SELF ASSESSMENT 101: MARRIAGE.

 “The very thought of marriage used to frighten me. I wasn't sold on the idea of monogamy. I saw so many examples of divorce and unfaithfulness that the beautiful picture of marriage wasn't an aspiration.I wish I could say that I was content on living a single life, but the truth is that I was going to keep "playing the field.”"  Cornelius Lindsey

Well, there is one part of life that we cannot avoid, and this topic has been one that has been part of most of our discussions lately (a group of friends and I). This is because my peers and I are at that point where we are making life long decisions, we are making life long investment decisions, we making our circle of friends finer because we are making lifelong friendships, we are making life long career choices, and most certainly (at some point) we will have to choose that lifelong companion. Now, as much as we are discussing it and praying about it, we are also reading much about the issue, coz let’s face it…the institution of marriage (from a Christian’s point of view) has been under attack. Cornelius Lindsey’s statement up there in one of posts lately (Speaking of which, The Lindsey’s are goals yaani…) sparked up a debate among us. When are we ever ready for marriage? I mean, we see some get married at 20 others at 40, others at 60 and slay this marriage thing. We have also seen others get married at the same ages and live in tears.

So as part of my self-assessment, this was part of my areas of assessment. Now, I have done a lot of reading from various local and international authors, I have consulted my mentor and sat at the feet of the married, divorced and single at advanced ages, and this article by Judy Karanja (She is the Author) written in 2012 was shared with me. This is what She says:

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DON'T GET MARRIED IF:

If you’re not ready to delay gratification when your are angry. To hold your tongue, lower your voice and sometimes wait till the appropriate time, day or even month before you can deal with an issue thoroughly…. don’t get married. Immaturity is the inability to delay gratification. Marriage is for the mature.

If you’re not ready to leave center stage and allow someone else to become your focus, your study, your muses… don’t get married. Selfish people make very bad spouses. In marriage you don’t lose yourself but your heart has to be big enough to gain someone else. And soon, with God’s blessing: little, crying, diaper soiling, demanding little ones are coming!

If you are not ready, to stand up and calmly deal with meddling in laws as a united front: The opinionated sister, the insensitive uncle, the domineering father, the manner less brother, the nosy aunt….. don’t get married. Boundaries do not exist automatically, they must be created. A good spouse is committed to respectfully stand up for and protect their marriage from meddling relatives. Don’t abandon your spouse to your relatives. It’s betrayal.

If you are not ready to pay bills…. don’t get married. Love does not pay bills. Kenya power will not give a waiver because your love is O so strong and your gazes at each other, O so romantic.

If you are not ready to let go of your opposite sex “best friends” and invest that into your spouse. To like, to laugh, to play, to be silly and to enjoy life with them, above anyone else… don’t get married. Affairs happen because people did not marry their best friends. Someone else holds their heart. Someone else gets them better. Someone else inspires them more. Marry your best friend and cultivate your friendship so that you remain best friends.

If you are not ready to stop competing with the Joneses…. don’t get married. Let the Joneses buy their yatch when you are still walking, and enjoy the walk. Your journeys are different. They may have to cross the oceans but you may be going through the road route. A boat might not do you any good on your journey. You must be ready to pace yourselves: stop competing, stop spending your future before you get there, stop the debt, stop trying to impress people. You must be able to be content. To enjoy your journey without deciding your happiness simply by measuring your progress against other people.

If you are not ready to be an open book. To tell the whole story of your past, deal with the memories, expose the failures and risk rejection…. don’t get married. It is fraud to have someone sign off their life to you without the full details. The past is a touchy and demanding friend. It always shows up in the marriage. It doesn’t enjoy being ignored and the more you snob, the bolder it becomes and the more tantrums it throws. It will mess up the “neat” and “all together lovely” image that you are struggling to maintain.

If you are not ready to let go of your philandering and wild oats farming…. don’t get married. Don’t take somebody’s son or daughter and subject them to your germs, your indiscretions and your chips fungaz. It never ends well. It’s romanticized in the movies, it’s being fronted as the only “realistic” way to stay married and keep the fire burning. But truth be told, the only thing that the fire will burn will be you, your spouse and your children. That family will burn for generations in bitterness, disease, fear, failure, hatred, broken hearts, broken dreams and conniving.

