Turning 30

I grew up in the 90’s, a period that now feels like a bygone era. The definition of sexy was curvier, the Kwaito scene was heavier, and Benni was still skinny enough to be in the 18 area. Thought I’d start off with a catchy rhyme.

I grew up during a time when the national broadcaster NBC was premium Television, because the only time you could watch M-net was during open time. When DSTV finally arrived, the game changed. We learned how to take over the world from Pinky and the brain, how to keep secrets from our parents in Dexter’s Laboratory, how to solve conflict from Tom and Jerry, and how to Mack from Johnny Bravo (turns out that Johnny wasn’t that good). To the 90’s babies, Maria de Los Angeles is not the title of a song, but one of the greatest telenovela’s ever made. 90’s babies know that Orquidia Cordoba Escalante and Radames Basanta are not the names of venereal diseases, but perhaps the greatest couple in telenovela history – forget Diego and Paloma. 

In the 90’s, liking a hit song was an investment, because you had to either call a radio station to hear it, or buy a cassette tape and record it. Most of you born after the year 2000 have never had to manually roll tape back into a cassette, rewind the movie immediately after you finish watching it, or had to stand on your toes while holding the TV aerial/antenna.

I can say that I have taken a taxi ride for N$2.00, yes, two bucks! That’s how great the 90’s were, the only thing two dollars buys you these days is a Fong Kong lollipop. 

Musically, the soils of the 90’s were rich. Micheal Jackson was still recording the odd single, Brenda Fassie was making hits, Jackson Kaujeua was in his pomp, Ras Sheehama still had no facial hair, and Kwasa Kwasa heavyweights (Koffi Olomide, Papa Wemba) were making music faster than Toyota makes Cars. 

We named ourselves after soccer stars and not rappers. Soccer stars were good if 1) they were Brazilian, and 2) the name was repeated i.e. Jay Jay or Boy Boy. The only Ronaldo around was a Brazilian who was deceptively fast and scored goals that made you rethink your whole life. 

Now. You must be wondering why I’m drowning myself in nostalgia. I’m not moving to Australia, and I’m not joining the army, I recently turned 30 (I know, I’m old!). Yes. I’ve lived across four decades, let that sink in. I am glad that I have turned 30, because I was seriously getting the short end of the stick in my twenties. I’m glad that I no longer have to attempt to be perfect or feel the pressure to be something I can’t be. The pressure to succeed and keep up appearances ruined the twenties for me. The pressure to have a great career, find someone and settle down, ascend the organizational ladder, have a family, and still have smooth supple skin. Those are unreasonable expectations, by those standards I am classified as a fuck up. I’ve suffered failure to launch, twice. Still don’t have an actual career, and still haven’t knocked anybody up yet. I should be ashamed at my inability to be the model pre millennial success story (Namibian version), but, I am not! 

I am sane, super healthy, and have no issues with insomnia. I am content with that. I’m looking forward to enjoying the best years of my life, here is to the dirty thirties, salut!