I got a call from my friend this morning and he told me about the passing on of our mutual friend.He died peacefully in his sleep last night. They found him in bed this morning with a smile on his face.
Babu’s smile has warmed my heart in such a special way since I met him in 2009.
You see I met him the first time on 8th October, 2009. Yes, I remember that day vividly.
I had been invited to speak at a forum in Kisumu, a huge group of about five hundred or so. One guy unnerved me. He was seated at the front. He was introduced as the head of some organization and was also head of the delegation from Congo. I guessed he was about sixty years old. He had been given the cards of each of the speakers.
When I stood to speak, he looked at my business card and then looked at me.
Removed his spectacles and looked at me again. Back to the card. Me again.
Slowly mouthed my name. Shook his head. Placed the card on the table and wrote something on the back of it.
He just stared at me. It was unnerving.
Was it not bad enough that my presentation was on homosexuality? Yes, I felt like a wet lion in den of daniels.
During the presentation, there were questions and as expected, the discussions got heated. Very heated. After all, we were discussing homosexuality and the church in Africa. But this guy never said anything. I could not read any expression on his face. He was not hostile. He was not smiling either. He was just staring at me.
When we took a lunch break. He picked his meal and took his place at a corner. He continued staring at me. He had still said nothing. This was getting creepy.
Why was he staring at me like that?
Well, meeting ended and as I was packing my laptop and stuff up, he came to me and asked what I thought were the most ridiculous questions.
He asked me if I used to own a smallish white car in 2002. He asked if I used a certain route to work every morning at that period in time. He asked if I used to leave my house at about 7.15am. I said yes to all this questions. After a brief pause, he slowly quoted the registration number of my first car, KAE 951N. This was getting creepy.Who was this guy?
Then he stretched his hand and I shook his outstretched hand. My hand disappeared in his huge hand. He was big and burly. Then his face cracked a smile. Then he started laughing. A loud thunderous laughter while still holding my hand.My whole body vibrated as he roared. Then he asked, "Can I hug you?" And before I could answer, he grabbed me and hugged me. Tight.
The only reason why I was not yet screaming is because there were other people in the room.
When he finally let me go and I was breathless, disheveled and ready to run for dear life,he said the most amazing thing. He said I saved his life.
By this time you could knock me down with a feather. Yes, me and all of my none-of-your-business kilos.
Then he started to explain.
You see, at that said time of his life, his only daughter had just passed away in the UK where she was a working. Medical reports revealed she had died HIV/AIDS related complications. She was in a same sex relationship. He had sent her there because he believed it was easier and safer for her. Homophobia was too rife in Africa. She had been all he had. Her mother had passed away shortly after Jenny his daughter was born. He was hurting and lost and angry with God. He wanted to die. Yes, he was a very successful business man but he wanted to die. Life had lost meaning. For a year, everything was mundane. He was also struggling with drugs and alcohol. He was 66 years and he was tired.
So where did I fit in all this?
Well, apparently, something I used to do in traffic made a difference in his life.
I used to smile and wave at total strangers in traffic!!
You see, for that one year when all was bleak,this guy looked forward to my wave and smile. I reminded him so much of his daughter. I had a smile like hers. He looked forward to seeing me every morning. I looked so alive and happy. I made him believe there was hope.
He sold his company, made a handsome profit and went to UK and undertook a degree in Psychology.
He then made peace with a God He had been angry with for so long. A God he had sought all his life. He was now running an organization that offered psychological support for those in same sex relationships.
This was the first time he had come back to Kenya since December 2002.
He said he never forgot my face and when he planned his trip to Kenya, he told God he hoped he would meet me. And there I was.
By this time,my tears had started to flow freely.Ok, I lie. I was sobbing like a baby. When my sobs subsided, I explained.
You see, I had lost my boyfriend in a car jacking incident early that very year and I feared driving. No, I hated driving. But I had purposed to go on one day at a time. So every morning, I woke up and said, "The joy of the Lord is my strength." I had to convince myself even before I began my day! I would get into the car and smile. Smile to total strangers. Wave at total strangers.
I figured that as long as I was smiling, I could not cry. I had cried for so long and I needed to start smiling.
There were those people I met in traffic daily and I would wave and smile on the way to work.
Smiling at strangers was therapeutic for me.I could not be angry with the world if I was smiling at the world.
Babu cried. I cried. We had a bond.
Babu never called me by name. He always called me Malaika.
We kept in touch. He would call me when he would be in the country and we would meet for a cup of coffee. Always Java. Always cappuccino. Always Sugarless. He always chided me for having a sweet tooth, just like Jenny had.
And he regularly sent me text messages. Sometimes just one statement ....I am praying for you.
Last time I saw him was when he diagnosed with prostate cancer late last year. He had come to see a doctor in Nairobi and together with some friends, we prayed with him. He did not want to go through chemotherapy. He was at peace. He said he was ready to meet his daughter and his wife. He said his work was done. He said he wanted to go home.
And this morning, at the age of 79 years, Babu went to be with the Lord with a smile on his face.
In God's way, my pain had healed Babu's pain. Yes, we had both been healed by a smile.
You were so brave Babu. When we spoke and you were in pain, you always asked me not to cry but to smile. You told me my smile healed you. And when you were to weak to call or text, you used to text me a smiley face.And I would send you 2 smiley faces. You would send me 3. And we could go on and on, trying to out smile each other as it were.
So even today as I mourn your passing on, I will not cry Babu ...I will smile. I cannot cry as long as am smiling.
