Of Books And Life

I am not an educationist and I really don't know whether our education system really delivers. But I loved school. I loved school especially because it exposed me to all kind of people. And learning about people is one major life lesson. This is because people are the main component of life.

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My mother while commenting on books would say, "people are books; letters from God. You can learn a lot from people". And true to her words, people are a vast reservoir of resources and wealth. No wonder I love observing people. I love watching people. Tracking their lives. And, I do learn a lot. 

School exposed me to all kinds of people. Little flowers budding. No one really knew what life had in store for any of us. And every time I observe how life unfolds for different people, it gives me perspective. It really hits me hard when you receive the bad news that so and so is no more. Why does it always happen that those that I never imagined dead, die? Or you meet the guy who tied the knot on the number line every end term and he challenges you to the core. Life truly is unpredictable. And when the unknown becomes know in hindsight, it humbles me. Who would have known?

I have tried to reconnect with most of the people we shared something while growing up, some were my classmates, others were village mates, others were work mates while others were church mates. All kind of people. And it amazes me that I can actually pick out something valuable I learnt from them. One day I write out my lessons from different people and I am so sure many of them will not believe. I have learnt so much from people. Lessons they may never be aware they passed to me and that have stuck with me.

Last week I was thinking about this girl I schooled with in primary school. She was so academically challenged the school administration would push her to the next class just to have her clear school now that her age mates were way ahead of her. I caught up with her in class seven and she was pushed to class eight. This girl had never really passed any test in her entire life. It was such a surprise when for once she beat us all by passing the pregnancy test and graduated to the highest education, motherhood. I wonder how life eventually turned out for her. 

And as I keep reading books, interacting with people and learning from them, I have come to understand that true success is not in getting ahead of others. True success is in getting ahead of yourself.

Are You Zero Grazing Your Children?

Sometimes when I look at some disinfectant TVC I get so angry. What do you mean there are germs everywhere? I am not saying there are no germs, but they are not everywhere. Unfortunately we have been brain washed to the benefit of these products.

I think some of our children are reared like the broiler chicken. Indoors, lots of junk food, limited space to walk, artificial lighting and modern gadgets. Those too are experiences, but we are all sure what the products are.

I am happy I was born in my generation where I was allowed to graze freely. The things we did can kill the today’s zero grazed child. We ate some gum from a tree I have no idea what is the English name. And it was such a delicacy. We dug beetles from cow dung by urinating in their holes to force them out. We fished tadpoles thinking they were fish. We made mud slides during the rainy seasons. We ate the roadside stones when it rained just because they smelt aromatic. Oh, and we didn’t die.

I know things have changed. We don’t have forests or rivers or even space to let our children, we cannot trust them to roam around and we are too busy. When was the last time you played with your children? Outdoor?

We are limited I know, but I still believe it is a parents responsibility to create moments and experiences for their children. It is so unfortunate that most of our children have never seen a cow giving birth, or even a cow being milked. They can neither make fire nor make tea. They have never seen a tadpole leave alone a frog. It is a sad thing.

With all our excuses, we are lucky as a country that we can give such experiences to our children if we made deliberate efforts. A friend of mine Emanzo is doing such a great work with his Bush Culture Programs. And I agree with his concept. That unless we do something and create some of  these experiences for our children, they will never understand why environment is such an important things and they may never ever understand life as they ought to.

So this coming holiday, do something with your children. And if you need help, you can always contact me to help you create experiences for you children, experiences that will remain with them for the rest of their lives.

www.teambuildingcompany.co.ke

Am I that Ugly?

When I was in primary school I would feel so harassed if we met up with a classmate on weekends especially when I am with my parents. I would not even say hi to them openly; worse still if the classmate is a girl and my dad is teasing me if that is my girl. He loved doing that J and I would dread such moments.

There was this one day when I was in class one and we had parents’ day in our school. Since there was no one at home my mum decided to bring the keys to the house to me so that during lunch time I don’t get stranded, but rather I would go home and find food and sort myself.

It’s break time and as usual I am hanging out with my usual suspects in the field playing, then I see my mum approaching us. She is smartly dressed in a blue chiffon dress that had some black dots. She was looking homely yet elegant. For reasons not known to me, instead of running towards her I started running away from her. You know the kind of run you would do if you sighted a ghost? Such kind. Now the kids are running after me shouting and my mum is behind us walking.

