THE EXIT OF A WRITING LEGEND

Photograph: Mike Cohea/AP




Once in every era, a voice is born with a rare ability to stand for truth in the midst of storms. In the era that ended this past Friday, Chinua Achebe(1930-2013) was that person. His ability to walk on turbulent waters...a place that even angels and demons fear to tread is a quality that will continue to vibrate for generations to come.

Some  writers argue that when a man is left with just a few days to his death, he becomes emotionally disturbed with unsettling questions doing their rounds in that person's head. In the introduction of Leo Tolstoy's novella THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYCH, the writer seems to say the same thing. He says that a lot of people experience a finality that makes them so afraid; not because of the impending departure but because of the fear of having failed to do things that they should have done. But for Chinua Achebe (I can't bring myself to say, The Late Chinua Achebe because I think that he still lives, in his own special way) this thinking can be said to be totally false because he wrote as much as he could and not only that, he wrote widely and far into the future. His works will be as new in a century to come as they were in the 20th  century when they were fast written. Achebe clearly devoted his life to the obedience of his calling as a writer.

Chinua Achebe's writings are undoubtedly the most studied works of literature in Africa and beyond. His acclaimed literary daughter Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie in her talk THE DANGER OF A SINGLE STORY confirms the indespensability of Achebe's writing. She says that reading Achebe's books opened her eyes to new and peculiar truths and helped her redefine literature... she realised that characters with kinky hair and skin the color of chocolate could exist in literature... In a recent essay, WE REMEMBER DIFFERENTLY, Chimamanda acknowledges the fact that Achebe is a writer whose work gave her permission to write. She goes on to say...
"...Afterwards, I held on to the phone and wept. I have memorised those words. In my mind, they glimmer still, the validation of a writer whose work had validated me."

That brief digression was to draw us to the length of life Achebe still has ahead despite his physical death. I believe that Chimamanda will not want to offend her literary father's memory by doing anything less than what she should in as far as literature is concerned.

Chinua Achebe's name will remain in our hearts and the hearts of many who will be born in the coming generations. The best honor we can give his soul is to walk the talk.

BEWARE, EMOTIONAL SIGNIFICANCE IS PRICELESS.

There is a time I did not speak to my desk-mate for over a month when I was in form three. The reason was this, she had gone into my locker without my permission, taken my favorite novel and given it to someone who had misplaced it. The River and the Source by Margret Ogola is the last novel I will (even now) ever lend out. I am emotionally attached to that book; everything about it just feels important. What annoyed me even more was the fact that, my deskmate knew these.

 When it was clear that the book wasn't going to be found, I let go but I could not speak to my desk-mate for a while. But nature is nice because the healing eventually did come. I got another copy of the novel and luckily, my friendship with Sharon was restored. But I think the unintended consequence of that experience was that I learnt a lot of lessons: to always beware that emotional significance is priceless-- neither silver nor gold can replace it.

One of the main things I picked from that experience is that we look at things differently, just as we value different things. In your eyes, it could be a mere bangle but in someone else's eyes, it stands for everything there is to life. I have learnt to be particularly careful with other people's properties. In Sharon's eyes, the novel may just have been like any other book. I may have gone on and on telling her how much I loved that book but she couldn't figure out any particular special attribute that the book has. And perhaps that was why she did not need a lot of thinking time before giving out the book.

And when it comes to people who have walked into my life or our paths  have crossed I am even more careful. I don't lose a friend unless it is inevitable... I have learnt to look at life closely and in the course of 'my study' I have realized that nothing happens by accident. No meetings just happen... I mean there is never a coincidence. I am saying this with conviction because a lot of people got into my life 'accidentally', but right now I would be lost without them.

So, next time before you do ANYTHING, remember, THAT WHICH YOU WANT TO DO could be all that stands between real happiness and eternal nostalgia for someone else.

Let us be especially careful with people's emotions this year. They are priceless.

BLACK WHITE RED WHITE GREEN

Those colors are special- BLACK WHITE RED GREEN- in Kenya. They are the colors of our national flag which we are taught to respect as soon as we are old enough to go to school. I have regarded these colors highly until lately... I still regard them, but now I have questions.

What did my teacher mean when he or was it she said that WHITE on the Kenyan flag stands for PEACE? and our loyal pledge! What are those words again;

       I pledge my loyalty to the president and the nation of Kenya,
       My ready-ness and duty to defend the flag of our republic.
       My devotion to the words of our national motto;
       My life and strength , and service in the task of of nation building, 
       In the living spirit embodied in our national motto
       HARAMBEE and
       Perpetuated in the NYAYO philosophy of PEACE, LOVE and UNITY 

That was how the loyalty pledge appeared in my school diary in primary five and still does in the diary of my 13year old cousin. Maybe I am moving in circles. I know.





....Baragoi Masaccre, Tana Delta clashes, Grenade attacks... I choose to stop here. I don't wish to go into  the details of how news of fathers or mothers killing their children have been hitting our airwaves on a regular basis lately. And that is precisely why I started with the colors of our national flag and then our loyalty pledge. Do we, as a people pay attention to what we are saying... or used to say?

What went wrong?

