WHEN THE CURTAINS FALL;

A few days ago, I remember asking myself what to write for the last month of the year. I went through the posts I have done in December over the years (check them out by the way…I don’t know what is it that comes over me during December), and I couldn’t help but wonder what to write about. I thought about doing a yearly review and all the shenanigans like I did here. I almost wrote something cliché about sijui 12 lessons learnt in 2015, or 15 lessons to carry forward from 2015, or even 2015; the ups and the downs. At some point I  contemplated summarizing the year in a piece but I remembered a conversation Daisy and I had a few weeks ago about people writing pieces that don’t make sense or don’t communicate and kept that piece tucked tightly between pages of my notebook.

So, three days later…I still did not know what to write about, or how to end the year 2015 on Njeri Kareithi. I skimmed through my drafts on my computer; nothing. Flipped through my notebook that I carry around to note down ideas based on observations wherever I go; nothing. Then I remembered this one time in campus where we were preparing for a play. See, I was part of a drama club in campus, but we had not done anything major other than mimes. Now, the one thing that I loved about mimes is that you don’t get to talk. And we used to wear masks so…you don’t even get to look your audience in the eye. But plays, my friend…you have to talk. And not only talk, but you have a face to face conversation with the audience. Now, those are the parts I wished we could skip (but that would not be a play; would it?).

My history with crowd phobia can be traced back to my high school years. Crowd phobia is not to be confused with shyness. No. I am not shy; but I have crowd phobia. Get me a face to face meeting with 5-10 people and you will take home an image of a very sociable, funny, fun to be around (is this what blowing my own trumpet means?) person. Get me in front of 50+ people and my eyes will not leave either the ground or the ceiling. To make things worse, I was appointed a senior prefect in my last year of high school. If you are familiar with Kenya’s High Schools, prefects get to make remarks during the morning parade, especially the prefects on duty, who would make announcements and call out the names of those who have not done their morning duties. And boy did I hate my week of duty. But we survived anyway. Where was I? Yes, crowd phobia.

So here we are, we are debuting a play in campus. We have been rehearsing, for months. The script is good. During rehearsals, we are alone in the hall so it goes on smoothly. I was playing a part that required me to make several costume changes and several long appearance and conversations. So, all was well. I was very excited. There was excitement in my voice each time I mentioned the play to my fellow comrades. Till d-day came. And the curtains were closed. Backstage; we are laughing and eating, teasing each other about our costumes waiting for the MC to welcome the audience. We take our positions on stage and my body freezes. You know, when you are back stage, you have no Idea how many people are on the other side of the curtain. So my brain starts freaking out when I start thinking about the audience. My bladder thinks that it’s time to start playing games. It’s too late. The scene starts in less than a minute. I can’t run outside for a call (pun intended) to help me calm down. I look at other member of the cast. “Why aren’t they freaking out?” “How many years of acting experience do they have?” “What did they eat?” “Haven’t we been acting with masks together?” “Is my make-up melting?” “Is my costume too tight?” “Will so and so be in the audience?” I remember asking all these questions.

 

Bam! The curtain opens. I get to see the size of the audience. Suddenly I feel like my bladder will just give in. I take a deep breath and the play starts. Play runs well. Towards the end, a cast-mate noticed I have been holding my breath almost the whole time. We are doing our last bow at the end. “Breathe Dee, Breathe” He says while giving a nod of assurance. Curtains come down. I take another deep breath.

Many a times when we are starting or ending anything we have so much anxiety and fear. When we think about the times ahead we are filled with fear. Fear of the unknown, as many would call it. But each time you feel like the world expects too much, like there is so much pressure, like you can’t to it. Breathe. As the curtains come down on 2015, some of us have screwed up so many times, we have messed up so many times, there is so much expectation from people around us, there is so much pressure from around. But as the curtains come down; breathe. Take a deep breath, smile and say “I’ve got this. Bring it on”.

See you all in 2016, readers of Njeri Kareithi. Happy Holidays and be safe.

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi

Twitter: @deekareithi

 

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UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

A few weeks ago, a discussion ensued in a forum I am a member of. The topic was of loving and getting hurt. One of us said “It reminds me of my cat, I could throw it to the ceiling but it would come back when I call it and hug me”. Well, as you have done…I burst out in laughter at the thought of that and how it played on my mind.

