SELF ASSESSMENT 101: SELFLESSNESS

In the apartment above me lives a man. A man and his wife. I used to wonder why this guy was always home. His car has an employee pass to some local bank, so he could not be unemployed. Every evening he would pass me while going to get groceries, and when I returned early, I would see him walk up with groceries. “Aww…what a nice man” I would always say. “But where is the wife? Shouldn’t she be the one buying groceries?” I would ask myself. I had only seen her twice….at the balcony, when she was asking me to pick up some of their clothes that had fallen on my line (oh, these Nairobi houses, you hang clothes on your line, the wind blows so hard, they fall on your neighbor’s line. If they are good enough they will keep them for you. If they are #TeamEnterprise, they will just look up to God, whisper a thank you prayer and set off with new stock to their mitumba stall. No offence, watu wa mtush, but ushawahi ibiwa nguo then mtu wa malimali anakuja kukuuzia the same clothes unaskia kumwambia zilikua zako? ).

Where was I? The family up stairs. One day, I woke up at wee hours of the night and I happened to go upstairs, and there I saw something that broke my heart. I found the guy washing some hospital bedding. You know those green things that separate patients in the ward, and that green stretcher used to move patients in the ward? He was bent down rinsing those. We exchanged a glance with no words. And sorrow filled my heart. His wife, I later learnt, ails from a disease that makes her only get out of bed when she is strong enough. She is fed, washed, clothed by this dear man. He, I later learnt, had to quit his job to take care of her himself. A question has kept ringing in my mind since then “If it were me in place of the guy, would I do it for my beloved”? And it kept occurring to me that this guy not only gave his all, his commitment to his wife, but was selfless. He has the “Not for me, but for her” mentality. 

Fast forward to this conversation I had with a friend a few weeks ago concerning this matter. We, the younger generation and some of the older generation, always thinking of ourselves. Me this… Me that… how will this benefit me? We cannot do something without first asking what’s in it for me? The “the world revolves around me” attitude. Unless we are Jesus so that “All things were created for His glory”, then selflessness should be part of us. Many are the times even I have been so selfish, that I would not do anything for anyone if it cost me a lot. Selfishness (if such a word exists). And God reminded me of Moses…see this guy eh, he has brought people out of Egypt they are in the Wilderness. Then these guys decide to so hard-headed that God wants to do away with them.  So Moses keeps asking God to have mercy on them. Then God calls Moses and tells him

“…now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them: and I will make of thee a great nation…” Exodus 32: 9-14

I know most of us would have said “Yeah God…enyewe these guys are so stubborn, they are giving me a headache…I think your plan is okay. Finish them off, and then start afresh with me.” Such a selfish thought…right? But Moses put the needs of the Israelites before his and pleaded that these guys be saved. Friends, that’s what being selfless is all about. See, I have been reminded severally in my self-assessment that being selfless means thinking of others first, putting other people’s needs, interests before your own. Now, Dee, (someone will ask) "at our time and age, who would dare think others without first thinking of themselves” but one thing I have come to learn, when you do things for others not expecting them to you back payback  (I did not say lending huge amounts of money), fills your heart with joy. Be it from the smallest thing as joining a group that visits the desolate or terminally ill, buying that beggar food, paying transport to random people leaving hospital, to huge things like paying fees for that orphan, even helping around in the house or helping your parents or loved ones. My mentor always tells me that as a parent and a spouse, this trait of being selfless is very necessary. You will have to put your child’s or spouse’s needs before yours. How many of us can do that? It all boils down to who’s needs come first. Mine or theirs?

Friends, I am on a self-assessment journey and being selfless is something that I can currently learning and practicing. Join me, won’t you?

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi

Twitter: @deekareithi

*all pics source: www.pixabay.com

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PAINORPHOSIS

Know about this popular and famous phrase, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”? Forget how people contort it to say “beauty is in the eye of the beer/bae holder” (though I find the latter quite amusing).

A few days ago, a friend and I were discussing on the topic of pain. Funny, right…how people can sit and hold a discussion on pain. Well, other than the joy and laughter shared, love for food and statistics (read math), these are the perks of having knowledgeable friends. You should have at least one or two of these; by the way…they make life interesting. So we were discussing (as is typical of statisticians/scientists) the pros and cons of pain. You know, the way dudes would sit down and discuss the pros and cons of a certain lady/car or how ladies discuss the pros and cons of a certain outfit/guy/program/hairstyle/weave/shoe *see what I did there?* or how a group of friends discuss about scripture and religious philosophies…well, that kind of discussion. We came to an interesting conclusion; the beauty of pain is in the eye of the pain-bearer.

See, most of us have been through pain of some sort. Some of us have gone through so much pain that we have morphed to this weird thing that is immune to pain. Some of us have gone through so much pain that we could easily live with pain in the same house like we have been married for the past decade. We are familiar with pain; we know pain like the proverbial back of our hands. Some of us went rouge after an episode of pain and became wrecks. The loss of a loved one, the death of a family member, losing a job or a contract, a heart break, getting news of terminal illness, a dead career or passion, rejection, depression, someone telling you “you are good for nothing”, that “we need to talk” or “I think we should take time off”, divorce, separation…name it. Well, some of us went through a certain episode of pain that made us suicidal and those serial killers we hear about. Others became serial killers of dreams, relationships, hopes, and basically everything they come across.