Finally, if you are not ready to let go of the adrenalin rush of a risque life and to settle down…. don’t get married. The great Colombus [who we were told “discovered” America, Have you ever wondered if the Native Indians who were in it, knew that it existed :-)] had a diary that was long sought for. People wanted to read about the wild journeys, the sea tempest, the reckless pirates they fought, the death and the danger they must have encountered. When it was found, there was great disappointment. Majority of the pages simply had 5 words: “This day, we sailed on.” 

Marriage, like life in general, has many “we sail on” days. You have to learn to find the thrill in the normal everydayness of it. If you depend on wild romance, all night sex [ha], romantic cruises, wild parties, compulsive moves across continents, tempestuous fights and make up sessions to be happy, you may be disappointed. You have to learn to thrill in gentle smiles, loving hugs, knowing looks, cozy moments, shared chores, cute babies, everyday work, dreaming together, praying together and simply living together. If these things are not thrilling, exciting and satisfying, you will look for a way out. The “boom twaff” moments are still there, but they are normally punctuations to the usualness of living. They cannot be your reason for getting married. They are unsustainable on an everyday basis. The one you choose must be thrilling to you even in the most mundane of moments.

I pray this helps someone. Remember singles, YOU HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF CHOICE. Never let anyone pressure you into marriage. You are either ready or you’re not: You decide!. But please don’t marry somebody and then punish them to live with your childish ways for the rest of their lives. A childish baby is cute but a childish adult is extremely frustrating.

Marriage is for the mature and in many ways, we the married, are still being confronted with the demand to grow up day by day. If you are not ready for that demand, don’t get married!!

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At the end of the day, when we realize that our lives can change at any moment and change forever, we start making decisions. Serious ones. But nothing can make us that prepared. Nothing can.

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi

Twitter: @deekareithi

*all pics source: www.pixabay.com

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SELF ASSESSMENT 101: SELF-IMPORTANCE a.k.a Pride

(This first paragraph is named “As a Luo would say”). During this month, I spent better days of the month on the fishy shores of Africa’s Largest fresh water lakes that was named by a Briton explorer, John Hanning. So this guy saw and thought that the fancy African names Nam Lolwe (Luo), Nalubaale (Luganda) or Nyanza (Kinyarwanda) were not fit for such a wonder. So he decided to name it after his beloved queen, Queen Victoria and how that name stuck I know not. I mean, even children in those areas are taught that the original name was Lake Victoria and it was “discovered” by the said Briton. Yeah right, like the young and well-built warriors of our motherland (and sister-land for Uganda and Tanzania) who lived along the shores of this water body never even once saw it. Like they daily passed it and were wondering “what is this? It looks like water …or sand.” Then Bam! A Briton stumbles upon the water body and he says “Guys, I have made a discovery. There is something here that looks like a large basin (pun intended). Your Majesty , what shall we call this? Name it and it shall be done.” “A lake”, she said “Oh Your Majesty, may you live forever (the irony in that statement). Oh royal and beautiful one, you are full of wisdom. I shall name it after you”. And so it became; Lake Victoria. Colonialism *sigh*

Where was I? Yes, Kisumu. While I was there on some work assignment, I got to interact with a people who are known for pride, love of the fine things in life, and lovers of life itself; the Luos of Kenya. Though this might be a stereotype, it can be both a good reputation and a bad reputation to have. During the last of my days there, I spent an evening at one of my friend’s place. The family has it all, by worldly standards. They really live up to their reputation, except one thing. Pride. The vast house is home to more than 10 kids and an equal number of young people. 80 percent of the people living there are adopted or were taken up from various hardships. And they live such a simple life that when you meet the father and mother on the street you would easily dismiss them for some guy and lady trying to make it in life. Their humility melted my heart and almost brought me to my knees. I was going through a time of self-assessment, and God had been speaking to me on some of the areas in my life that need to be worked on.

This made me look at our generation and weep (kinda). Humility has been replaced with pride, and serious pride in our generation. We are a people who want to feel important so much that we want everyone to know how important we are. We attach monetary value to everything and we want people to know how much it was actually worth. Most of our conversations are full of how we did this, how we did that, how much our phones, cars, houses, headphones, tablets, sunglasses cost, where we went for holiday etc. We are itching to mention these and other ego-boosting thoughts to others, more often than not, our peers. We like to ask “do you know (insert name of a celebrity)?” “Have you ever visited (insert fancy place)?” “How much did you buy that? I bought mine for (insert ridiculously high price)”. We want to make others see how important we are, how we know people and how wealthy we are. Without knowing it, we are harboring and feeding pride. We are slowly killing humility. Sure, our friends and people will tolerate us, but only for a while. They eventually get tired and we end up with no friends…or with fake ones. Worse still, we could fall victim to what someone once said; “It is better to lose your pride with someone you love rather than to lose that someone you love with your useless pride.”

