I don’t know why, but lately, people keep confusing me with Karitas Karisimbi.
I don’t have a problem with this in principle- I don’t know Karitas personally, I just know that she’s a media personality and was on radio. But it’s crazy how many people have either greeted me by her name or confidently pointed me out as being her.
I was at a recording studio voicing an ad recently, and the producer asked the receptionist if she knew who I was. She scoffed at him and rolled her eyes, replying ‘Shyaa. Of course. She’s Karitas!’ I was so stunned I didn’t even have the gas to correct her before I entered the booth. I wasn’t expecting her to know who I was at all, never mind her mistaking me for someone else altogether.
Another time, I was patiently waiting at the ATM for the lady in front of me to quit wasting time, get her money and go. As always, I had my headphones in and was blasting some tune or other, when she came out and stopped in her tracks in front of me. I looked up and found her grinning at me. Confused and a little unsure, I smiled back, not knowing who this woman was, but wondering if she had confused me with my big sister Kaine.
(It happens often, even with relatives. Why, I will never know, but we have accepted that we are twins, born several years apart and with a whole sibling in between. But I digress).
Anyway, I smiled politely and tried to get past the woman and into the ATM. No such luck.
‘Hi Karitas!’ She chirped cheerfully. Trying really hard not to roll my eyes, I fixed my grin and turned around.
‘Ha ha, I’m not Karitas,’ I responded.
‘Are you sure?’ she looked at me incredulously. Like that look you give someone who clearly has no idea what they are talking about and might be somewhat touched in the head.
‘Yes, I am sure. I’m not her,’ I replied, with more uneasy laughter.
‘Yiiyiiii, but you are Karitaaaaaas!! Stop denyyyyyiiiiiing!! Ok kale you are her sister!’ This woman wouldn’t let up. I gritted my teeth.
‘I’m not her sister. I don’t know her, honestly.’ Hoping this was the end of the conversation, I turned to get on with withdrawing my money.
Two minutes later, I walked out the ATM to find the same woman leaning against the railing, looking at me as if she couldn’t understand why I was denying my true identity. ‘Bye Karitas!’ she called after me.
I didn’t have the strength to argue.
Like I said, I don’t know Karitas. And I’m not sure how she’d feel if she knew people keep thinking I’m her, but just to be clear, I thought I’d include a list of other people and/or things that I most certainly am NOT.
- An Arsenal fan
- Here for your nonsense
- Against Marmite
- Obsessed with Idris Elba
- A fan of spiders
I think Karitas is beautiful and I’m flattered that some people think we bear a passing resemblance.
At least I’m not being confused with the wrong end of a bus. I guess I should count my blessings.