I promise to smile as they cremate you tomorrow.
Yes, once again my heart will be healed by a smile.
Say hi to Jenny and her mama.
Say hi to Charles too. Tell him I am happy. Tell him the story of how a smile healed me when he died. How the same smile healed you.
Yes, it is still a smile even as tears roll down my face.
Rest in Peace Babu!!
Monday, July 4, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Chapatti People
Let me start by declaring that I am a good cook.
Now that we are telling the truth, I need to also let you know that I make horrible chapattis. Who said chapattis must be round at all times? And as fate would have it, I got married to a man who can happily eat chapattis for breakfast, lunch, dinner and all the snacks in between. As for our son, the apple fell from the same tree or was it the chapatti from the same pan … am sure you get my drift!
Before I admitted I could not make chapattis, I spent hours trying to learn how to. Sat at the feet (or is it hands) of those adept in making them. Learnt the doughs and dough nots.
A friend who is gifted in making culinary delights once told me that making chapatti is a relationship. You have to keep working at it. It takes time, tenderness and patience to make the perfect chapatti. However, she lost this student when she said the dough needs to feel my love!
And yet there are such people in our lives. It does not matter what how hard you try, with them nothing ever seems to turn be right. If there is a fault to be found, they will find it. In fact, even if there is no fault, they will still find it. They ask the nosy questions. They ask them loudly. Their words are hurtful and hateful. Their sole purpose seems to be to teach you, nay, to try your patience. They seemingly cherish watching their words make others squirm.
They will ask you why your boyfriend of 5 + years has not yet proposed. And when will you have a baby? And how come you are not looking for a better paying job? Are you not planning to buy a house? Is it not time you got a new car?
For some reason, your answers are never good enough for these people. They do not know that your boyfriend has already proposed but you are not ready for marriage yet. That you have gone through a battery of tests together with your hubby in your search for a baby. That the job that you have fulfils you in a way that money cannot. That you are saving for the down payment of your dream house. That another car is not in your list of priorities right now.
They simply do not want to hear what you have to say. They do not care.
You only need you to hear what they have to say. Forget the fact that it is your life … they know what is good for you.
They are only saying this because they love you. They only want the best for you. So what if they have to kill you as they demonstrate this! Real love is not for sissies!They seem committed to literally love you to death.
They justify their insensitivity.
Indeed, they uphold the principle of equal opportunity. They disrespect everyone equally. They dislike all and sundry. Everyone who interacts with them will get a whiff of their negativity, their bitterness and their anger. It seems like they are discontent with everything. And they do not stop there, they are not just dissatisfied with their own life they are dissatisfied with yours as well!
Sadly, they make you second guess your life choices. Worse still, they may even make you doubt God. You see sometimes they ask you the questions that you have been asking God. Yes, the very questions that have seen you pounding on heaven’s doors.
I have learnt to refer to these special breed as the chapatti people.
One of the reasons that I have not been able to make chapattis is because I tend to think that effort must be seen in the results. It is for this reason that I will gladly marinate ribs for a week and loving turn them every 2 hours if that is what the recipe says. Why? Because the meat appreciates it and the final product is testimony to my effort. Not so with chapattis. It does not matter whether I spent an hour or a week lovingly preparing them, our relationship is doomed as they still turn out wrong!
These pain-inducing people could be your family, friends or colleagues, there is no escaping them,they are all around us and you cannot avoid them.
What is one to do? I learnt from Dr John Stanko that there is only one way to deal with this people, label them EGR – extra grace required. Grace not to strangle them.Grace to respectively tell them to back off.Grace to be gracious even when they are not.
It does not matter how hard I try, I can never get it right when it comes to these people. And that is ok with me. If I am good enough for me, why is that not good enough for you?
So next time you encounter a chapatti person, slap on them some EGR … they will be more palatable!
Blessings y’all!
Now that we are telling the truth, I need to also let you know that I make horrible chapattis. Who said chapattis must be round at all times? And as fate would have it, I got married to a man who can happily eat chapattis for breakfast, lunch, dinner and all the snacks in between. As for our son, the apple fell from the same tree or was it the chapatti from the same pan … am sure you get my drift!
Before I admitted I could not make chapattis, I spent hours trying to learn how to. Sat at the feet (or is it hands) of those adept in making them. Learnt the doughs and dough nots.
A friend who is gifted in making culinary delights once told me that making chapatti is a relationship. You have to keep working at it. It takes time, tenderness and patience to make the perfect chapatti. However, she lost this student when she said the dough needs to feel my love!
And yet there are such people in our lives. It does not matter what how hard you try, with them nothing ever seems to turn be right. If there is a fault to be found, they will find it. In fact, even if there is no fault, they will still find it. They ask the nosy questions. They ask them loudly. Their words are hurtful and hateful. Their sole purpose seems to be to teach you, nay, to try your patience. They seemingly cherish watching their words make others squirm.
They will ask you why your boyfriend of 5 + years has not yet proposed. And when will you have a baby? And how come you are not looking for a better paying job? Are you not planning to buy a house? Is it not time you got a new car?
For some reason, your answers are never good enough for these people. They do not know that your boyfriend has already proposed but you are not ready for marriage yet. That you have gone through a battery of tests together with your hubby in your search for a baby. That the job that you have fulfils you in a way that money cannot. That you are saving for the down payment of your dream house. That another car is not in your list of priorities right now.
