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Have you mastered the art of dining alone?
Back then segregating yourself from others while eating was suspicious behaviour.
Growing up, I heard it said that only witches eat alone, and if you sat by yourself during a get-together, someone was bound to walk up to you and quip, Kwa nini unakaa peke yako kama mchawi? insinuating that segregating yourself from others was suspicious behaviour.
Though I doubt this belief had anything to do with it, for a long time, I could not bring myself to walk into a restaurant alone, order food, and proceed to enjoy the meal by myself. For some reason, I felt that it wasn’t right, that people would look at me and judge me, perhaps think that I didn’t have friends, and pity me. The few times I managed to muster enough courage to actually do it, I was self-conscious the entire time, as a result, if I had no one to go for lunch with on some days, I would stay hungry until I got back home in the evening.
Fortunately, confidence comes with age. Nowadays, there is nothing I enjoy more than having a meal by myself, in public, or a cup of steaming hot tea as I read a book or scroll through social media. I call these sessions “me time”. Right in the midst of people, I somehow manage to block everything out, including conversations around me and I focus on my thoughts or whatever I choose to occupy my time with.
This is because I have always enjoyed my own company. I’m the kind of person who can stay indoors all by myself for a couple of days and not miss another human being. As long as I have a good book, and television, I can patiently wait for the end of the world, all by myself.
The other day, I gave in to hunger and decided to treat myself to a late lunch before immersing myself in work. Determined to be antisocial, I deliberately chose a small table at the furthest corner and put my ear phones on to enjoy some hilarious skits from a Kenyan comedian I recently discovered. The young man does them in mother tongue, and I long discovered that jokes are way funnier when told in your first language than they are in languages that came second.
Anyway, halfway into my meal, during which I had been quietly laughing, thoroughly enjoying the short videos, someone approached my table and said something, while pointing at the opposite seat. Since I had earphones on, I didn’t hear what he asked, though I assumed he was asking whether he could take the seat. I nodded ‘yes’. To my dismay, rather than take the seat to another table, the gentleman pulled the seat and sat down opposite me. The table was small, the kind that allows intimate conversation if the person you are with has some hot gossip to tell, so you can imagine just how close I was to this stranger. His knees even bumped into mine when he was settling in.
I looked around and there were other empty tables, but since it was inconceivable to ask him to leave, I resorted to giving him dirty looks, since he had rudely interrupted my ‘me time’. I mean, how do you remain oblivious to the fact that there is a total stranger seated in a cramped space across you? At some point, I looked up and could see up his nostrils…
Unfortunately, the glares I was sending his way had no impact whatsoever, because he was engrossed in his phone, and unlike me, who was bothered by his presence, he was feeling quite at home. If zero chills was a person…
That said, having bared my heart regarding the extent of my antisocial behaviour, I feel the need to clarify that this doesn’t mean I don’t like people, so please, if you spot me somewhere, don’t hesitate to say hello, I’m a nice person, I promise…
