A Call in the Morning

"Umeskia kenye imefanyika? Kina mum wametoka kuenda hosi. Mwangi alikuwa kwa accident."

These were the words that I received on Friday morning at 6 AM. As is my usual countenance, I tried to remain calm and composed, convincing myself that God was in control. Friday the 20th was one of those long days of someone's life, that seem to have just flown by. Throughout the day, we (with my family) felt like zombies trying to process the reality, the pain, the comfort from friends and family, the fatigue of hosting, the past memories, the unknown future, the shared moments, the bruised arm, the swollen body, the totaled car, the hole in the wall, peace, weakness, strength . . . It was a deep life experience. Brother's day was yesterday and I couldn't help playing some childhood memories of Mwas and I; even the adult ones, the travels and conversations, all the time looking backward and looking to the unknown forward, thinking with my heart.

Two days later is when we feel as if our minds are coming back to reality. Our hearts have been buoyed by different emotions and now, now they lay in a flood, encompassed by equal reality and hope. There are life experiences that are too deep to put into words; too transformative to leave you the same. You come out of them feeling a host of emotions and thinking a variety of thoughts. You come to know without a doubt that you are not the same person.

It takes an interesting turn to those around you - They react in very unprecedented ways, but all in all, it is a spirit of care, comfort and curiosity. As is Kenyan culture, some ask a myriad of questions incessantly, sometimes during the wrong time. As one is trying to process a shock, their whole body, soul and spirit in in a state of gradual change, a kind of travel to a chasm. It is a natural response. Usually, too many questions only serve to retell and relive moments that the individual is herself trying to come to grasp with. Yet in the answering, one is also dealing with the situation. A strong lesson for me has been "the ministry of presence" in the words of my father: It is best to sit and listen, and take talking cues from the individual who is absorbing shock. Some offer advice, some really practical and good in the long run, some undue and unnecessary in the present moment. Some offer prayers, probably the best solution in my view: For in such life-changing moments, fickle realities are best strengthened by the presence and comfort of God. It is this God who transcends all our life experiences and yet who is immanent at the same time; walking with us in the experiences; providing peace, mercy and strength through the absorption of the shock, that can really piece us together. As an experience forces you to reflect in reality (a stage I am in now), God gives you a bearing for indeed He is the True North in the life compass. Yet, family and friends have been a pillar. Their presence and prayers have gone a long long way to keep us afloat. Africans are really good with community, as they would have it one can go alone and reach quickly but one can go with a friend and reach farther.

Perhaps writing this a day ago, or a week from now will sound different. Probably. Life is like that, a process of change; a journey with unexpected twistings and turnings. Life changes. Life changes and for a human being, what I need is a sure footing in light of all these changes. The LORD remains that sure footing. In His arms, refuge, strength and peace will always be in abundant supply for He changes not. A call in the morning can translate to a talk in the morning with Him; in the daytime and evening. A call can be a place of recalling to prayer and trust. A recalling to real strength and peace, different from our own misconceptions. We come to know God's abiding presence in a deep sense. We see ourselves and others with different eyes.

I'm sorry

I'm sorry.
Advancing this apologetic,
seems unapologetically appropriate.

The inner voice has been stilled,
by another voice deep within.

How can I tell you where I've been?
Or what road I've taken,
what things I've seen?

To bequeath my learnings,
I've ignored my 'other' yearnings,
my pen has been inkless,
unperturbed I've been lost in a journey,
of soul restoration, thought renovation
and life transformation.

A journey I've taken,
to ancient Words, long preserved,
written to adjust
our life here on earth.

Will all pass away?
The doubt of an answer due,
is a result of the eternity hue,
built deep within our humanity cue.

As a clue,
the evidence is glaring,
that I'm sorry isn't sorry enough,
My pen has been without ink.
Some have criticized me of elephants pink,
that my expressions have been.

Yet they know not,
the inner witness within,
that speaks of better things,
than my pen can fashion in between,
birth and death.

Maybe sorry isn't why I write,
Just a Wednesday morning rite,
for me to lay down my thoughts as a writer's right.

Perhaps the passage of time will prove,
that indeed I'm sorry isn't enough,
To make up for a lifetime's un-worth?

Perhaps the quiet,
will speak of better things,
and strive to be heard,
when the soil becomes a home,
so that east or west,
it is best;
beyond life,
then words will continue to be written,
heard, shared, discussed, experienced,
they will remain
to gladden,
to sadden,
to brighten,
to darken,

but the true Word
will forever speak,
and witness for himself,
and our sorries will find real meaning,
on the Calvary cross,
the piece of wood where I'm sorry,
was received for an eternal pardon,
saved, sanctified and glorified,
our journey will find meaning,
when there'll be no more sorries.

What matters?

The National Youth Summit was slated for Thursday the 31^st of January, perhaps to end the first month in style and to reflect on the role the youth can play in developing the nation. Ashoka, East Africa was invited as hosts to tackle the topic of the role the youth can play in social enterprise and the role of young people in country branding. I started interning with Ashoka on Monday the same week, 28^th January, and this was a pleasant opportunity for anyone passionate about leadership and empathy.

