By Dr. Shaaban Fundi
Growing older has taught me a few things.
Some lessons arrived gently.
Others arrived like a bodaboda in Turiani hitting a pothole at full speed—while carrying three passengers, a sack of charcoal, two chickens, and a gas cylinder.
1. MY BODY HAS LEFT THE MISCHIEF GROUP CHAT
The body I had at thirty and the one I have today are no longer on speaking terms.
At thirty, I left Tanzania and began building a new life in America. I could work long hours, study, raise a family, teach, travel, and still convince myself that four hours of sleep was enough.
Today, I can sleep in the wrong position in my own comfortable bed and wake up needing a full committee meeting with my neck, back, knees, and ancestral bones.
These days, before jumping over a trench, I first ask:
“Is there anything important on the other side?”
If not, that trench can continue enjoying its freedom.
Team-building activities involving running, crawling, or climbing?
That train left the station—and I am no longer chasing it.
After fifty, good health is no longer something to take for granted. It is an investment. The body must be respected because Tanzania, America, my family, my students, and Kibogoji still need me functioning properly.
1. EVERYBODY’S PROBLEM IS NOT MY PROJECT
I have spent much of my life teaching, advising, supporting, building, and trying to help people move forward.
But I am finally accepting that I cannot fix everything—or everyone.
Some people are not confused.
Some people are not broken.
They are simply committed to nonsense.
I cannot continue chasing friendship with someone who has decided to treat me like a nuisance. I cannot keep showing love to someone whose full-time occupation is disrespect. And I cannot continue carrying responsibilities that properly belong to other adults.
Whether in family matters, friendships, community organizations, politics, or projects in Tanzania, I am learning to return problems to their rightful owners.
“Samahani, hii mizigo ni yako.
Kindly collect your drama at the reception.”
Helping people is good. Losing yourself while helping them is not.
1. WHAT I WANTED AT THIRTY IS NOT WHAT I WANT NOW
Na hakuna shida.
At thirty, I wanted excitement, recognition, adventure, material success, and the approval of people who were probably not even paying attention.
After fifty?
Give me peace, good health, financial stability, meaningful work, a quiet home, genuine relationships, and eight uninterrupted hours of sleep.
That is luxury.
Some of the things I chased for years have turned out to be pure hogwash.
Growing older means realizing that some races were never worth entering. You were sweating, competing, and nearly collapsing—only to discover that nobody had even asked you to run.
Today, I would rather use my time and resources to build something meaningful: educate young people, strengthen Kibogoji Experiential Learning School, create opportunities in Tanzania, write my story, support my family, and enjoy the fruits of the life I have worked so hard to build.
Young people, listen carefully:
some of the things you are sacrificing your health, dignity, and peace to obtain will not matter in the long run.
Choose your races wisely.
1. “THIS IS JUST WHO I AM” IS A LAZY EXCUSE
I do not have to remain the person I have always been.
If I was too accommodating and allowed people to turn me into their free public service, I can establish stronger boundaries.
If I was too impatient, I can learn patience.
If I made mistakes as a husband, father, friend, educator, leader, or businessman, I can acknowledge them and grow.
After fifty, I realize that character development is still an ongoing curriculum.
Serikali haijafunga hiyo shule!
I have spent much of my life teaching others, but I am still a student myself. Life continues to assign lessons, and some of them come without a study guide.
Therefore, I am allowed to update myself:
New version.
Fewer bugs.
Better boundaries.
More wisdom.
Less drama.
Growing older should not mean becoming stubborn. It should mean becoming wiser, calmer, and more honest with yourself.
1. I AM DONE WAITING TO FEEL READY
The perfect time may never come.
If I continue waiting until everything is perfectly arranged, I may find myself at seventy still saying:
“Mwaka ujao, Mungu akipenda.”
After fifty, I understand one unavoidable truth:
the years ahead are fewer than the years behind.
That is not depressing.
It is a whistle being blown.
There are still books to write, places in the world to visit, businesses to build, young people to mentor, lecture rooms to improve, friendships to enjoy, and dreams to pursue.
There is still work to do in the world.
There are still contributions I can make to Tanzania.
There are still places in the world I want to see and experiences I want to share with the people I love.
If I want to travel, write, dance, build, learn something new, expand Kibogoji to a secondary school, start another ambitious project, or finally attempt something I postponed twenty years ago, I had better start moving.
At this age, procrastination is no longer an innocent habit.
It is an expensive loss.
After fifty, I am choosing peace over performance, health over unnecessary pressure, purpose over applause, and people who value me over people I must constantly convince.
I am choosing growth over stubbornness—and living over endlessly preparing to live.
The children are now grown or they’re about to leave the nest.
I have spent decades working, teaching, learning, raising a family, crossing continents, and trying to build a meaningful life between America and Tanzania.
So, honestly, what exactly am I still waiting for before doing the things I have always wanted to do?
A presidential invitation from Ikulu?
A letter from heaven, signed and stamped?
A WhatsApp message saying:
“Dear Dr. Fundi, your application has been approved. You may now begin living”?
Hapana!
After fifty, we are no longer asking for permission.
We are only checking whether our knees agree with the plan.
And if they do—or if they can at least be persuaded—
Let the crazy season begin!
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