The disease called 'Perfection'

Thanks to a good friend, a link that has encompassed my thoughts about life, was channeled my way, and I saw it best fit to share this with you.  I have opted to Kenyanize it a little bit. I will avail the link in the tail-end of the read, so that you get to see the original version, . It is lengthy,but the message is short!!

What is the disease called ”Perfection”? We live in communities where people feel unconquerable amounts of pressure to always appear perfectly happy, perfectly functional, and perfectly figured out...sounds familiar, doesn't it...see below examples!!

“Perfection” is a lady who feels trapped in a marriage/relationship to a lazy, angry, arrogant man, but at chama meetings tells the other ladies how wonderful her husband always is. “Perfection” keeps people from telling the truth, even to themselves. My husband/ boyfriend is adorable. He called me a whore this week because I smiled at a stranger. When I started crying, he said he had a game to go watch. I love him so much...hmm....
“Perfection” is a man who is belittled, unappreciated, and abused by his wife/ girlfriend, yet works endlessly to make his marriage/relationship appear incredible to those around him- EGO GALORE!!. ”Perfection” really does keep people from being real about the truth.  You would have laughed, guys. She said that I suck at my job and will never go anywhere in life. Then she insinuated that I was a stupid, rotting pile of crap. Isn't she the best? 

“Perfection” makes us believe that nobody else could understand what it is like to be weak and fall prey to the pressures of the world.

“Perfection” is a couple drowning in debt, a young couple starting to date, but who still agree to that trip to Naivasha with their friends because the words “we don’t have the money” are impossible ones to push across their lips.
“Perfection” is a mom/ girlfriend hating herself because she only sees that every other mom/girlfriend around her is the perfect mother/GF, the perfect wife, and the perfect neighbor. I’d give anything to be Mama Nani... Today she ran for 1 hour, hosted a birthday party, went to a chama, and still leads the church choir. What you know not, is that Mama Nanii is also at home crying right now because the pressure to be “Perfect” never lets up.
“Perfection” is a man hating himself because he can’t give the same thing to his kids/or lady that other men do, and then hates himself further because he takes his self-loathing out on his kids behind closed doors. You know what would have been nice? If you were never born, if I never met you. Do you realize how much money I’d have right now? Now come give Daddy a hug because I can force you to give me validation.

“Perfection” is a child hating herself because the boys at school call her fat, dark, skinny etc... and when she goes home she tells her mom that school was fine. Her mom never stops to question why her daughter doesn't have any friends, because her mom doesn't want to think that anything might be less than “Perfect”.
“Perfection” is a man feeling like a smaller man because his neighbor pulled in with a new car...
“Perfection” is a woman who is so overwhelmed that she thinks about killing herself daily. “Perfection” makes it so that she never will because of the things people will think if she does. How could I make my suicide look like an accident? If I kill myself, I don’t want anybody knowing that I ever had any problems. She never stops to look at why she wants to do it, because healing means admitting imperfection.
“Perfection” is a man who everybody heralds as perfect, and inside he is screaming to be seen as the faulty human being that he always has been. Because to no longer be “the perfect one”, that would be freeing.
“Perfection” is a man/woman  having an affair because  he's/she’s too afraid to confront the imperfection in her marriage.
“Perfection” is a twelve-year-old boy killing himself because he is ashamed that he can’t pass exams or, running away from KCSE, because he has been told to remove nail-polish...My-nail-polish-comes-before-exams (read link)
Stop, and read that one again.

