It’s my birthday, but who cares

Today, March 9th, is my birthday, but it seems like am the only person who gives a damn. You see, am an African, and as far as it goes, birthdays are nobody’s business. That’s a western culture, that has failed to resonate with our individualistic one. Celebrating such days and cutting funny looking cakes while singing, “Happy birthday to you… blah blah” was picked up by millennials, but even them have failed to keep up. As one matures, it seems like a childish thing to do. 

Growing up, I don’t remember even once celebrating my birthday or any of my family members surprising me with a gift or so. It was accustomed for me to forget my born days, not that it mattered anyway. In my family, birthdays were just that, birthdays. No parties, cakes, gifts or anything. Nothing! When I joined campus is when I learnt what birthdays were. Comrades were spending lots of money throwing parties and impressing others. 

They could literally spend weeks planning their special days. It was like a competition. With my upbringing, I tried to give my birthdays a blind eye, but the pressure was too much to bear. I bowed. Like a crusade of minions, I followed suit. Planned parties, blew out candles and noshed on cakes. But now, am older and even much wiser, and feeling dread over my impending age to enjoy the day. That said, here is what am doing today.