Fast forward to a week ago, at work, a delivery man stood at our department’s reception with a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates…you can imagine how we enviously walked past, just wishing they were ours. Then I saw this video that went viral on social media sites of a young girl taking care of her siblings suffering from malnutrition. She was just a year or two older than them, and with no parents, she took up the responsibility of showering the siblings with love and raising them. She walked several kilometers to fetch water (the barrel looked like it weighed heavier than her) to wash the siblings who can do nothing but lay on the soil all day. 

She knew she did not have much to offer, she could not provide food for her brother and sister, but she saw they were unclean and she knew that she would help in that area. Now, what amused me most and touched my heart, is this. The volunteers who had gone to visit this family gave her a packet of cookies (I can’t remember well if they were cookies or biscuits; but it was in a packet). The young girl chose to first feed her siblings then took whatever had remained.

Credit: www.allposters.com

“That is normal”, I hear you say, but put yourself in this situation, you have not had something to eat in maybe a month, then someone gives you even a tiny cup of flavored water. What would you do; gobble it down quickly or feed your siblings first then take some of whatever remains? Well, I saw a immeasurable love that this young girl had for her siblings; a love that puts others first, a love willing to give and give, a love that wants to make the other better and happy, and I really thought about the image of love that has been painted on our minds.

I have heard friends severally say how they are punishing their loved ones for not doing this or that, to them, the misery that their loved one goes through makes them happy, soothes their ego. Often times I have heard people say they can only love people when they are loved back, or can only do this or that for someone after something has been done for/to them. We are loving, but there is always a condition in this love; like there are conditions that have to be met for one to give love...Have you ever seen how a pet loves their owner (as in the story I mentioned first)? Have you ever seen how an old grandmother takes care of her old and sickly husband? Have you ever seen how a child hugs a teddy bear and says how much they love it? Have you ever seen a person love you so much they would die for you every time you make a mistake just so that you may live?

With the Easter season just around the corner, I have been thinking of this kind of love a lot lately. So much that I have been giving more, loving others more, listening to what people say more, being there for my friends more, buying random people who live on the street some milk and mandazis once a week, just to see the smile on their face. Sharing the love of Christ. I do it because I think of what Christ did for me, and as a Christian, what I believe in. I am alive, I am made new, just because the son of God chose to come down to my level and give His life in exchange of mine. Why them, would I not share this love with others? Even your significant other; Loving them, bearing with hem, understanding them, and making them happy, sharing happiness, sacrificing for them, reciprocating and appreciating what they do.

 

As we remember the death and resurrection of Christ for us, the author and finisher of our faith as Christians, share some love, and strive for unconditional love.

Happy Easter from Njeri Kareithi’s Desk.

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi

Twitter: @deekareithi

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IT’S THE SIMPLE THINGS THAT COUNT

During the Mashujaa Day public holiday I visited my grandpa…not only was it a good chance to surprise the old peeps whose eye sight is worsening, but it was a chance to drive and not get caught (my license expired). As mentioned, the old man’s eyesight is diminishing as well as his memory. Now, I followed his trail to the farm since he was not home and I had spotted his signature black birika(kettle), which as young tots we had all drank from, brewing some strong tea. When I find him, he is sitted on the ground in his Mbaki (tobacco) farm, paper and pen at hand, drawing a cartoon of an old man (he was a teacher in the colonial government). I laugh at the cartoon and he notices someone is beside him.  I introduce myself. 

“Guka, ni Njeri” (Grandpa, its Njeri). He looks up and asks me “Njeri wa uu?” (who’s daughter).

Well, you have to blame our African parents for naming us all after one person…90% of my female cousins are called Njeri (which when translated means “traveler”), and the male cousins are called Murimi (which when translated means “farmer”). We were all named after our great grand parents who had the characteristics represented by our names.  Back to my tale.

“Njeri wa Kareithi” I said. His face lit up and he started asking me about how Nairobi life was. We chatted for a few minutes before I remembered one of the people I had worked with told me he knew him and asked me to say Hi when I see him. I told him about the man. You should have seen the joy on he face as he started narrating to me how they met. At the end of the story, he was so happy, he was almost on his feet (he is quite old; he keeps reminding us that his legs are so weak). The joy he exhibited just brought a smile to my face. He kept on saying how happy he is that someone remembered him; how that was the best news he had received in a while.

 Fast forward a few days ago…I saw a man in town carrying a bouquet of flowers rushing to an evening bus, pulling along a big suitcase. “wow, that wife/girlfriend must be really lucky” I whispered to my inner self. I figured out that the man had just arrived from a long journey (based on the size of the suitcase and the weary face), but he knew that something as small as a banquet of flowers would make his lady happy and appreciated.