The summit brought together youth leaders from all the 47 counties in the country, and hence, effectively the most progressive youth leaders and future leaders of the country, and in their various capacities. The morning sessions comprised mainly of speeches, from various country leaders amongst them the Permanent Secretary in the Ministry of Information and Communications, first president of Seychelles, C.E.O. of Brand Kenya and various other leaders.

The passion for progressive leadership and for the strong patriotism of the country was summarised by the speech by Sir James, first president of Seychelles, who gave a History of Kenya, from the pre-independence days and the hope of envisioning a better country, to the current position of the country, and the new voice of the youth in country development. The flags waved by the delegates were a testament of this.

I could not help but take my mind back to those days. I was sure that there were progressive people then, just as there are today. I keep on wondering what then has prevented us from greatness, as a country. Perhaps as a country we don’t see how everyone has a part to play in this nation building process, or most importantly, there have not been sustainable platforms so that we build up on past successes instead of re-inventing the wheel and downplaying the synergy required for this process to be successful.

On the other hand, we have a bunch of Kenyans who have the ‘big’ opportunities, who’ve received quality education and who have the skills to bring this change but their efforts are not leveraged to bring this change. As one of the Kenyans in this group, the summit challenged me to think of what I am doing to spread this change making spirit to the rest of Kenyans, to my friends and family.

The youth venture of the office supports a group of ‘younger fellows’ who are effecting change in their community. Of interest were 2 youth: Tabitha who is a 14 year old girl, was saddened by the rate of accidents and fatalities affecting small children on traffic roads in the country, and went ahead with the help of her head teacher and area chief, to create a traffic signs literacy program for children her age; Jarvis, a 18 year old budding change maker, realized that the youth in his area were energetic but spent their energy on other unnecessary activities, and decided to engage them in using hands and crafts to create artistic products, and is currently working on expanding his market so that his project can be self-sustaining, with the help of his mentor.

THESE are the stories which make my heart skip a bit. THESE stories are the ones that matter, and THESE stories are the ones we need to keep on telling. If not, then our efforts should be to create our own stories such as this, ones that make our world a better place, one that challenges our human resources and mental resources that we have, ones that can draw the attention of the wider audience on contributing to development, wherever they are and with the little/much that they have.

Yesterday I was challenged beyond words, and I realize that we can always do more wherever we are. There are no excuses, and the possibilities have no limits. The great success stories presently and in the past, as well as the future, were / are and will continue to be crafted by people who do things differently. People who strive to defy odds. People who create change wherever they are. These ‘linchpins’ are very much individuals who are of value in their organizations, communities and to the world, and they bring flavour to this otherwise drab world. I am happy that I am part of a network of such individuals and I hope that we can continue to collaborate and to co-create solutions that will change this world, for the better. Let that be our calling, and let us never get tired of spreading this message.

These hardened hearts

These hardened hearts, they know of lead only,

These hearts are not smart,

To distinguish between right or wrong,

Morality is as fleeting as a goose,

Their life situations,

Live them hanging by a noose,

In the face of temptations,

They are drawn and falter by the two's,

Lack of empathy, lack of compassion.

Now back to the story of lead,

they hold those cold barrels,

And frequently cock the barrel,

"lala chini" and "hiyo ndio baridi"

they exhort with mean faces.

These hardened hearts, they know of lead only,

lacking in other traces,

They gather and scatter,

they gather on these nights,

and they scatter once they terrorize.

They turn a blind eye,

or so it seems,

to the whims familiar with the victims,

they hear no silenced cries,

they smell only money and material possessions,

they kick, punch, and scuffle for their fleeting 'rights'

Every victim a shilling away to diminishing their plight.

Is this right?

Is this right that they are doing this?

Is it right that we turn a blind eye?

That we act as if our lives offer us an escape from this daunting reality?

But you see, reality is relative,

And these brothers and sisters are our distant relatives,

We need to put an end to this food chain,

Because there is too much at stake - pain,

These hardened hearts, they know of lead only,

These hardened hearts, we need to soften.

A continuing dialogue

When I am naked,
in the close recesses of my mind,
when i am bare,
without cloth,
or corrupted thought,
I think. I think a lot.

I find myself here in this green earth,
this fertile land of mud huts and fertile green,
the natural motherland bearing fruit.
plus two five four, tells my story.
I tell this story to search for myself,
I see myself in you.

I am the voice of Dedan.
I am the voice of Tom Mboya.
I am the voice of mama Africa.
Look at me. Listen.

Your fore-fathers did not fight for this land with efforts futile,
and when they were laid to rest, they still rest in this soil-fertile,
fertile with the strength and courage hidden deep,
deep inside the souls of the true inheritance that we want to keep,
keeping a concealed realization that we ought to carry the flame,
voice our speech so that our ears can pay attention,
to the messages intended to chase away the tension,
of getting lost in today's world, the material flame,
it burns degrees, and it destroys the place we call home.
We look at you, and we hid warnings.
You can do better.
Always.