My favorite blogger, Kate Henshaw(Author of Soul Kate) in her latest post wrote that and I quote;

"...Hardly a day goes by without the headlines of the dailies telling tales of woe; be it the antics of the BH wasting human lives in their numbers in the northern part of Nigeria, the pensions of hard working civil servants being carted away by scrupulous Director Generals and their board or the death traps on our roads. Millions of money being poured down the drain of various awarded contracts that never get done or completed. The inadequate maintenance of our infrastructure that are left dilapidated purposely so that someone can make millions from awarding the contract to bring them back to some semblance of good condition for usage. Strikes are embarked upon supposedly to right the wrongs but they end with no logical conclusion to the matter at hand; NUPENG, PHCN, ASUU,etc. How come all these stolen money is never recovered? Your guess is as good as mine. Discussing Nigeria is a daily staple and I have come to the conclusion that one has to steal big to make it worthwhile because then, you never go to jail nor return the money. Only the man who steals 5000naira or a bicycle gets thrown into jail and even the innocent woman who was just by the side of the road when a LASTMA official was killed by a bus driver, gets thrown into jail with her two month old baby...!"

 I think I have nothing more to say that will be news to you. The world seems to be playing a dangerous game and it seems even GOD has shut HIS curtains at us because we perpetually refuse to do the right thing.

I HAVE BEEN TAUGHT TO BE HUMBLE

I know a lot has already been said in regards to the fact that, " We can never have a second chance to make the first impression" and I don't intend to start any argument about that tonight. A lot of people depend on the first impression to make up their mind about somebody and that is their way. No qualms on my part. But I think this piece will still be useful.

First of all, the word humble is one of the overused vocabularies in my father's dictionary. "...remain humble" that is one of the phrases with which he finishes his advices which I carry around in my heart always. I don't know for how long he has been saying that to me but it must be for a long time because for me, being humble is the way to go. But the truth is, I never really understood the meaning of being humble in my father's terms until one day...

I had just completed high school and as it was bound to happen,' I started feeling on top of the world'. A good number of my friends had completed high school too and it was thus easy to form a 'clique'. I remember before I found something really useful to do, I would sit with my legs on the table eating one thing after the other (I wonder why I did not become obese) and I would tell anyone who interfered with my movies(with the exception of my parents, of course!)that, from that day henceforth, order in that house was going to be defined by I, Daisy Nandeche alone! I must have looked so stupid at the time. Thank God it passed. Anyway, other 'real stuff' came up and if there is something I will eternally be grateful for, is the chance to live  away from home. You should see me to appreciate this!

So in the middle of all that 'nonsense', I met Rose.

Were it not for that life-changing encounter, I would have called it an ordinary Sunday but for the single fact that I met Rose, it becomes a special Sunday. I had gone to church as usual; my home church which I still think is the best in the globe. As usual again, I was running through my bible as the day's announcements went on because I would read the bulletin anyway. But the visitor who graced us that day made me sit up and take notice. She was about my age. Maybe three or four years older. Well, she wasn't wearing anything expensive at all! As she walked to the podium, I noted that she had on some really 'lousy' attire with shoes I can't place. They were not torn but still, I couldn't place them. Her hair was short; not styled or relaxed in one way or another, simply short! She wasn't wearing any earing, bangle and so on and I can even swear that she did not have make up on.

After she was given the microphone, the interpreter sat down. He did not expect her to speak English and so did I.Then the girl started talking! Excellent English and what's more? She had just been posted to a neighboring school after graduating from Moi University... She went on to give us a few inspirational verses and honestly, the shock was too much!

Rose brought me back to my senses in a hurry! Can you imagine?  I didn't even know how I had performed in my final exams yet I was already playing mother-hen all over! Rose reminded me that I had seen nothing yet in life and that was how I stopped putting my legs on the table and I don't see myself ever doing that no matter the circumstance.

Post Script: I have encountered many other similar people and that is why I am always hesitant about settling on the first impression I have of somebody. To begin with, the first impression I give is hardly ever the real me, it simply depends with who I am meeting, where, why and other such stuffs so I suggest that we all be cautious about this first impression saga because short of losing a life time opportunity, only great lose could befall us. I read somewhere that, we are all blind and honestly, I believe that statement. There are so many things we fail to see or notice just because we were blinded by the so called first impression.

WHAT IS IT WITH TIME?!

I will always complain about time.

Time seems to be on a mission to fly by amazingly fast; or is it just my life that's fast paced? My mother called yesterday to tell me that she would be coming to see me this Sunday and I couldn't understand why.

"I just want to see you." She said in her usual graceful voice. When she finally dropped the line, I tried to understand why my mother wanted to see me. I am not sick, I am not in a crisis, there has been no report of misconduct about me.... so why would mother just bother herself to come and see me? I call it a bother because I know how much my mother hates traveling. I called one of my sisters to help me find out if there was any trouble at home.

"I don't think there is any problem, otherwise we would all be summoned." She said.

But after sitting down for a few minutes, I got my answer. Mother had stayed too long without seeing her last born! It was so hard for me to believe that six months were almost gone since I last set my eyes on that inimitable woman... Six whole months! I think my constant phone calls; at least twice a day make me forget that there is a very long distance separating us. So tomorrow after the church service I will be a baby...

And that is not the only score I have to settle with time. This is so bad because really, time cannot dare come between me and GOD!

You see, last week a speaker(read pastor) was ministering at a revival service in town and like many others whose paths have crossed with my spiritual mom's, she asked me to be there... and speaking of my spiritual mom, when did I last see her?