But then there is this other side of pain, the one that somehow morphs you into something stronger…something, something so rock-solid that whatever is thrown at you…you just smile and say “I’ve been through hell and came out stronger” or “ah, that? I’ve seen worse”. The kind that makes you think about the truism that if it doesn’t break you down, it makes you stronger. I have seen, kind-of admired and envied these kind of people. See, this pain can make one take the energy from the sting and ache and turn it to fuel. V-power to their sheer determination and endurance. Pieces are written, books are completed, paintings are finished, codes are written and perfected, and manuscripts are written and completed. Albums and records are written and recorded, exams are aced, an instrument is learnt, a farm gets all tilled. They become unstoppable. People would have a better chance of knocking a hurtling oil tanker off its path by sticking their leg out than break their spirit. All because they choose to take up that throbbing ache, that head-ache-causing and appetite-losing anguish and embrace a side of it that most people CHOOSE not to. 

Source: pixabay.com

So, this is to pain. To the beauty of pain that is in the eye of the pain-bearer. To  painorphosis, the kind of morphing that makes you Olivia-pope-dance to Josh Groban’s “Below the line” when it plays on your home theatre at full volume. Holding a glass of milk; at 2 am.

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi 

Twitter: @deekareithi 

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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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WHAT IF WE: RELIABLE AND CONSISTENT

*wipes off dust and cobwebs from my Njeri Kareithi folder*

For my birthday, I got these three books from a friend. Sure; I also got other books from other friends but these ones stood out. I could see that they were part of a series and it really excited me. I did not notice it as first; but later as I was admiring them (am I the only one who admires new books all around at first?) I notice that they were not the first books in the series. Oh great! Out of the series of five, he got me #3, #4 and #5. Makes no sense; right? How would I start reading at #3? That’s like watching a movie from the middle. You would speculate what happened, but it would be just that. Speculation. Now, now now, where and how do I get one and two? I remember asking myself. It got me so disturbed for a few days till, like he had read my thoughts, he told me to look at the spine of the books. (I didn’t know what a spine of a book was till I goggled…and asked a friend too. I know you also didn’t know sooooo you’re welcome)

Found. Family. Forever.

That is what was written. I remember slapping myself on my face and smiling at the sweet thought.  We had grown to be such good friends in a short span of time that he could confidently say that he has found family forever. Yes, family. Because at times family is not necessarily those you are related to by blood, it is the people standing beside you when no one else is. People who can be relied on.

Fast forward a few weeks ago…this is how a conversation between me and my mentor (Much respect Sir) went;

“Njeri Kareithi (I don’t know where he got the habit of calling me my maiden and sir name, but when anyone calls me that way, I know it is something serious), How are you?”

“I am fine Mr. Sec General (inside joke)”

“I have been to your blog and you have not posted anything lately”

“uuummmm  you know…” I thought of a million excuses, including one that my keyboard is missing a letter which I might use frequently. Or the typical "the dog ate my drafts". Lame right?

“*laughs*don’t make excuses, you need to be consistent…carry on with the way you have been consistent over the years”

“but bwana Sec General, you should not be reading my blog…you will know too much” I remember saying

“*laughs* no, I thought that makes me a good mentor...”

“yeah, I am working on it.” I replied as I opened my Njeri Kareithi folder and searching for an incomplete poem that I needed to complete and post.

“I am actually currently working on a poem”

“I will check soon and see...”

First of all, I remember thinking to myself, why? why me Lord? Not that I write here to please anyone, don't get me wrong. But then I thought to myself that was actually a good call out. You see, many of the times we search for people who do things consistently. I mean, as human beings, we all long for consistency of some sort…be it that person who you know you can always lend to/borrow from because they keep their word, a person who you can always count on, something or someone that you know will be a constant.

Allow me to indulge you in some mathematics (wipe off that sneer you! How else will you know I majored in math/statistics). When something is constant in math, this means it remains the same, regardless of whatever happens around it or the changes over time. The figure never changes. This constant is best seen when all other factors are taken as zero. In math and statistics, this is usually referred to as the constant K (hope you learnt something new there lol). Now, back to real life. Someone or something consistent, according to the queen’s language, is (of a person, behavior, or process) unchanging in achievement or effect over a period of time.

What I have come to realize over time is that as humans, we all desire to have that consistency in life, you know, that security in knowing you can always count on someone or something. Over time, this consistency results to being reliable, trusted, dependable. To be able to be counted on. For this friend to tell me that he has found family forever was more than a complement. It however made me think a lot and this is the challenge I would like to pass over to y’all.

We all long for consistency and reliable things or people…right? But how reliable and/or consistent are we? Can someone say they can depend on you? Do we keep our word? Do we deliver on our promises? Or do we say one thing and do another? Have you ever told someone you will do something or you will take part in a certain activity then they go “yeah right” or “huyo tunamjua, ngoja tu utaona (that one, we know them well, just wait and see)" ? Can people count on us as much as we want to count on them? Are we reliable? Are we consistent? Can people say you are family to them?

 

What if we became consistent? What if we became reliable? What if we did it for ourselves, #ForMyCity and for humanity?

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi

Twitter: @deekareithi

 (The campaign dubbed #ForMyCity led by Poetry Spot. Follow the conversation here)

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IT DOESN’T HURT by Ashe Vernon

When he says
He doesn’t love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
Smile
And ask him why he didn’t leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they’d loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won’t even remember his name
And don’t let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Do not.
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Not one.
Swear off dating when you realize
You’re chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It’s okay to cry over him.
It’s even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won’t know how to do it the next.

 All rights reserved to Ashe Vernon. See more of her works here

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