always the ones with no minimum requirements. The chick or the guy with no standards will accept a partner whose entire romance is the phrase “niko on the way” while still horizontal under the duvet. You can hear the duvet. You can hear the mother frying something. This person has been “on the way” since the previous government. They send “good morning beautiful” so generic you can tell it landed in nine other inboxes, because the forward forgot to update the name. And still, our friend replies “aaaw.” Manze, that “aaaw” is not affection. That “aaaw” is a hostage situation.

We settle and then post “blessed” on the status. We stay because “at least anasaidia na rent,” then it turns out the help was once, in 2021, and he still reminds you. We accept breadcrumbs, then call ourselves full. My friend, you are not full. You are simply too polite to admit you are starving.

Job ya “exposure”

Then there is the career, where the lack of standards does its quiet damage. The person with no standards grabs the first thing thrown at them and complains about it for the next four years on a WhatsApp group of equally trapped people. They take the internship that pays in “exposure.” Exposure! Go and pay your Naivas bill with exposure and watch the cashier laugh in HD. They accept the boss who calls at 10pm on a Sunday demanding a report “first thing,” and they say yes because they fear that having standards will chase opportunities away.

But hear me well. The opportunity that runs from your standards was never an opportunity. It was a trap with a nice ringtone. The guy with real career standards is not the loud one shouting that they are too good for work. No. They are the calm one who states their rate without the voice shaking, and does not immediately add “lakini tunaeza negotiate” before the client has even reacted. Why are you negotiating against yourself? You are doing their disrespect for them, in advance, kwa bure. At least make them earn it.

Maisha in general

In life generally, standards are the gap between living on purpose and living on whatever falls on you. The one without standards eats the mutura they were warned about, then wonders why the stomach is now hosting a harambee with full programme. They lend pesa to the friend who has never returned anything, not even that charger borrowed in 2019, and then act shocked. They keep saying yes to plans they hate, pints they cannot afford, and people who only remember them when they need something. The whole life becomes a mathree they did not choose, going somewhere they never picked, and they just sit there squeezed and confused, asking, “ile route ni hii?”

Watakusema, waache waseme

I will not lie to you, having standards is tiring at the beginning. People will say you have changed. Wacha wakuseme. Changing was the entire point. The same friend who enjoyed your lack of boundaries will be the loudest critic of your new ones. Loud people rarely have anywhere important to be anyway.

Funzo

So draw the line. Decide what you accept before the thing arrives, not after it has already moved into your studio, finished your githeri, and started using your towel like a rooommate. Know your route. Know your rate. Know your worth before some smooth talker tries to tell you what it is at a discount.

Because the alternative is simple. You become the msee who boards every mathree that slows down, and spends this one precious life perpetually surprised to find yourself somewhere you never wanted to go.

And listen, in this whole beautiful, chaotic, matatu hooting, MPesa message ringing city, nobody has the fare to keep paying for that trip of life lessons.

So set the standard. And remember, standard si gazeti pekee. It is the difference between your life and somebody else’s plans for it.