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.

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PACES

Well, this post was to go up a few days ago, before the alleged month of love ended but meh! Life happened but here we are :-). Now, the month of February had a lot of stuff going on, from friends getting married, people declaring undying (oh the irony) love for each other on the 14^th, people hosting and attending singles events, people getting engaged, people passing on; all on the same day/weekend. It makes you wonder, all these things that happen in this feared and dreaded day, what do people do the other day of the month? A friend told me that she asked her boyfriend not to give her anything…well, I don’t know how that would go with most readers, but I guess guys would really love that. In the same month, we (I) saw the birth of two young establishments and the slow death of another. We also saw some lions escape a national park in Kenya, and the jokes and memes all over were just hilarious. What caught my attention though, is this review by this website that I had never come across (shekirout!).

Copyright: me

Now, in the same month, I happened to visit Hell’s gate National Park Kenya and hike Mt. Longonot. Well, it was not my first time to hike the said mountain, I had been there severally. The mountain holds a special place as it also hold very special memories for me. This time though, this time was different. It felt different. Not because I was there with a different group (a group of young scientists, by the way. you see, scientists also know how to have fun, forget what CBS portrays with Sheldon et al). A group of us had a mission. We wanted to go round the rim and reach the highest peak. And so with great determination and sheer excitement, about 20 of us started the journey to the summit. Armed with water and other sugary stuff to keep our energy levels up, we started the great hike. A few minutes in, some of us started getting tired and taking breaks. If you have been there, you know there only two resting places; at the middle and at the top. On our way up, several of us were stopping to take photos and selfies, unaware of the daunting task ahead. At-least all of us made it to the halfway point. Some were left there as they felt they could not go on, while some felt so energetic they were running up, literally. I was left with the last group, not that I could not hurry up, but because I wanted to make sure that at-least those who started the journey made it to the top, regardless of the pace. And so four of us started the journey at a snail’s pace, picking up a few other hikers along the way. 

Copyright: me

As if things could not get worse for those already tired, heavy rain started falling. Heavy rain.  So, you are in the middle of a hike, with bushes all around. Heavy rain is falling. There is only one way up. The half way resting place is too far to go back. So what do you do? You keep going and pray that you will not get a cold. Keeping your eyes on the hut at the top, you strive forward. Half an hour later, you finally make it up with the last bunch of hikers in your group. Rain is still falling. Someone makes a joke about us hiking in swimming costumes next time. We all laugh. We rest a bit and then the group breaks into two. Some of us want to reach to the highest peak (which will take us approximately 2more hours), while the others want to return. Long story short, only 9 of us made it round the rim, with several episodes of rain and sunshine. 

When we got down to join the other team for lunch, I couldn’t help but think about how different paces (yes, paces not a typo) in life are. Here we were, a group of young scientists. We had one thing (two…three…okay several things in common). We were scientists, human, but we also had a goal of scaling this mountain. However, some of us were faster, some of us more determined, some of us more ambitious, some of us more experienced in hiking; and all these determined our paces. Some of us were hiking slowly, some slow. Some of us got discouraged by the rain, some of us enjoyed the rain (I mean, when was the last time you got drenched by rain?). Some of us made it to the peak, some did not. Some of us made it to the summit, others got tired half way. I could not help but think life outside. There are these personal goals that we set and there are those goals society expects us to attain. Like getting married, having a family, getting established, (for those of us in science) papers to publish, finish school and the likes. Spiritually, we have the same personal and societal goals. We desire growth, we desire to do things that we read about people do and we want to do them. See all these things are doable and attainable, but guess what; we all have different paces!

At times we get discouraged or want to do things in a hurry because so and so has done it and succeeded. This is especially for our young generation. We want to compare ourselves with our friends and peers. But you know what; we cannot all be the same. We move at different paces. We have different experiences, different resources. We might have the same goals, but getting there will be at different paces. So the next time you feel like so and so has done so much in life and you have not done a lot, the next time you think of getting married because your friends are getting married, you want to move to a posh estate because your friends are doing so, or want to start a business because your friends are doing so, you want to accumulate quick wealth because people are doing so; remember this. We move at different paces. And life is not a race. So long as you are moving, snail speed or otherwise, so long as there is progress, we will all get there. Scale that mountain, at your own pace! (and if you get company or someone who is encouraging you and challenging you to keep on, the better :-))