This made me think about how we treat our significant others. Some of us try so hard to do big things, go out of our ways to please them (I’m not saying its wrong), while all along; it’s the simple things that count. What simple things? You may ask. How will I know? You may ask. I once asked my mentor’s husband he makes sure the wife remains happy. “Observe; be attentive. I started doing this from the first day I saw her. That’s how I won her over” is all he could say. I asked my mentor (his wife) what she does to ensure that the husband remains happy and feels appreciated. “be alert and attentive, see the small things” is what she kept repeating.

I later came to understand what they were saying. Being attentive, concentrating, observing your partner makes you know them and pick up little things that make their faces light up. They are not the big things, they are actually small and simple things that one may be taking for granted or as ordinary. We are all different. Each of us has distinct things that make us feel appreciated. Be it that flower you buy for them, that tie you buy for them, that piece of chocolate, that message or call at the end of the day, spending time together, visiting somewhere new, that game he/she loves to play, that movie he/she likes to watch, taking dumb photos (this is my favorite); it differs from person to person. Some of these things don’t cost anything.

 

As we celebrate this festive season, a time to be with family and loved ones, be attentive, open your eyes and mind. You may just see the simple things that count.

Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2015. See you then fam!

 

 

@deekareithi | Njeri Kareithi

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A LETTER TO MY SOON TO BE WOMAN by RixPoet

When I first read this; I was taken aback. The articulacy, passion and wisdom in it is just over and above.  This piece was written by a friend and someone I look up to; a great man, an inspiration and a star in the rising....enjoy

Dear You, 

I've been having funny dreams lately. I see you walking into my life with parachutes and lots of bags - baggage. Yes, I know we are about to fly, but are you ready to carry my luggage too? I've been born and raised in closed boxes and where I am now is a place of retribute; I'm paying tribute to past pains by living in an ocean of good things - happy deeds and poetry.

I'm not sure if anyone taught you how to love. But the man in me is a boy who loves to child. I love playing with mud and dancing to Awilo Longomba in the middle of the quietest nights; the gloom of the earliest mornings. I will sing to you on the first phone call I make you in the morning because life is music and I'm the lyrics. I pray that you are a good dancer. You don't have to know how to shake your African treasures but at least know how to dance to words. If you could listen to the tunes in my speech, and I, the vibrance of the sound that comes out of your expressions, and laughter, then we are going to Rome together. No, Nairobi; my home. Do you have a home?

I've been to many relationships; met bold and beautiful girls and women. It's nothing to be proud of. Through it all, I learned that there is a selflessness that is needed in order to give someone your heart. Emotions are expensive. To sell them to anyone takes lots of nerve and risk. We love wearing clothes and masks that cover our souls so as to create false impressions of a life we do not own. Well, I don't want to wear clothes around you. I want to be as naked to you as I am to God, woman.

Please take note of this, that I do not know how to cook very well, but I can survive on my own. I can try hustle a fish inside a pan with a little oil and savor a meal though. You'll teach me the rest lest I burn our kitchen someday. But God knows I love food. I love ugali and mbuta, with soup. I love rice even though some African men often suggest that it is not food good enough for a man from this continent. Where I come from, there were no puddings and desserts, but once in a while mother pushed in some pawpaw and pineapples after meals. She is a great cook to date. Always reminded us that you must clean your cooking area after you finish with the stove. She should never find any clumps of ugali around the gas if you are the one who did lunch. The consequences were dire.

I love taking long walks. Sometimes when I'm quiet around you, it does not mean that I'm sad about anything. Just be wise enough to read the words of my silence. Sometimes I just want to be looking at you while talking to God in my head, wondering why He had to make your eyes so beautiful. I'm a quiet man who loves his peace and space. And when I'm jumpy and naughty, it is me eating the other half of life.

I'd like to be praying with you. I'm eager to listen to the words you tell God when you are angry with me. Or when you're happy or sad. Your walk with Him matters to me, probably more than anything else. I haven't figured out life to its totality myself. No human being really gets there. But I'm hoping to learn from you things that the world has not taught me. So love me like a teacher loves his students.

On some weekends, I will be out with the boys, watching football or making boyish chatter in the streets. I will not be in a position to reply your texts as fast as I'm used to during such moments. At times like those, please don't think that I'm out with other women. A little jealousy is okay though.

