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!!!

Lodwar in a jiffy....

Residents we had gone to help!!

It has been ages since I last wrote here. This is because I chose to take time off and concentrate on settling at my new job. Oh,  I chose a job I love, and thus,not working a day in my life-Confucius.  This experience was born as a result of the new job, and though 3 weeks old, found it healthy to share so that you can understand my love for society...


NB: Lodwar is a small town located in Kenya's Turkana county. It is in the vast dry part of the country, and its main inhabitants are the Turkana people. The Turkana people form of greeting is: 'Ejok'-Hello; 'Ejoka'-Hello to you!!


We had gone there to offer food and medical assistance, having just witnessed a harsh drought that had doubled the misery of the residents of Lodwar. 


MY TALE:
23rd October gave birth to the longest road trip I have ever had. A two day journey to the 'hot' lands of Lodwar lay forth, and the atmosphere was buzzing with loud excitement. We were an army of 46, blended gender mix, driven by the sole-purpose of making hearts smile.

The journey was long and tedious, the road was rough and bumpy, and this is what sweetened the adventure. Our bus could not stand the pressure that it had been subjected to, and waved the white flag, in the vast wilderness. This was after we had seen a 12 year old boy, carrying a rifle, as he was guarding his camels. Oh yes, the night was fast approaching, there was no mechanic in sight and terror was taking charge. The closest police post was almost 2 hours away, and though we were a huge number, the only ammunitions at our mercy were our voices and arms-guess I can safely say then, that we were armed!! haha!...thus it was evident that we could not stand against any attack, were we to be subjected to one! Anhu, sadly, we encountered not an attack, thus managed to reach our destination in one peace.


Fatigue was reigning supreme, and all we were yearning for was rest, in readiness of the hot day that lay ahead. Upon arriving at our lodge, fear met fun, and the wild surroundings found their own way of welcoming us. Being almost 36 degrees, it was only logical to take a late night shower before going to bed. Upon reaching the bathroom, one was joined by an army of locusts, whom, for the strangest reasons, were keenly looking forward to join in the shower. This resulted in shouts and name calling in the bathrooms, battles between man and locust, that wholly complicated the showering process. Hehe. It was a major encounter indeed. Try it!!


During our one week stay we managed to interact with the locals, and provide counsel and comfort in what they were going through. I was part of a team that went to visit AIDS victims in the area, and was subjected to shock, dismay and sorrow. It was drawn to our attention that some of the residents of the area prefer to be HIV positive, rather than be negative, in order to get access to food donations, that often come hand-in-hand with the AIDS medication. Yep, you can read that again. This was a bombshell to our esteem also. Gloom took toll, and honestly, though 3 weeks down, I am yet to recover from it.


The flip-side of it all was when we toured the great Lake Turkana, which had its shores dressed in white sand, peacefully guiding the crocodile waters from surpassing their boundary. It was beautiful. Very beautiful. This site, and the one of the orchard we managed to visit, shone hope in our hearts, that all is not lost. 


I concentrated on the highlights of my encounter, as a detailed report of the experience would warrant much more space, and I think the blog isn't home to that. ANhu, it was and shall remain, to be one of the best weeks to have defined my 2011 experiences.

Quote of the year: “Little things are only little things, but to be faithful in little things is a big thing and that is how some people become extraordinary”. 

A Toast to Life!!

Life...sweetened heartbeats in the caged ribs of every man, that ascertain one is alive, and has a capacity to learn something new. Of the few things I took from my campus days, is a lesson shared by a lecturer I adored, "Always leave room in your mind to learn something new. You should know, that you can never know, all that is to be known." As each day awakens, my brain takes a jog in the Reality-stadium, so as to keep abreast with the man-eat-man society. As much as I may hate to call it so, this world has no room for sissies. Anhu, as we all take a step forth, kindly take a look at this prayer, found in the Alchemist book, written by Paulo Coelho. For those who have read the book, it won't hurt to read it again...if you never have...then say it with me....


