During the inevitable reunion scene in the movie 12 years a Slave (no, it’s not that kind of story), Solomon Northup stands there, choking on emotion and thrusts the feels dagger into the viewer, “I apologize for my appearance,” he begins, “but I have had a difficult time these past several years.”

Many, many years after I watched the movie, memories of that scene came knocking and I couldn’t help but think, “shit, I look worse than Chiwetel did, and I can’t be bothered to fashion an apology for whoever glances at me.” Truth be told, my appearance might leave a mythical Greek creature with a perpetual bad hair day feeling some type of way.

The lockdown in Uganda’s slowly being lifted with a slew of “You can… BUT….” proclamations being doled out during our ‘favourite’ piece of evening programming. The latest essentially being, “You can jump behind a wheel, provided you’re wearing a mask BUT don’t bother going to salons because we can’t trust them to observe social distancing”.

Up next, “You can go hang out at the bar, BUT be home before the 7pm curfew”.

In the lead up to our new Independence Day, I opined that Lockdown Lite wouldn’t necessarily be a return to normalcy. For those who are so inclined, you can’t access the gym just yet, which is a real bummer seeing as the only reason you got into a relationship with Carbs was you knew full well it was going to be a fling you could shake off after the word, “therefore…”.

And then there’s the hair. Sweet mother of all that’s holy, THE HAIR!

Sure, some people have managed to make it work, but if you’re not over on TikTok, working it into your openmouthed dance routines, facial hair is not just incredibly easy to notice, it’s all there is to see. Screw that winsome smile.

It actually matters whose face it’s sitting on – if you’re a celebrity, people will fawn and gush about just how ‘real’ you are, applauding how, despite a history of eating, drinking and getting rid of the things your body has been consuming, you are now more real. It’s kinda cool how the attribute that humanizes people doesn’t involve visiting a washroom.

It’s not all doom and lack of groom, to be honest. I’ve been meaning to try growing an afro, but never had the patience to sit it out. I’ve also wanted to grow a beard to see how that feels, but couldn’t deal with the little communes of hair that would spring forth in different sections of my face.

I don’t have much of a choice now. Yes, there’s a shaver in my life… and a steady supply of electricity, but the way everyone seems to be excelling at the stuff they set their minds to during this period has triggered all sorts of anxiety in my life.

I can’t see myself living with the thought that someone baked for the first time and delivered something worthy of a slot on The Great 2020 Bake Off and I failed to symmetrically level my sideburns.

Looking past the growing relationship between ‘stache and tongue, I’d say it’s working out just fine.

We all had that post lockdown outfit we were planning to wear when all this was behind us, right? You know the one – a pair of pants and a tee-shirt you did actually wear pre-lockdown that survived being relegated to pajama status. The same ones you imagined you’d throw on to much applause and fanfare – “Oh wow, you even bought new clothes”, “When did you get that?” your fans would scream, “Oh this old thing?!”, you’d half admit, half feign modesty…

Yeah, the more you realise your fans don’t have private cars and are still stuck at home waiting for public means of transport to be given the greenlight, the more you despise that outfit. This coming before you throw it on and realise it’s gotten clingy. . . or shrunk or simply less tolerant of what you bring to the table.

In essence, because no one’s looking at you, you might as well retain the lockdown’s status quo.

There’s not that much that’s changed since the lockdown was lifted… except people’s attitudes. The misconception is no lockdown=no coronavirus, so people are throwing caution to the wind, holding hands and not bothering to wear masks. The only reason this really upsets me is because now I have to cover my face. When everyone was freaking out, it didn’t really make sense to hide under protective gear.

The logic was simple, “if you’re keeping the viruses to yourself, I don’t have to keep them away.” Now, the streets are littered with members of the sputum distribution network.

The lockdown may have been lifted, but now I have to deal with a mask, tonnes of facial hair and clothes that have trouble letting go.

“I apologize for my appearance, but I have had a difficult time these past several years.”