I find myself here in this green earth,
this fertile land of mud huts and fertile green.
Of dust too.
And the big five.
This is the place I call home.
Remember to carry your weapons, whatever they may be.
Blunt knives. Clenched feasts. AK's and 9 mm's.
This is still the rebellion!
I speak metaphorically, in the real sense I mean carry your wisdom.
That is the only weapon we trully need.
To sift the unwanted weeds,
to plant the much needed seed.

I mean to say this is a war.
We might win a few battles,
but the war remains a reality.
Slavery and slave ships,
money, cars and clothes in the 'babylon' system,
symbolizing false pretenses and warped illusions,
thats why I detest them.
Thats why I stick to my guns.
My guns are of pure conscience.
My bullets are made of love,
ask material science.
Or metaphysics,
she might enlighten you with some few years,
to peruse the past and stumble upon some truth.

Yet again,
they will ask you those questions,
like . . . what did you live for?
what do you want to die for?

My heart is in my home.
Neither East nor West.
My true allegiance is for progression.
Of the world.
and of my people.
My brother and sister.
Tredding this earth.
We have to spread the message of love.
Before its too late for facebook
or handles.

Mean Averages.

These words, they mean much,
When the equals and additions are calculated,
the average leaves you craving unabated,
for better words and better pictures,
3D vision behind those goggles,
and you might even google the words, Picasso,
at times you yearn for good music,
Gershwin,
compose compositions to reach lofty heights,
perhaps even push and shove,
for your metaphors to be exposed,
or to conduct an expose on your subliminal thoughts,
characters and persona hidden deep inside your thoughts,
different experiences and worldviews,
nature and nurtured into your self expression.
Let your soul explode and your heart to be mindful,
of who you are and what you like,
what you strive should be more to life,
behind the 1st impressions and common strife,
to find more meaning to what this life,
its beauty and magnificence sprawling wide,
look into the sky and nature and you will find,
the mathematical equations and natural music of the wild,
and the binding juice that is finding truce,
I mean inner peace and truth,
of real happiness and in depth fulfilment.
I train my brain to be ambiguous,
to live without confinement,
to the baseless norms and 'refinements',
that clog the brain and kill the nervous bombardment,
I reference the nervous system,
As it is the heart of the body,
to the left to the left, and to the right of the left,
ambidextrous natures tend to 'change the world'
leaving us with legacies to share among generations.
"I want to be like you when I grow up", we say
Then we hibernate in our cocoons as if to say
the price . . . we cannot pay.
What we need in actuality,
is to stray from the practicality,
of the easy way out,
break the norms and be above average,
1st percentile quarters should be our aim,
for what we have inside us is a gold mine,
and a small little flame which can light stronger,
we say "haba na haba hujaza kibaba" -
a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step,
into the cosmic possibilities of our internal galaxy,
many moons we hope to see,
and we hope archeology can dig out the hidden treasures,
to merge the present and the past,
the dark shadows to uncast,
from our mental casts that trap our broken brains,
more of untested brains,
stretch the envelope of oblangata,
and free yourself to thought.
Oh happy I am for finfing the keys,
to the doors of unlimited opportunities and capabilities,
in front of me and inside of me. You too.
You too.
These words, they mean much.
They will upgrade your average into something mean-ingful.

Two Three

The enigma of twenty three,
The Arecibo message to my extraterrestrial matter,
Rebel with a cause, look up conscientious objectors,
Meaning I believe in me, so far,
two's and three's into perfect fives,
meaning my life in me, is destined to survive,
meaning my life in me, is destined for greatness,
that is the story of me, no second guesses,
that is the story of you, deep down in hidden places,
I done fight many wars, I done defied many laws,
so to speak, or maybe conversated with many Toms,
Dick has never spoke, but Harry is always in a hurry,
to speak what i want to speak, as if he's stealing my speech,
This is the world I live in - of generosity,
Because we are cut from the same fabric,
Different textures, coarse or fine stones like the titanic,
we even walked in two's to overflow the floods, Noah's arc,
we drink from the same cup, and feed into the same conscious,
we defy death of spirit, and rise to our own believing,
Hope is all we have, and a strong belief of progressing,
We fight the odds, and even
it out so that we are all at the same start,
I had a conversation with my mental and signed a pact,
that i would at all times and situations play a part,
in these world of many stages like Shakespeare purposed,
I let my words thunder and pour out abundance,
At times I sit and listen, and observe my environment.

The enigma of twenty three,
This is your turn to speak through your mind that wants to speech,
these are the tools of trade of any human being,
plus a heart of feeling to sustain our life being,
to unlock padlocks strengthened to steal,
our gems and inner steel,
to just survive and be still,
OR to soar, these skins to unpeal,
these souls to reveal,
these backward whims to kill,
these hidden dreams to fulfil,
I look back and happy I feel,
I have treaded many valleys and still,
His rod has seen me through many ills,
His staff has signed the same bill,
to petition my case full of thrill,
Malaria when I was little, almost lost my eye this year,
Fee stealing fiends feeding us fear,
their price to pay, oh so dear!
My vision remains ever clear,
My penchant for purpose without fear,
I bump my fists and shout oh yea!
I thank God for a really good ear.