So, she phoned from Harare where she is attending a conference on Africa Revival Summit on behalf of her bishop.

"Please make time and go, Daisy" She said. She hardly calls me Daisy.
"Can't the time be changed? I have classes at that time." I said and then I suddenly realized that I shouldn't have said that.I was sure she wasn't amused.
"I can see, my love you are soon becoming too big for GOD. You are now telling me that an entire conference should be rescheduled because you have classes?" She asked and I could immediately sense disappointment in her voice. She is not a deschooler herself. She bears a degree from Makerere University which she wishes was transferable so that she could give it to someone who really needs it.
"I am sorry..." I trailed off. I did not know what to say after that unreasonable statement.

"Of course I understand. I know how demanding academic work can be..." I did not want her to beg me to go to church because really, it was me who was going to reap.

"I said I'm sorry. I will make sure I find time and be there. I know how tricky it is to live without the constant reminder of God around me. I have to go. Don't worry about that. I will find time and go." I said in that firm voice that I'm told might scare away any prospective lover. Really, I don't care.

Our conversation ended thirty minutes later with an agreement that, out of the four days of the revival services, I would attend two services and write her a story about it.

After I dropped the line, I could remember only too well how predictable my schedule and her schedule used to be. If I wasn't in school pursuing that elusive Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education, I was totally available as long as my father wasn't monopolizing me, or was it me monopolizing my father? Either way, it was easy during those days. She was also doing something in Kenya and that is how sweet fate was for us. But right now, things are so different. I cannot even remember the last time I attended a church service with her; I sometimes hated it when she asked me to do something for her at the altar especially when she was ministering like say take away her pullover when the heat became unbearable but right now, I can give anything to hear her say,"Daisy, lead us in worship".

But yes, that's life. Everything changes and the only constant thing in life is change itself. So here I am, trudging the road to adulthood and hoping time will not be cunning enough to take away what has lived with me; my ideals and beliefs... for I have now appreciated that things are never going to be the same again. She is never going to remain on my side forever, so somehow, the lessons I learnt from her should carry me onwards without retreating or surrendering in this journey of faith, which is obviously not a simple one. It has been eleven years of learning and discovering who God is and I still feel I have so much to learn and I intend to learn, because for me, there will never be a better fulfillment than knowing that, the privilege I had of learning about God from someone who understood me and her role in my life wasn't a waste.

I hold these memories dearly and I hope God will enable us to see how all these ends. But time has to really quit this game of running too fast!

Another score! Mwajuma is on teaching practice! Really, there is nothing wrong with Mwajuma being on teaching practise but at least time should have waited for her to grow up a little. Mwajuma is a very close friend of mine and our friendship dates back to form three when we used to carry chairs and sit around the teacher's table during weekends and just chat our hearts out. We loved our own company. We laughed at our weaknesses in mathematics which I some times believe was all in our heads. Mwajuma would pretend to pass me a calculator when the maths teacher was in; when I opened it, I would see a note saying something like,"Do you think calculus is important in your life? Illustrate your answer. 20mks". Calculus would be the topic being taught and clearly, there was no connection between it and my life. So I would reply and say,"That's rather an obvious question. Relevance of calculus is rather too generous. Is mathematics as a subject relevant to your life?20mks"

But like me, Mwajuma is no longer a child. She is traveling the same journey as me... the journey to adulthood. She likes laughing like me and her jokes are normally endless... But for both of us, life is no longer a matter of waking up, doing a few things then going back to bed. Accountability has now set in, all thanks to the passing of time. We both have so many dreams whose realisation sorely depends on our efforts and beliefs... but time is worrying us.
"How is Eric?" I asked in our numerous text messages last Friday as I cleared off my desk after work.
"I wasn't cut out for that kind of life Dee. I wish I accepted that like you peacefully do" Eric was Mwajuma's first ever boyfriend whom he met during her first year in campus and she was so happy about it... you know the kind of happiness only first love can arouse? I haven't been there so I will not dwell too much on the subject.

But in short, the two did not have time... Mwajuma loves books more than me and I have reason to believe she is better than me in literature: but is time that limited? I will know when I get there. If ever.

Onto my last point. I just finished reading Place of Destiny by Margaret Ogola and the concept of time in that book is tearfully clarified. Amor .A. Lore, the central figure in the book has been diagnosed with cancer of the liver and she has just four months to live! Maybe that character did not have much to regret about because she had done most of what she wanted to do.
" I start working on the yellow document slowly, hesitantly. This is the real epitaph of my life. Not too long ago, I had presumed that I had another twenty or thirty years to go..." pg 34 .

 I don't know how many years I still have to live, how much time I still have left... But I hope to begin looking at the grass and take notice, and realise that they are actually green...

Time is a phenomenon. It decides for many people and even in this economically defined century, time is still the master planner and I think the moment we put all our dreams on acquring money and everything, we miss the bigger picture. It is simple. Use your time well and happiness will follow you.

You will hear from me about time, soon!

Happy July, with love.

I WILL MISS YOU, RACHEL.

I would never have guessed that a day like yesterday would ever come. A day when I would finally discover that tears do not change a situation. There was nothing extraordinary about the day by the way: It was just the usual boring morning rain in Nairobi that reminds me that I need to get a way to Philadelphia or Denmark... yeah it was a usual Sunday and yeah, I have to go to Denmark and Philadelphia and e.t.c. But something happened and it reminded me to always seize every moment, look at it keenly and really make use of it.

