Mantalk: No, it's not just you. We are all lonely

If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love, we find out who we want to be; in war, we find out who we are. Those were the words of Kristin Hannah in The Nightingale.

Over the weekend I was at a funeral. And while I won’t bore you with details of the dead (no he did not refuse to be buried contrary to what TikTok scroll-chair experts will have you believe); I noticed something idiosyncratic.

My people really love speaking—the art of war of words. When the Master of Ceremony invited the MCA to speak, the MCA, in his wisdom, invited the ward administrator to say ‘something small.’ The ward administrator, wanting to pull rank, invited his deputy who invited the village head who invited the local chair. I am all for communism but come on!

That’s beside the point, the point being when the MCA finally spoke, 25 minutes later (I counted), he dished out the classic “Mine is just to say a word”—the word in itself: “Usikuwe kama hao vijana wamepotelea Nairobi bila mabibi.”

Now I don’t know where he got my measurements or how he knew I like grey, but that cap fit very well. It felt like a personal slight—vijana wamepotelea Nairobi. 

But he doesn’t understand.

You don’t marry in Nairobi. There are many reasons to date but not enough reasons to get married. Ngaahika ndeenda, (I will marry when I want)—Ngugi wa Thiong’o may have written a play but I took it seriously. I also took stock of my closest friends and the tarot revealed: if they are not going through relationship drama, they are either sleeping around or in the middle of a nasty breakup—or both. Surely, how could I be any better?

People say Sir Isaac Newton died a virgin because he was focused on science. Now, if you got your degree through Harambee and the crowdsourcing pull of Mwakenya, that is good enough for pedestrian reasoning.

That millennials are the largest human adult cohort alive; now breaking into their peak earning years; yet less likely than preceding generations to live with a spouse at a similar age; and highly susceptible to YOLO—that brain freeze condition that makes a sunset cruise to Moyale sound like a once-in-a-lifetime affordable alternative investment to homeownership—, which, by the way, seems impossible anyway.

I have been thinking of his words (the MCA). If I was in the village right now, I’d probably be married with seven kids. Maybe not married married but I would definitely have someone in my bed. Or two. My people say that when Nyasaye is happy with your wife, he blesses you with another one. 

I have noticed too that this generation thrives in loneliness. We are averse to social interactions in the guise of ‘protecting my space.’ We order humans like we order food: the thicker the better. Good vibes and inshallah. We use each other mercilessly, date ruthlessly and defect faithfully.

Relationships take work and frankly, on top of the taxes and my boss giving me stick, I have no time to work on other things. What do you do, they ask? My best Wanja. I do my best.

It's challenging enough that we are postponing having said children, and the clamour for commitment is surely losing its lustre. Everything we do in this world without our love is merely a little measure of loneliness. That’s why we take pictures when happy. Happiness is fleeting. Laughter is a reflex, a kind of trick. Really, if you ask any 20-something what they fear most, it is being alone. What Phillip Roth did for masturbation, millennials do for loneliness.

When I lose sleep at 2am, watch TikToks slurp at full volume, with no headphones, and send the videos to my friends they reply, almost instantaneously. What are they doing online? Surely, we can’t all be nocturnal?  

I live alone which sounds badass until the Nairobi cold huddles next to you in bed. (I wanted somewhere that was rather private. A place with little to no children, because I have that famous impatience that childless people have for people with children. Look, it’s not that I hate kids, but you know. It’s kids. And who am I kidding (hehe)? I’m a man on the move, I’m a bird, and I can’t have a four-year-old start calling me ‘uncle’ and asking why I am always in biker shorts.) 

And though this ode might be more appropriate in a therapist’s chaise lounge, I have the data to back me. Did you know that you are more likely to be lonely if someone you’re directly connected to (such as a friend, neighbour, coworker or family member) is lonely? People who aren’t lonely tend to then become lonelier if they’re around people who are. Misery, it seems, does have the hots for company.

Through the internet—which has become a convenient patsy—we are more connected than ever, and yet never have we been this disconnected. Paradoxically, we use the Internet to alleviate our loneliness. Yet the very presence of technology is detrimental to genuine offline connection.

The more isolated we feel, the more we retreat online, forging a virtual escape from loneliness. This is the gospel for my generation, who learned to immolate itself through technology. It will only become truer as we flock to freelancing (oops) and other means of working alone.

Sociologist Philip Slater, in his book ‘The Pursuit of Loneliness’ coined the term “Toilet Assumption”: our belief that undesirable feelings and social realities will “simply disappear if we ignore them.” To Slater, individualism and, in turn, our loneliness, “is rooted in the attempt to deny the reality of human interdependence.”

Perhaps the best example of our desire to flush out solitude is the Internet. Instead, we’re stuck with a mounting pile of infectious isolation, hence the rise of emotional support dogs. Poor dogs.

It sounds like pretty trite advice, but forcing myself to go out and meet people really does fill the void of loneliness in me. I take the time to just sit and shoot the breeze with them; four times out of five, it's just silly conversations, but that fifth time, it gets deeper. I'd never get to the fifth time if I didn't also do the other four. Every time I interview CEOs (on our sister paper, the Business Daily every Thursday—yes, I am shamelessly plugging myself) they say they wish they had made more time for family.

But it is foolish to tear one’s hair in grief as though sorrow would be made less by baldness. What I have learned is that people, especially men, just want to be needed, to be loved. That is somehow missed via today's plethora of technology. While social media gives me wiggle room to talk to my friends all the time, it doesn’t feel the same as seeing their smiles in person, giving them a warm hug, and shooting a breeze. Maybe we’re busier.

Every hangout I have has to be meticulously planned, my friends’ schedules are packed tight with school, work, side gigs, and side chics. I cherish seeing my friends in person; it makes me feel more connected to them, and it feels more meaningful than sending a praying emoji 🙏. Even if I text a friend all day, I would still feel lonelier than if I’d gone to see them—which also gives me the opportunity to grab a quick beer and yesternight’s (chicken) thighs from their fridge. Period.

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