The Forgotten Prayer by Paulo Coelho
"Lord protect our doubts, because Doubt is a way of praying. It is Doubt that makes us grow because it forces us to look fearlessly at the many answers that exist to that one question. And in order for this to be possible...
Lord protect our decisions, because making Decisions is a way of praying. Give us the courage, after our doubts, to be able to choose between one road and another. May our YES always be a YES, and our NO always be a NO. Once we have chosen our road, may we never look back, nor allow our soul to be eaten away by remorse. And in order for this to be possible...
Lord protect our actions, because Action is a way of praying. May our daily bread be the result of the very best that we carry within us. May we, through work and Action, share a little of the love we receive. And in order for this to be possible...
Lord protect our dreams, because to Dream is a way of praying. Make sure that, regardless of our age or our circumstances, we are capable of keeping alight in our heart the sacred flame of hope and perseverance. And in order for this to be possible...
Lord give us enthusiasm, because Enthusiasm is a way of praying. It is what binds us to the heavens and to Earth, to grown-ups, and to children; it is what tells us that our desires are important and deserve our best efforts. It is Enthusiasm that re-affirms to us that everything is possible, as long as we are totally committed to what we are doing. And in order for this to be possible...

Lord protect us, because Life is the only way we have of making manifest of Your miracle. May the earth continue to transform seeds into wheat, may we continue to transmute wheat into bread. And this is only possible if we have Love; therefore, do not leave us solitude. Always give us Your company, and the company of men and women have doubts, who act and dream and feel enthusiasm, and who live each day as if it were totally dedicated to your glory. Amen"


TRUTH: Mr.Coelho summarized it all, I can't top it up. Life is what we choose to make of it. God, for those who believe in a Supreme being, avails us with the circumstances, but we, we are the ones who have the mandate to make the choices and decisions.
Live smart!!

MALE RETARDS

STARK NAKED!! oh yes, stark naked she stood at the bus station, totally bemused and confused by what had just happened. Sadly, unlike men, women have 'more' private parts to cover from the eye of the public, thus with two hands available, it does prove to be  a tasking ordeal. This was a scene at Nairobi's Bus station, on the 29th of September, 9.30am. My colleague had passed by the matatu and bus terminus, and witnessed the sight of a lady, a foreigner, being strangled with fear, shock and shame, all in the name of being scantily dressed. Fast Forward-October 2nd, one of our local broadcasters, KTN Kenya, highlighted the issue, attesting that 3 women, had fallen victim to the idle male youth. Strangely so, as I was watching the interview, I realized that the guy being interviewed, is someone I knew-SHAME ON HIM!!


REALITY: What amazes me, is that this 'moral' chaps, have no issue with young men who sag. Recalling my stand-up comedy research, sagging is an act that started in the American gaols. It was a move picked up by gay jail-mates, who wanted to draw attention from their male counterparts. Bearing this in mind, judging not people for their different preferences, I wonder why the scoundrels don't act on this. I believe, whether scanty or not, a lady who has chosen to dress so, is doing so, out of her own comfort. Many a times, I may wonder why a lady can opt to dress in a certain way, yet again, I never picked the dress, so, who am I to deny her freedom. Let it be known, that strangely, in a non-racial way, that if the sort of scanty outfit, was worn by an Asian or White lady, the chaps would hardly make a move. Yet they declare morality on all women, yet its our sisters who bare the shame.


The fact that I have two sisters, and  that I may not want them to dress scantily, in honor of their own dignity, I cannot tell them what to wear, or undress them, should they choose otherwise. Double standards should simply not be applied--trying to pretend to uphold tradition in one, and embracing #westernization in the other. Circumstances are availed to all by life, but choices are for the self. A woman who dresses scantily will make men OGLE, but many men shall luck the thirst, her to GOOGLE, because there will be no need to search for information, as it would have already been availed. hehe. That is my view. Fresh, don't you think!! Fact remains though, who are we to judge. I have previously said that, men are naturally, solving beings, and allured by mystery. Knowing so, then a lady who wants to draw attention, yet uphold her dignity, should learn how to make men's visual impair-ness work for her.