Much earlier in the day, I went to see my father; we had an urgent discussion over a certain issue. It was after that meeting that something that will make me never forget that day happened.

I went to Rachel's home for her farewell party. Rachel in a close pal from high school. We were friends for the same reasons I befriend the few friends I have; Rachel is real. I know this is a bit too personal but truth is, I have a very big problem with fakeness. So Rachel and I remained good friends even after our final examinations in high school. I was with her almost throughout her last semester of the bridging course she was doing and we spent most of our hours laughing.

Rachel is such a gifted story teller who kept me wanting to hear more. I remember pleading with her to pass the night at my hostel because I did not want our stories to end but somehow, she had to go back home. We walked around the city together and truth be told, I wouldn't have mastered the city streets so well if Rachel had not taken me around. I learnt so many things from Rachel. You see, a part from Rachel most of my other friends love books and most of our stories begin with books and end with books again. So Rachel provided me with the so much needed break. She made me look at the world and really take notice. Before Rachel, any discussion about boys(except in a fiction book) would seriously piss me off but at least now, I take time, listen and even comment! Rachel taught me a few lessons about 'losening' up and just laughing at things I don't understand or don't want to. Rachel also taught me something else, how to survive the naughty men in market places. Before Rachel's lessons, I hardly went to the market or let's just say leave the house for whatever reason unless extremely necessary. I feared those naughty men so much and any comment directed at me would even make me cry sometimes. I feared totally. But Rachel handled them in an interesting way and I picked a lesson or two from her.

Rachel also made life full of fun. I remember she asked me to take her to Kenyatta Market one Friday and while there she begun tasting roasting meat on the grilles. I was sure Rachel had no intention of buying roast meat and I had to ask why she was doing that. The answer she gave me was so interesting and I laughed for so many days. She told me that she always tasted meat from so many different people so that by the time she was done tasting(all in the name of finding out whether it was fresh, nice-tasting, hot enough... e.t.c) she was satisfied and she wouldn't need to buy food. Really? Rachel is such an actor. She has guts.

But Rachel will be leaving the country in the next few hours for Germany to commence her studies. I actually thought I was dreaming when I fast read the email. In part it read;
...of all my friends, I know it will hurt you the most. I am leaving the country in the next one week to commence my studies in Germany. I don't know when I will come back but I am certain it will be after a long while. I will miss this country, I will miss the city which we 'painted purple' with our numerous escapades in the three months we were together just recently. Dee, I am going to miss you a great deal and all my friends whom we've been together on this road. But our dreams have to come true if we want meaning and laughter in our lives. I would have chosen to remain home and enjoy the comfort zone but Dee, given another ten years from now, I will regret why I let the chance pass me by; you might even blame me for not going...
I will have my farewell party on 15th of Apr this year and you are welcome. I have also invited all our former classmates who are within reach and that might actually be a reunion for us...

Your lifelong friend,

Rachel."

I read that email severally and I confirmed the date all the time wishing it was April fools' day. But it wasn't. I waited for another mail or sms to tell me that it was a belated April fools' but nothing came. Then that way, I became sure that it was real.

So yesterday, I went to see Rachel off. I met several of my former classmates and I have to mention Vivian here because it appears she will be my company in the absence of Rachel. Vivian too was a classmate and we were also friends but she transferred when we were in form two.

 It was a nice party but I did not get a chance to speak to Rachel and tell her I am greatful for everything she has taught me. But I hope she reads this. I will forever cherish the bond we share and not even distance will tamper with the golden memories.

It is important for us all to do what we can when we can. In my mind, I had planned to get something very special for Rachel on her first approaching birthday and then use that day to tell her how much she has taught me. But time had other ideas. The concept of time is beyond most of us. I think I took for granted the times we shared or I just took time for granted- assuming it was always going to be there. But who was I to know? I did the mistake most humans make(and that doesn't make it right) but I intend to better up henceforth. I know I take time to appreciate everyone who has left her footprints in the sands of time around my clock and most of these people are still around but I intent to appreciate them more. They are so important.

Fare thee well, Rachel. I believe that although our paths might appear scattered right now because we don't know where our dreams will lead us, our paths are surely going to cross someday and we will make merry once again. Remember, it's only a matter of time...

I will miss you, Rachel.

YOUNG GIRLS AND ABORTIONS

Sometime towards the end of last year, a friend from high school called me very early in the morning to inform me that, she had procured an abortion but the bleeding was not stopping even after correctly taking medication. I think I was insensitive because my first reaction was anger, I mean, why would anyone disrupt my beauty sleep to tell me boring stories about abortion? What fueled my anger was the fact that this girl never told me that she was pregnant and neither did she inform me that she intended to carry out an abortion; she did not want me to be part of her plans in the first place, so why involve me towards the end?

After I got my stability back and the sleep had reduced in my eyes a bit, I told her that the best person she could speak to was her mother. I even offered to make the phone call, but babez, she refused.I was left with no choice except to hang up and hope that everything turns out right for her.

That phone call like many others I make left me somewhere between being surprised and being aware. I am not saying it is impossible to become pregnant and then abort, but aren't we becoming too daring? How do you procure a backstreet and an unnecessary abortion with the knowledge of all the consequences full in your head?