Do not be swayed by my words; I'm stubborn. My tough head will drive you nuts occasionally. I'll be the last person you want to see or talk to on some days. I have a poor memory and could have the tendency of forgetting some things you tell me, though at least not your birthday. But I'll forget the date of our first kiss.

I cherish the idea of chivalry. It's the same way you feel like a woman to serve me food. I'd like to live in your world; plant flowers and make dams on your soil, so I could have a garden to come back to for heavenly fragrance, and a place I could come quench my thirst when life gets me so thirsty. In my mind and heart, there'll be a fountain of endless waters that wait for you to draw them whenever you feel like. Things won't always be rosy, I know. They shouldn't. We haven't the right to heaven yet.

I'd like to know your language, so I could fathom the best diction to write you poems that would make earthquakes in your heart. I'd like to listen to your many words, and questions, even though I will not have answers to a majority of them. What I want to enjoy is seeing you comfortable in your skin; awashed of insecurities that hinder you from being the best woman alive.

I be brave, you be brave. One of us falls, the other picks them up. God is the center of our crimson chord. I know you want this like I do. Let the poetry begin.

Yours,
Eric 

For more about/from Eric, subscribe to his blog , find him on facebook or contact Kenya Poets Lounge

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THE THINGS PEOPLE DO FOR LOVE

As I write this, the rain outside is pounding, the freezing wind blowing through the office window. I am freezing. I play list some classical themes and pour myself a cup of hot cocoa *ooh the warmth*. The contrast of what I feel inside and what is happening outside is sharp. Now that all is set; I start typing...

On my way to work this morning, it was raining cats and dogs or as my mum would say, elephants and hippos (you know, coz then you can be sure its heavy…you see cats and dogs are not that heavy). Anyway, if there is a time when men (read Kenyan men) expose their gentleman-ness is at times such as these. I spot several couples (older coz you know the youngsters couldn’t be caught dead awake at 7 something in the morning and on their way to work). I see the men jealously shielding their women from the rain…you would think that rain has some male genes and is trying to steal the woman from him….lol.

 I lift my umbrella and see another man picking up his lady (I assumed) from the gate, from the cold of the rain to the warmth of this cool red Mercedes *swallows a glint of jealousy* and I immediately wish SB was there. Now, this made me think of the many things people do for love…I mean Valentine’s Day was just the other day and people did crazy things for love. Some dug their way into deep debt (shame on you), others wiped out their savings (SMH), others did some special things (;-)) and others, well, did nothing (majority fall here).

It also made me think of the many sacrifices and things people do to make the other (significant or not) feel special. The crazy things that we do to make our loved ones feel loved and appreciated; things that you cannot put a price tag on. *le sigh* then it made me think of how we feel if the love is not reciprocated or if our efforts are taken for granted…sad right? You feel like you were taken for a ride and used; like the k in knee (ok, that was lame but trust me, it sounded so funny in my head).

I get to work and the place is almost full and everyone is in a good mood. Everyone is smiling like they inhaled small amounts of laughing gas but just can’t laugh. Then it hits me….aaah the long holiday is coming. Speaking of long holiday; don’t you love how this holiday is four days long? I mean that is like a whole week off *yey* Thank you Jesus!! This reminds me the reason for this post.

Now people do so much for love; but this cannot; can never and will never amount to what one man did a few thousand years ago. The perfect act of love; something that till this day no one has ever and no one will ever attempt to do. I am not talking about titanic silly (though that too has never been repeated he he). I am talking about the reason for this long holiday; the death of our Lord and savior Jesus Christ on the cross. He died for love; because He loved us so much. This act of dying on the cross for the forgiveness of our sins breaks me down each time I think about it. And the way we (I included) at times take this act for granted, take his love for granted. But His mercies and grace are never ending; He is always willing to take us back (as opposed to attempting to take human love for granted…you would get silent treatment for the rest of your days on earth).

A singer I love so much; Vicky Beeching sang these words (more of a prayer) in her song, Wonder of the cross:

“O precious sight, my Savior stands,
Dying for me with outstretched hands.
O precious sight, I love to gaze,
Remembering salvation's day,
Remembering salvation's day.
 

Though my eyes linger on this scene,
May passing time and years not steal
The power with which it impacts me,
The freshness of its mystery,
The freshness of its mystery.

May I never lose the wonder,
The wonder of the cross.
May I see it like the first time
Standing as a sinner lost,
Undone by mercy and left speechless,
Watching wide eyed at the cost.
May I never lose the wonder,
The wonder of the cross.

