I stopped listening to my mum a long time ago.
Basically days after I outgrew flogging. Many people never know the exact time they mature past that season of miniature ‘capital punishment’ into the glorious years of verbal scolding.
But I did.
It took just about a month to confirm that my mother had crossed the divine divide, from flogging to scolding. I immediately made the necessary adjustments from docile teenager to certified miscreant.
So by the time my mother started entreating me to eat healthy and exercise, I was deaf by choice.
“Mix garlic and ginger with a sprinkle of tumeric and drink it everyday”, she kept preaching but I had crossed on to better things like burger and bakery products, so I ignored her health advice like any proud millennial would.
Then the corona virus came and everyone started talking about a healthy immune system and I was taken aback. If I had only listened to her earlier on, by now I would have the stamina of superman and the immune capabilities of the Hulk.
So I called her up and she snorted her disapproval, feigning ignorance as to the ratio of the vile mix she had constantly plagued me with for years.
So like a loser, I begged and like any loving Mother she finally gave me the formula.
I immediately kick started the miniature version of a meth lab in my kitchen and drank the vile result of my herbal tinkering daily.
I started jogging everyday too.
And so did a startling number of young people in my hood.
The street today was unusually clogged with colourfully-clad, tight-vested individuals from all ages, making a desperate attempt to keep fit and maybe beat covid-19 in the process.
They dared the commercial tricycles (the police roadblocks are empty on weekends) and private vehicles that raced towards them, taking over the entire road in droves.
They had become desperate.
A combination of home sickness and the bid to stay healthy had driven us all outside.
A few people didn’t even have proper running shoes but that wasn’t enough to stop them.
They ran with what they had, sandals and sneakers alike. An unhealthy man couldn’t wear shoes afterall.
So as I huffed and puffed and struggled to keep up with my fellow runners, I wondered whether there were people like me amongst the fit-fam enthusiasts who had totally ignored sound advice and had later been schooled by a novel virus.
My guess is as good as yours.
This article was written by Henri ‘Yire; connect on Instagram with him here