“Perfection” is my friend’s cousin, fellow student, or dear friend, swallowing hundreds of pills because she just got the news that she was pregnant, out of wedlock, and the shame was too much to bear. She was only attempting to cause a miscarriage. 24 hours later, she closed her eyes and never opened them again. She is dead because of the “Perfection” infecting those around her. We’d rather you die than shame this family. Thanks for taking care of that, honey. By the way, we’ll do the right thing and make ourselves out to be the victims now. We have to. We’re infected with “Perfection”.
"Perfection" is man opting not question the recent hike in matatu prices, simply because he is wearing a suit, and does not want the ladies to think he is cheap.
"Perfection" is man, going all out, to borrow money and impress a lady, simply because he does not want the lady to know, that he is working up his financial growth in life.
"Perfection" is a man killing his family, simply because he cannot admit that he is emotionally in distraught, and would need help.
"Perfection" is a lady pretending to go to church, only to.....well, feel free to fill that in!!
I could go on. This is all a small sampling of the disease called “Perfection”. You have brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, extended family members, neighbors, friends, and children who are ALL these things, yet none of us will ever know. “Perfection” is a hideous monster with a really beautiful face. And chances are you’re infected. The good news is, there is a cure.
Be real.
Embrace that you have weakness. Because everybody does. Embrace that your body is not perfect. Because nobody’s is. Embrace that you have things you can’t control. We all have a list of them.
Here’s your wake-up call:
You aren't the only one who feels worthless sometimes.
You aren't the only one who took your frustrations out on your children, wife, employees today.
You aren't the only one who isn't making enough money to support your lifestyle.
You aren't the only one who has questions and doubts about your religion.
You aren't the only one who sometimes says things that really hurt other people.
You aren't the only one who feels trapped in your marriage or relationship.
You aren't the only one who gets down and hates yourself and you can’t figure out why.
You aren't the only one who hates your body. YEP, YOU ARE NOT!!!
You aren't the only one who wishes you were paid more, wishes your boss was dead...
You aren't the only one who cannot afford the latest trend in fashion...
You aren't the only one to fail in pursuit of a chic....MAN UP!!
Your wife is not the only wife that is mean and vindictive and makes you hate yourself.

Why didn't somebody, anybody, tell a beautiful pregnant girl that there was nothing so big in life that it couldn't be made right. Maybe that incredible young woman would still be alive. Maybe her now one-year-old child would be learning to walk or say “Mommy” right now. Maybe.
Maybe.
The cure is so simple.
Be real...never said it is magical though!!

Be bold about your weaknesses and you will change people’s lives. Be honest about who you actually are, and others will begin to be their actual selves around you. Once you cure yourself of the disease, others will come to you, asking if they can just “talk”. People are desperate to talk. Some of the most “perfect” people around you will tell you of some of the greatest struggles going on. Some of the most “perfect” people around you will break down in tears as they tell you how difficult life is for them. Turns out some of the most “perfect” people around us are human beings after all, and are dying to talk to another human being about it.
You’ll love them for it. And you’ll love yourself even more.
Let’s not forget this quote: “I went out to find a friend and could not find one there. I went out to be a friend, and friends were everywhere.” Somebody who is being a friend doesn’t spread “Perfection”. Somebody who is being a friend spreads “Real”. Then, and only then, can we all grow together.

I am not perfect, nor do I want anybody to think of me as such. Here’s my dose of real:
I once told my mother she loved me not and that I am not her son.I made her cry. Every thought of that, tears my heart apart.
I do not like loosing, well, and would get pissed at it, whenever it does happen..yet I seek to marry reality, and realize, that you can never win them all. (working on it)
I once wished death upon myself, and started to have suicidal thoughts.
The list would go on and on...but good thing is, I am curing myself from this disease!!
What about you...
God never expects perfection from us, that is why he leaves room for repentance!!

Will you help me spread “Real”? 
Original Link Single Dad- Disease Called Perfection!!

A Boy Named Roy

A worthy cause, and total value of your time. Let us stand united, and recall that what we have, is never too small, to have a huge impact in someone else's life.

When I was a child, my mother told me my name meant “warrior king”. In times when it really shouldn't have mattered, and I’d run out of things to believe in myself for, I’d remind myself what my name meant and pick myself up by my boots and go out and fight for what was mine. But as I grew older, that just became a façade.

There is a boy out there, however, whose name does mean ‘King’. His name is Roy, and I’m not sure anyone has ever had to tell him what his name meant for him to act accordingly. But now more than ever, I feel he needs to know he is a king.