The Champs. 6 countries represented, One goal, One victory.
Copyright: me

Happy New month from Njeri Kareithi’s Desk

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#AsanteMwalimu

Reading Renee’s most recent post here took me way back. Way, waaaay back, to when I first publicly declared my love for math. Even when I wrote it here exactly four years ago, I wasn’t too sure about it. I was just trying to convince myself that I was not totally doomed. You know, like the way we are told to look in the mirror and speak stuff (positive stuff of-course), to our images on the mirror, that is exactly what I was doing. This blog had become my mirror (pun intended). The first time I did it, it felt like “coming out of the closet”. You know, based on what we hear people feel when “coming out”. I didn’t know what to expect. Would society embrace me? Would they accept me for what I loved? Would they respect this love? 

Looking back now, I can’t just believe it. Everything I do involves and revolves around math and statistics (which reminds me of this joke that a friend and I shared a few days ago about statisticians counting sheep. *chuckles* Statisticians can’t count many sheep to induce sleep. They count till they obtain a good enough sample size and estimate/predict how many sheep they will have counted by the time they sleep, making it a futile exercise *chuckles a bit more* Under repeated sampling #BringBackMyLife lol). Don’t look at me like that. That was funny. Okay then *ignores the crickets chirping in dead sillence*, moving on swiftly. But really, my rosy relationship with math wasn’t always like this. 

Now, this is a story all about how

My life got flipped-turned upside down

And I'd like to take a minute

Just sit right there

I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air

Fell in love with math.

Like most of people who studied in rural nursery and primary schools, math was a BIG challenge. I would hear math and squirm at the thought of the numbers on the blackboard. Heck, I once had a nightmare that my math teacher had come to kill me. Now, that could be related to the fact that he looked scary and seemed to find pleasure in caning those of us who got zeros in math exams, but it could also be figurative; you never know. And so I grew up hating math and anything math-related. I would look at my brother in awe when he received those cups, plates and trays for being best in math (lol, those days were awesome yaani, when primary schools would prepare you for a life out there by giving you such meaningful gifts.) What do schools give these days as rewards? Phones? Tablets? Where did we go wrong?

 

source: pixabay.com

Well, my math grades (all grades generally) would take the steepest descent method each and every time we did exams. So much that my mum had my hair shaved (I had really long hair) and threatened to move me to some local school we would make fun of. Then I got transferred to a better school. How I passed that interview, God knows. And so, my life changing moment came one day as we were handing in some math problems while in class eight. I remember it so vividly you would think it’s like one of those days that Veon talks about here. I had sketched this pie chart and some calculations below it so neatly that when the teacher saw it, he showed it to the class and praised it. He shook my hand and told me. “You are a bright girl Njeri, and keep doing this, and God will bless your brain”. I remember muttering “Amen, I will” under my breath. I grabbed that. installed it in my head and I have never looked back since then. And funny enough, once the math started getting in, all other subjects started making sense. 

See, the words of Mr. Murungaru (that is his name), may have been inaudible to the rest of the class but they were spoken to me. When he commended me on my great work; I felt like nothing could stop me. And that is the amazing thing about teachers and parents. Their words influence our lives in such a great way. Most of the time we take it for granted that someone taught us how to write, how to read, how to speak good English, swahili or whatever language you are good at. We forget that it took patience, skill and someone believing in you to see you acquire and grow in whatever skill or talent you have. IT, science, fashion, embroidery, pottery, farming, business, singing, acting, playing that instrument; name it. Teachers are the least appreciated people around and that needs to change.

For them to think less of themselves that much that they want to see you prosper and see you spread your proverbial wings and fly, they need more appreciation. So take the time from now on and make it a habit to appreciate that teacher, mentor, parent or friend who taught you something that changed your life. Say #Asante (thank you) and share your story. For me, I appreciate all my math and statistics teachers/lecturers who taught me to look at the world through the eyes of math.

#AsanteMwalimu (Thank you teacher)

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DEATH WHERE IS YOUR STING?