My cousin told me a story about their school yesterday and this left me with no comment until now. A form two girl was found lying in a pool of blood almost dead after swallowing an abortion inducing drug. The girl was rushed to hospital and all they could do was pray for her.

 I tried to imagine the site of a 14 year old lying half dead in a pool of blood but the shock in me could not allow me to.Maybe this is a naive question but really, how does a 14 year old get pregnant in the first place? Why would anyone want to sabotage the joys of childhood by playing adult games they are not prepared for; perhaps they even know nothing about? Is it that there are no longer games in this world for children to play or what really went wrong?

Don't give me an answer such as the media or technology because I am a testimony that the two can be controlled. I think to save time, and this is assuming that the media and technology are the culprits, parents should simply be in control and let the children know what they can watch and what they cannot; what they can do on the net and what they cannot. I don't know how my parents succeeded but I am so grateful I never watched some programs or even listened to some radio stations when I was young (Read under 18). I think every parent should find what works for them early enough.

All said and put aside, we have an issue at hand, a good percent of young girls are involved in sexual relations. Why should they? I don't know but I think I should get five culprits to sit down and tell me why and who knows, that might just be the beginning of our solution. Some time back, there was a feature on Kenyan teenagers and birth control pills on citizen TV. The revelation was shocking; girls as young as 15 were suffering due to the use of hormonal contraceptives. I remember one saying "unaamka ka umechoka na kila saa uko na monthy..." She wakes up tired, and then she has random menses... And she is still taking the pills??!! Those effects would scare anyone after the fast attempt at the most. How do you wake up tired and you have work to do? And for a fifteen year old, she is likely in high school. That is why some people end up fantasizing in a double- maths lesson, get 12% and then tell a story about how impregnable maths is. As for random menses, that's beyond any normal girl's imagination. Once in 24 days is already disrupting enough. I am even sure that if it was possible to bribe someone to have the menses for us, so many women would have ended in hell for bribery.

But seriously, what is wrong with these young girls? What annoys me is the fact that they know what they are doing will harm them eventually. One of the reasons why I rarely write about the wayward teenager is because I know that they know what they are doing very well and you cannot challenge me on that one because I was a teenager once upon a time. Sometimes I am tempted to think that, we should just ignore them, I mean stop featuring ads that show 'spoilt' teens and replace all of them with disciplined teens so that they know they don't really matter if they don't want or rather, cannot listen to the wise counsel.

I want to end with a disclaimer, I am not writing these because I am a better person (which is a very unlikely prospect) but because I want us to get other ideas, listen to other stories about teens. We have other stories that are not being told as often as they should. I think we should find them and spend time learning from them and perhaps that way, those who stick to the wrong ways (knowingly) will understand that, they can drawn in vices and we don't really mind because we have other people to steer this nation.

 Maybe since all the messages sent to them have not worked, what they should hear now is "WE DON'T CARE".

I hope April brings you loads of fulfillment.

THE PAST, THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE

 The past...
How time moves these days is beyond my understanding. Its hard to believe that it is no longer last year and it is now this year. It is sunny one day and very cold the next day, to signify the coming and going  of seasons. The passing of time is hard to understand especially in this age when everyone appears caught up in the hustle and bustle of life. We find ourselves forgetting the most essential things in our lives, things that have held us together and still hold us together. There is no longer time for anything. The time you have to work isn't enough, the time you have to go to school is not enough, the time you have to go to church is not enough... it is almost as if there is never enough time for anything.Even friendships have become enemies with time. Time is never enough to make a friend and even when you are able to, time does not give you the pleasure of nurturing the bond. The passing of time is actually another riddle at our hands and the possibility of it ever being solved, I am afraid is minimal...

One of my childhood and lifelong friends called me yesterday. Her name is Farida. I am exactly a month older than her and for the most of our childhood we lived in the same neighborhood. Farida and I did so many things together and we were at the same place most of the time. We did not go to the same school though but that did not stop us from waiting on the road until the other came. After the school van dropped me, it was only a three or four minute walk and I would be in the house but I still waited for Farida. We had a lot to catch up on and even when we got to the parting point, we stood there for a very long time talking about things I can't remember. My mother found me standing on that verandah severally but not even her stern warnings could change me. I wanted to spend all the time I could with Farida. It did not even bother me that she was two classes behind me, the fact that we were almost the same age made me happy. Now that I look back, I realize that I had built my whole world around Farida and I did not need another friend.

Then the worst struck. Farida's family relocated to Saudi Arabia. I was only in class three but I knew the wound was never going to heal.

After much effort, I managed to somehow forget Farida and look for another friend. I did not see anyone as good as Farida at home so I decided to take my search to school. I discovered Teresia. We became friends and after a short time, my whole world revolved around Terry and Terry alone. At break time, it was only Terry I could play with.When Terry was sick and she couldn't come to school, I would be quiet the whole day unless a teacher spoke to me. My brain made me believe that only Terry could hear what I was saying.

At the end of primary four, I moved to another school. It was also time to bid Terry goodbye because she was moving back to Kikuyu-land and I figured I was never going to meet her again.It was tearful but Terry had to go.

