Ancient Greek philosopher Plato once said "Friendship is love without wings."

The great philosopher didn't give any definition to what he meant; perhaps he wanted us to come up with our own definitions that would suit his thought. I got an email the other day claiming it was the World Friendship Week. Well, to say the truth, I had never heard of such a thing before.

But the mail had one beautiful quote that I really liked, it said, "Give your enemy countless chances to be your friend but never give your friend a single chance to become thee who cherish friendship. Isn't it?

Today, I write this as a true tribute to a friend who passed away a few days ago. One of his favourite statements was a Swahili saying, "Urafiki washinda undugu," which translates into friendship is greater than family ties. Yes, I lost a lifelong friend whom we shared sweet childhood memories. Let say, we were the generation of born-city-wabongo. Ours is the generation of sons and daughters of 'Wazungu wa Usii.' Our fathers belonged to the civil servants' generation who took over from the British after independence.

Our parents in the sixties were the elite of the Bongo society when they replaced the colonial civil servants through what came to be known as 'Africanisation.' What I really fail to understand is how our fathers soon came to lose everything. Bongo immediately after Uhuru, moved from a middle-income country in the same ranks as South Korea, Brazil and others to one of the poorest nations in the world.

All in a period less then two decades! So poor that we grew up at difficult times after our parents gave away everything in the name of Ujamaa and the liberation struggle of Southern Africa . Unlike what we see today, in those days of 'Mwalimu' we were not privileged in any way than the sons and daughters of any peasants. We went to the same schools, we ate the same food (we even wore the same clothes and our shirts all had that Mao cut collar.

TV were out-lawed in Bongo; a time when every music band had to compose a song to praise the Great leader. Practically we all knew and sang the same songs crammed from listening the one and only radio station RTD. Those were the days when Chakubanga was the leading cartoon character. After secondary my friend and I were employed by the same government that employed our fathers but under very different circumstances.

There were no more government mansions for civil servants neither were there any loans for us to buy cars. Ironically, we were better educated than our fathers. While few of our parents had secondary education, we were college graduates with certificates, diplomas and even degrees.

At the funeral, we were sitting on wooden and plastic chairs around some coffee tables chatting as the traditions require in the Bongo as we waited for the burial. On one of the tables was a plastic plate with two exercise books on it. Occasionally a person would come and pick up one, write the amount they have contributed and sign their name.

Most of the men in the group that I was sitting were of my age. The conversation soon fell into the old men glorious days christened 'the good old days.' "I say in the old days life used to be so cheap. Out of my monthly salary I could buy all that I needed without worrying that I would run out of cash," said one old man.

He was quickly supported by another, "Yeah, I was able to build a house on a salary of less then a Sh100. I also managed to educate so many of my young relatives." He posed then added, "But look now they have all forgotten about me." "Yes, young men these days' aren't so kind. They are so selfish! There was no 'ufisadi' in our days," my late friend's father chipped in.

"Things were good bana. There weren't even terrible diseases such as HIV/Aids. You can't imagine I was able to have three wives and twenty kids on a government salary." I couldn't hold my disagreement any longer. " Wazee, you are the ones to blame for all this mess," I said as I tried to keep my voice steady to avoid shouting.

"That is the truth." I emphasised my point. You ate all what the colonialist had left of our grandfathers' sweat without thinking about the future. Now who are you blaming? So in short you were greedy and a very irresponsible generation."

As I left, I could feel the shockwave in the wake of my accusations.