The news of passing on of a friend or family is something that no one ever wants to hear or even imagine being told. And yet, it is the most heart breaking news one can ever hear. Forget being rejected or dumped by someone you loved (or thought you loved), forget breaking your hand, finger, toe, nail….heck, none of this types of pains can be compared to the pain of losing a loved one. When it keeps hitting you that you shall never see them again, that you will never get to laugh with them, to hold them, to touch them, to play games with them. You go through countless messages and images that you shared with them. You replay the voice messages and video notes. (By the way; those who say sijui we should not take photos of each and everything we do and of everywhere we go; well, I wrote that mantra you live by on a paper, shoved it in a jar, sealed it and put it in NASA’s LunarProspector, and in case you have not checked; it is not coming down any time soon. Not in the near centuries.) Some of these things are the one and at times only way that we hold pieces of those who left us.

“Just as no human being has control over the wind to restrain it, so also no human being has control over the day of his death. Just as no one is discharged during war, so wickedness will not release those who practice it.” Ecclesiastes 8:8 (ISV)

source: www.pixabay.com

And so you walk through places you once trod; you outline the traces of your palms that once held those hands. And each time you feel like they are still there, with no distance between the palms. You look around you and nothing seems to make sense anymore. Nothing makes you want to live; but you do. You wake up every damn morning and say “I will do this. If not for me, for them”. And when it gets to you in that washroom, that office space, that bus seat, that train seat, as you walk through a path, as you sit alone in that hall, as you sleep under that bridge; with countless people walking right past you and no one seems to feel your pain or even see it. When you feel those tears well up in your eyes and say “oh boy, here comes the water falls”. When you feel that stinging pain as your heart breaks one more time, and it feels like someone is trying to stab your heart, leaving you there to bleed, pain oozing out in form of a lacrimal fluid composed of water, mucin, lipids, lysozyme, lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin, immunoglobulins,  glucose, urea, sodium, and potassium (commonly known as tears). And you look up to the skies, you feel like cursing God for taking them away and causing this pain that is has become a shawl that you dress in daily, hugging it in a bid to get answers to the many questions you have. Amid sobs and whimpers you utter words that you have wanted to utter all this time. You wish for a session with the grim reaper just to ask them “what exactly is your problem?” 

“But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, "DEATH IS SWALLOWED UP in victory."O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR VICTORY? O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR STING?" 1 Corinthians 15: 54-55(ISV)

So you go to an open field, at the top of your lungs you ask “DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR STING?” And them, just then, you ask God to take the pain away, to make it stop hurting. And you rise, you dust yourself and take a walk outside and say to yourself; “I will not let this stop me. I will make them proud. I will live”

For you know too well what Isaiah 57:1-2 (NIV) says:

The Blessed Death of the Righteous
 The righteous man perishes, and no man takes it to heart; And devout men are taken away, while no one understands. For the righteous man is taken away from evil, He enters into peace; They rest in their beds, Each one who walked in his upright way.

And then you know that it is well. It may take long to get to that point, it might take ages, maybe years; but you do get there. For they are forever in your heart. 

source: www.pixabay.com

'To live in the hearts of others is never to die. ' - Thomas Campbell

This post is in memory of all the friends and family we have lost over the year (this year starting on a very sad note of losing several friends). This is to them that left before us. Fare thee well. Fare thee well. Till we meet again. May their souls rest in eternal peace. Amen

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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.

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WHAT IF WE: LOVE

“…so, did you fantasize? Did you see it like it was yours?”

“Are you serious? Did I do what? hahahaha” I ask with this look on my face as if that can never happen in real life.

“Yes I am, did you?”

A few days ago I was attending a wedding where two of my childhood friends were getting married. And this festive season all around us; well one can say love was in the air. So, it is evening…and this good friend calls to ask how my day was. There I

am blurting about how the clothes, shoes, bridesmaids, cake, how the kids I was carrying were adorable and how we were singing along to some songs with the matron of honor (well, it’s been long since I attended or participated in a wedding so this was really refreshing). I finish my side of the story and ask about his, which he shares quite interestingly since he was participating in another. Towards the end of the conversation he asks if I fantasized. I remember laughing and laughing, almost uncontrollably in the section of the conversation up there. Like, I know it’s the festive season, people are with loved ones, people are cuddling and holding hands all over, “I love you” messages and actions are all around and it’s the time of the year when you are reminded of how being away from a loved one can be devastating. Oh, and visiting that grandmother who keeps reminding you that she has two school buses ready and waiting for me to tell her to get people ready, makes it all worse. So, maybe  I did, maybe I did not hahaha.