I recently read an article here that talked about the very same thing. The author states so well that when you act like you’re important, you only prove you aren’t. He goes ahead to show how proud people are cheap. Not in the way they look, the way they spend or the way they earn — cheap in the way they treat other people, and the way they attempt to assign a dollar value to everyone they meet.

“I’ve gone from having money in the bank to applying for a job flipping burgers in 6 months straight. When you’ve lived like that, you have a different attitude to money, and you have a different idea of what it means to be a Have or a Have Not. You’re less likely to look at someone and decide that they’re worth a material amount or they’re worth nothing.

You’re less likely to try and show off your money, your status or your prestige. The reason? You know that none of those things are worth more than other people, other human people.”

I know, many times I have also been a victim of the same. I have been infected with the same syndrome and looking back at it, I felt disgusted. So disgusted at myself and I kept asking myself “Was that necessary?”, “What have I gained?” Even God Himself says,

Through Solomon: “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom… Whoever belittles his neighbor lacks sense, but a man of understanding remains silent.” Prov 11:2; 12

and

Through Paul: For if anyone thinks he is something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself. Gal 6: 3

Friends, let us do self-assessment. If we find that we have pride (knowingly or unknowingly), let us strive to replace this with humility. After-all, T. S. Eliot said “Most of the trouble in the world is caused by people wanting to be important”. Don't know where to start? Get feedback from your close circle of friends...it will surprise you.

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi

Twitter: @deekareithi

*images source

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NEVER DATE A POET DEE

“Never date a poet Dee” he said amidst bites of some chicken barbecue flavored crisps I had shared with him (I have special attachment to this flavour). We were waiting for a mutual friend at a bus stage. I was to give her a novel in exchange for another; they were headed for a date. I assumed I had not heard him.

“Dee”, he paused to make sure I was listening to him, “never date a poet”. He repeated. I didn’t know how to take it. I mean; did he know that I subscribed to the religion that is poetry? That once in a while, I became a Levite and would step up to the altar with incense and offer a sacrifice of literary works written in verse, in particular, verses of high worth, great beauty, emotional sincerity, intensity and profound insight (Isn’t that what poetry is?); and at times words with rhythmic grace and imaginative proses?  Did he? Did he know that our mutual friend sat in the council of elders in this so called religion? Did he know that I frequented the likes of Fatuma's Voice, Upgrade Poetry, Slam Africa and Poetry Spot among other poetry forums?  Maybe. Maybe not.

Poets are a heartless lot. He said. Make a blunder and you will testify to this with a bible on your right hand. Make them doubt what you have and they will never make you forget. They will write pieces about you. They will paint their words with the pain, in a way that you will hear and read the words and know they were directed to you. Poets will stab your soul while reciting a love poem to you. They will hurl your heart into the depths, like a stone into mighty waters, and hug you like nothing happened.

Photo Credit: www.cdfstlucia.org

 They will stitch together parts of their verses with blood from the heart of a love that you once shared; and do it wearing a smile. They will make you think twice about anything you ever did without even saying it. They will perform these pieces to audiences that you are part of; people will praise their prowess with words. They will make you sit through the agony of listening to words that you once said; only this time they will sound so different because they are meant to crucify you. They will make you wonder out loud “was that about us?” and instinctively they will say “that was not about us by the way”. And you will know it was.

Photo Credit: www.p4cm.com

They will make you regret ever meeting them; ever falling in love with their hearts and souls. They will speak in parables that mock you and your mere existence. They will make you be cautious about love at first sight; you will always want to have a second and third look. They will make you read through their pieces first before they show them to the world. As if to make sure that the impressions of the words are engraved in your mind. And every time they are up there performing the piece, the words will hurt you one more time. And you will have to smile; because you are dating a poet.

Unless you are a poet as well. He added. Then you will be able to read between the sweet words and see the emptiness they carry. You will be able to see through the irony of the praises in proses. You will understand the meaning of the adjectives they use. You will see that one black sheep in the white sheep lines of a romantic poem. That masked truth that was not supposed to be there. That line that makes the whole piece a lie. And you will smile about it and say “great piece”. You will know the depth of the sting in that offensive line; because you would write the same to them.