The new school provided a wide range of choices. But Josephine successfully went through my friendship meter. In class five, we were much older with a lot of experience in the friendship world and as such we made vows. Maybe you know those silly vows... I will never annoy you and things like that. Little did I know real heartache was on the way.

Just when we had become precandidates, I mean when we joined class seven, Jossy was transferred! I wanted to be transferred too but my parents are not the type to be directed by a 'remote control'. So I had to stay and face the girls who did not have a problem reminding me how bad I had been when Jossy was around. I totally didn't blame them. I almost only spoke to Jossy in that school. If I was put in a discussion group which Jossy wasn't a member, then I would shift or she would shift.

 Another problem. Everyone in my primary seven class was paired, I mean everyone had a best friend and there was no one hanging. I swore never to make a best friend again and I remained unattached until I sat for my national examination for primary school.

I was in no hurry to make friends in high school because I feared losing them and apart from Rita who transferred at the end of form 1, the other close friends I had were 'borne' in form three.

The present...
All the friends I made back in the days still make up the list of my close friends now. Farida's family came back to the country and thanks to today's technology, locating her wasn't a problem. Terry too is back in the picture and we meet once in a while. Jossy has always been there and the friends  I made in high school too.

We talk a lot, mostly about what we did. In my eyes, Farida has never changed. She is the same 7yr old who incited me to cry until my father bought me a BMX bicycle. If my memory is correct, we must have been the first ones to be bought for bicycles in that neighborhood and despite my going to church every Sunday, I never allowed anyone to do more that look at my bicycle. Those instructions were from Farida. I don't remember ever riding that bicycle joyfully after Farida's family migrated. Now we laugh at these memoirs; we wonder why we did not expand our cycle of friends because apart from Farida, I did not know anyone else in the neighborhood well enough to chat with. We laugh even more when we remember the day we stayed out too late and our friendship was 'banned' for sometime.

With Terry we laugh loudest when we remember the day our classmates decided that we had boyfriends. What was shocking was the reason they gave. We carried body oil to school, we were always clean in school and we did everything together. Terry never bothered about what they said and she seemed to have an even cleaner uniform and more oiled hair each day.

With Jossy, memories are still fresh because I kept meeting and talking to her on phone until I started living away from home. How I wish I could reverse the hands of the clock. The most notable event was the day we were asked out of an English class because the handwriting in our books wasn't ours. Truth is, Daisy and Jossy exchanged books with each other as a sign of friendship. The punishment wasn't bad and we made it through........

The memories are endless and I choose to stop here.

The future
The future is frightening for anyone who hasn't been there. But I fear more because as each day dawns, I wake up to the fact that we are growing apart. The strong bond of friendship that once existed is slowly becoming weak and getting replaced by other things. In place of endless dates or phone conversations with pals, I have my future to build, my future to work on and I am forced to do what is more urgent, more relevant.

Sometimes I wonder if my friends feel the same way but I never get the courage to ask them. One of them recently sent me a message that summed up everything I wanted to know. I am quoting it.
"One fine day all of us will get busy with our lives... long working hours, no more classes, lectures, friends, smeses... some of us will get married and will not even have time for ourselves. On such a day, you will look outside your window, see the good old memories flash by... you will get a smile with a tear in your eyes and you will turn back to your work thinking...;"I wish I could go back"

I remained aloof after reading that message and for a long time, I wished Rita did not send it. But that was the truth. The future will put distance between us; the way we talk, eat, socialize, communicate, walk... will be affected by the unavoidable future. I wish I could run away. But even now, things are not the same. Our conversations are not as meaningful and as useful. I find that most of the time I can do without the phone calls or dates but I have to be there and contribute in the fruitless efforts to make things be as they were before. With Farida, we wish we could fit in our tiny bicycles once again and ride them fast without fearing to fall down. We wish we could stand endlessly on the road once more discussing nothing specifically. With Terry, we wish we could once more wear uniform and oil our hair, not because we had boyfriends but to make our classmates jealous. We wish we had the same classmates now like we did, but it is not possible because Terry is stuck to Engineering and I intend to make the best in the writers world. With Jossie, we refuse to think about the gone days because the memories are so sweet. There were no major hurdles in our life then and everything was humorous including the English teacher who once thrashed our bottoms...

We ask each other questions we already know the answers to perhaps to avoid asking those questions whose answers we have not like how long the bond of our friendship will survive.

But I am not afraid because I believe our friendship bonds were made in heaven and they will go beyond time and distance.

To a wonderful friendship, CHEEEEEERSSSS!

WHEN DOES A NEW YEAR REALLY BEGIN?

A year has just kicked off for me. I turned 19 about an hour ago and what a feeling! I have not decided whether to be happy or sad but I will know that when the messages begin to roll in when the day breaks; they are always nice messages that stir my memories and make me want to go back to a past I can't see now or fly over to a future I fear. These messages point out so many things for me but I always know in a nutshell that, there is no time for the present...

 It is so sad because I am away from home and most of my lifelong friends are nowhere within reach. But I hope to catch some fun nevertheless... All I can say for now is that I have an hour long phone call with my spiritual mom(I am sure about that because she rarely fails to do anything she plans to do for me. And for that, I love her even more.) We were together during my last birthday and the most I can remember out of the lengthy chatting was the prayer she made. She dedicated my 18th year in the hands of GOD and I am happy to note that GOD is faithful. I had my own potions of hard times; these are the times when I really stopped and wondered what life was all about. I did not what to live, I did not understand why I had to live. But here I am, a year older and hopefully wiser.

