How Do People Cope With Sleep With Pajamas On?

You People Who Sleep In Clothes Or With Pajamas On, Mukikola Mutya? How Do You Do It?

It is a Thursday morning. It is the third day since we were told to stay alert and listen up for missile alarms. My vocabulary has gotten new terms. Please forgive me if you get bored of reading words like missiles, rockets, bombs and bunkers. For the people who watch action movies, I think you are used to these words. Personally, I prefer movies that have a combination of law, crime, history and psychology. But this tale is not a movie review. I am seeking for advice on how to get used to sleeping with clothes on.

After the first strike in my area, we ran to the bunker to take shelter. I guess the iron domes diffused whatever rockets had been launched just right on time. We left the bomb shelter after a few minutes when it was all safe and calm. Did I just say safe? But it was calm. However, a friend told me to be alert just in case there is an incident at night. At that point, running was not an issue because I am so very fit that I can challenge Kiprotitch to a marathon. I was wondering and calculating how much time it would take me to jump into my pajamas and make it to the shelter on time. I must confess that I get good quality sleep when I go to bed in my birth suit. Most of the times, I wear pajamas but I throw the damn cloth(es) off as soon as my blanket starts to generate some warmth. I want to feel the warmth skin to skin, from my blanket right onto my body. Even when the winter was bitingly cold, I would take off the many layers of cloths that I got into bed clad in as soon as I began to feel warm. I put the layers on after waking up. Summer is here. It is getting warm, no, not warm, it is getting hot. I will not miss winter though. What I am saying is that it’s that time of the year when sleep comes easily without struggle and even better when I get into my bed naked.

My coffee sensitivity notwithstanding, I had a small cup of cappuccino when I was meeting up with a friend. We can call that the influence of peer pressure. I had a bottle of water but the Kampala girl in me couldn’t turn down a free cup of coffee even when it makes my blood boil. To avoid a strong caffeine effect, I did not add sugar. I stopped taking sugar about five years ago. It wasn’t out of free will. My body refused the sugar and I heeded to the fragility. I think that leaving sugar is one of the best things to happen to me. I do not have to worry about that expense no matter how high the prices rise. The coffee made my insomnia worse.

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Meanwhile, I forgot to eat. I had two scoops of ice-cream. Remember I said that I had plans of going to the market but my instincts told me otherwise? I have some food in the freezer though. I only forgot to defrost it. And I was not feeling hungry anyways. As the night went on, the effect of the coffee took a toll on me. I could not sleep no matter how much I forced myself to. I sat, with my warm pajamas on and thought about which story to write next. My window was open. There was dead silence. My body, as usual rebelled against the discomfort of night wear. I threw it off but first, I had to rehearse how I will grab it in micro seconds and wear it in case the siren goes off in the dead of the night. Escaping rockets is one thing, getting to the bunker naked is another one. When I had mastered how I will put on the pajama and make it to the shelter in less than sixty seconds, I placed it in a strategic place. All the while, I was hoping that I would sleep off. I scanned through how the long day has been and I recalled that I hadn’t had any solid meal. A housemate prepared posho and beans. She gave me a share of the popular school meal but I forgot to eat it. I carried it to my room, yes, I did but I did not touch it. I took it to the fridge after it cooled down. I will microwave it and have it when I am a bit settled. The mind can mean to wander and wonder when one is faced with a crisis. Mine urged me to write saying that those pieces of writing could serve as my will in case everything goes South. Writing actually liberates me. I used to write and destroy my stories the next day but I grew more confident. I write and share with my three ardent followers. (Hahaha) My relationship with the pen is (pun intended) is a for better for worse. Guns and drones of a military dictatorship back at home got nothing on my pen.

Back to the pajamas, you guys, tell me, mukilola mutya? How do you do it?  How do you manage to sleep fully dressed and keep it that way till morning? I need some tips. Seriously, I do. I will hold a thanksgiving bash if I ever get used to sleeping in night wear. Ati what if thieves break into your room at night? My friend, keep quiet!  Why should I imagine the worst-case scenarios when I am going to sleep? I talk positivity into my mind before sleeping. Confession is possession, you know. I only stop at admiring and buying sexy, comfortable and nice night wear. And sometimes, I go extreme and give them away when they become too redundant and fill my closet. What are baggy T-shirts for anyways? Those tees that you get from an event that you may not attend again and if you happen to, a new tee is given. I am waiting for your convincing input on how to wear and keep pajamas on, all night long.

Annah Ashaba

ashabannah@gmail.com

The writer is a human rights activist