The genius in me told me to run to our class and sit at my desk. Furiously my mum came into the class and starting pinching me shouting… “am I that ugly that you don’t want your friends to see me… why are you running away from me like I bite? Am I that ugly?” You should have seen my classmates peeping through the window and laughing at me.

Years later as we were discussing with my mum of this incident I got to understand where she was coming from and the depth of my foolishness. No parent wants to imagine that they are not good enough for their children. They do their best to make sure those little boys and girls they are raising have the best and have their needs covered. And what do they expect in return, I guess it’s just honor.

You can’t payback for what your parents did for you. All you can do is honor them and appreciate them for their efforts. But many a times just like the foolish me back then, we humiliate them with our actions. If only I knew better then.

His Own

The other day I was in the village and someone was screaming during the day. That is the only alarm system available for the village folks. The best thing about these people is their willingness to indulge in such occasions. They all come to either help or just watch depending on the happening. The watching part is the favorite for most.

When I was growing up, I was not spared. Our homestead was a shoot location for a drama series. It’s not once or twice we had villagers coming to spectate as we washed our dirty linen outside our yard. I think I only survived the shame because most of it happened at night and also the following episodes would be shot at a neighbor before it gets back to ours. The funny part is how people behave the next day as if nothing happened. Unless your face still carries the evidence.

There is this one night my folks were fighting and my brother and I were really pissed. Occasionally, I would avoid taking sides because I had discovered I needed both my parents the same way. But this night, I needed to say something. I am actually not the one who started; I am more of a coward, my bro did.

He ferociously tried to tell off our dad, mumbling a few words as his 5 year old mind would allow. Then when he ran out of what to say, the moment fell awkwardly silent. I raised my voice, still hiding among the spectators and yelled at our dad; “hey, just allow me into the house I pick up my stuff I go. I don’t belong here”.

And in that awkwardness our dad answered back laughing, “If you want to leave, go ahead, but first come here and remove the cloths you are wearing, everything you have here is mine”. And the crowd laughed at me hilariously. I was 6 yrs old and I had never felt that helplessly cornered and owned. Clearly there was no way I could detach myself from the circus.

That statement has never left me, more so when I think about our father in heaven. He owns us and everything we have. Yet many a times we want to excuse ourselves from his affairs, especially when we feel inconvenienced and disadvantaged. And unlike our earthly dads, his ownership is bound with such a deep amazing love that we can’t comprehend. Even when things are ugly, when things are tough, when things are not making much sense, he is just but crafting something beautiful out of us.

The call of God on your life may be taxing you. Loving your neighbor may seem an impossible task. Being a peacemaker may not be a thought in your mind. And yet that is your call; to uphold the values of God and to walk in his principles. And I know how now or then we get the feeling that we should back off and give up on God, that we don’t belong.

Or maybe the show is on your yard. Neighbors spectating your struggles and enjoying the drama in your life. But it’s not for you to respond in bitterness, depression, shame or by running away. No. Just know that you belong to him. Everything you are and everything you have is his. And so you have nowhere to go. Stick through the process.

It’s for God to Judge

Why would God put a commandment and declared that you should not covet after your neighbors’ wife? You can never understand that until you get married! When I was thinking about that (triggered by someone’s comment how I have the best wife, which I do and I thank God), I realized most of the time we look outwardly and not inwardly to gauge how well we are doing.

When I was a kid, I remember cooking stories about my parents especially my dad so that we don’t look like we are down. And we would go further to bragging among other kids when we have cooked chapos and kuku or something like that. And kids would take turns proving how good they are beyond the rest.

I remember when I was in class three after the Easter holidays, I came bragging to my desk mate the way our dad took us to the Aberdares country lodge and the fun we had. Then he narrated to me how they went visiting their uncle in Gilgil and how they went through a roundabout. The funny part of this story is I felt so defeated because I hadn’t been to Gilgil and I didn’t know what a roundabout was and my simple mind imagined going through a roundabout must be a greater experience beyond the visit we had.

Last month I had a chance to pass through Gilgil on my way to Nakuru and didn’t I laugh at myself when I remembered that story, there is no roundabout in Gilgil!

