Making it Special

When I was three weeks old, my mother run back into the house from the communal water tank in the slum after some women told her she could kill me by laying me on my back as I sleep. She could not have imagined having killed her child out of ignorance. But I wouldn’t have blamed her, I was her first child and she was only twenty with no one to help as such.

When I was four months, I had a severe attack of meningitis and am told the doctor said I didn’t have much chance to live and if I did, I would have a damaged brain. Now that am alive, I just need to verify the part for a damaged brain.

When I was seven months, I got measles two months before the vaccination. The ward at Kenyatta was crowded, with mothers spending their nights on the floor as they watch on their babies. The two kids next to our bed on either side died. My life was spared.

I was a sickly kid, who cried all the time and at times especially when my younger brother was born; I was only one and half years old, I would be taken to my aunts just so that my parents can have a break.

When I was six as we were playing in the grassland in the Ngong forest, a black mamba almost bit me, luckily someone spotted it as it approached me and hit its head. When I was ten during the December holiday, another snake almost did the same luckily my dad was with me to kill it.

When I was a teenager, I run away from home severally and attempted suicide more than once. I passed that too. And many other times when I was so sick and I got healed, and times when God has watched over my life and preserved it without my knowledge.

So, today as I celebrate my birthday, I look behind and see the faithfulness of God. And as I look to the future I believe it will be great and glorious. And for my birthday, I want nothing more than a grateful heart. That is how I want to make it special.

Thank you God for this far that you have brought me, I can face tomorrow, because I am with you.