Photo Credit: www.p4cm.com

He didn’t say more; he didn’t have to. The expression on his face, the way his face distorted with a foreign emotion as he talked; the emptiness in his eyes and the smile he gave her when she arrived said it all.

“Never Dee,” he said as he hugged her. 

“Not all” I whispered back.

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi

Twitter: @deekareithi

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THE KENYAN ENTREPRENEUR

The other day a friend and I had an interesting conversation. He owns a movie store. It was a Sunday afternoon and I found him there sited, bored. I challenged him to a game of scrabble and with progression of the game a conversation started. He was telling me about this friend he has. The friend is son to a renowned businessman who doubles as a pastor (lol). Now, they graduated at the same time from campus, but the friend works at a national corporation, in a line he did not even study at school, just because his father “knew people in high places”. He goes on to explain that the girlfriend to the guy also works in a renowned company even though she is yet to graduate…talk of being born with a silver spoon in the mouth; literally. The girlfriend, tuseme ni kuangukia tu hehehe *evil grin*.

As the conversation went on, he went on to let me know how the friend would not survive if he lost the job he is at. I went on to ask him why he is not looking for formal employment and he said, “Those formally employed wait for 30 days to get an average of income 60,000 (most earn less than this actually). I make that in two weeks…tell me how I would change what I have now for what you have. I asked him how he got there and he tells me of how he started selling seedlings with a savings worth 2,000 (I will post about this next month).

This reminded me of a quote by one great man, one George Herbert; “Do not wait; the time will never be ‘just right.’ Start where you stand, and work with whatever tools you may have at your command, and better tools will be found as you go along”. See, most of us fresh graduates have become experts at job hunting, but have no jobs. We thus end up frustrated and we give up in life, well, it is not all over. Remember that entrepreneurship unit you were taught at school? You would be surprised at how easy it is to start a business for yourself. I looked around and saw some of the simplest jobs Kenyan entrepreneurs have created for themselves, with very little (some close to zero) capital.

Fresh Farm produce sale.

Now, how many times have you walked around town or your estate, especially in the evenings, and met vehicles parked at the road side, boots open with fresh farm produce being sold. Well, if you ask any of those who do this, the business has challenges but the rewards are sweet. But I don’t have land to farm in; you may say….well, just start with the paper bags and empty mikebes you have at home. The soil is free, buy a few seedlings and be patient enough to wait for them to grow. Or better yet, become a middle man or offer to be someone’s (a farmer) seller with commission to what you make. All you need is a small fee for the county council officers.

Roadside kiosks.

See those people who sell chapatis and smokies, chips, boiled eggs, samosas and roasted maize or corn on the cob by the road; ask them how much they make and you will know why they can never go for formal employment. I once watched a story of one Wacuka from Centonomy (watch it here), who started by selling chapos at their estate gate, but is now supplying tea to a Equity Bank Westlands, and makes more than you think. Even the famous Kemboi started by making tiny steps. Patience is key.

Movie shops

Well, well, well, you have to love Kenyans for their love of relaxing and winding. You also have to thank God for our love of movies, series and documentaries. You can be sure that if you open a movie shop either in town or that neighborhood, you will never lack customers/clients. This one though, requires some capital because of rent and all, but trust you me, the net gain is more.

Hobbies

This is one of the biggest business ideas I have ever thought of. Did you know you can turn your hobby into a business? Or even better a company? With very little start up finances? Be it writing, photography, reading, and singing, talking, baking, cooking or walking. Sure, you will need something small to give it a push, a few courses here and there then you become an expert.

Someone once said that for you to become an expert at anything, you have to spend at least ten thousand hours doing it to become perfect. Ten thousand you ask? Yes. Most of us young people do something for a few hours, or even days then we start saying we have given up or think we are perfect. Ask good instrumentalists how long they had to practice to get where they have been. As that chef how many recipes they had to burn so as to become perfect. Ask that cobbler how many shoes they had to mend to become successful. Ask that speed skater (*blush* :-) ;-)) how many miles they had to cover or how many injuries they had to get so as to skate for ten thousand meters in twenty minutes without getting tired. Then ask yourself; how many hours have you done to give up? 

George Eliot once said that “It is never too late to be what you might have been”. 

Take charge, start today.

@deekareithi

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IN MY SHOES

“The lady who has the most shoes in the end wins!!” a lady I know excitedly exclaimed when she when she was explaining why she was attending a shoe sale (name excluded for obvious reasons). Win what? (I hear men asking) Well, she will just win IT. Don't ask me what it is she wins; she just wins... it's there. No one knows what is won but she wins. Period. No questions about it. I don’t know who cast a spell on ladies that brought forth this obsession with shoes.