Roy, as a child was one of the humblest and most responsible children I've had the pleasure of encountering. He grew up into a very hard working student and wanted the best and nothing else. He worked for it, he earned it. He grew up knowing his grades would lead to his success.

In Standard 5 (or 5th Grade for the rest of you among us), he had to be taken out of school to receive treatment. He was hospitalized for a while. When he got out, unlike the rest of us who at that age would've stayed him to enjoy sick leave, he went straight back to class. He did everything to catch up. He was happy in school.

Unfortunately he would fall sick again. And again. And again. And it almost became a regular thing that he’d be in hospital with different doctors dishing out different diagnoses each more severe than the last.

I was gravely concerned but every time I saw this kid he maintained calm composure and insisted that as soon as he got out of hospital it was straight back to school.

One such time was right before his KCPE exams in 2009. He had been hospitalized for several months that year, and nobody thought it was wise for him to sit his exams. He didn't care. He didn't want to be pitied. He just studied harder. Right before the papers, he was unwell again and doctors were still throwing darts into the darkness as to what exactly his ailment was. He sat his exams in pain, and I was scared.

I was scared because he insisted that he wanted to go to the best boys’ high school in Kenya, Alliance High School. It’s not easy to get accepted. You don’t just have to pass, you have to be in the top 1% or something.

Knowing how huge an impact school has on him, I worried his absence from class would inevitably affect his performance and that his depression would hinder his recovery. I worried that, for the first time in this boy’s life, he would fail and would never recover from that. He didn't seem worried. In pain, yes. But worried, not much. He held on to his dream.

And it came true. He passed. Extremely well. And strolled through the doors of Alliance High School the next year.

But he was still being pulled out of school for one medical reason or another. Abdominal pains mostly. He had surgery several times. He got his gall bladder removed. His appendix too. The pain didn’t stop. Even then, with worsening pain, as soon as he’d recovered from the surgery or treatment, he told his mother he needed to go back to school immediately.

But the pain has been crippling and the misdiagnoses may have only made it worse.

Finally, a few weeks ago some of the docs at Aga Khan figured out what it was: there was an intussusception in the small bowel. The cheapest place they can get the surgery done is India, but after 6 years of surgeries and hospital fees, the family can’t afford it.

His mother is just as humble as he is. She asked ever so kindly if we could chip in some money in such a way that I thought his condition could not have been so bad based on her tone.

I googled it and was shocked.

To save you reading a whole lot of medical jargon, an intussusception is basically like when you take a telescope and collapse it into itself. Except with your intestine. I’ll copy paste what is said about the treatment:

“The outlook for intussusception is excellent when treated quickly, but when untreated it can lead to death within 2–5 days. Fast treatment is a necessity[...]“

This boy’s been fighting it for years. Roy still has a chance to live. Roy still has a chance to make it and achieve his dream. Roy has been fighting his whole life to be the king he knows he should be, even though for the past 6 years, he’s constantly been hospitalized. Roy is stronger than most people I know and if anyone deserves a fighting chance, it is him. But he can no longer fight for himself.

So I come to you, dear readers, to help give him a fighting chance. The family needs to raise 3 million. They’re trying as best they can on their end. We’re also going to do what we can on our end. How can you help?

1. Spread the word. Spread it far and wide. Get as many people involved. Share the link on Facebook, retweet on twitter. Email it to your friends. If we all chip in a little, it’ll mean a lot
2. Donate: This is obviously the entire goal for this.

M-Pesa to Simone Wangui Wachira: 0707 222 606 for now. We’re setting up a PesaPal and Paybill that should be up by Tuesday. However, we don’t really have time to wait for that.

If you don’t believe in giving money and getting nothing. There are two ways you can do this:

1. T-shirts. Buy one or two, or 10. The price is 1,000 bob and those who received the last batch will attest that the quality is awesome. All proceeds from that go straight to Roy’s medical bills.
2. Participate in the Royal Rumble. (Click for more information)

If nothing else, share this page, or for people who need something shorter to read, this one.

If you want to make separate arrangements on how to help, email icon@diasporadical.com ; subject: “Roy”

Whatever else you do, send your optimism and prayers for the boy.

