Too Old to Party

18th October 2006 - Zanzibar
Sitting on the beach we could hear him. A tout for a nearby resteraunt trying to drum up custom for his employer's beach party later that evening. It would, according to him, be the biggest rave-up the island had ever seen. It sounded to us like it would be a good gig and we would be foolish to miss it. As he got nearer, we thought seriously about going as he repeated his pitch again and again to others, who like us, were savouring the last rays of the afternoon sun. Finally he was before us, huge white teeth smiling at us from the frame of a black African face. There was no talk from his lips of a beach party, just sunset cocktails and post cards. We were obviously, in his mind, far too old to party! Reeling from the shock of his perception of us we quickly quit the beach and adjourned to the bars for safety and a shisha (hubble bubble) pipe. " Evening Mumma, evening Papa, we have a nice seat for you on the
sofa." Who are these turkeys who want to pension us off to the sidelines, we thought?
When my parents' generation returned to Australia, New Zealand, Canada, U.S. and the U.K. at the end of WWII, the very first thing they did was to have children. More each than their parents did and over a longer period of
time. Those like us born between 1946 and 1963 became known as "Boomers",
the largest demographic segement in the Western World. We exploded
classrooms in the 50s, swamped the job market in the 70s and 80s and as we
now begin to hit 60, stretch the pension fund past breaking point. In the
west we are not old - we are simply the majority!
Here in Africa (as in Asia) however, lower births and higher mortality rates
mean that people our age are rarer and being called "Mumma" of Papa" is a
respect reserved for the elders of their society. Do I feel honoured?

Several days ago we visited a Masai village near Dar es Salaam. The Masai
warrior who escorted us was typical of his generation (and culture), 24 and
married with two wives and four children. People of his age in the west
would likely be single students still living at home, but here, they are
heads of families and the decision makers of their society.

I'm still not sure how I feel about my new title of honour but it makes me
yearn a little for the anonimity of my generation back in New Zealand.