They simply do not want to hear what you have to say. They do not care.
You only need you to hear what they have to say. Forget the fact that it is your life … they know what is good for you.
They are only saying this because they love you. They only want the best for you. So what if they have to kill you as they demonstrate this! Real love is not for sissies!They seem committed to literally love you to death.
They justify their insensitivity.
Indeed, they uphold the principle of equal opportunity. They disrespect everyone equally. They dislike all and sundry. Everyone who interacts with them will get a whiff of their negativity, their bitterness and their anger. It seems like they are discontent with everything. And they do not stop there, they are not just dissatisfied with their own life they are dissatisfied with yours as well!
Sadly, they make you second guess your life choices. Worse still, they may even make you doubt God. You see sometimes they ask you the questions that you have been asking God. Yes, the very questions that have seen you pounding on heaven’s doors.
I have learnt to refer to these special breed as the chapatti people.
One of the reasons that I have not been able to make chapattis is because I tend to think that effort must be seen in the results. It is for this reason that I will gladly marinate ribs for a week and loving turn them every 2 hours if that is what the recipe says. Why? Because the meat appreciates it and the final product is testimony to my effort. Not so with chapattis. It does not matter whether I spent an hour or a week lovingly preparing them, our relationship is doomed as they still turn out wrong!
These pain-inducing people could be your family, friends or colleagues, there is no escaping them,they are all around us and you cannot avoid them.
What is one to do? I learnt from Dr John Stanko that there is only one way to deal with this people, label them EGR – extra grace required. Grace not to strangle them.Grace to respectively tell them to back off.Grace to be gracious even when they are not.
It does not matter how hard I try, I can never get it right when it comes to these people. And that is ok with me. If I am good enough for me, why is that not good enough for you?
So next time you encounter a chapatti person, slap on them some EGR … they will be more palatable!
Blessings y’all!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Will You Unmarry Me?
In 2000, I met Mwende. She was beautiful. She had a great figure. It gave me so much pleasure to show her off. I was in love. Wipe the sneer off your face. You see, Mwende was my first car, a white Toyota starlet, KAE 951N.
It did not matter to me she was 3rd hand having had 2 previous owners, she was mine and I had pledged undying love. That was until I put her on the road. I started noticing other cars around me. My Mwende was a very basic car just a box on wheels and this hit me even more when I looked at other cars in traffic. They had spoilers. They had sports rims. Spotlights. Bullbars. My lovely Mwende was loosing her allure and fast!
It is the same with marriage. In my humble opinion, once you get married, once you commit yourself to that one man / woman suddenly better looking men / women appear all around you. I say “better looking” because you may know nothing about them but they still seem like a better option than the person you woke up next to. This is especially so if you are in the middle of a spat with your spouse.
And that is the thing about this temptation thing! It would be so much easier to deal with temptation if it was not so alluring. If temptation showed up dressed in a sackcloth then the decision to walk away is easy but the trouble with the world today is because temptation wakes up, showers, gets dressed and looks so good, smells so nice ….ah, so tempting! “Till death do us part” becomes a noose tightening daily. “Death” could be any challenge - infidelity, careers, in-laws, childlessness etc.
You see, this month my dear hubby and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. As different people congratulated us on our 7th anniversary, one jokingly asked about the 7-year itch. It is basically said that after 7 years of togetherness, there is an “itch”, an inclination to be unfaithful.
I like to think the reason why I have not had to deal with the 7 year itch is because I deal with my “itch” daily. Any marriage longer than 1 day can find grounds for separating but the challenge is to make a decision each day to find grounds for staying married. I purpose to make that choice daily. I pray for strength to make the right choices daily.
It would be a blatant lie if I said it has been a walk in the park. It would be an even bigger lie to say that since we are both Christians, when we have a dispute we sit down, hold hands and sing kum-ba-ya. Truth is there have been times when we have held hands because that was the only way to keep the darn things from each other’s throat.
I remember one particularly rocky time in the early days when I wearily asked if it would simply be easier for us to end our marriage and my hubby said that is ok but he had just one condition for us to do that. He reminded me that when we got married, we had printed 500 invitation cards and so for us to end the marriage, could we please print another 500 cards and invite guests to witness our separation just as we had invited them to witness our coming together? I realized this guy was nuttier than I was ….so I chose to stay with him I figured that I need to protect him from himself! I think his story is he needs to protect me from me but hey, so far so good!
A story is told of a guy who found his neighbor out in the street one night frantically looking for something using the street light. The guy asked what he was looking for and the neighbor said he had lost his key. So the guy went on his knees and joined the search. After looking for some time the guy asked him if he was sure this was where he had lost it. The neighbor looked at him and said no, he had lost the key in his house but the lighting in the street was better!
That is the folly of marriages today.
When and where did you lose your key?
How, when and where are you looking for it?
Blessings y’all!
It did not matter to me she was 3rd hand having had 2 previous owners, she was mine and I had pledged undying love. That was until I put her on the road. I started noticing other cars around me. My Mwende was a very basic car just a box on wheels and this hit me even more when I looked at other cars in traffic. They had spoilers. They had sports rims. Spotlights. Bullbars. My lovely Mwende was loosing her allure and fast!
It is the same with marriage. In my humble opinion, once you get married, once you commit yourself to that one man / woman suddenly better looking men / women appear all around you. I say “better looking” because you may know nothing about them but they still seem like a better option than the person you woke up next to. This is especially so if you are in the middle of a spat with your spouse.
