By the Idler-in-Chief
People whose mouths currently smell their mother’s milk may not appreciate that there was a time in Nyagenke when a family photograph was a serious affair.
I am referring to those days when photographers were a rare species and attracted the admiration that is now given to people who fly here in chartered choppers, only to be received by citizens who have persevered adverse weather conditions for hours waiting for Waheshimiwa’s arrival.
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Those days, my kinsmen wore their best clothes, borrowed shoes from neighbours, and stood stiffly beside flowers and bananas while a photographer shouted, “Do not blink!”
That photo would then be framed and kept in the sitting room for years, slowly fading together with the ambitions of the family.
Today things have changed.
The modern Nyagenkean no longer takes photographs for memories but public consumption.
If a Nyagenkean attends a wedding, eats fish, buys new curtains, or washes a baby, she immediately feels a constitutional obligation to upload evidence into every WhatsApp group known to mankind.
We now have people in Nyagenke who cannot empty a cup of tea before posting not less than ten photographs in “Nyagenke DEB Old Boys and Girls,” “Nyagenke Professional Development Forum,” “St. Peter’s Nyagenke Choir,” and a funeral contribution group whose members only wanted to raise money peacefully.
I recently joined a public group meant for discussing agriculture and coffee farming but before the chairman could even greet members, one fellow called Kegwarembe uploaded sixteen photographs of himself wearing sunglasses near a car.
The man even captioned the pictures: “Sunday vibes with family”, and I could not tell what this had to do with coffee and tea revival.
My friend, in Nyagenke today, people no longer raise children but manufacture photography assistants.
Now, every outing resembles a political campaign launch and children are lined up near waterfalls, wives are instructed to smile at goats, and husbands pose beside trees as if they personally planted the forest.
Then comes the flood.
“Blessed family moments.”
“God has done it again.”
“Weekend mood.”
Mood for who now?
There are people in Nyagenke whose self-esteem survives entirely on comments saying “nice pic mkuu.”
If nobody reacts within ten minutes, they begin reposting the same photograph from different angles like a desperate television advertisement, and if no comment comes, their ego is deflated and the engage the delete button.
Some have reached dangerous levels of ego. They enter public WhatsApp groups the way celebrities enter award ceremonies and to them, greeting is not as important as visibility.
You will simply wake up at 5.42 a.m. and find twenty-seven images of somebody’s child holding juice.
No explanation. No apology. Just juice.
The frightening thing is that nobody asked for these photographs but the owners behave like the nation is eagerly waiting for visual updates from their households.
A man buys a pair of white sneakers and suddenly the entire county must witness a photo shoot beside a hedge.
I know one woman in Nyagenke who uploads photographs so frequently that some people suspect she has hired a full-time cameraman.
Last month she attended a burial and somehow managed to produce an album larger than the deceased’s own family collection.
Another dangerous species is the “Good morning” photographer. These are people who believe every greeting must be accompanied by six edited images, sparkles, flowers, and a quotation wrongly attributed to Nelson Mandere.
“Good morning members,” they write, before uploading pictures that look like rejected campaign posters.
Today privacy is treated like witchcraft or poor network coverage. Modern people expose their marriages, children, kitchens, vacations, goats, and even hospital drips with the confidence of television presenters.
One fellow recently watermarked his family picnic photographs as if international media houses were planning to steal exclusive rights to his roasted maize.
Experts in Nyagenke have already done a study and found that the problem is simple: many people secretly believe they are celebrities trapped inside ordinary villages.
WhatsApp groups have therefore become free exhibition halls where citizens market their lifestyles to unwilling audiences.
One village wag recently noted and perhaps he was right that if attention were taxable, Nyagenke would clear the national debt within two weeks.
I just hope that this information doesn’t reach the man who whose appetite for taxing my kinsmen because it will cost me my position as the chief chronicler of the good people of Nyagenke.
Meanwhile, innocent group members continue suffering silently. They enter a public forum expecting important announcements only to find twelve photographs of somebody posing near a swimming pool with captions like “Life is for living.”
This of course is an obvious fact but one may think he’s smart for repeating it.
But surely, fellow Nyagenkeans, not every plate of kangumu deserves a national broadcast.
— babahezel@gmail.com
