Embarrassed by hanging out with kids

THIS man is trying to talk my friend and I into going where children go when they take a break from their university workload.

I say: "Man! I think my friend and I here will look like grandfathers there." He says: "You're fine. Go". I say: "But you can hide your age under your dreadlocks, man. We don't have dreads!" He smiles a knowing smile.

But I can't figure out what his smile knows.

Now I'm curious. Then my friend chirps up: "Heyi wena!", he says to me, "My children haven't got children, or do you know something I don't know?"

So I shut up, right? And I go along. After all, my son hasn't got a child yet either. So if the children think we're grandfathers, they'll be wrong.

We get there. Eish! The children are looking at us with these eyes that say, "Haw'! Manje! Granddaddies, what's going on?" I'm embarrassed. We persevere.

One of them proceeds to demolish us at pool table. We don't win a single game in hours. But at least while we're playing, our eyes are locked on the pool table, avoiding the accusing stares.

The pool-playing child gets bored of beating us. He leaves. We pluck up the nerve to visit the dance-floor. There are children, everywhere, pushing their buttocks against other children's loins and singing along to lyrics I can't hear and don't quite understand when, on the odd occasion, I catch a phrase.

They are screaming to this hip-hop of theirs, dressed in T-shirts that say things like "F*#k milk. Got pot" and "I'm a cool kid". These are the boy children. The girl children are always pulling their short dresses down, making me wonder why they didn't just wear their longer ones.

I leave for the bar. There, I catch the eye of a man. He could be my uncle. He catches my eye. I know he's thinking, like me: "Should we be here?" He's bobbing his head, though, trying to fit in. I feel the relief of not being the oldest there.

He's the tallest person there, too, more visible than we are everywhere he goes. Now that's real manna from heaven. His presence makes us look a little like we belong.

I'll tell you something, neh? Our children can dress, hey! It does not matter whether their clothes are from Mr Price or Gucci, they put them together with stylish beauty!

In the end we just sat down and watched. I saw no fights. I did not see one child being carried out too drunk to walk on those impossible high heels of theirs.

I did not see a single boy-child making a move on a girl-child beyond what's acceptable.

And they have boundaries too these children. You walk in there with your decades on your shoulders and they shoulder you aside with their stares. You will not forget for a second that this is not your time.

So there, I checked up on our university going children. I think they'll do just fine.