Thank you in advance.

Peter Kibe teaches......

Kibe: Maboyz, nani anapenda kunyeshewa aki lala? (Boys, who likes to be rained on when they are sleeping?)
Kwetu Boys: Hakuna (None of us)
Kibe: Si, mukienda base, mtanyeshewa mkilala? (When you go to the streets, won't you be rained on when you are sleeping?)
Kwetu Boys: Ndio (Yes, we will)
Kibe: Hapa mukilala, mnayeshewa? (Here in the rehabilitation center, are you rained on when you are sleeping?)
Kwetu Boys: Hapana (No, we are not)
Kibe: Kwa hivyo, sitaki kusikia story ati msee amehepa (Therefore, let me not find out that one of you has gone back to the streets. Okay!!)


These words oozed out of young Peter Kibe on the 24th of May 2012, having spared time from his busy attachment schedule, to cheer-up and challenge the boys at Kwetu Home Peace Rehabilitation Centre. I admired every bit of his counsel, and spoke to myself, admitting that there is nothing more for me to add, because you had said it all. *can't believe I am referring to you in past tense*


I must admit, it has been a long time since I shed tears, and the news of your demise totally opened up the tap in my eyes, and as the tears raced down my cheeks, with every eye shutter  commanding a larger flow of eye-liquid ,  I collapsed to my knees. I found myself not questioning God's will but simply giving Him thanks. Thank him for gracing us, COP and Kwetu, with you in our lives. I believe, that no one dies 'too soon' in this lifetime, but only upon the will of the Almighty, and when I look back into your life, you served well my brother. I salute you.


I recall the day we were sent as representatives of Strathmore University, to the Sankara Hotel, and sat among the crème de la crème of society. They wholly admitted, for such a small bodied man, you embodied a very huge voice and oozed off plenty of confidence. We did well, I believe, and I recall you dishing out your personal-cards with much gusto, affirming to them you are an asset they should all be willing to invest in. Our hour to depart came, and they insisted we should not leave without having a small bite. Aiye, we ended up eating breakfast and lunch combined, with you telling me, that no one knows us, thus we should not waste the grand chance. Mtu nguyaz, tuliswallow vi-ajab. You taught me not to worry much about what people think, for as long as I undermine them not.


First time you vied for a seat in the Student Council, and many times we shared counsel. I told you where your flaws lay as far as public speaking was concerned, how best to improve them, and you took each word to heart, not troubled by the defeat, but assuring me that you will be better next year. Oh, yes you did. And you served well when you won the next election contest. You taught me that learning never stops and never to give up.


Come the epic tales of ladies, and we shared them a lot also. I recall asking you a thousand times, how you manage to attract and get the cute and beautiful ones your size, and you humbly laughed it off. It was and still is a mystery to me. They shall miss you without doubt. You taught me that no lady is impossible to sweeten


Yet peace partially engulfs my heart, because I know I told you so when you did good, and when you could do better. I wish I told you more. Thus us we embark on our life-journeys, knowing that the sight of your smile is with us no more, I would like to share with the world, more lessons you taught:

1. It is never too early to start giving, thus in our own small ways, we can be a difference
2. A past defeat should not define our tomorrow, cause tomorrow brings with it hope, that we can do better, and defeat offers lessons, that we need improve
3. We can make time, and that 24 hours is more that enough for us to be impact-full in society
4. No one is unworthy of our time, and that we should learn to give, and give to learn
5. That we should learn to say thank you more, and appreciate people when we still have them
6. That yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift, and that is why it is called the present

Your Message: I am certain, that you want us to celebrate your life, rather than mourn you. To fill the void you left better, than you lived it. That we counsel the Kwetu Boys more often, than we already do. To make more hearts smile, than we always have. To bond more as a family, than we ever have. We shall try. 

As I sign off bro, for the three years I knew you, I hope and pray that you are in God's embrace, and He is saying to you "Welcome home my child, you represented me well, during your visit on earth." You have challenged us to be a better people, and with each sunrise and sunset, we shall work towards being our best. Thank you.