Blogger's Stand: I believe women have the right to dress how they want. Call me westernized or brainwashed, and all I will say to that is #bullshit. Why pretend to take a higher moral ground, yet we all have our flaws. Oh, and for crying out loud, the lady left the house so, because she was comfortable in the outfit. I know, I would not do well in a miniskirt and such, but since I have never worn, neither do I intend to, I cannot tell, whether the bearer of the outfit, feels most comfortable in it, or not. Its loads of crap, to pretend to uphold dignity in specific matters, and scorn it in another. 


NB: October is here with us, thus for those who have managed to see it come to birth, kindly thank the Heavens. Ladies and gentlemen, let us not forget, that this is the CANCER MONTH.....create awareness, and let your loved ones get tested. Prevention shall always reign supreme!!

Logical Nonsense-Kenyanized!!

Yep. That headline makes no sense to me either; basically highlighting the entire logic behind this piece. Have you ever questioned why somethings are being done the way they are? The question why, apparently, is the hardest question one can ever ask? Hmm, ponder about it for a minute or so?


It is true, isn't it? Now, marry the question to some of the norms in our society, and you will see that a lot people are in need of some rude awakening. Tag along.......
1. Visitor's utensils

I know this happens in many homes in Kenya. I am really astounded, (my mom being a major victim) when parents order that some utensils should not be used by family members, as they are reserved for occasions or visitors. Majority go unused, and gather dust, as the family is forced to limit usage of what is available. This is one of the few things, unknowingly passed through generations. For example, I ask: why can't one choose to train a child, how to value and be careful with a glass, instead of limiting the child's scope of responsibility, by forcing the child to use plastic. This offers a simple avenue to teach a child responsibility, make the family feel special enough by using the utensils, and fact remains, the guest shall never know whether the glasses were reserved for him/her. 

2. Sunday-best outfit

Okay, take a look at your wardrobe, and tell me you don't own an outfit that you have not worn more than 5 times. If you do, well, you are nuts. What is the essence of purchasing an expensive outfit, one that you look jaw-dropping in, and limit people having the chance to see you in it, to specific occassions. Most of the time, you end up outgrowing the outfit, and end up hardly wearing it. If you have an amazing outfit, wear it whenever your mood tells you to. Each day is special, make it count. Don't await somebody else's occasion to look great. Makes no sense for you to buy a suit, only to be buried in it. In fact, upon one's death, one should be buried with his favorite outfit: a pair of jeans, and favorite team jersey, as for ladies, whatever made you look amazing-don't you think? Unless its an outfit meant to spice bedroom affairs, dress in all you can, when you can!! Look sharp, and await no reason to do so!!

3. Wedding gift-utensils overdose

I am yet to walk down the aisle, and when that day shall come to pass, I hope it shall a healthy package of bliss. Anhu, I wonder why people always insist on purchasing utensils as wedding gifts-as if its an obligation. We all know that definitely, the newly weds shall be doing some cooking, but yikes, if you seek not to buy a worthy gift, get the couple a gift voucher and let them do the shopping, or just don't buy. Let us come clean, I am certain, on your D-day you would be dreading to have an overdose of utensils for gifts. Therefore, act it!!

4. Can't sleep without eating ugali

I recall my dad attesting to this, claiming he cannot sleep well without a heavy meal, thus always informed my mum, to prepare ugali, whenever she had made pilau, rice or spaghetti for supper. I tried seeking the logic behind this, knowing that supper is meant to be the lightest meal, as recommended by doctors and health nutrition, and found none. Being a bachelor, I have had french-fries for supper, on days I could fry-eggs not; if I am the only one whose fallen victim to laziness related to cooking, then I am in my own world. Anhu, why, would one, all of sudden, lack the capacity to stomach a light meal for a night, and force the lady to bear the burden of cooking more. Should the MRS find it appropriate,  then let her will be done. Personally though, I find this attribute, passed on through generations, as a load of sheer crap!!