 

 

Ha-ha now, fast forward to the many shoes we see on the streets. I am and forever be amazed at the types of shoes I see ladies wearing. Now before you throw that glass at me, don’t get me wrong, I am a lady too and even though I own a few (10-15) pairs of shoes (more to come soon); I always wonder why we ladies in particular love wearing weird makes of shoes. Sophistication? Class? I still don’t see the need to walk uncomfortably and spend several thousands of shillings on something that causes you more pain than comfort when walking. I like keeping it simple and comfortable. But then that’s me. Men, on the other hand, have no trouble with shoes…just slip your feet in there and ensure it’s fitting and comfortable; classy or not.

Anyway, enough of the shoes rant. Now, more often than not I hear people blurt out the famous statement “Don’t judge me until you have walked in my shoes”. Each time I hear someone say/write that I can’t help but laugh. Most of the time, the person saying that is saying it to defend some behavior or attitude that in fact is spiritually, morally or socially unacceptable. This statement tends to give them some sort of consolation that what they did/said was right; only that the rest of the human race does not understand or know them. I mean; even I have used it severally to sooth my human ego. In most instances, the statement “you don’t know me” (which is said with a straight face with lots of bitterness, anger and resentment towards the person being addressed) accompanies or comes before the famous statement.

  These days I just burst into laugh when this statement is made… okay, not burst, I chuckle…. fine; I smile (with a cheeky evil laughter inside) and wonder, before we make such a statement; do we ever examine ourselves and see if we even have the proverbial shoes? And if we do; are they fit for anyone to walk in? Are they walkable? (Yeah; I just invented that word…I’ll patent it :-p). See, most of us complain that others judge us without knowing what we had to do to do what we did (are those lyrics to a song? I regress). Coincidentally, it’s mostly a lady who is saying that. Lately, most of us ladies have been reduced to wasting our inner beauty, wasting away our souls, in a bid to please others (read men). So damaged are we that these proverbial shoes that we say people need to walk in before judging us; have been reduced to dust. We are walking bare footed.

So lost in the world are we that we do not even think of how our children will be; how they will grow up. We need the grace of God. Even though I have never heard many men say that (except when they are caught cheating or lying), we all; men included, need to examine ourselves more and see why we want to be so self-defensive and want to justify that which was obviously wrong.

So, the next time we (I included) are tempted to use the statement “Don’t judge me until you have walked in my shoes”, let’s ask ourselves, do we even have any shoes or are we walking around bare footed? If we do; are they walkable? Let’s examine our spiritual, moral and social selves and see why we are being so defensive.

Twitter: @deekareithi

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THE SHADOWS by @wanjiru_wanjiku

The shadows in here converse;
Low grumpy conversations,
Gesticulating and pacing,
With their fingers growing long each passing minute,
Embracing my neck-
Squeezing and soothing.

I had known how to silence them,
Let them watch in awe as I practice a smile,
And a gait so blissful when I carry the wind on my shoulders.

Now I observe them with tight lips and a heart so torn that the sun rays go right through it,
Let them dance on the chandelier of hope laying somewhere in the room,
Gaze as they squeeze the very last ounce of light from my eyeballs.

What I know about living
is that pain is never just ours,
After a while we learn to dance to the music of our hearts again,
Wishing on porch lights like they were stars on cloudy nights.

But they wake me at night,
Howling again and again
that my heart has just skinned it knees...
A worse day is yet to come...
That maybe tomorrow...
is just an illusion.

So I toss forcefully closing my eyes,
Mumbling to the darkness that girdles me,
To the voices in my head...
To my soul hovering somewhere...
To these walls that have become friends...
To the spirits in here throwing stones
forcing me into an introvert's shell.

I had mastered the art of sealing lips and ignoring pain,
But the sea inside me is so full of bottles it no longer tides,
The messages taking on bipolar tendencies-
Some read "live"
Others " just how much water do you need to keep the pills down!"

So if tommorow really is an illusion
Let the world know I tried
But when I thought I had hit rock bottom
It hit back so hard
That the thread holding hope together snapped.

All rights reserved Shiru Wa Mum 2014 

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THROWBACK THURSDAY.