Human beings have a tendency to compare with their peers, thus the word peer pressure. We have developed a competitive spirit and we actually evaluate how well someone is doing based on how other people are doing. That is why it is generally acceptable among some people to fake till they make it. But I have been thinking how erroneous and empty such a thing is.

That is nothing compared to what people say about those who die, especially if such people are not religious or have conspicuous character flaws. In low tones and in whispers, you will hear some declaring how they are rotting in hell and such, and then the funeral is just a PR exercise. But does it matter? I mean they are already dead.

I have been thinking about it and I must say it’s something I want to get out of. Our lives are not for comparison, because we have different gifts, different stories and different reasons why God placed us on earth. And as much as we would want everyone to adhere to our own code of values, we must be ready to accept that we could be wrong.

I like what Paul says when he say, I consider everything else rubbish to the knowing of Christ. And that is the place I would like to get to. And in that place, you only wish the best for other people, not thinking highly or lowly of yourself but just living your life to please God.

Why do people talk bad about Judas the Iscariot? Have you ever considered that part of his purpose on earth was to betray Jesus so that he can actually be crucified for you and me to access salvation? And if that was his purpose, why wouldn’t God accept him in his Kingdom for doing his purpose? Just a thought

I am so sure at the cross very few people knew that the thief on the right hand of Christ spent his evening in paradise. Maybe the person he stole from prided in the justice he got through crucifixion and she would narrate how in hell he was rotting…. How erroneous.

The thing is, it doesn’t matter what we think about you as human beings, what matters is what God thinks about you. And so we should focus on pleasing God and not men, and stop judging other people because we don’t know what God is up to with their lives. And most of all, that we may accept who we are and grateful for what God has blessed us with.

God the mum and God the dad

Now if you grew up in the rural area and raised by a housewife or a peasant farmer as we intelligently refer to them, you can bear me witness that mama was ever there, for almost everything. I can’t remember any day we didn’t have mum at home. There was no day she was ever on leave. And so we kind of got used to having her as a sign of security. On the other hand, dad used to work in the big city and he would come every Saturday and leave on Sunday.

Having gotten used to mum, my younger brother and I would eagerly wait for my dad from noon on Saturdays, because we knew he would arrive anytime from then and we would get a packet of malaika biscuit. Some days he would come early but most times would come so late and we would be so mad, but on sighting him, all the anger would melt and we would run towards him and jump all over him in gladness. There are times because of work commitments he would miss coming on a particular weekend and we would be sad especially if we didn’t know in advance. You can imagine waiting on him all day, preparing your taste buds for malaika biscuits and fried meat for supper just to miss. It was very disappointing.

I must say we were naughty boys just like every other boy, and mum would beat us almost every day. And I remember sometimes we would get so angry and wish our mum was dead. (You can forgive us we were just foolish and young). At times after a thorough beating, we would tell mum that we will tell on her when dad comes. And she would dare us to. We never would.

Now I remember there were occasions my mum would be late to come back home and we would get so scared and we would not enter the house in fear of darkness. This rarely happened but when it did, we would start crying and praying that our mum may come back. All of a sudden we would imagine what if she left not to come back again? Or if she got an accident and got hurt? Or died? Or a big hyena ate her? And we would cry and start praying. We would tell God that if she comes back alive, we will be good boys. We would not imagine life without our mother. And on sighting her shadow at the gate, we would run so fast, happy to see her again and we would relieve her of her luggage. Of course we never kept our part of the deal with God.

They used to say a parent is a second god. And I relate to that fully, but on thinking about my parents and God I found out something interesting. My mum is the ‘god’ who is with you every day, keen to discipline you, ready to be your friend and help you out every day, and who makes sure your life runs smoothly. But because of the unconditional love and the availability we would so often get used to her, and at times we would despise her on her face. Taking her for granted until the day she gets late to come home and we just can’t imagine life without her.

Dad is the ‘god’ who we interact on weekends. Who we would look forward to because he come with gifts, and since he is never there all week, we can manage to stage a good mannered boy, and even when mum would complain that we have become naughty, dad would not get any evidence of it. We would do everything mum wants and dad would think we are a set of angels. 