And that is the thing about this temptation thing! It would be so much easier to deal with temptation if it was not so alluring. If temptation showed up dressed in a sackcloth then the decision to walk away is easy but the trouble with the world today is because temptation wakes up, showers, gets dressed and looks so good, smells so nice ….ah, so tempting! “Till death do us part” becomes a noose tightening daily. “Death” could be any challenge - infidelity, careers, in-laws, childlessness etc.
You see, this month my dear hubby and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. As different people congratulated us on our 7th anniversary, one jokingly asked about the 7-year itch. It is basically said that after 7 years of togetherness, there is an “itch”, an inclination to be unfaithful.
I like to think the reason why I have not had to deal with the 7 year itch is because I deal with my “itch” daily. Any marriage longer than 1 day can find grounds for separating but the challenge is to make a decision each day to find grounds for staying married. I purpose to make that choice daily. I pray for strength to make the right choices daily.
It would be a blatant lie if I said it has been a walk in the park. It would be an even bigger lie to say that since we are both Christians, when we have a dispute we sit down, hold hands and sing kum-ba-ya. Truth is there have been times when we have held hands because that was the only way to keep the darn things from each other’s throat.
I remember one particularly rocky time in the early days when I wearily asked if it would simply be easier for us to end our marriage and my hubby said that is ok but he had just one condition for us to do that. He reminded me that when we got married, we had printed 500 invitation cards and so for us to end the marriage, could we please print another 500 cards and invite guests to witness our separation just as we had invited them to witness our coming together? I realized this guy was nuttier than I was ….so I chose to stay with him I figured that I need to protect him from himself! I think his story is he needs to protect me from me but hey, so far so good!
A story is told of a guy who found his neighbor out in the street one night frantically looking for something using the street light. The guy asked what he was looking for and the neighbor said he had lost his key. So the guy went on his knees and joined the search. After looking for some time the guy asked him if he was sure this was where he had lost it. The neighbor looked at him and said no, he had lost the key in his house but the lighting in the street was better!
That is the folly of marriages today.
When and where did you lose your key?
How, when and where are you looking for it?
Blessings y’all!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
My Blogging Journey
I have been blogging for the last eight months or so and it is something I have really been enjoying doing. Starting was darn hard because you see am not this IT savvy gal and the even the language was enough to get one lost.
For some reason “blog” does not always sound like something one should do in public … sounds like one of those things where we all know everyone does it and in fact if you were not doing it, you would go see a doctor to make sure there is no blogage, er, blockage.
So before actually starting my blog I decided to join a virtual community of bloggers just to get the hang of it.
It sounded like fun and hey, am as friendly as they next gal so I jumped in with all the gusto I could muster. You do realize that when you are my size, “jumping in with gusto…” is something one can only do virtually once in a while.
Well, for some reason this gal (well that is what her profile said) began to chat with me. I was excited, I had only been online for 30 minutes and someone was already chatting with me! Forget that she was Ursula in Czech Republic and it was 3.17am their time… it was a live person, er, they do not have computers that can self-chat yet do they?
Well, our conversation did not last long as you will see.
Ursula : Hey!
Me: Hey!
Ursula: Welcome on board
Me: Thanks
Ursula : So you blog, wow, am starting next week. URL?
Me: (Blushing slightly) Actually my weight fluctuates a lot so thanks but am really and XXL.
Ursula: (looooong pause)
Me: You still there?
Me: RUL? I would like to become an L at some point. Been going to the gym, watching what I eat and I have moved from being an XXXL.
Then SHE LOGGED OFF!!
Well, next thing I knew, I received an email from someone who identified himself at Chat Room Administrator ….who he stated, coldly I may add ... that it would seem I am not an intellectually good match for the kind of stimulating interaction they offer and I need to find a chat room that allows minimal cranial development for uniquely fortuned individual on an alternative career path who may or may not be chemically inconvinieced.
A week later I realized he meant that I needed to look for a chat room that allowed stupidity for losers who may or may not be stoned!!
Well, this gal was not discouraged and so I went ahead and began blogging and even invited people to watch me blog and I have not yet been arrested for blogging in public!!
By the way, the email from the so-called Chat Room Administrator was all in capital letters...is that bloggiquette?
Blessings y’all!
For some reason “blog” does not always sound like something one should do in public … sounds like one of those things where we all know everyone does it and in fact if you were not doing it, you would go see a doctor to make sure there is no blogage, er, blockage.
So before actually starting my blog I decided to join a virtual community of bloggers just to get the hang of it.
It sounded like fun and hey, am as friendly as they next gal so I jumped in with all the gusto I could muster. You do realize that when you are my size, “jumping in with gusto…” is something one can only do virtually once in a while.
Well, for some reason this gal (well that is what her profile said) began to chat with me. I was excited, I had only been online for 30 minutes and someone was already chatting with me! Forget that she was Ursula in Czech Republic and it was 3.17am their time… it was a live person, er, they do not have computers that can self-chat yet do they?
Well, our conversation did not last long as you will see.
Ursula : Hey!
Me: Hey!
Ursula: Welcome on board
Me: Thanks
Ursula : So you blog, wow, am starting next week. URL?
Me: (Blushing slightly) Actually my weight fluctuates a lot so thanks but am really and XXL.
Ursula: (looooong pause)
Me: You still there?
Me: RUL? I would like to become an L at some point. Been going to the gym, watching what I eat and I have moved from being an XXXL.
Then SHE LOGGED OFF!!