They say life gets tougher as you go up. Yes it does. The birthday messages and gifts I received when I was twelve cannot make sense to me now although I wish they could make sense. And that, friends and family would once more send me a card that reads As you turn 12, be a good girl. I really miss those messages. They made life appear simple and easy to deal with. Of course then being a good girl was easy; it included not playing in the mud or dust at school, listening to your teachers, respecting your older sisters and parents. But that message metamorphosed over time. I received a similar message last year, the one that says be a good girl but then it had more than just 'be a good girl'. This simple statement had so many inter-twined statements. In the spiritual world it may mean be patient and act only when GOD says so but also adding that, as a christian you should refuse to join the cautious crowd that plays not to lose; being destined for greatness means that you take  risks and confront greater hazards. Seriously? So is there away out? Possibly not because greatness is part and parcel of any believer. What  then is my choice?

When it comes to the social scenes, being a good girl has a message as distorted as my dreams. I am told life is there to be enjoyed. "Grab every moment and make full use of it" that is the message I get on the one side. On the other is the word I even dream sometimes because of how often it said to me. The word is 'caution'. So I interpret it to mean that I should be calm, careful and not in a hurry to live but again, there is this other meaning in being a good girl that says if you spend your whole life inside waiting for the storm, you will never enjoy the sunshine. So I get lost again.

But the good news is that, I came out stronger. I am now 19 and with obviously harder tasks. I don't know how prepared I am, all I know is that, I have to be prepared.I also know for certain that you cannot drive straight on a crooked path, so I have to make my paths as straight as possible.

Whatever my personal circumstance, I really have to live. I have dreams to achieve, things to deal with, friends to make peace with and most importantly a destiny to see to fruition. The world is indeed a stage and we are all actors. So when the light comes on in the form of a new day, week, month or year I prepare to put my best foot forward like any other actor.

As I step into this new year I intend to flow in the will of GOD. I will keep you posted.

HUSBAND BATTERING

Does that title sound familiar to you? I guess not. Husband battering cannot be familiar to anybody especially in Africa. But wait a minute. The idea of men being beaten by their wives is slowly gaining popularity in Kenya. I am sorry if what I am about to say amounts to washing dirty linen in public.

In the recent past, the Kenyan media has been abuzz with news about women battering their husbands! How indespicable. But that is it. Men are being battered. One particular incident was that of a pitiable looking man whose face had been damaged, leaving only remote recognition. The man is said to have been cut using a panga by his wife after arriving home drunk.. The man has a lot of thanksgiving to accord GOD because his being alive is a welcome miracle. He survived those panga cuts and the stitches are working the magic. Other incidences are as terrific.

This new trend has attracted a lot of concern especially gender based. Some people are quick to blame the empowering of women. Others say all these is a result of the disintegration of traditional structures and many other things. I see all these through my own spectacles.

I have never been married, I know but they say, what a child can see crawling down, an elder who is seated on a chair may not be able to see. It is with this confidence that I write today.

This could be a reckless statement to quote now but I think that the only reason battered men are on our airwaves is "when a dog bites a man, that's no news but when a man bites a dog it becomes news." Or have women suddenly stopped being battered and that is why there is no news on that? I ask because anytime the news on a battered man hits the Kenyan airwaves, a lot of interest is generated. I am tempted to call it undeserved sympathy but I will not. You give me a term to give to a story that goes something like
"... he was hit by his wife after arriving home drunk in the morning..."
That is supposed to be a married man, most likely with children and a wife who need him. If that statement doesn't sound like the height of insanity to you then just stop here because we are less likely to flow together.

Well, well I am not by any chance suggesting that two wrongs make a right. What I am suggesting is that, when we agree that both parties have a mistake, then working towards a lasting solution becomes easy. But when we point fingures towards women as the problem, then I am afraid we'll keep talking. Can we now go on?

In the African setting, a lot of power within the family was vested on the men. Men were venerated, almost worshiped and they deserved every bit of the respect. These men were there for their families. They protected their families, they fended for their families, they recognized their wives and respected tradition. These men drunk whatever traditional wine was available but still, they acted well enough to earn respect from their wives, children and the society. Life was culturally defined and everybody respected that.

But something went wrong.

You may want to tell me that modern women have destabilized that. No problem, I am listening. Modern women clamor for power, prestige and generally disregard their male counterparts. I am smiling widely now. Men too have changed, the world itself has changed and we can not remain standing when things are moving. That is why we have changed. Even the food we eat is no longer what you used to know, the perfume is stronger now, our voices are higher and imposing. The skirts are a bit shorter... We are more empowered and we cannot deny that but at least get the proper idea of 'empowered'.

By the way why is the empowering of women a problem? Women are supposed to be the 'weaker sex', not so? What I am trying to point out here is that, women may not be the 'weaker sex' as some people made us believe for a long time. The fact that there is a general outcry in the country about the boy child being 'neglected' could be an indicator that, men are not the 'stronger sex'. They only take advantage of women being unaware.

Before I digress, let me go back to what I was talking about. If you have been keen, you may have noticed that an empowered women has never stooped so low as to beat anyone, let alone her husband. Okay, she could cane a truant child here and there which is not a cause for alarm. That simply says that ' husband battering' is not part of the empowerment package.