Did you catch that? I threw it!! And it was Thursday!! Hehehe, throw back Thursday it is. Now, to begin with; who on earth invented this “throwback Thursday?”  Why particularly on Thursday? I thought if there was a day that one would use to reflect on the past; it should be Monday. You know, with the weekend past and we did all those things during the weekend and…never mind. This is not about Mondays and weekends.

Since this is a Thursday and social pressure (damn you social and peer pressure) has enslaved me; I am obliged to write this. Now, you are in a train, its speeding past the fields, you are seated alone at a window. As the train speeds past a dusty town, you stare mysteriously (you know, like they do in movies....lol) out of the window. You start reminiscing; oh how you miss the past. Memories flash before your very eyes, your train of thoughts and memories is moving so slow, you live in the memories once again. See where you are, now, hold that position. Such is the setting I intended this to be written (unlike where I am now, in an office full of books; not novels and data waiting for me to analyze it. *le sigh*).

I miss the old days, the good old days. Even though poverty was more rampant and food was scarce, I miss the values that we had. You know, (to the younger generation) the days your folks or grandparents tell you about when a 10cents (Kenyan cents) would buy you a loaf of bread, ok not that long ago… days when “bibo” and “juci cola” were a delicacy, days when the alphabet was taught as it is written, not as what children are taught these days. I do miss those days, and here is the reason why;

I miss the days when brotherhood was the norm. Days when looking out for your brother was your first priority. Days when if your parents bought you a bicycle, you would rush to the village (community) kids and exclaim “tumenunuliwa bike” (A bicycle has been bought for us) and you wouldn’t mind sharing it, taking turns to ride it. Days when people lived in actual communities and not “gated communities” where you do not even know and have never seen your neighbor.  I miss the days we would look forward to Christmas and birthdays, because it was a time we rejoiced and sipped juice and bread; unlike the big birthday parties they have these days, with emcees and all…why would you hire an emcee for your child’s first birthday? In my days, you grandpa was the emcee!!

I miss the days when marriage was respected and pregnancy celebrated; when love was real. You know, days when people would go through so much (together) and make their marriages work (ever looked at an old couple and wondered what they saw in each other? I always do), unlike these days when insecurity, greed and doubt fill relationships. Days when pregnancy was celebrated, not as these days where you hear “so and so is pregnant” and the response is “her too? Oh they could not wait?” then the other will reply “I guess not, but her boy friend will have to marry her now”. Sad. These days people get married to cover for pregnancies, the world is full of people who want relationships with no commitment; people who want the “husband-wife” or “boyfriend-girlfriend” experience, with no commitment. Coz if you do, you are too serious with life? Sad.

I miss those days when innocence was celebrated; days when cartoons, animations and comedy was something to watch with children and laugh about; not some mischievous and evil plan to throw in some dirty words…I mean, these days even cartoons and animations kiss and have “friends with benefits” relationships, in our days, only Cinderella had the privilege to kiss her prince charming! Days when novels were interesting, not some porn on paper! Days when writers had good content to write about, after serious consideration and days of writing; not based on a certain pornographic fantasy they have.

Of all, I miss those days when Christians had values and stuck to them. Not spend days drinking and the next minute they are leading worship in church…days when we had “Sunday best” dressing out best; unlike these days when we use the “…for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart….” (1^st Samuel 16:7) scripture to defend our lacking clothing at church or anywhere (its good to read the whole chapter and see why Samuel said that).

And though those days are far much gone, I strive to re-live them and ensure my children will have a taste of those days and these memories.

Now, get out of that train (of thoughts) and continue doing what we were doing. Let’s ensure that our children have a life they look back at and miss.

Twitter: @deekareithi

 Google plus: Dorcas Kareithi

*ION, May the soul of Dr. Maya Angelou, renown poet and inspiration to writers and poets, rest in eternal peace*

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I SEE YOU

I see you,

Crying at the street corner,

Tears that no one will see,

With a story no one will believe.

Passers-by pass you by,

With judgmental glances,

Peeking under their glasses;

“She’s one of them, swims in pangs of pity, She knows not the mystery that is purity”

They hiss in hushed tones.

I see you,

You went to the gym each day,

Thinking if you stayed thin, he would stay.

But then these lasses,

With judgmental glances,

Peeking under their glasses;

They could go to Katmandu overland,

On a limping camel for all you cared;

But your life they stripped!

I see you,

Misery emanates from you,

Like radioactivity from plutonium.

Waiting to die, sitting alone,

In your own cell, regretting all you’ve done.