Well, next thing I knew, I received an email from someone who identified himself at Chat Room Administrator ….who he stated, coldly I may add ... that it would seem I am not an intellectually good match for the kind of stimulating interaction they offer and I need to find a chat room that allows minimal cranial development for uniquely fortuned individual on an alternative career path who may or may not be chemically inconvinieced.
A week later I realized he meant that I needed to look for a chat room that allowed stupidity for losers who may or may not be stoned!!
Well, this gal was not discouraged and so I went ahead and began blogging and even invited people to watch me blog and I have not yet been arrested for blogging in public!!
By the way, the email from the so-called Chat Room Administrator was all in capital letters...is that bloggiquette?
Blessings y’all!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Everythingist or Nothingist
Now that you have gone ahead and given this article a chance beyond the title … I thank you!
I have spent a good part of this morning engaging in intellectual intercourse with great friends on face book about 2 different links that one of them posted. The discussion was refreshing and I was in my element giving as good as I got. Yes, I know, if my boss reads this then I will have to explain why I was having intercourse in the office but for now I have three words about that ….bridge, cross, later.
Several things that came out in these discussions and really in every day life when I think about it is that we are a society that loves to judge. We judge everything. People. Writers. Schools. Countries. You name it, we judge it! And I am no better. I am right there at the top of that file …. I am shallow, I am narrow (forget about my waist) and therefore I judged based on my shallowness and narrowness. Or is it from my shallowcity and narrowcity? Yes, I see you judging not just me but my English teachers, the schools I went to and even my MS word version which is not correcting me.
So what is the option?
Would you rather not be in situations where you are not judged at all? Then does that not mean that you have judged those who do not judge as being non-judgemental? Before I completely loose myselfin this, let me give you background on what triggered this train of thought.
Yes, the discussion this morning pushed me over the cliff into writing this article but that is not where the question of being judgemental or not was born. Infact, the initial idea was not about being judgemental or not, it was about life and having an opinion. Anyone who knows me will tell you I have an opinion about everything and I do not understand how anyone cannot! How can you feel nothing about the length of the skirt that the judge will wear when she makes her ruling on the Ocampo Six? What has the sex of the judges got to do with the length of the said skirt? Oops, I digress…
You see I recently met a guy who was my classmate way back in primary school in the 80s. STOP trying to work out my age and stay with me! He walked into a restaurant and the only available seat was next to me. I was in deep communion with myself … pondering if I should have an ice cream sundae or should I have an ice cream sundae? Well, he said hi and when I looked up and realized it was someone I knew. Two things happened immediately. First was that I noticed he looked rather depressed and secondly, right there and then I also realized I needed to insulate myself up so that his low-spirit does not catch up with me … I ordered an ice cream sundae….do not judge me, it was for my sanity!
We started with the usual small talk, the psychosocial impact of ice cream sundae on the economy and soon enough conversation gravitated towards real life. I asked what was wrong as he seemed downcast. Well, that opened the flood gates! He told me that his business was going downhill and the only person who could save him was his partner and there was no chance of her being interested in saving him as he had just come from seeing a lawyer because the said business partner wanted to pull out of the business and yes, their marriage. His business partner was his wife and she had more shareholding than him.
By this time, my ice cream should have lost its appeal but am glad it did not… that appeal was the one reminder I had that there are still good things in this life!
As we talked I asked what had happened to the business and he said “Nothing.”
I asked what happened to the marriage and he said “Nothing.”
I asked what happened at the lawyers and again, he said, “Nothing.”
I had to get a new angle.
I asked what his wife did in terms of the business and he said, “Everything.”
What about the marriage and the family? He said, “Everything.”
What does she want now? He said, “Everything.”
Again, I needed to change tact or hit him with an empty ice cream sundae bowl. Empty because there is no need to waste good ice cream!
So I asked what he was going to do. He said, “Nothing.”
“But you will loose everything?” I asked.
“I feel nothing.” He responded.
By the way, did I mention that this guy had nothing as I devoured my ice cream sundae? Nothing looked good to him, pun fully intended.
Well, at the end of that conversation, I went away feeling sorry for this guy. You see for him the world was seen in only two lenses, he had nothing, felt nothing, had done nothing, could do nothing and yes, he said it, he was worth nothing. On the other hand, others had everything, could do everything and I am assuming he felt they were worth everything!
Yes, I can imagine the pain of loss, loss of family, loss of business and all other accompanying losses. However, in my humble opinion, loss of self is worse than all this. To me, loss of self includes the inability to feel anything, see anything, want anything, hate anything …. Life becomes nothing!
The flip side could be feel everything, want everything, see everything, hate everything does life then become everything?
Well, given the 2 choices, I would rather be an everythingist than a nothingist.
Yes, there are days when everything goes wrong and everything overwhelms me and everything I touch turns to old but I would still prefer that to nothing.
So even in our discourse with my friends this morning, there were comments that made me feel everything all at once, irritation, amusement and even anger and am sure my friends felt the same way about some of the comments I made. In fact, it is obvious that if they felt nothing about everything I commented, then that conversation would not have gone on and on.
For a nothingist, life means nothing.
Yes, in this life you can be either an everythingist or nothingist. You can be a somethingist. An anythingist. Or even a okeyist. But please do not be a nothingist!!
So yes, I am an everythingist and I will do everything to protect everything that defines me as I uncover everything am supposed to be!
Blessings y’all!
