Everyone kept telling Joshua that his real life would begin later. Uncle Rwamiti did the mathematics.

Joshua was sixteen when he discovered that apparently he wasn’t living yet.

He was preparing to live.

His mother reminded him regularly.

“Joshua, concentrate on your books. There will be plenty of time for those other things later.”

Football?

Later.

Learning photography?

Later.

Starting the small video-editing business he kept talking about?

“After school.”

The girl he liked?

“Don’t even think about it.”

The guitar gathering dust beside his bed?

“Joshua, please. You have exams.”

Everything interesting appeared to belong to a mysterious country called Later.

And the adults seemed to have citizenship.

One Saturday afternoon, Joshua found Uncle Rwamiti sitting under the mango tree.

“Uncle, when does real life actually begin?”

Uncle Rwamiti lowered his newspaper.

“That is a dangerous question.”

“I am serious.”

“Even worse.”

Joshua sat down.

Uncle Rwamiti picked up a stick and began writing in the soil.

0–20: STUDY

“Approximately,” he said.

Then:

20–60: WORK

Then:

60–70: RETIRE AND ENJOY LIFE

Joshua stared at the ground.

Uncle Rwamiti added:

70+: TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY

Joshua burst out laughing.

“Uncle!”

“I didn’t design the system.”

“So that’s life?”

“Apparently.”

Joshua looked again.

Twenty years preparing for work.

Forty years working.

Then perhaps ten years enjoying what was left.

“That makes no sense.”

“Excellent,” said Uncle Rwamiti.

“What?”

“You have just discovered something at sixteen that some people discover at sixty-five.”

Joshua frowned.

“So I should stop studying?”

Uncle Rwamiti shook his head.

“That is exactly the sort of nonsense teenagers hear when adults make you choose between two stupid options.”

He erased the lines.

“Your education matters. Your exams matter. Discipline matters. But who told you that preparing for tomorrow requires cancelling today?”

Joshua became quiet.

Uncle Rwamiti drew another line.

16 → 20

“What could you become during these four years besides a student?”

Joshua shrugged.

“A photographer?”

“Good.”

“A video editor.”

“Good.”

“I could get better at football.”

“Continue.”

“I could learn how to make money.”

“Careful. Now you are becoming dangerous.”

Joshua laughed.

“I could learn to talk to people properly. Maybe read things that aren’t textbooks. Travel when I can. Make mistakes.”

“Small mistakes,” Uncle Rwamiti said.

“Why small?”

“Because large mistakes have accountants.”

They both laughed.

Then Uncle Rwamiti became serious.

“Joshua, there are two ways of wasting youth.”

The boy waited.

“One is doing whatever you want because you think consequences don’t exist.”

He drew a circle in the soil.

“The other is doing nothing you want because you think life hasn’t started yet.”

Joshua stared at the second sentence.

Nobody had ever warned him about that kind of wasting time.

Adults constantly warned teenagers about drugs, alcohol, sex, bad friends, laziness and social media.

Nobody warned them about becoming excellent at postponement.

“What should I do then?”

Uncle Rwamiti leaned back.

“I don’t know.”

Joshua looked annoyed.

“You’ve just given me a whole speech!”

“I gave you a question. Speeches are what your parents and teachers give you.”

“So what’s the question?”

Uncle Rwamiti pointed at the four years he had drawn in the soil.

“If your life has already started, what are you waiting for?”

Joshua looked at the guitar-shaped calluses that weren’t on his fingers.

He thought about the photography page he had never created.

The video-editing software he had downloaded six months earlier.

The football training he kept postponing until after exams.

Then he thought about his mother.

“She’ll say I’m getting distracted.”

“Probably.”

“My teacher will say I need to concentrate.”

“Almost certainly.”

“So whose advice should I follow?”

Uncle Rwamiti smiled.

“Now you’re trying to make me responsible for your problems.”

He stood up.

“Your move, Joshua.”

⸻

YOUR MOVE

Joshua has important exams in six months. He also believes he has been postponing too much of his life.

What should he do?

A. Forget everything else for six months. Life can wait until after the exams.

B. Reduce his study time and throw himself seriously into photography and video editing.

C. Protect his studies, but deliberately reserve a few hours every week for something he wants to build, practise or experience now.

D. Ignore Uncle Rwamiti. Adults always make simple things complicated.

There isn’t a perfect answer.

But there is one more question:

How much of your life are you currently postponing until “later”?

UNCLE RWAMITI: YOUR MOVE

The uncle your parents probably shouldn’t have introduced you to. 😏