And thinking about it I see the same thing at times when am interacting with God, just that he can see everything. During the week I will struggle to keep my relationship with God because I will feel like He is demanding too much out of me, adding on discipline issues and me managing my daily affairs the way He want. I don’t want a God who is meticulous and detailed. It can be tiring.

I want a weekend God, who I can dress for on Sunday and behave like a saint yet I have been a naughty boy. I want a God who comes with gifts, who we can have an intense moment then he will be off on his way to work on Sunday evening and I will have the week to myself. I want that God. 

But who am I lying to? I couldn’t handle a dark house without mum around, the same way I can't handle a dark moment without God, and so I will have to drop my fantasy, which I have played along. And God I am sorry. For I know you want to be God the mum and God the dad to me, to be with me all week and even more during weekends. That I may involve you in all I do, and when you discipline me, I should delight in your corrections, I should long for intense community interactions on Sunday without watering down my daily experience with you. 

God help me….

You are God the mum and God the dad to me.

All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten

I was reading a book by Robert Fulghum tittled All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten and I must say it's quite refreshing. He says most of what he really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be he learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of graduate school mountain, but there in the sand pile at Sunday School.

These are things he says he learned:

Share everything.

Play fair.

Don't hit people.

Put things back where you found them.

Clean up your own mess.

Don't take things that aren't yours.

Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.

Wash your hands before you eat.

Flush.

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

Live a balance life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.

Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together

Be aware of wonder.

This got me thinking about what I learned in nursery school (i didn't go to kindergarten). This was July 1988 and I don’t have much memories of this. I was enrolled to a nursery school that had two streams. One class was the bright kids; those who were in their second year, and the foolish ones, those who were in their first year. Having joined the school midyear, I knew nothing. Again, here everyone was speaking vernacular and I was a boy from the city.

We used to do songs more than read. I used to love break time where boy and girls would sing together without the feeling that this is a girl or this is a boy. I remember girls would sing a song that ended with them lifting their dress to show us their underpants and we would all giggle. The boys would look for dung beetles. We would urinated inside their holes and beetles would come up and we would have them as pets. Some beetles had horns and if you had one like that, you were the day's hero. We would hunt locusts and eat gum from the gum tree

I learnt so many songs that still linger in my mind to this day. Being in school was great. We would have our exercise books cut into two and the pencil cut into small pieces. My pencil would fit in a matchbox which was my pencil case. I had a big knit bag and some days I would get home and realize I have lost the book and the pencil. But since our teacher followed the same route she would collect the book on the way and bring it home.

Alternatively the book would be collected by a villager and they would bring it home. Some of the memories are the tourist headed to mountain lodge. They would give us sweets, take us photos and such. But there was a scare that they steal kids and go with them to Europe and turn them into monkeys. And when they take your photo they add tails to it and go show the African monkey. And so we would run away every time we saw a tour van.

And class used to start at 9.00 am to end at noon. And we never used to wear uniform. I never used to like any reading that was not musical especially mathematics which was just counting. I remember this day our teacher was away and we had another teacher. I never used to know how to count and I would just gaze waiting for the first person to finish and we duck outside and play. My teacher never cared. But the new teacher was harsh.

This day she was there and when the first kid finished the sums, she took to the teacher and on marking she got everything. I closed my booklet and started walking out now that I had someone to play with. Our new teacher couldn’t understand. She denied me to go out and demanded I do my sums and get them right before I go out. You can guess what happened. Everyone did their sum and went out to play. I was left alone in class and the teacher whose desk was near the door sworn I was not going anywhere until I finish.

The sound of other kids playing outside made me want to die. I couldn’t believe I was missing break. I tried guessing the answers to the sums, only to use my saliva-wetted finger to try erase and in turn dirtied and torn the book. I wanted to kill the teacher. I just didn’t know how. So, I gathered momentum and found my way out through the window. She was not amused.

She came after me and when she got me she pinched my cheeks I bled. The next day, my mother brought me to school and gave her a piece of her mind. My mum didn’t care if I can’t get anything in class, so longer no one beats me and I am allowed to play. That was enough learning.

What did I learn in nursery school? Would I say that this is all I need to learn? I am not sure, but this is what I would say I learned.