Daily you huskily howl, from deep inside your soul,

“Help me, I want to go home”

I see you,

Longing for someone who mends; heals,

One who feeds; gives meals,

One to clothe; tops and heels,

He who owns a thousand cattle upon hills.

“Come to me, with your heavy burdens;

Lay them at my feet”

I see you,

I will take you, feed, clothe, mend you,

I will not judge you, for what you’ve done

Or what you have become,

I will love you for you.

Come; my child come.

Befado

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AN ARREST ( MY FIRST EXPERIENCE)

Ever been arrested? Either for the right or wrong reasons? Well if you have never, I beat you to it. Last evening to be precise. You may wonder why I’m so happy to write about it, just wait and see.

So, it’s Saturday evening, Skater Boy and I have come from training in Thika, we are now in Nairobi. We go at a hotel to have an afternoon snack as we watch a game. Here my already bad day got worse. See, I’m an arsenal fan and I had so much faith in Wenger’s boys for this game. Skater boy is a Manchester united fan (yeah makes the perfect couple). If you all watched that game you know too well how it went down. So, as we linger in there a bit longer as I drown my sorrows in food (we ladies know that food works so well, despite the source of sorrow). 

By the time we leave, it’s a bit dark. We decide to head to Central Park, which is at the center of Nairobi. The flood light at the center of the park is shining bright and the place looks too tempting. Wrong thought. Skater Boy and I are quite crazy, you see, so we agree to stand below the light and we start dancing. (Blame this on the “dance like no one is watching you”). It is a park, right? And people are walking past the park hurrying home. Us; no we had to. The day had been long and hard and laughter and fresh air was all we could think of.

We all know that all movies and books/novels list chasing each other across a field as a moment of…well, you know; a perfect moment.

Well, not in this one. We challenge each other to the nearest pathway and the winner gets to buy the loser some ice-cream (I was hoping to loose, but he beat me to it). At the end of the finish line that is the path, we find some people, cuffs at hand, waiting for us; talk about a bad victory reception. Just imagine Usain Bolt finding such a party at the finish line….sad.

So that is how we got arrested. We cooperated and they did not cuff us (thank God Skater Boy did not get very aggressive, you see, he is also a professional boxer). So we are taken under a tree where we find about 50 other Kenyans, some in cuffs. SB (Skater Boy) and I find ourselves a bench and we await the vehicle supposed to take us to a police station. We are all told that we were arrested for being in the park at “ungodly hours”. We are informed that people are not supposed to trespass the park past six; as he speaks, people are still passing by, but it seems like they had arrested enough people.

They tell us we will be taken to a police cell, expecting the men to resist so that they find a reason for arrest. Strangely enough, we all agree and we state that if the arrest is legal, we would like to record statements. They panic. See, these men introduced themselves as policemen warning us that they will fine us all. A lady at the back starts crying saying that her guy is not Kenyan, that he does not know the rules in Kenya. SB and I laugh. We take out our phones and start recording everything. We knew those guys were people extorting money from naïve and innocent Kenyans.

We pass by Kenyatta avenue round-about and our fears are confirmed. See, if you are to be taken to the police station/ county council cells, you do not turn right, as we did, and headed to Uhuru Park. Several of us started asking which police station we were being taken to and all we got was a “kuna wengine huku, mtakujiwa na lorry hapa” (there are other people here, a police lorry is coming to pick you up).

So we get to a place and find other 50 like so Kenyans sitting there, also waiting for the police lorry to come. Now, the retards that SB and I are, we go around greeting people asking them why they are there; all this time recording (thank you Sony Xperia for having a larger internal memory space). So by now it’s around 8 pm and no uniformed policeman has come. The leader of the gang tells us that they are willing to help anyone who does not want to go to jail. Here you see Kenyans who do not value their hard earned cash. Why do I say this? Some were giving bribes as much as 20, 000 to be let free. SB and I are still recording all this.

One of the “police men” suspects that we are doing this and asks us to sit in a secluded place. Thank God for friends who have friends in high places. I get the number of one of the anchors in Citizen TV and explain our situation and where we are being held; in a gated store area at Freedom Corner. The reporter gives Nairobi OCPD my number and he calls me. I explain the same thing and in a few minutes uniformed policemen are at the gate. Our other police panic and order us to get out, while those who want to “get assistance” to remain behind. We decide to go with the group that wants to be taken to jail.