Behold the God-man crucified,
The perfect sinless sacrifice.
As blood ran down those nails and wood,
History was split in two, yes,
History was split in two.
Behold the empty wooden tree,
His body gone, alive and free.
We sing with everlasting joy,
For sin and death have been destroyed, yes,
Sin and death have been destroyed.”

Of all the things we do for love, this was greatest thing done ever. During this Easter break and season, as we take the break, take a moment to reflect on this act; the love of Christ; and what you are doing to ensure you reciprocate this love.

Happy Easter my friends. :-) :-)

Twitter @deekareithi

Google plus Dorcas Kareithi

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STARTING IT HIGH

Excuse the heading…by saying starting it high, this does not mean the “high” where one is drugged or drunk (by alcohol or the Holy Spirit)

Well, happy New Year y’all!!! Well well well, the New Year is here and this is a chance to yes, make another difference in your existence as a human being (yay!). Last year, 2013 is so gone and here is another year. I know we all got our resolutions; speaking of resolutions, I know people claim they write some down, either due to social pressure or otherwise. Anyhu, whether we write them down or not, we all have goals or targets that we want to achieve in the New Year.

As I think of writing this, I am in a salon. Well ladies, we all know how entertaining salons are; this is one place where some women think they have gone for therapy sessions. Gossips, updates, praise, judgments, those juicy details you would never hear anywhere else, you will hear in a salon. Anyway, this day I decided to change where I have my hair made. So as we are getting our hair done, this woman goes ahead to rant about how 2013 was a fail for her, how she failed in this and in that, how her heart was broken…and as expected, how broke she was. *sigh* she went ahead to state that she does not expect anything to change in 2014, that she will be more miserable in 2014, with VAT and cost of living so high. I shook my head. Believe you me, that will happen to her (yeah, I’m a prophet of doom on this one).

In life, they say, aim for the stars…no, the moon, so that if you fall, you will fall on the stars. (is that possible in reality?) Most of us set targets that are too low for us. The fear that we have of failing or of not achieving our goals makes us set goals that we can easily reach. Come on; challenge yourself!! Last year, I heard someone say that he had vowed to buy themselves a phone worth 20 thousand shillings. He outdid himself actually, and bought one 28,000/=.

 What is my point? This year, as we start, challenge yourself. Set goals that are high but attainable. OK, don’t aim at buying a Mercedes yet you live in your mother’s house, or aim at getting married this year and you are single (lol). You get me?  In statistics (yes, I had to chip in something statistical he he) they say that standard deviation decreases with increase in the number of trials. For those not statistically inclined, this means that the more you try, the higher the probability (there I go again), I mean chances of you getting closer to what you want.

Don’t be afraid of getting disappointed, you never know, you just might get there; if and only if, you focus and balance your life. With that said, welcome to 2014, lets aim high, let’s start high and make this a year of difference!!

To a great year ahead *cheers*

@deekareithi

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SPEAKING FOR FATUMA; LISTENING TO FATUMA SPEAK

The clock ticks 4 pm. Today is Friday. My 2^nd favorite day of the week (Monday is my favorite). But no day can beat this, no time can beat this, no event can beat this. Today, like every other Friday of the week, of the month, of the year; I will join great people in attending an event that has become an addiction to anyone who get the chance to attend it. It’s like falling in love with your best friend - once you fall, there is no getting up. And you fall so deep and you are sure you want to fall there forever.

I quickly make my way to PAWA 254 studio in Nairobi, Kenya. This is where it all goes down. Not only this Friday, but every Friday of the week, month and year (venues vary but it’s always there).  And the experience; wow! Only your wedding day can beat this!

I was on my way to attend #FatumasVoice. #FatumasVoice is a weekly event that happens on this and every Friday from 4pm-7pm. Why Fatuma and why voice? You may ask. Well, #FatumasVoice is a figurative gesture for a platform whereby young people meet to talk about the evils happening in the society and how they could solve them, their hopes for the future, their life experiences as well as networking hence expanding their social circles.

This is one event where one gets to experience poetry, live music, motivational talks (at times the tea and snacks offered are a motivation to me), and open forum discussions where people air their views on a certain chosen topic of the day.

#FatumasVoice was established with the objective of encouraging young people like us to know how to express ourselves, earn their self-esteem, improve their talents, be responsible citizens and to make us understand the value of networking. The founders realized that young people do not really get the truth about life in their homes, nor in the churches or mosques, nor in politics or their social quotas nor in themselves. They thus thought of something that will bring them (us) together to talk about important things that will help us mature. 