I have spent a good part of this morning engaging in intellectual intercourse with great friends on face book about 2 different links that one of them posted. The discussion was refreshing and I was in my element giving as good as I got. Yes, I know, if my boss reads this then I will have to explain why I was having intercourse in the office but for now I have three words about that ….bridge, cross, later.
Several things that came out in these discussions and really in every day life when I think about it is that we are a society that loves to judge. We judge everything. People. Writers. Schools. Countries. You name it, we judge it! And I am no better. I am right there at the top of that file …. I am shallow, I am narrow (forget about my waist) and therefore I judged based on my shallowness and narrowness. Or is it from my shallowcity and narrowcity? Yes, I see you judging not just me but my English teachers, the schools I went to and even my MS word version which is not correcting me.
So what is the option?
Would you rather not be in situations where you are not judged at all? Then does that not mean that you have judged those who do not judge as being non-judgemental? Before I completely loose myselfin this, let me give you background on what triggered this train of thought.
Yes, the discussion this morning pushed me over the cliff into writing this article but that is not where the question of being judgemental or not was born. Infact, the initial idea was not about being judgemental or not, it was about life and having an opinion. Anyone who knows me will tell you I have an opinion about everything and I do not understand how anyone cannot! How can you feel nothing about the length of the skirt that the judge will wear when she makes her ruling on the Ocampo Six? What has the sex of the judges got to do with the length of the said skirt? Oops, I digress…
You see I recently met a guy who was my classmate way back in primary school in the 80s. STOP trying to work out my age and stay with me! He walked into a restaurant and the only available seat was next to me. I was in deep communion with myself … pondering if I should have an ice cream sundae or should I have an ice cream sundae? Well, he said hi and when I looked up and realized it was someone I knew. Two things happened immediately. First was that I noticed he looked rather depressed and secondly, right there and then I also realized I needed to insulate myself up so that his low-spirit does not catch up with me … I ordered an ice cream sundae….do not judge me, it was for my sanity!
We started with the usual small talk, the psychosocial impact of ice cream sundae on the economy and soon enough conversation gravitated towards real life. I asked what was wrong as he seemed downcast. Well, that opened the flood gates! He told me that his business was going downhill and the only person who could save him was his partner and there was no chance of her being interested in saving him as he had just come from seeing a lawyer because the said business partner wanted to pull out of the business and yes, their marriage. His business partner was his wife and she had more shareholding than him.
By this time, my ice cream should have lost its appeal but am glad it did not… that appeal was the one reminder I had that there are still good things in this life!
As we talked I asked what had happened to the business and he said “Nothing.”
I asked what happened to the marriage and he said “Nothing.”
I asked what happened at the lawyers and again, he said, “Nothing.”
I had to get a new angle.
I asked what his wife did in terms of the business and he said, “Everything.”
What about the marriage and the family? He said, “Everything.”
What does she want now? He said, “Everything.”
Again, I needed to change tact or hit him with an empty ice cream sundae bowl. Empty because there is no need to waste good ice cream!
So I asked what he was going to do. He said, “Nothing.”
“But you will loose everything?” I asked.
“I feel nothing.” He responded.
By the way, did I mention that this guy had nothing as I devoured my ice cream sundae? Nothing looked good to him, pun fully intended.
Well, at the end of that conversation, I went away feeling sorry for this guy. You see for him the world was seen in only two lenses, he had nothing, felt nothing, had done nothing, could do nothing and yes, he said it, he was worth nothing. On the other hand, others had everything, could do everything and I am assuming he felt they were worth everything!
Yes, I can imagine the pain of loss, loss of family, loss of business and all other accompanying losses. However, in my humble opinion, loss of self is worse than all this. To me, loss of self includes the inability to feel anything, see anything, want anything, hate anything …. Life becomes nothing!
The flip side could be feel everything, want everything, see everything, hate everything does life then become everything?
Well, given the 2 choices, I would rather be an everythingist than a nothingist.
Yes, there are days when everything goes wrong and everything overwhelms me and everything I touch turns to old but I would still prefer that to nothing.
So even in our discourse with my friends this morning, there were comments that made me feel everything all at once, irritation, amusement and even anger and am sure my friends felt the same way about some of the comments I made. In fact, it is obvious that if they felt nothing about everything I commented, then that conversation would not have gone on and on.
For a nothingist, life means nothing.
Yes, in this life you can be either an everythingist or nothingist. You can be a somethingist. An anythingist. Or even a okeyist. But please do not be a nothingist!!
So yes, I am an everythingist and I will do everything to protect everything that defines me as I uncover everything am supposed to be!
Blessings y’all!
Monday, March 7, 2011
Why I am Angry
Chinua Achebe said that proverbs are the palm wine with which words are spoken. That I agree, because some conversations are so dull without some wine to dull and lull the mind, many would get choked and even more would get shocked.
Then again there can be too much of a good thing as has happened to me recently. I stumbled upon compilation of proverbs and sayings from all continents. And that was the beginning of my problems and by reading this, your problems by extension.
You see, I wanted my words to be swallowed easily aka Chinua Achebe and even if they are not, I figured that if I used enough proverbs, the listeners would be so high on my “palm wine” they will not notice the anger in what I am saying.
That brings me to those that speak to us, sorry at us (read parliamentarians) often and loudly. Yes, politicians seem to be a favorite punching bag for many writers but may be it is because when a head is too big, it cannot avoid punches.
