I’m always angry. You may think I’m using always as a figure of speech. Or that maybe I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. I’m really being honest when I say I’m constantly angry.
On the outside, I’m a very chill human being. I’m that person that buys sweets on the bus and shares with everyone around them. I listen to people whine about their lives and give any type of advice I can afford. I walk away from people who aggravate me and rarely get into confrontations. Especially with idiots.
“Yes, of course, no problem.“ WRONG. Big problem. Huge problem. Can’t you tell? I’m seething with rage.
But my anger is pretty justified. I take matatus to school. Both of those things are already anger triggers. So whenever my anger spirals out of control, I notice a pattern in the subsequent reactions.
First of all I don’t physically lash out. Ever. I mean, obviously. I have the physical capabilities of a grasshopper so that’s not really a choice. However, in my head I’m the Queen of Vengeance. I’m The Rock and Mike Tyson on steroids. I’m tougher than a Brooklyn cop with something to hide. I’m the madness that monsters check for under their beds at night. Okay? I’m BAD.
So Dear David, if you’re like me and can’t fight a chipmunk, read on as I tell you my anger management techniques that will prevent Goliath from smoothening you on the tarmac.
1. THE LANGUAGE SWITCH
This is the most immediate reaction. When I get mad, I instantly switch languages in my head. I don’t know why my mind does that. I think it’s because things generally sound more menacing in the mother tongue, you know?
Threatening someone in English doesn’t quite itch the scratch. And Kiswahili just sounds way too polite. So I bust out the little Somali my mother insists I don’t know.
And I rant. And I rave. And I complain. And I whine. To my hearts desire. When my brain calms down and rewires correctly, it switches back to whatever language I was using.
And what are you doing all this time you ask? I plaster on my best poker face and try to reason with the person in a mature, adult way…as adult as they can comprehend anyway.
Thing is I can be removing your organs in alphabetical order in my head while charming your pants off. I can rearrange said organs so your organs make new friends and make you more friendly, while I smile like a Lillian Muli. It’s a super power really.
So master this power and you’ll find it therapeutic. Just take a deep calming breath, dig into your meagre traditional language supply and just go to town. You can violently throw up the middle finger in your head every so often, just for emphasis…Therapist’s Advice.
2. THE SORCERER’S CURSES
This is the second level to my mental fury. If the ranting in my traditional language doesn’t cut it, I bring in the juju. I curse the very soil you walk on and every puff of air you inhale.
However, my mind doesn’t seem to favour the normal curses that regular outward-cursing-people tend to gravitate towards. No way. In line with my peculiarities, my curses are as weird as Ed Sheeran singing pop songs. Come on, the world signed up to be serenaded by the Weasley Squib (if you don’t get this reference, get off my page)
I’m joking, here’s a sample of my curse rants; “I curse you to send M-Pesa to a wrong person. I curse that the said money was your house rent. I curse that the person you sent it to switches off their phone. I curse that the rent money is due that very day. I curse that your landlord really doesn’t like you because clearly you’re a horrible person. And I curse that they demand the money. I curse your eviction to be in the middle of…” You get the pattern.
So practice this ability and you might just end up feeling a lot calmer. Don’t be afraid to mix it up and let your creative side run wild. Cursing in mother tongue is positively entertained, makes this level all the more gratifying.
3. THE KILL LIST
In this stage words haven’t helped me calm down, so I take action. I turn into my own personal assassin. In my head, I have a kill list as long as all the seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. I add people to this list for various offences. These may range from mild irritation like shoving me off my path with a handbag the size of a bloated whale, to those that trigger extreme ferocity like telling me to eat so I can gain weight. At this point my mental self control is like a Kardashian with a small butt, it’s non-existent.
This list is revised every night while I lay in bed. The small time offenders get demoted and move lower on the list. The most recent are the freshest meat so I feel the need to barbecue them immediately. Repeat offenders have a special list of their own, sort of like VIP Hit List.
So start your own list, give it a name and a number limit. You can call it “Akinyi’s Angry Avengings” or “Timmy’s Top Ten” or “Jemo’s Justice Jihad” Although coming to think of it I’ve never met a weak Jemo. It’s a frightening name, Jemo. Go ahead, say it in a deep voice. Jemo. Sounds like they can snap you in half and use your bones as toothpicks to remove the obambla from their teeth. Jemo.
4. THE MENTAL VIOLENCE
I move to this stage only if I made the list, revised it and even drew mental blood splatters on it for effect but I’m still furious. Because even in my head, violence is the last resort.
This is where it gets gory. The Jemo in me comes out and I go mortal kombat on their ass, ripping them limb for limb. The undertaker takes a seat in awe, only thing he takes is notes. The hulk cowers in a corner, staring at my violence instead of doing hulk things and having hulk smash fests.
All the while I’m just calmly sitting there exuding a calm Buddha would’ve been proud of. You know how they say whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas…well except Syphilis, that comes back with you. Same thing with my mind, all that acrivity is kept under careful control. Camouflaged to assume normal human appearances. Maybe once or twice the revenge will be so sweet I’ll have a shit eating grin and look a bit like a maniac. But these moments of expressed bliss last shorter than Carly Rae Jepsens music career. Then they are masked.
So go ahead try it. Close your eyes and ninja people in your head. It works. Trust me,I have been on the phone with Zuku Customer Care and I wasn’t arrested…so clearly I know what I’m talking about.
I hope you enjoyed this post and had a laugh at my expense. Comment down below how you express your anger. Even if you don’t comment, it’s fine, I’m not mad.