We Were Just Talking

Just Speaking Is a Whole Talking Stage

Niaje guys. Let me tell you the scariest thing about being young in Nairobi today. You can just be speaking. Just speaking, manze. Normal human speaking. And kumbe, behind the scenes, somebody has already opened a file on you talk about some dossier stuff. You think you are having a conversation. They think you are having a future. Same chat, two completely different agendas. Welcome to this generation, where saying “hi” can accidentally enroll you into a relationship talking stage you never applied for.

This is the real horror, sikiza.In this era you do not enter the talking stage. The talking stage enters you. You are just vibing, just being a friendly Kenyan, replying to someone’s status with “faya si faya,” and three weeks later that same person is asking “so where is this going.” Going? Madam, this was a comment. This was social media content consumer feedback. I did not realize I was signing anything. I came to laugh, not to commit my entire bloodline.

Because in this generation, attention is the currency and everybody is broke. So the moment you give someone consistent attention, just basic, decent, human attention, their heart opens a betting slip. They place odds on you. They are calculating, “he replies fast, that is a sign.” “She sent a voice note, surely we are something.” Meanwhile you, you are just a nice person who answers texts. You are not a love interest, you are simply not rude. But try being not rude in Nairobi and see how fast you get promoted to “bae” without your consent.

And the energy, ahaa, the energy these days is on another level. You greet someone three times daily and suddenly there are expectations heavier than a Fuliza balance. You compliment their fit once, ONCE, and they start behaving like you proposed at the front of Holy Family Basilica. You ask “umekula?” out of pure manners, the manners your grandmother installed in you back in shags, and boom, you are now emotionally responsible for this person’s lunch, dinner, and general happiness until further notice.

This generation does not define things, and that is the disease. Nobody wants to say what they mean. We speak in riddles. We speak in “lol,” in “we should link up,” in “I see you,” in cryptic statuses clearly aimed at one specific person who will never admit they saw it. We are all out here communicating like spies who do not trust their own embassy. You like someone? You cannot just say it. Hapana. You will instead like their photo from 2019, the deep dig, the archaeological “I have been studying you” tap, and then you will switch off your data and pray.

And then jealousy. Oh, the jealousy. The jealousy in this generation arrives with the confidence of a person who has paid rent, when in reality they have not even bought you airtime. You are just speaking to people, living your life, being a social being the way God intended, and somebody who has no title, no contract, no nothing, sends you that message. “Na huyo unaongea naye ni nani?” My friend, on whose mandate? We are not anything. There was never a meeting. We never sat down with snacks and agreed “tuko exclusive.” But here you are, being audited by a person who is technically still a stranger with your number saved.

This is the madness. People want to control the WiFi without paying for the tokens. They want you faithful, available, reporting, behaving, but the moment you say “what are we exactly doing ?,” eish, watch them buffer. Watch them suddenly go quiet like KPLC at exactly 7pm on a Tuesday. Watch them type, type, type, then send “lol, we are just enjoying each others company.” and change the subject. They want the loyalty of marriage on the budget of “we are just talking.”

And the saddest part, the part that should make you fear conversations entirely, is that you can be in a talking stage and not even know. You. Right now. There could be a human walking around Nairobi this very minute who considers the two of you “something,” and you have no idea. You think you are colleagues. You think you are gym buddies. You think you are just two people who happen to queue near each other at Naivas. But in their phone, you are saved with a heart emoji and a nickname. You are the lead character in a movie you did not audition for and are not being paid to act in.

So this generation has turned simple speaking into a high risk sport. You text “good morning” and it could be friendship, it could be flirting, it could be a binding agreement, nobody knows. You laugh at someone’s joke and you might have just promised them forever. You help someone choose a shirt online and congratulations, you are now their plus one to every wedding for the next two years.

Manze, we are all just out here, speaking, vibing, and accidentally falling into talking stages like potholes after the rains. No warning. No signpost. Just you, minding your business, being friendly, and suddenly someone is jealous, someone is asking questions, someone is hurt, and you are standing there confused like, “we were just talking?”

Yes. You were just talking. And in this generation, my friend, that is exactly how it always starts.