Why all the bickering? You would think that by now they have learnt that a man who lives in glass house should change clothes in basement though I guess when one is being carried, he does not care how far the town is. Comical er, sorry, political alliances are being formed daily with hitherto sworn enemies, do they realize that before you go out with a widow, you must first ask her what killed the husband? Have they not learnt the lesson that nobody holds the cow while another milks it?
They spend their 5 year terms disrespecting the poor citizens but that is ok, I hope that I speak on behalf of the same electorate when I say we have learnt better and they might as be warned that just because you are taller than your father, that does not make you older or wiser than him. Indeed, any river that forgets its source will surely dry up. It is time to realize that we the electorate will no longer swallow poison because we are afraid of spitting and offending others!
So we sang the national anthem the other day and yes, many were skeptical … but they forget that it was the heartfelt prayer of many Kenyans being lifted to the heavens. Parliament needs to know that if you see a man going to his farm in kente cloth, do not jump into conclusion that he is very rich, that probably may be the his only cloth available. Remember the men who have been setting themselves ablaze allover Arab countries … they were not doing so because they were feeling cold neither did they do it because they had some extra paraffin!
Lawmakers must listen to Kenyans! Many are jobless, hungry and angry. A small spark can set this dry grass ablaze. Surely, only a madman goes to bed with his roof on fire …just ask Gadaffi and Mubarak!
I know some of you may wonder why the vitriol but I say they are high on power and it is time for us to say to them what Confucius says to those that smoke pot … man who smoke pot might choke on handle!
Blessings y'all!
Then again there can be too much of a good thing as has happened to me recently. I stumbled upon compilation of proverbs and sayings from all continents. And that was the beginning of my problems and by reading this, your problems by extension.
You see, I wanted my words to be swallowed easily aka Chinua Achebe and even if they are not, I figured that if I used enough proverbs, the listeners would be so high on my “palm wine” they will not notice the anger in what I am saying.
That brings me to those that speak to us, sorry at us (read parliamentarians) often and loudly. Yes, politicians seem to be a favorite punching bag for many writers but may be it is because when a head is too big, it cannot avoid punches.
Why all the bickering? You would think that by now they have learnt that a man who lives in glass house should change clothes in basement though I guess when one is being carried, he does not care how far the town is. Comical er, sorry, political alliances are being formed daily with hitherto sworn enemies, do they realize that before you go out with a widow, you must first ask her what killed the husband? Have they not learnt the lesson that nobody holds the cow while another milks it?
They spend their 5 year terms disrespecting the poor citizens but that is ok, I hope that I speak on behalf of the same electorate when I say we have learnt better and they might as be warned that just because you are taller than your father, that does not make you older or wiser than him. Indeed, any river that forgets its source will surely dry up. It is time to realize that we the electorate will no longer swallow poison because we are afraid of spitting and offending others!
So we sang the national anthem the other day and yes, many were skeptical … but they forget that it was the heartfelt prayer of many Kenyans being lifted to the heavens. Parliament needs to know that if you see a man going to his farm in kente cloth, do not jump into conclusion that he is very rich, that probably may be the his only cloth available. Remember the men who have been setting themselves ablaze allover Arab countries … they were not doing so because they were feeling cold neither did they do it because they had some extra paraffin!
Lawmakers must listen to Kenyans! Many are jobless, hungry and angry. A small spark can set this dry grass ablaze. Surely, only a madman goes to bed with his roof on fire …just ask Gadaffi and Mubarak!
I know some of you may wonder why the vitriol but I say they are high on power and it is time for us to say to them what Confucius says to those that smoke pot … man who smoke pot might choke on handle!
Blessings y'all!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tribute to my Grandma
This piece is dedicated to my grandma who passed away at 1am, 19th February, 2011.
As some of already know, my English name is Peris. Well, it is Velesi if you come from Eastern Kenya or Verithi if you are from the slopes of Mount Kenya.
I am named after my maternal grandma and being the oldest grandchild bearing her name, she fondly referred to me as Kavele, a small version of her, a small Peris. Get your mind of my hips she was speaking figuratively and not prophetically!
From this woman I inherited many things, some visible some not so visible. The most visible one is the gap between my teeth. You see she passed it on to my mother and my mother passed it on to me. It is our trademark. No wonder she was apprehensive the time she had to get dentures, she wondered if she would lose “our trademark”! Funny thing is with every time it was passed on, it became bigger and so one day there probably will be a pretty little gal running around with no teeth on her upper jaw …the stuff that dentists’ nightmares are made of! Yet, this was and still is (I insistJ) a symbol of beauty in our Kamba culture and a woman blessed with this gap would assure her father a handsome bride price. Hhmm, I wonder what my husband paid for me ….wait, he is still paying.
But I digress…
My grandma was a simple woman, led a simple life as a faithful, hardworking yet always jovial wife of my late grandfather, Mwengi. Together they brought up their 7 children and instilling in them Christian values as that was all she knew. Her father was a reverend you see, so she really did not know any other way to bring them up. And going by the stories from my mum and her sisters and brothers, my grandma had no qualms beating them all the way into heaven! She never spared the rod, the belt or the slipper.
Growing up, visiting her was something to look forward to. There was always a fruit in season, mangoes, oranges, pawpaws, bananas, guavas and the usual staples of maize, beans and pigeon peas among other things. In hindsight, I realize that now this must have been hard work. This farm was in Kitui and many Kenyans would be forgiven if they think am pulling their leg given that when you hear about Kitui more often than not it is about famine. Did I also mention that she had a herd of goats and cows that she would milk for selling and also for her family needs? She made a great cup of tea and I vividly recall evenings seated on her verandah with stories and tea flowing freely.