So far the bigger bunch of the audience is budding artists. Unsurprisingly, people from the working class are trickling in at a fast rate.This can be related to the moral support from a few people like Churchill Winstones and Bonnie Kim, who mentor the participants and founders.

Once you attend one event, missing it another time will feel like a break up. For those overseas or in other parts of the country, if you visit Kenya and particularly Nairobi (and it happens to be a Friday) you now know where to spend your evening between 4 and 7. Let’s meet there, let’s speak on behalf of Fatuma, let’s listen to #FatumasVoice

Here are the photo links to the previous sessions:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=oa.568879929824812&type=1

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=oa.561279520584853&type=1

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=oa.561285497250922&type=1

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=oa.561282243917914&type=1

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=oa.561987300514075&type=1

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=oa.563593773686761&type=1

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=oa.565866683459470&type=1

for more on #FatumasVoice follow Kenya Poets Lounge on twitter(@PoetryHubKenya) or visit their site http://www.kenyanpoetslounge.com

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I GIVE UP

Last week, four of our lecturers decided to return out CAT papers, at the same time (talk about giving a student a heart attack). One of my classmates in a fit of rage threw up his papers and said: 

“siku hizi ni kuchimba tu lakini sijali…..nili give-up kitambo” (these days all I do is fail but I gave up long time ago)

Our attempts to cool him down were in vain and one of us ended up with an emotional wound since he started saying so many nasty things (I thought women were the drama queens…this one made me leave that opinion open). So  there he was, he “threw in the towel” and to think that it is our last semester in campus made me feel so bad.

The wise old man, now deceased and decayed, Solomon said in the book of Proverbs “For a righteous man falleth seven times, and riseth up again; But the wicked are overthrown by calamity.” (Proverbs 24:16)

I am just thinking how you would fall seven times…really, not unless it’s in the rain and your shoes have no grip, there are plenty of bananas on your way or you’re just crazy for you to fall seven times at once. But anyway the main purpose of this verse is to encourage us not to give up. Just imagine falling down seven times (even in different days) and just waking up each time.

 Most of us have become experts in giving up. our common vocabulary is "I give up". You fail once and you give up immediately, without even giving it a second thought…be it exams, life goals, relationships(especially this one, I hear some young people as young as 20 years old say that they have given up on love and I’m like seriously?! You have not even lived a bit of your life to give up), conflict resolution or on life goals. A tiny slip and you throw in the towel (to wherever those towels are thrown into). By the way, where do all those towels that are thrown “in” go?

I attempted to quote that verse to my classmate and the response was, “aki sasa bado ntachimba six times ndio nipite! Na exams ni next week” (oh great! Now I have six more times to fall so that I wake up and we are having exams next week) and then the therapy session started. My point, anyway, is and was THOU SHALT NOT GIVE UP!! 

For those of us familiar with the theory of probabilities (yes I love math, students are in an “exam-mode” and this would not end without throwing in a math “something-y”), you are aware that the probability of getting 1 right in of 10 attempts increases as you tend to move from 0 to 10 attempts :-)

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TABU ZANGU

Lately I have been thinking, a lot. Thinking about the “After Life”. Well this is an area that most people would tell me not think about. Even the so called optimist strongly advocate against this. Who said that thinking about after death is thinking negative? I think of it as hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

What triggered these thoughts? You may ask. No, it’s not the passing on of a loved one or a preaching, but a song. The song “Tabu Zangu” by one Rose Muhando and Anastasia. Hence this entry is named after the song. It is a song that has become my morning and evening dose. The song, for those who have listened to it, talks about what we, (I included) hope will happen when we pass on. This song encourages me in the walk in salvation which am sure most of you agree, is not a walk in the park. In fact it’s a walk in an erupting volcano...like you can't touch the walls coz you will get your fingers burnt and all.

So before that day comes, I have so many things I would like to do. So many dreams, some written down some still in soft copy in my mind, but the bottom line is, I would like to do most, if not all of them. I don’t want to run out of time. So every day for the past one month, I have been doing something different. I have been doing something for the first time, something I have never done. Ranging from greeting people I have never greeted,  visiting people I have never visited, calling people I have never watched and well, watching a movie/series I have never watched (yes, that too). And I would like to challenge you to try it too.

So, someone may ask, at the end of it all, the “after life” will still come. So why do all that? Truth is, I know that day will come. And when that day comes, expected or not, I will have enjoyed my life. The most important thing I am however working on is my spiritual life. That song helps me to “Keep on Keeping on”. Knowing at the end of it all, not only is it for God, but it is also for me. And I will live to my fullest for both.