Rest in Eternal Peace

Peter Kibe

LESSONS FROM THE STREETS

For the couple of months I have been in absentia, life has been intriguing. So much has happened in such a short time, and life has given me plenty lessons. Buried in this six feet hole of experience, I managed to resurrect better and smarter, expectant of less, yet giving of more, thus I share my lessons from the streets. My work entails empowering university students with an opportunity to serve society. Through this just cause, we mentor street kids who are open to rehabilitation. The humbling encounters starts here.  

Its the middle of night, and your father has left you to sleep. Six hours earlier, he had scorned you for loosing his bicycle without a beating, which, with you being an 11 year old, was easily robbed off by a group of 10 , rowdy 20 to 25 year old boys. As the sleep creeps in gently, and you toss and turn in oblivion, the lash of the belt takes your skin hostage, making you wail in pain and even you pee yourself. Your body is in total shock. Out the off the door you find your way, into the midnight light, to start a homeless life...

Just twelve years old, and you simply find it unfit to wear a shirt that is not long sleeved. Scars of burns by a hot knife, inflicted on you by your mother, are screaming truths of the torture you went through. Reason being, you came back home without change. Whether it was robbed of you, and you are okay, got lost while you were walking home is no excuse to your avail..Thief becomes your birth right, and pain escorts it.   

With many more tales of grief, which I choose not delve into, I seek to draw lessons of life and love from them and share my two cents. 

With all the cruelty these children face at a tender age, they somehow manage to find a way through life and somewhat be optimistic. Secondly, whenever we loose loved ones, we get torn apart, knowing we shall never manage to see them again. The pain slowly fades away, and we live our normal lives again, only to remember them once a year. Now, what I find interesting, is why we give too much control of our lives to those who hurt us, yet still are breathing. Yep, our Exs. They scare us from loving again, scare us from trusting again, at times making us miss chances in life that only knock once. They make us look down upon ourselves, and feel sorry for ourselves, feel ashamed to being who we are etc.. If we are on the wrong, then an array of apologies we send, but somehow, they will always find a way of clinging the mistake to you, like a shadow. Bullcrap to that!!

That it hurts when you err someone you love, willingly or not, or are hurt by the same, is perfectly human. Perfection is relationships is a façade. My problem though is when we  cling to the pas or the pain, letting your present be torched up, smoking away your future. What the kids taught me plain and simply is that, life has to much to offer to be left clinging on to straws, yet you were never meant to drown. Simply leave the straw and start swimming, cause you may find your way on to an island, hehe. Therefore, be upbeat about life, beat the crap out of clinging straws, and caress the waters of life with gentle strokes onto peace and paradise. 

Simply don't be expectant of a thank you after doing good, or expecting forgiveness in the equal measure you give it. Life is much simpler and interesting, whenever you get surprised by the kindness of man, than when you get down trodden by the cruelty in people's acts, leashed onto high expectations. I dare not say be hopeless, but simply state, be hopeful, be hopeful to the one person you can control. You. The young boys, have faced life's wrath, being chased away by the same people who teamed up to bring them to earth. Harsher than the loved you met. That they can spare time for prayer, for a hearty laugh, and give thanks, gives me more than 1000 reasons to keep my faith buzzing and be the best I can be. 

Wishing you all an insightful weekend, full of moving on, than clinging ons!!! Yet I know, it is easier said than done, but fact has it, its not impossible.!

Mr. RIGHT weds Ms. PERFECT?

The so called day of love, Valentine Day, is here with us, and from where I am located, the double RR code of Red-Roses has been on the rise with every minute that tocks by. Many remarks have been highlighted today, with men being verbally battered for being too macho, and women being shunned from expecting too much. Therefore, it is without doubt that egos have been bruised, hearts have been broken, and some have conquered all odds and opted to stand tall. Anhu, in all this fascination, there is one issue that always comes to birth, the existence of Mr. Right and Ms.Perfect...well, I stand to be corrected!!