Okay, but that is not my point. Thing is, during this festive season, there is so much love around. Like real and genuine love. Husbands spending time with families, wives spending time at home and not work, kids away from school and playing around the house, nobody is at work (except those who work in very sensitive areas like doctors, bankers, supermarket attendants, chefs…you know, those who we would die without), and comfortingly…families and homes are filled with laughter and joy. And food. And Sunshine. And conversations. Oh how I wish everyday was Christmas.

So all along I have been asking myself; why does this have to happen on Christmas and/or New Year’s or during holidays? If there is a time I see people genuinely show love is during festive seasons. It reminds me of a conversation I had with my mentor a few years ago, and he was saying how he pities our generation, because we all want to be loved but don’t want to love. Like so many of us want something that lasts forever but are not willing to do what is takes? I mean…we all have been in love once and we all let go at some point, we have all gotten heart broken…but really, what if we all loved? Like genuinely loved? The kind of loving that makes us look forward to the future? That kind of love that makes us say “I know he/she is not perfect but there is not another being under the heavens that I would rather be with”. The kind of love that makes us say “no matter what is happening, I will keep this love pure and keep working on it”. 

source: www.pixlabay.com

I know every day cannot be Christmas…but what if we faithfully loved? In a generation where there is little or not much genuine love, in a generation that wants things that are already complete and people who are already established, in a generation that lives by the “let me fool around…when the time comes I will be serious” kind of attitude, in a generation that seemingly does not know how to love; what if we learnt how to love? What if we became students of love?  The hard-working, appreciative, full of gratitude, kind, reliable and consistent love? And who better to learn from than Christ? What if we sat down with elder people who have experienced this kind of love and learn from them? What if we genuinely cared and loved the less fortunate, the elderly, and the orphans? Would we lose anything? 

What if we did it for our families, relationships, companies, ourselves? What if we did it #ForMyCity and for humanity? What if we started today (and sustained it)? What if we did it #ForMyCity and for humanity? After all, love makes the world go round (refer to power puff girls’ song “love makes the world go round" lol).

Dear readers of Njeri Kareithi, this post marks the end of the “What if” series. You can read about the others here. The series was inspired by a theme by dubbed #ForMyCity led by Poetry Spot. (Follow the conversation here). Love was the last in the series because all the other attributes, when love is added, make a complete person (flaws and all). Not perfect, but complete. I urge us all (me included), to take up the challenge and join me as we strive to make these attributes part and parcel of who we are.

"So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." 1^st cor 13:13 (ESV)

MERRY CHRISTMAS from NJERI KAREITHI'S Desk!!

 

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WHAT IF WE: GRATITUDE

It’s a Saturday evening, the clouds are so dark; you can search all over and never find even an African so dark (lol). This means only one thing. The heavens are heavily pregnant, ready to rain down and rain hard on un-expecting humans. We have just come from eating a 4 kg 4-layered cake at a friend’s graduation party…the taste that the cake left is still with me. A friend and I are chatting our way to town in the cool and quiet evening.

‘Aki kutanyesha (It’s going to rain)” there is a worried look on my face as I touch my recently blow-dried mane.

“Hakutanyesha…I am not a rain maker but chill uone, hakutanyesha (No it won’t rain…. I’m not a rain maker but just wait and see)” he says amid laughter.

“Uko sure? (Are you sure?)” (Lately I have been asking this alot…but that’s another day’s tale)

“Yes…trust me.”

And so I did. And instead of taking a ride to another friend’s place…we decided to walk. Evening walks are one of my favorite things to do…especially with good company :-) . So we walk. And what goes well with walking…especially on such a cool evening? Talking. And so we talked. We talked about almost everything…from scripture…spiritual lives, lame jokes, a few adventures in the timeline, business opportunities (ha-ha yes…this had to be there) and how life in general was. 

source: www.pixabay.com

When we arrived at this other friend’s house for dinner, music and laughter (yes, that is how dinner is served...with music and laughter), I remember just thinking about how the long weekend (thank you pope…a four day weekend was just what some of us needed. I don’t think I can ever repay you…literally) had been. I remember thinking about the laughter and joy we were sharing over a meal. I remember thinking how this brother from another mother (hahah yes..he is family, sorry to burst your bubble), had sacrificed so much for me, picking me up when I arrived late at night (coz traveling at night is so much fun), even bringing along a gift, accompanying me to an event that he did not even know anyone, bringing us lunch…checking on us, ensuring we arrived home safely. And I had not even said thank you. How ungrateful of me…right? 

“Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Now, remember that story where a king and servant went out to hunt and the servant’s hand was cut off and then the next time the servant went hunting he left the king and he met man-eating humans who could only eat “whole” people? Yes? The one where he was spared despite the fact that he was mad at his king for chopping his arm earlier? Well, I don’t know if that story happened in real life but this is the point they were trying to put across: Be grateful no matter what happens to you, because everything happens for a purpose. At times thins go so south *is there such a thing as down south?* that all we see are the bad things in life; and this creates a negative attitude and resentment in our hearts.

Friends, as the year comes to an end in a few days (yey Christmas), I can’t help but look back at the year and see how many times I have been ungrateful. I have not said thank you enough. Maybe like me, you have also been through so much in the year that you see no need of being grateful. So many times we focus on the things that went wrong and forget those times, days or moments that went right. Remember that time you lacked and someone or God provided? Did you say thank you? Or did you think that you deserved it, that it was your right? Remember that time you were in need and someone sorted you out? Were you grateful for that? or did you assume that you deserved to be helped? Remember that time you were unwell and thought you would never live and you lived? Did you thank God for healing? Remember the last time you were in hospital? No? Does it occur to you be grateful for good health? Remember that person who is always there for you…who loves or sticks with you regardless of how hard it is to deal with you? Remember that person who loves you despite your flaws? Yes? No? Have you been showing gratitude to them?

Show me one person who is never grateful and how dull their lives are. Then show me one person who is ever grateful and how prosperous his life is…and how also they seem to attract good. I am a witness. For the past few months, the praise “Hallelujah” as been frequent on my lips and my heart; and things have been good.

source: www.christianglobe.com

What if we showed more gratitude? What if we started today? What if we did it #ForMyCity and for humanity? Are we going to wait until the year ends for us to start showing gratitude to family, friends and God? Start today…won’t you?

Facebook:  Njeri Kareithi

Twitter: @deekareithi

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

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AT WAR

source: www.psywar.org

 

We are at war;

All of us.

Soldiers, warriors, victims, citizens.

With blood on knives, arrows, blades, blood on our minds.

Trapped in the cages we call minds,

Bound by chains of false promises.

We slave,

We hope, we wait.

As Buildings go up in smoke.

We hear guns and bombs…followed by silence and sobs.

We fight as they steal our freedom,

Sinking us deep in the sea of blood and tears,

“our bloody enemies are so close, they are in our ears”.

We are at war.

Black trenches...black coats,

Black as their souls;

Black as the skin on their bodies;

Black as the burning blood they spill;

Black as the hands that carry the weapons;

Black as the people they kill.

We knew,  we knew all along

Yet we shut our ears.

The cry of the orphan; we ignored.

The widow, the widower; we created.

The soldier, the child; we killed.

Dreams haunted by the oppression of war.

Violent men welcomed with pomp and glamour,

Celebrated.

Peaceful men, who wore compassion as their amour,

Disregarded.

We were at war.

Befado

Source: www.digitaljournal.com

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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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In Case of Emergency by Barrack O (@bar_rack )

Now, now, now, before you start thinking that the POTUS wrote this, let me remind you to Keep Calm and read on. The author(bar_rack) *lol, notice how he plays around with his name? You, Judge Judy, gerrrarahia*, is one interesting being. 

Imagine that you are walking in town one Saturday afternoon. Either alone or with a friend in tow. Let’s assume the second option – you are strolling in town with a friend, W. You talk about the weather and how it’s been behaving. How the week was at work and at home. You talk about everything that you can possibly talk with your friend. Then, suddenly, in the middle of that you start feeling ill. At that moment you realize that there is something terribly wrong with your body and you cannot really figure it out. You assume and keep on talking. Suddenly your friend realizes there’s something terribly wrong, but they too are clueless. Things happen so fast that you start losing your sensory abilities – you cannot feel the spoon that’s in your hand and you fail to coordinate the digits on your hand but nothing. Before you know it, a sharp migraine fills your entire head causing you to slump on the table, weak and helpless.

Across the table your friend looks at you, helpless. Prodding with questions.

“How are you feeling?” W asks.