I read somewhere that the chairman of maendeleo ya wanaume encouraged men to ignore food prepared by their wives in order to express their displeasure. I really have no comment to that. I am laughing inside because I think it is a futile idea. Okay, its futile because if the men are truly guilty of the offense they are being battered for, then refusing to eat in their homes(whatever that means)will not take away their guilt.

But seriously, how can a man be battered by a women to the point of attracting media attention? I believe in equality of the sexes but in matters of fighting, I wouldn't dare. Men are strong! So really, by the time a man is relegated to that level, there is obviously a problem. No sober man who does everything that is expected of him can go through that. He will not even come to it because he will forestall and control everything.

Women are strong in their own way. They tolerate so much, they persevere the unimaginable. But be warned, this is just for a while. They allow time for reformation, they'll give you time to retract your steps, their hearts are always open for reconciliation. I am sure those who don't know these take it as a sign of weakness. They can not do anything. But when they come to a point I will call 'this is it!', all hell breaks lose.

Those who end up being battered go beyond that point. If you want to know what it feels like to have a scorned woman vest her fury on you, go beyond that point. It is a threat alright, but this one is 100% guaranteed.

Violence against whatever gender should not be given a place in modern society. It is barbaric and inhumane. Whatever the goings on in the recent past as regards to men being battered should be looked into by all the responsible organizations like maendeleo ya wanaume and other concerned organizations especially those that deal with gender issues.The solution should then be sought for from the roots because if we treat the wound and ignore the source of the wound, then surely another wound will show up. And most importantly, wisdom has to be applied. If we do these instead of the endless and useless insinuations, we are likely to have our nation whole again. The clock is ticking.

PARENT'S SHOULD PLAY THEIR ROLE AS WELL.

I hear very many strange things about some teenagers and young adults. They don't listen to their parents, they play very loud music, they dress poorly, they don't work hard in school... it is a long list.
I was reviewing my own life recently and I came to the conclusion that there could be a way out. I will not start with that.
I had gone for a certain youth meeting and all the people I was there with, were organized and disciplined youngsters. They were actually so different from what I constantly hear. We had our usual discussions and at the appointed time, we dispersed.
That got me thinking, where does the differences come in? I got a few things I really wouldn't call answers but I feel obliqued to put them here.
As children grow up, there are various voices speaking to them. There is the media, the internet, parents, teachers, friends and et cetera. Of all these voices the parents' voice is the less heard; something that is so unfortunate, especially considering that parents have the prime authority over their children. But I wouldn't really put pressure on parents because, the current state of things in the world demand that, they be out of the house most of the time to work for a decent living. But there is something they can do; ensure that they leave something inside their children each time they are with them, what I call spending quality time with their children. And something in this context means, wisdom. Give your child the wisdom you want reflected in the rest of their lives and it doesn't matter your religion it will be reflected when the time comes.
Who said children are too young to understand? They know perfectly if you explain to them and in as much as there are other influences in their lives, they will have your voice deep down them everywhere. The parent's voice has authority over all the rest and I repeat because, most parents underestimate the efficiency of what they say to their children especially when they are young.
At this point, I will divert to the christian teaching because that is where my roots are. The bible says that you should teach a child the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it. Most people take that particular verse for granted but it is real.When I was about eight years, my parents put me in the care of a certain pastor. She was and still is my spiritual mentor but I prefer calling her my spiritual mum.(How we met will be featured in the next post)
One thing I remember about her as a child is her steadfastness in the Word of GOD. She had very little time for those who did not respect GOD. At eight, I already knew that GOD was responsible for my life and I owed it to HIM to be good to myself and others. I might not have been able to understand or even read my bible as a child but I was already aware of what I was expected to do. As I grew older, my knowledge of the bible kept increasing and by the time I was supposed to be a 'rebellious' teenager as everything around me said, the voice within me said that rebelliousness was not going to help me in anyway. So I gave it up.
When it comes to schools, don't take your children to any school. Find out as much as you can about the school before you take your child there. Performance could be the main thing you are looking for but don't compromise your child's well being for good performance. As for house girls, never settle for anyone. I know parents who fast, seeking GOD's direction for a good house girl. And it works! You get a gossiper as a housegirl, like it or not, that habit will be reflected in your child because, apart from teachers and friends, she is the person your child spends a lot of time with, mostly when you are a way- you get the risk?
When you have done all these, the type of friends your child will have is not likely to worry you because you have equipped her well enough to make friends with good people. In fact, you will never have to worry on that score.

I am sure if you love your child for real and you wanna see them prosper, then I suspect doing anything for their well being is not too much.

I want to end with a nice story. The bible says, the seed of the righteous is blessed. So it doesn't matter what happens in between during the life of your child. You may do everything within your power to prevent a bad eventuality. You may take your child to church right from the time he is born for dedication, then ensure she attends Sunday School, get baptized later and instead of standing for the LORD, she follows a path you would have never imagined.
Keep praying for your child, the bible doesn't lie. It says the seed of the righteous is blessed and even if she turns out to be a drug trafficker, she is blessed and that settles it. Pray for your child and stand in the Lord. As the parent, you have authority over her life and she will one day(it is never late for GOD), come around; the bible says the fervent prayer of the righteous avails much...pray!