From the counsel I have attained thus far in life, research and keen observation, one fact stands tall-love is about giving, and in life, perfection does not exist. I find it hilarious that a lady would seek a Mr.Perfect, yet majority want a man they can work on-(consciously or sub-consciously). Deep down a lady's instinct, is the maternal thirst to improve a state of being. This craving, plays a key role in luring women to bad-boys...the belief that they can make them fall in love and tune them into their ideal mate, is rampant. Every woman, from their ripe days of playing with dolls, always wants to be an agent of change-and this is for the better mark you. Therefore, the essence of penning down a list and expecting a man to fit the billing, yet at the same time seek one to 'improve' is wholly paradoxical. Compliment and not content is key to relationship bliss.




As for good boys, well, nothing much can be done, because they do it all right..and that's there undoing at times. Thus, to all surprise, a lady may start complaining that the man, is too good, or is weak-solely because, I believe, the man provides no room for contribution to growth for the lady, offers no room for adventure and is thus, a boring, composed song, with no hope of riddim remix . Women hustle us much to put down the toilet seat, squeeze the toothpaste from below etc., petty, you may think, right?..they simply want the gratification that they made us better...that is why the slightest wrong act can cause havoc..she must be an agent of change and growth and that is one of the keen ways of sweetening their ego, and ascertaining their value to a man. 


Thus, what am I driving it...hmm. Simple, be who you are, and accept those you want for they are. Don't be naive and be caught up in the delusion of 'better the devil you know', you are way better than that, you deserve an angel. Yet again, errs are what make us appreciate the input and value of someone else in our lives, thus, expect no perfection, but simply wed reality!!


Just for a Minute: Think about it, perfection in relationships does not exist even in cartoons and stories: Cinderella was a popper, Beauty wed the beast, Snow-White fancied the dwarfs, the so called prince who was kissed-was once a FROG, in Notre-Dame, the was a hunchback etc... It is not that I have no faith in man, just that reality has explained it plain and simple: Nobody is Perfect. Even the Supreme Being himself, knows man shall err, no wonder there is provision for forgiveness. Anhu, back to matters emotion.....




My Opinion on Nyeri-Battery:I believe that the women pleas of communication have simply fell on deaf ears, thus have opted to the last resort-ACTIONS. NB-Actions, speak louder than words, don't they? What say you? 

2012 ISSUES A BLANK CHEQUE...

2011. Yes, 2011!! 365 days filled with amaze and wonder are behind us now. A new year has blossomed, and all are expectant of a better year than the one that was- I pray that your wishes shall come to pass. Before I highlight the main heartbeat of the post, I would like to highlight my 2011 just a little bit: I narrowly escaped death in mid year (food-poisoning), witnessed the rise of Youth in Middle east and chickening of dictators, saddened by the death of icons (Steve Jobs and Wangari Maathai), lost my grandmother, got a job I love, started my first business and got a great deal, met icons and people of great inspiration, found love, widened my family to India with amazing ladies (Team Awesomely Amazing), and thus resolved to: Better my best, make hearts smile and count my blessings. Wish you all a HEALTHY 2012!! (Thank you for reading along)

HUMAN IRONY :The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider roads but narrower viewpoints. We spend more but have less, we buy more but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, we have more conveniences but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge but less judgement, more experts yet more problems, more medicine but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. 
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years, we’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble going to meet a new neighbour. We conquered outer space but no inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We’ve conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less, we plan more but accomplish less. We’ve learned to rush but not to wait, we build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

There are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete… Remember; spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going around forever.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn’t cost a cent. Remember, to say, ‘I love you to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. An embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again. Give time to love, give him/her to speak!... and give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind. REMEMBER ALWAYS: Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

Therefore, with such food for thought, I hope you shall not have an average year. That you shall not get accustomed to routine, but have moments that shall take your breath away (not the kiss of death). If you are a man, grab your balls and stand to add value, if you are a lady, grab you ( hehe, I know not) and be an icon of change, even in the smallest way you can. You are worth only what you think you are. 2012 has offered you a blank cheque...state your value!!!