Let it be known, that I hold no war against utensils. I own some. It is saddening that we choose to underrate ourselves, and deny us many blissful moments, all in the name of doing things because they are a norm. I know that there are many more things we are accustomed to, but we are not sheep, aren't we!!! Stand out, and treat each day with the special attention it deserves. Oh, and as for my Mrs. to be, I make this contract with you-I shall eat what is availed without grumbling, because I know the value of having a meal to soothe the stomach!!

BLACK SEPTEMBER-the flipside

TGIM- Thank God Its Monday. I guess, I may just find myself sued for stating so...yet again, I shall attest, my sheer love for Mondays, simply because they confirm that I have seen another weekend to completion. Anhu, woke up to another bleak Monday morning of September 2011-Legendary and re-known environmental activist, Nobel Laureate winner, and loving daughter to Kenya and Africa, Honorable Wangari Maathai passed on. She succumbed to cancer, and waves of her death, has rocked all corners of the globe, and sadness engulfed the hearts of environment lovers, because it is evident Mother Nature has lost one of her most devoted daughters. #MayHerSoulRestInEternalPeace (okay, must confess, twitter is getting deeper into my skin) @utamhaliss


As a nation, we have been rocked with murky news, day in-day out, in this month of September. This type of atmosphere, was generally reserved for August, but guess, in line with the changing weather partners, likewise has Grim Reaper's altered his hunting time. The Hell Hounds have been let loose, and my, oh my, they are siphoning life, right through our heavy bones. Tales of deaths caused by illicit brews, road carnage, murder (Kenyan lady slayed by husband who stabbed her more than 60 times, cut her throat), fire-furry and many more. In tandem with all this, the big blow came through to K.O all alcohol lovers. 
1. Alcoblow is back, with a bang. Now, marry this with the Mututho laws, and I can see married women having more time with their husbands at home. Oh yes, its back!!
A drive through Langata Road on a Friday or Saturday night, and you witness Tow-trucks celebrating a windfall. Damaged cars take the runway, auditioning for the most wrecked car galore. With the Alcoblow back, I can see the dampened faces of Kenya drunks. With limited drinking hours, the re-introduction of the Alcoblow, has been a major hit, below the belt. With respect to all catastrophes, I think this saga, shall be on the topics of many more, and for a longer duration.
2.HIV testing is bound to be made compulsory, whenever one goes for treatment for ailments such as malaria and typhoid. Yep, oh blimey!! Spiced with the current rate of inflation, the shilling being battered senselessly by the dollar, I must attest, this September got a huge dose of gloom right through it. No more hanky-panky stuff, with a Miss who aint your own, and ladies, yep, your database, may just have to be short-listed. 
3. No more traffic police-must confess, most Kenyans know not of what they want. The cops were ordered to stay clear of round-abouts, so that drivers would work with traffic lights, and mayhem has taken over. In a days time, and drivers were crying out loud to have them back. Yep, all this happened in the month of September.


In summary, men and women, are being warned off too much drink, late night driving, random sex-ventures, all courted with harsher economic times. Yep. Liken this to Nakumatt Supermarket..."Welcome to September-all gloom under one roof". 
Anhu, let us count our blessings, stop whining, and learn to soothe our circumstances. I also choose to stand tall, giving a standing ovation to Phillip Makau, for breaking the marathon record in Berlin-finally, the record is right where it belongs...Kenya!! Let us make merry, when the sun is shining on your yard!!
Therefore, as we mourn, let us not forget to rejoice and celebrate those around us. Let them know they are special, if and when you have the chance, both in words and action. I know at times, it kind of feels odd, when you pass gratitude to someone, for being important to you, but its alot better, then saying sweet things to a corpse!! FACT!!

Yokozuna K.O

No Mercy!!