Now we are two groups, half remained to “get assistance” and half of us knew our arrest was false and we wanted to get justice (and finish our recording). We demand to be taken to a police station. Instead of being taken to a police station, they start taking us upwards, towards All Saints Cathedral, several of our group run away and the fake police leave them. Now, funny is the conversation I heard between the uniformed police and the “police” who arrested us. This was actually a deal between the two!!! The other police even had walkie talkies that communicated with the actual police. Sad.

All this time I am informing the OCPD where we are being taken, and he gives an order for all of us to be released. Half of the group being “taken to jail” is let go. SB and I choose to remain behind. SB and I tell the remaining group not to give any bribes; our escorts hear us and we are pulled out of the crowd. At this point, we have gone round Uhuru Park and we are at Parliament road.  One of the “police” gets us aside to question us; why we were arrested, if we want any assistance. We tell our tale. He tells us he is forgiving us because we look innocent; we laugh.

He tells us to disappear and not get caught again, but we were not going to let him go that easily. We demand to see his police badge and he suddenly gets busy and his arms start shaking. SB and I look at each other and smile. He gets tensed up and gets his wallet out. He starts explaining to us that he is busy calling and we tell him we are patient. Now its a few minutes to nine. The uniformed police are busy taking bribes from other people in the group we were picked out from. The guy starts explaining how I don’t know who was killed where in the park, who was sleeping where and gibberish. We remind him that we are waiting to see his badge; he pulls out a number of cards and picks one out, one with his blood type, no name and no police number.

SB and I laugh and tell him that we know what they are doing and that he should let everyone go if he wants to be safe. Realizing that he has been busted, he gives an order to his people to let our group to go. They do. As we are leaving; His arms are still shaking. I tell him to be careful, some Kenyans are watching and they are talking. Our recordings are with us, a reminder of what innocent Kenyans go through.

It’s now 10 pm; SB and I walk into a hotel for coffee. Now his Manchester united game is over; and we never watched it. But they won, damn!! oh and I lost my precious ear rings in the process :-(

Now I am left to wonder; how many other people walk around masquerading as police men, extorting money from innocent Kenyans, as much as 10 to 20 thousand per person (real police men included)? And us Kenyans, when will we know our rights? Stop giving bribes for crimes you did not commit!!

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WHERE ARE WE HEADED?

Recently, a controversy broke out about a church poster that was termed as “not fit” for not only Christian viewing but also general viewing.  There have been talks, debates and all that hullabaloo about it. The church came out in defense of their youth course (though I did not hear them support their answers with scripture as is expected of any religion follower accused of going against their faith). But that is not what makes me angry.

 

“What brings you to church” I asked a youth man in an un-named city church. The young man laughs and glances around before saying; “The hot girls, of course. I realized that it’s actually easier to get sex in church, because many of these young people are rebellious, they come here to mask their behavior. They are the wildest group I know of; most are just pretenders,” he confides.”

This was an excerpt from a local daily that was investigating on the same. Now, before you get judgmental and all, I am a born again Christian, who believes in certain values, and above all, HUMAN. This does not mean I am “holy”; I do make mistakes, I do sin, but by the grace of God keeps me safe from most evil and sin.

Now, back to my anger. I am left to wonder where our Christian values, those values our parents taught us, and brought us up with; where are they? Where are we headed as a Christian nation? We are at a time and age where gospel artists no longer give content that is based on the scripture (and none of them seem to care). Where a Christian artist goes ahead and gets models for his video and publicly says the sees nothing wrong in appreciating beauty (as they dance erotically). Where worship leaders spend the night at drinking parties and in the morning they are leading worship. Where we Christian youth are getting married to cover up some pregnancy. What happened to no sex before marriage? Where dancing styles like “bend over” are danced in church, at the pulpit mind you, and the church leaders just smile and say “the youth are dancing for Jesus” and “our youth are talented”, as they look at the congregation with pride seeing how young people have flocked their church.

What explanation do they give? “We are attracting the youth to church”. “Times have changed; we have to give something that is attractive to the youth, to lead them to Jesus”. 

“¹I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the compassions of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, [which is] your intelligent service.² And be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of [your] mind, that ye may prove what [is] the good and acceptable and perfect will of God.” Romans 12:1 and 2

Where are we headed? Where have our Christian values been buried in the name of “attracting people to Jesus”?! Call me old school, but such are the values that we need back. It is as such moments that I echo my colleague Dickson Otieno’s words; as he put it here. 

If there was a time we, the youth needed prayers; it is now.

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