No school will ever teach us about this stage. The hardest phase of life is not childhood, not adolescence, not the stress of raising children or building a career.
It is the 25 years between 60 and 85. It does not arrive with one dramatic crisis. It comes slowly, like evening. Small changes, everyday life just feels heavier. The body asks for more care as the circle of friends shrinks.
Independence begins to mean something different. Goodbyes accumulate. And the question that haunts most elders emerges; “What is my purpose now?” But here is the truth that the gods of village of Kifuuta, Lusakalwamese in Kyotera have whispered to the wise: These 25 years should not be a waiting room for death.
THE BODY THAT BETRAYS US
One morning, you notice that getting out of the chair takes longer. The stairs in your home make you pause. A small grocery bag feels like a sack of posho. Inside, you still feel 30 years but outside, your knees are writing a different story. That hurts.
It touches your pride. But slowing down does not mean giving up, because movement is medicine. Walk 30 minutes every morning, not to compete, but to greet the day. Stretch gently before bed. Plant a small garden, not for the harvest, but because it forces you to bend, to move, to nurture.
What’s more, always keep a water bottle near you because dehydration makes elders dizzy. Now, there is the killer called loneliness. This one breaks the heart more than the body. When many former public servants move to the village after retirement, they easily get sick.
Meanwhile, the children are busy with their own lives in Kampala. Then one quiet afternoon, you realise the phone has not rung all day. Here is where most people make the fatal mistake: They wait for someone else to call. Loneliness kills faster than sugar. Do not wait.
Hunt for connection and be the caller. Every Sunday, call two old friends, just five minutes to ask about their blood pressure. Join a church choir, a mosque committee, or a morning tea group of elders under a mango tree.
Teach a grandchild how to repair a hoe. You do not need 50 friends. One good conversation can save your whole week. It is also important to reflect that by 70 years, you have buried people you thought you would die with. Grief does not come in order.
An old song plays on the radio, you see an empty chair at the table, you smell a perfume, and yesterday feels like today. Meanwhile, rediscovering your purpose is essential because for decades, your identity was “worker,” “mother,” “father,” “provider,” “farmer.”
When retirement sets in, the house becomes quiet. And you ask the scariest question: “What is my purpose now?” Purpose does not have to be big. It can be tiny, but daily. For instance, plant a mango, an orange, an avocado. In five years, you will sit under their shade and say; “I did this.”
Your grandchildren will eat and thank you. That is legacy. On the other hand, the one constant among people aged between 60 and 85 years is music. However, the biggest mistake elders make is to start playing only slow, spiritual, heaven-and-death music all day.
To me, that music manufactures fear and loneliness. It tells your brain to prepare to die, and, to some extent, your body obeys. So, you do not need music that reminds you only of death. You need music that reminds you that you are still alive.
Warm up with Amapiano, Afrobeat, the latest hits that make your feet move. Let your grandchild teach you TikTok dances. Laughter adds years to your life. I watched a popular TikTok clip where a 70-year-old tried to dance Amapiano with a 10-yearold granddaughter and it ends with both laughing like crazy.
THE FINAL WORD
These years feel so hard because life asks us to change just when we thought we had everything figured out. But listen, elder; this stage is not only about loss. There can still be laughter so loud your dentures shake.
There can still be friendship. There can still be purpose and mornings worth waking up for. Growing older is not about holding on to what was. It is about becoming a little bit more youthful in the mind while being ancient in wisdom.
Have a routine. Play great music. Write about your village. Tell your stories. Forgive now. Walk now. Dance now. Plant now. Call now. These remaining 25 years are your Heaven on Earth. Do not sleep through them with sad music. Put on the music and live.
The author is an investor, contractor, and football enthusiast.