I was meant to post this yesterday, but I had other commitments to address. As I looked forward to a great week, calamity seems to have embraced the month of September by the neck. The past week, was filled with sheer gloom and guttering life-snatching events. Death and murky stories, engulfed our media houses whole, stifling them off any good news that may have taken up center stage. The Sinai tragedy, illicit-brew encounters, road carnage, police shootings etc. My oh my, the horror. Kenya marked 2 days of mourning, in honor of the lost lives, and I top that, with a prayer to the Heavens, their souls are resting in eternal peace. Sadly, the tales continue: 13 people died in a road accident yesterday, and as of this morning, a man has reportedly killed the wife in a family feud. #GodblessourNation


Queer: As I was buzzing around this weekend, catching up with footy and friends, we recalled the Yokozuna saga and start to bust out laughing. Kindly do not get me wrong here, I do mourn the death of those slayed by the illicit brews, yet again, seriously, YOKOZUNA!! The name of that brew, must be alarming by itself.  As far as my memory goes, in the supreme days of wrestling, Yokozuna was one mean-ass, who had his ass all over the other wrestlers faces: and had no remorse for it. I recall his killer move-putting an opponent on the corner ropes, as he planned on running from the alter-corner, straight into the unlucky chap. The impact would exhaust all the air, life and strength from the opponent, making him fall down, face-up. And there, was his best moment. He would go up the corner ropes, bounce a couple of times and ******** (lacked a sound-effect to describe it) and he would rub it on, until the opponent tapped out. It was not a pleasing sight, and he would always make my mum rant and rave about how it made no sense to her, why we, my father included, would cheer and go hysterical over old men dressed in underwear. (as she liked to put it, highlighting her disgust).


Worrying: Back to Kenya, and News-headlines are hijacked by piratical-news of young men being held ransom by illicit brews. Deaths and blindness courting every sip they take of the so much, "I am hustling" drink. I think, 'hustle' has been the most misused word to-date. From what I have gathered and researched as per the word, I think 90% of the people who use it, hardly know what hustling is all about, and have fallen victim to verbal-peer-pressure. Aha, back to the illicit drinks, well, being a teetotaler myself (I am naturally high and the doctors have confirmed it), I wonder what actually draws these young men to the brew. I believe, majority can spend at least Ksh.20 on a cup, and at the same time, seek to borrow money to buy food, which would be purchased by the misused cash.On that note, I have always wondered why it is easier, for a friend to buy someone alcohol to wipe out misery, than actually loan the friend some money, to help sort out more important issues. Personally, I would feel insulted, whether done out of good gesture or not, if a friend, instead of seeking to address my problems, upon his willingness, chooses to buy me a drink to wipe it down. As far as I know, he would not be worth being called a friend, and I would be better off alone. 

MUST: I believe, we need to be personally responsible, in order to sustain lives in our beloved nation. That we should stand up and draw caution, when a driver is being reckless, radio stations, to highlight on the importance of personal responsibility with regards to alcohol consumption, that sex should be a topic freely discussed in families, highlighting the fact that it is not a vice, but the circumstance surrounding the act, define its morality or not. The more we ignore reality, and batter words of matters that are beyond our control, the more lives we shall loose, and mourning shall become a norm. For example: complaining about time, yet 24hours is all we will ever get.


Hope: The beauty of Kenya as a Nation, is our malleability. Our love for self, is our weakness, yet our greatest strength. I believe, learning from KenyansforKenya; with constant and consistent sharing of real-information, would aid our ailing nation. AIDS provides a great learning curve, with people being more receptive to victims, and shunning stigmatization. People are scared of the truth, and thank God it hurts-it is high time people shun cocoons, stop hiding in the 'We are aping the Western world excuse' and stick to the gun, and call it as it is. Should we not address these issues-the plight and sight of women crying over 'dead' men who are alive in the villages, shall wipe our schools clean of children to attend the classes. As we ponder on what to do: let us not forget, LIFE HAS NO REHEARSALS!! lest we stop....we shall be hammered with YOKOZUNA K.Os