By the way, no matter which century I will pass on in, please remind them to play that song in my funeral and burial.

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SORRY by LORRAINE PHIKELILLAH

Being sorry can be very hard when we're overwhelmed with pride,
But sometimes our pride must take a fall before we lose out,
And when we have to say sorry we should mean it from our soul, A meaningless sorry is like a broken promise to the heart.

 And it only hurts more in the end, bringing bitter resentment,
And leading to the loss of a love that should be eternal,
Bringing us back down to earth from the fairytale world of our mind,
With a pain that is maddening, physical and sometimes critical.

My heart is weeping tears of blood for the pain that I've caused you,
And it's crying out my apologies to your mind,
Pleading for your forgiveness for my unfortunate outbursts,
I never meant, in a million years, to be so unkind.

I have made mistakes in the past but never as serious as this,
And I know I will only have myself to blame ,
And that scares me more than I've ever been scared in my life,
For you're my true motivation, the only real thing in which I believe.

And all that's left for me to do is say sorry in a sincere way,
With an apology that comes from deep inside my soul,
It's all I have left to offer for your love and your loyalty,
It's just a pity that my own loyalty, I couldn't hold.

So please take time to think about what I've said, as it comes from the heart,
Take time and try to forgive me my failure to deliver,
................................................................."s"

© Lorraine Phikellilah. All rights reserved

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WHEN I DIE.

 When I die, I shall live

I shall have a new body

No more bloody.

I shall rest,

No longer live in haste.

I shall fall prostrate,

Worship and praise him, Elohim.

I shall substantiate my faith,

In the waters I shall bathe.

I shall be washed up,

I shall be clothed way up.

No more ailing but well,

I shall drink from the well.

It shall be enough, no more cough.

I can’t wait, for that date,

When I die,

Coz when I die, I shall live.

 Befado

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BUTTERFLY

As larvae, you couldn’t

Couldn’t look at me,

I was disgust, repugnance,

A reason to squirm your face

A reason to slow your pace, and scream

An abomination to your neonate

Revulsion to you,

I cared not.

In my cocoon,

You had no clue I existed,

I spinned my anchor, endlessly working within

Endless days, nights, working to find myself a place

A place in a strange world,

Unstable, unsafe for me, yet I spinned.

After all the spinning,

I felt at home, in my cocoon, my home

But you cut down my leaf and still,

I cared not.

Now I am fully grown, crawled out of my cocoon,

Ready to fly, to feed, to live.

You had to catch me.

With my colorful wings,

A product of sleepless nights,

You dare see me now, you capture me,

Closing me in your palms, your jars

You incarcerate me.

Now I care.

Now I care so much that

I want to break free,

I want to fly.

I have wings.

Let me use them,

Let me fly,

No longer a larva, no longer in my cocoon,

I am a butterfly,

Let me fly.

Befado

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I WILL BE THERE

When no one is there,

When no one remembers me,

I will be there.

When no one remembers my first step,

When no one remembers my first words,

When no one remembers,

I will be there.

When no one remembers my recital,

When no one remembers my first school day,

When no one remembers,

I will be there.

When no one remembers my first date,

When no one remembers my engagement,

When no one remembers my wedding day,

When no one remembers my anniversary,

I will be there.

When no one remembers my first birth,

When no one remembers my birthday,

When no one remembers the day I die,

I will be there.

I will be there for me,

I will be there when no one remembers.

For me, I will always be there

Befado

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WE ATE THE BIRDS by Margaret Atwood

We ate the birds. 

We ate them. 

We wanted their songs to flow up 

through our throats and burst out of our mouths, 

and so,

we ate them. 

We wanted their feathers 

to bud from our flesh. 

We wanted their wings, 

we wanted to fly as they did, 

soar freely 

among the treetops and the clouds, 

nd so we ate them. 

We speared them, 

we clubbed them, 

we tangled their feet in glue,

we netted them, 

we spitted them, 

we threw them onto hot coals, 

and all for love, 

because we loved them. 

We wanted to be one with them. 

We wanted to hatch out of clean, 

smooth, beautiful eggs, 

as they did, back when we 

were young and agile and innocent 

of cause and effect, 

we did not want the mess of being born,

and so we crammed the birds 

into our gullets, 

feathers and all, 

but it was no use, 

we couldn’t sing, 

not effortlessly as they do, 

we can’t fly, 

not without smoke and metal, 

and as for the eggs we don’t stand a chance. 