“Pins and needles,” you respond. Google that if you don’t know.

“You were just okay,” W says, confused. “What is up? Do you 

have anyone I can call?”

“I have to think,” you respond, gasping under the intense pain clouding your head.

Then you realize that you almost have nobody in your “In case of Emergency (ICE)” list. Then the wildest thoughts start swarming your head.

“What if I was alone and I collapsed in town?” A thought crosses your head.

The People in Our Lives

That’s what happened to me a few months ago. A small incident that shook me a lot. It made me think about the people I could reach out in case something goes awry and I needed someone to be there for me when I couldn’t help myself.

I was shaken because things went from good to bad then ugly in a matter of minutes and lasted about four hours. I was hanging in there – in a body that was caving in to what felt like nervous failure and a headache from hell. Yeah, that’s what happens when you overwork yourself for almost three straight weeks.

I was also shaken because, had I been alone in town, the experience would have been unimaginable, or so I thought. I would be alone in this city where expression of concern is considered rare.

Before I go  on, I happen to be on W’s ICE and that is why we were in town in the first place. W had landed herself in a technical mess the previous evening and I knew the right person who could fix her problem. People who watch movies on their laptops while tucked in bed need prayers.

Back to this moment when my nervous system has decided that I will feel nothing and do nothing.

“Here’s my phone,” I groaned. “Unlock it and call E”

E was not in Nairobi. He called his brother who was closer. As close as Rongai! How close! I was in CBD. How helpful!

“Who else can I call?” W, who is also my partner in crime asked.

“Try my cousin, C,” I said. “He works around here and he can be of help.”

“He says he’s away upcountry,” W said.

“Okay,” I muttered. Trying to think and getting the sharp headache, needles and stings under control. 

“Call J, he’ll call a doctor for me.”

This is the part where everybody you need is away and you are almost alone.

In hindsight, I have learnt the importance of having people who know what to do when they get that call telling them that you are not okay. It is very possible to have over 2000 friends and acquaintances on Facebook, 2000 followers on Twitter but zero people on your In Case of Emergency (ICE) list. It is a frightening thought to say the least. And by that, I exclude parents. No parent who is miles away wants to be told that their child collapsed in town while taking a walk. I am talking about friends who will immediately pause their lives and rush to where you are and see what they can do.

Interestingly, like on this particular day, ambulances also proved quite hard to come by. Dialled 1199. They took their sweet time. Called St Johns Ambulance. Nada. But that’s when that cab guy you befriended a while back shows up immediately and joins you, helping W to handle the emergency situation that I had become. All he asks is for you to tell him what hospital he can take you and not to worry about the cab fare. He coordinated with W in communicating with a doctor friend and eventually we settled on a hospital.

“W, you have to go home,” I said. “I am in good hands now”

“Weeee!,” W retorted. “Then what happens?”

“I can take it from here,” I responded, like when the CIA and FBI folks in movies tell the local cops.

“Cow!” I was told. I laughed quietly to myself. All this time popping in and out of hospital reception. A head scan here. Medication there. A doctor asking what’s stressing me up.

“I said a prayer for you in that waiting room,” W mentioned much later.

Buses, Lifts and Fires

Many weeks later, I have learnt the need to constantly evaluate the accessible people around me. Who knows where I live? Who needs to know where I am traveling to? Who needs to know where I am late at night especially when stranded? Not everyone. But people who I think matter and who will, in turn, make a difference should anything happen. Or just for the sake of knowing.

But then, I ask myself: Am I in anyone’s ICE list? Will I be able to stop my life to attend to a friend’s need till late in the night? It takes a handful of people to make a difference when all fails.

Buses have huge writings at the back glass window (is it a window really?): Emergency Door: In Case of Emergency Break Glass.

Lifts have stickers plastered: In Case of Emergency Call These Numbers 07XXX. Just in case you get stuck in a lift and you need the world to know where you are.

Some buildings have a fire alarm installation with a key: In Case of Fire Break Glass for Key. The key will always give you access to an emergency fire exit and you’ll be safe from the fire.

It is also a requirement in some of our workplaces for us to provide the details for next of kin. Same applies for life insurances and investment chamas and the likes. Just in case something happens to you at work and they need to know who your family is.

In case of emergency, I hope the 5 people in my ICE list will be the reason I will be in the ICE list of 5 other people.

This post was originally posted here

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