1. You can turn everything into a musical or at least rhythmical.
2. If you are not getting it, join them for play after they are done, and celebrate life.
3. No one should stop you from doing what makes you happy even if they think it’s nonsense
4. Networking is key, join a play group. you can never do life alone.
5. Life should be fun and free, the rest comes as you go by.

Back in the days 1

My dad was a driver. And he used to enjoy his work or so I thought. I was born in Kibera slum and I didn’t know it was a slum. I knew that is home. I had uncles and aunts and cousins living in the same place. So was my grandfather and once in a while my grandmother would come to visit. Some of the memories I remember then is my mum warming water for dad in the morning using  2 kg Kimbo tin on a stove, and dad going to shower in the communal bathroom. I remember mama Michael, our land lady. They used to cook with cowboy cooking fat and their chapatis were sweeter than ours. I remember Michael who used to shower with lifebuoy soap, and it had a very strong smell. I used to wish I lived with the Michaels. We had a neighbor who had a girl called Lillian. I can't remember much about Lillian, but I remember her going for a long call in a ditch outside our house and I was peeping at her.

I remember going to church to Our lady of Guadalupe in Adams arcade.  The church used to so crowded that people would stand during the mass. I loved the part after church because we would be bought ice. On Sunday I would meet my cousins Martin, Lydia and Boyie. We would go back home playing in the vast playing field between adams arcade and kibera slum. Also remember my mum going to the uchumi supermarket and my mum would get Zesta plum jam. It used to be very sweet on bread. At some point in my mind I could not picture the supermarket and I used to think the supermarket was a dam near the showground where you would go and collect the products you want and you would wipe the water and take home. I have no idea where this notion came from.

I also remember the Gathogo's. They used to live in Ayany estate. Gathogo used to work with my dad. It's here that I first saw a different type of a toilet. And I could not manage to relief myself from the seat because it was high. And I helped myself down there. And my mum was so ashamed of me. But she didn’t beat me. I remember they had a very nice drink, which now I know was a fruit punch. But unfortunately after the visit I had a severe diarrhea and I thought in my mind it's because of the what I took there. I admired their hood so much and I started to realize where we lived was of a lower standard.

I also remember a day it flooded on kibera drive near karanja road and the buses were not passing there. We had to alight at Karanja road and walk home. I used to love the trips to town with the buses. My mum would ensure we sat near the driver and she would make us sit on the coffin. I mean the engine looked like a coffin near the driver. I used to admire the bus driver. And I swore to myself that when I grow up I would become a bus driver. How was it that a thin guy was able to carry a hundred of people in one bus? Again, my dad who was my hero, only drove small cars and he used to brag to me, I wanted to be better than my dad. Driving a bus was much more than driving a small car.

I have a brother, Daniel who is exactly one and a half years younger than me. I don’t have a first distinct memory of him. I just started to realizing we were two. My mother used to hide the house keys under the door and she would ask us not to show anyone apart from dad, incase he came back from work before mum came. One day, our grandmother Shelmith came to visit and we showed her the key to the house. We were so delighted to see our grandmother and we so welcome her in the house. My mother was not impressed by our generosity and opening the house to her. After my grandmother left my mother pinched my cheeks so hard I had bruises. I learnt the lesson. A family is made up of a father, a mother and your brother.

I also remember visiting my cousins; Muthoni. They lived in a very nice house on Karanja road. It had many rooms including a bathroom and a toilet, they had a TV, a cooking gas and when you visit they would buy soda. Muthoni was a little princess. At some point I wished I was a girl. They were light skinned and everything about them was different. I had a lot of questions about our family. Why we only lived in a single room when people like Muthoni lived in a big house. I feared their house though. My mum had told us about a story where a man was left by his master in his house and warned not to open a specific room. But out of greed he open the room and a leopard ate him and his family. When my mum was narrating this story, I would form a mental image and I would imagine my cousins house as the master house. So when we visit I was afraid to go to other rooms lest a leopard eats me.

I cant remember us going shags, but I found us living in our grandmothers house and sharing it with our aunt Lucy. Live here was so different and we had a tap of running water outside the house. My grandmother had a cow called queen and it used to fight people. It had long horns and the only friend was my grandmother, who would milk it and feed it.