We’re mired in gravity, 

we’re earthbound. 

We’re ankle-deep in blood,

and all because we ate the birds,

we ate them a long time ago, 

when we still had the power to say no.

Margaret Atwood

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TAME YOUR TONGUE

There was a song we always used to sing in Sunday school (those of us teaching Sunday school still do), “be careful little eyes what you see, be careful little eyes what you see, for the father up above, is looking down in love, oh be careful little eyes what you see”. Then we would sing to the ears, to the lips, to the hands…..

My emphasis today is on the tongue, lips, the constituents of the mouth. At times we use this feature of our body to break others, to kill their spirits and to make them feel worthless. We ought to be careful with what we say, not only about ourselves, but also to others.

The other day we were waiting for the bus that picks us up near one of the petrol station. Apparently, the petrol station got a new management team and the first thing they did is tell us (my fellow workmates and I) not to wait for the bus while seating on their seats. The others were furious and started saying all sort of things, I was tempted to also give the manager a piece of my mind, but I knowing that this would choma picha yetu, I just had to do the best; walk away and go far, far from where the others were, praying to God to give me strength to tame my tongue. Paul said:

“⁵Even so the tongue is a small part of the body, but it takes credit for great things. How much wood may be lighted by a very little fire! ⁶The tongue is a fire; it is the power of evil placed in our bodies, making all the body unclean, putting the wheel of life on fire, and getting its fire from hell...⁸But the tongue may not be controlled by man; it is an unresting evil, it is full of the poison of death.”(James 3:5-8)

Another day I sat in for vocal practice at a local church, one lady was apparently singing quite louder than the others, and the voice coach decides to shout to her, “you are too loud” and the rest of the group bursts with laughter! I felt sorry for her. The coach would have used his wisdom to let her lower her voice. The lady no longer comes for practice these days.

I could give so many other examples where we, me included, have killed people’s dreams and spirits with our words. You feel the urge to say something nasty to someone and you just say it, then when things go wrong you start saying how you did not mean what you said, you were joking. And you lose friends that way.

Such incidences are unavoidable, like when someone has told you a secret or something confidential and you just feel the urge to tell it to someone else, when you feel like telling someone how poor they are at something, e.t.c, we can avoid such.

It requires grace though, the Grace of God, so when you feel like killing someone’s spirit, just imagine if you were in their shoes, and then ask God to help you tame your tongue.

 “He who keeps watch over his mouth and his tongue keeps his soul from troubles.”(Proverbs 21:23)

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UNFORGIVABLE

It wasn’t a stranger, but a friend.

A cup of coffee, just a cup

A dance, one dance, and I waved goodbye.

This man friend of mine,

He smiled nice, stayed employed, taking me out for coffee.

With a simple welcome to my house,

I made a nice meal,

But my kindness, mistaken for hints;

And my friend, my friend, turned foe.

Driven by lust, locked the door behind me,

And I was left with scars!

I had been betrayed! By one who knew me!

A friend!

Someone I called friend, turned beast!

Betrayed, heartbroken, wasted, dirty,

I could not let this happen to only me!

 I too became an animal, man to man, beast to beast.

My trust had been breached!

I needed revenge, and revenge I did! To all men who my path crossed.

My fellow women, judging me,

They don’t know me! They don’t know why! Yet they judge!

They called me bitch, a female dog!

They called me a slut, as if my legs could not shut!

They called me a hooker, and other ugly names.

But all I wanted was to be unforgettable,

A memory, a wound to every man.

A wrath, madness, to other women.

Each morning I woke up, a joker by my side.

Oh I glittered in the wind; desired by my fellow animals.

At 3.00am I rose, removing the arms and legs that trapped me,

I made myself a bath, flavored gels, assorted oils, perfumed water, to wash away his smell;

To become me again: Clean, head high, sweet scent,

Walking down the streets,

Knowing I was still dirty,

Knowing the many nights, I had cried myself to sleep;

I hated me! I hated me.

I wanted to jump, jump out of me, to leave me alone, to be gone, gone with the wind, never to return.

I fell into a numbness.

The only tree I could see, took me by its branches, and held me up to the breeze,

And once again I got life,

I found peace, in the clean fresh breeze.

There I found her; I found God in her; I loved her.

I found me; I found God in me; I loved me.

Stench made scent, dirty made clean,

The unforgivable was forgiven, forgiven and forgotten.

I forgave him, I forgave me.

Befado.

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