Velesi was also the village tailor and she added to the family income by chugging on a manual sewing machine. Oh, how busy she was during the school holidays, just before schools reopened and in December, she was so busy she would have to use a lantern lamp just to ensure that families had brand new clothes for Christmas! I can still see clients waiting in her house on 24th and 31st nights just to ensure that they had new clothes to wear on Christmas and/or new years’ church services. She made clothes for so long that she could no longer thread her needles and had to seek assistance from her grandchildren!
This woman was no wimp. It is obvious she drew her strength from God. His joy was her strength.
This week as we plan to lay her to rest, there shall be no flags flying at half-mast. There shall be no embassies or ambassadors falling over themselves to send condolences. There shall even be no politicians salivating for the freely available audience to pour vitriol on their real or imaginary opponents. There shall be no 21 gun salute by the army in her honor.
But that is only here on earth.
In heaven, there shall be great rejoicing. She fought the good fight. She has run her race.
How can I be so sure you might be asking? You see, in her last few years, she lost her memory and could not even recognize her own kids but once you began singing a hymn or a chorus, her eyes lit up, she smiled and she sang along.
Clearly, when memory of all else was gone, her default mode was Christ and out of the fullness of her belly, when it was out of her control, her mouth spoke, she sang of the faithfulness of Christ.
So as I ponder on the expression that “Susu Velesi went to be with Lord”, I wonder why she had to die to be with the Lord. I know without a doubt that she had been with the Lord right here on earth.
And as we celebrate her life, I cannot help but ask myself what is my default mode? When all cognizance is gone, what shall flow out of my belly?
Is it well with my soul?
Is it well with your soul?
Till we meet again Vele!
As some of already know, my English name is Peris. Well, it is Velesi if you come from Eastern Kenya or Verithi if you are from the slopes of Mount Kenya.
I am named after my maternal grandma and being the oldest grandchild bearing her name, she fondly referred to me as Kavele, a small version of her, a small Peris. Get your mind of my hips she was speaking figuratively and not prophetically!
From this woman I inherited many things, some visible some not so visible. The most visible one is the gap between my teeth. You see she passed it on to my mother and my mother passed it on to me. It is our trademark. No wonder she was apprehensive the time she had to get dentures, she wondered if she would lose “our trademark”! Funny thing is with every time it was passed on, it became bigger and so one day there probably will be a pretty little gal running around with no teeth on her upper jaw …the stuff that dentists’ nightmares are made of! Yet, this was and still is (I insistJ) a symbol of beauty in our Kamba culture and a woman blessed with this gap would assure her father a handsome bride price. Hhmm, I wonder what my husband paid for me ….wait, he is still paying.
But I digress…
My grandma was a simple woman, led a simple life as a faithful, hardworking yet always jovial wife of my late grandfather, Mwengi. Together they brought up their 7 children and instilling in them Christian values as that was all she knew. Her father was a reverend you see, so she really did not know any other way to bring them up. And going by the stories from my mum and her sisters and brothers, my grandma had no qualms beating them all the way into heaven! She never spared the rod, the belt or the slipper.
Growing up, visiting her was something to look forward to. There was always a fruit in season, mangoes, oranges, pawpaws, bananas, guavas and the usual staples of maize, beans and pigeon peas among other things. In hindsight, I realize that now this must have been hard work. This farm was in Kitui and many Kenyans would be forgiven if they think am pulling their leg given that when you hear about Kitui more often than not it is about famine. Did I also mention that she had a herd of goats and cows that she would milk for selling and also for her family needs? She made a great cup of tea and I vividly recall evenings seated on her verandah with stories and tea flowing freely.
Velesi was also the village tailor and she added to the family income by chugging on a manual sewing machine. Oh, how busy she was during the school holidays, just before schools reopened and in December, she was so busy she would have to use a lantern lamp just to ensure that families had brand new clothes for Christmas! I can still see clients waiting in her house on 24th and 31st nights just to ensure that they had new clothes to wear on Christmas and/or new years’ church services. She made clothes for so long that she could no longer thread her needles and had to seek assistance from her grandchildren!
This woman was no wimp. It is obvious she drew her strength from God. His joy was her strength.
This week as we plan to lay her to rest, there shall be no flags flying at half-mast. There shall be no embassies or ambassadors falling over themselves to send condolences. There shall even be no politicians salivating for the freely available audience to pour vitriol on their real or imaginary opponents. There shall be no 21 gun salute by the army in her honor.
But that is only here on earth.
In heaven, there shall be great rejoicing. She fought the good fight. She has run her race.
How can I be so sure you might be asking? You see, in her last few years, she lost her memory and could not even recognize her own kids but once you began singing a hymn or a chorus, her eyes lit up, she smiled and she sang along.
Clearly, when memory of all else was gone, her default mode was Christ and out of the fullness of her belly, when it was out of her control, her mouth spoke, she sang of the faithfulness of Christ.
So as I ponder on the expression that “Susu Velesi went to be with Lord”, I wonder why she had to die to be with the Lord. I know without a doubt that she had been with the Lord right here on earth.
And as we celebrate her life, I cannot help but ask myself what is my default mode? When all cognizance is gone, what shall flow out of my belly?
Is it well with my soul?
Is it well with your soul?
Till we meet again Vele!
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