Tales From The Garbage Collector

Image Credit: nola.com

"How come you got a baby and you didn't tell me?" My garbage collector asked me the other day. "How did you know?" I asked. "I am your garbage collector", he retorted. Ala! Had I missed the memo? I wondered to myself...

I tend to keep to myself. To mind my own business. To lead a quiet life. You can say am a bit snobbish but am not anti-social neither am I arrogant or rude. I will say hi to people, like the gate man, the shop keeper, the mama mboga, the taxi man, the butcher man and the garbage guy. I will also engage in small talk when they are serving me, but nothing elaborate, nothing personal.

So, I found it a little intruding when the garbage guy demanded to know why I had not informed him of the new development. He says he actually felt cheated to have to discover that for himself. To find the evidence in the garbage bag.

The garbage collectors knows so much about people, more than we want to imagine. Apparently, he is the person who ends up with the evidence of our lives. He knows the kind of lifestyle a family leads. He know their attitudes, their preferences, and he has the incriminating specimens as well as the treasured lessons from each family.

As we engaged in this conversation I sought to know the kind of family we are, based on our garbage bag. I was surprised at his 3 major findings:

1. We hardly waste food. He had noted that we hardly have left overs stuck in the garbage and he wondered why. I was a bit shocked by that revelation but again it reveals who we are... a finishing generation. We eat it all. And again, economy imekuwa tight. Apparently he had noticed that very many families still waste a lot of food.
2. He never gets paper bags and plastics which are his highly sought after treasures. Thinking about it, we collects plastic bags and plastic bottles keep them. Then when we get a visitor who would benefit from such, we give them. 
3. I am the one who removes garbage. I laughed at this one. I can't remember my wife and I agreeing that I am the one to be removing the garbage, but that is a role I have played all along. 

This conversation taught me so many things about people and mostly about ourselves. That as much as we may not be close to people as we think, there is so much we can learn and teach just through observation. And there is so much our garbage bag can tell about us, more than we would be willing to expose. I was tempted to ask about other people, but then I remembered that is wrong and curiosity killed the cat. Maybe I should volunteer for a month in our estate and I will have a story about my neighbors. 

My garbage having had collected our garbage for more than 3 years, had made such a connection with us. A connection that I had no idea. He considered us family, and unfortunately to us, he was just a garbage guy. What a revelation. 

What does the content in your garbage bag say about you?

Heaven Day 1

On the waiting room, she sat and pondered, how could her husband have made it in heaven. They both had been involved in a fatal accident during the day and that was their last day on earth. And now each in a glass cubicle, they were waiting to be ushered into paradise. But her mind was bothered. She really wanted to know what had happened that gave her husband access to heaven. Having lived with him for 32 years, she doubted he would even get near anything glorious.



She was first to enter through the door that was on the far corner of the glass cubicle that lead into paradise. And Alas! She was in hell.



Not really understanding the occurences that sorrounded her, she demanded an explanation. And God being just assigned to her an angel. The angel was so heartbroken to see the agony in the woman's eyes, he broke down into tears.



''Woman, if only you loved. That was the greatest commandment. That you love God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself. I know while on earth you did your best, but we could not fail to notice that when you came over here and saw your husband on the other cubicle, there was no love in your heart. The transactions that went in your heart were the transactions of judgement, the transactions of giving up on people and transactions of deciding people's fate in your heart and these have denied you access to heaven. For in heaven only love abides.
_____



God is love and those who know God live in love.



Love your God with all your heart, your mind and your strength, and love your neighbor as you love yourself. This is the greatest commandment



People may not deserve it, but just love. While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us and loved us. That is the love we are called to. That while our neighbor is unlovable and undeserving, that we shall love them and wish for them what we wish for ourselves.

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.

I was a Stranger

In the rural area it is very easy to entertain strangers. You can easily step into a homestead and ask for a mug of water, and you will be given. However, in the urban centers, we hardly even talk to our next door neighbor leave alone a stranger. But I can’t blame the urban folk, they have reasons to be careful.

I was considering Matthew 25:43 which says; I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, as a basis for judgment when Christ will be back and I was challenged. When Jesus talks about a stranger, we more often than not think of a stranded someone in the estate who cannot find house number Y17, or an old man in town who is looking for Chester house and when we offer help, in our mind we always know we have let in a stranger. And as much as that is true I also discovered something else.

When we talk of a stranger, it is someone who does not share your value system. A stranger is someone who you would seek to disassociate because of their beliefs, their behaviors and their habits. And we have enough strangers in the world. But as believers what are we doing about them? Do we extend our love to such folk? Or we just look at them from a far and pity them? Or maybe just pray? But how will they know if we don’t talk to them? How will they know if we don’t reach out to them in love.

Jesus demonstrated the kind of open heart we should, yet we must guard not to be swallowed since bad company corrupts good morals. But we cannot keep safe by keeping away. We need to develop a capacity to interact with the strangers and influence them positively. When I look at Jesus, he was able to converse with a Samaritan woman who was a manizer, and she was never the same again. He would interact with a tax collector and influence them for the kingdom. That is the capacity I am talking about.

There are people who are lost and in going through different issues in life. We have prostitutes, thieves, homosexuals, witches, drunks and even murders, and I have met some who would love to come and join the kingdom, but they don’t know where to start. They are strangers looking to be let in, but what do we do? We judge them, we throw them out, even those who have been converted, we see them from their past, not for what they could become. And they keep feeling as strangers. And within no time, they just find they cannot fit in.

What manner of love is this, that even when we were sinners, Jesus loved us and died for us? That is the kind of love we need to have. To love the sinners and open our homes (lives) for them. And though we would wish they converted and left their ways, it may take more time than we think. So, let’s just plant the right seeds and God, who makes rain fall to both the righteous and the sinners, will water the seeds and in due time, our efforts will not be in vain.

Which stranger are you not letting in? Let us not be the lot who will be saying on judgment day, ⁴⁴ “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’   ⁴⁵ “He will reply, ‘truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’  ⁴⁶ “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.” Mat 25: 44-46  NIV

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.

Do I love my neighbor?

Today, I find myself wrestling with various thoughts on life. I find myself comparing the way life is lived out around me, and how I long for it to be something more. So many people live life under the constant pressure to keep up with those around them. It could be something as small as putting food on the table, and paying the electric bill, or it can be something that makes it looks like you have it going on, by having the best clad, or having the newest phone.

One of the things I find intriguing when I meet new people is that people sometimes get self-conscience when you ask them, "what do you do?" The question is vague on purpose because I like to hear what the person will say. Must responses quickly go to occupations? Others will talk about what they do in school or various other community activities. There are some people who have no problem with the question and give the quick response of their job title, there are those who dance around the question. They feel it is important to give a preliminary comment that either implies a discontent with the job or that it is just a temporary thing. For some this insecurity comes from the fact that their current job is not what they got their degree in, while others feel their job is less important than other occupations. Plus there are others who struggle with feeling that they are overqualified or under appreciated at their current employment.

To sum up my random thoughts here, I think what is at the heart of these reflections can be found in James. In the book of James, the author encourages us to put action to our faith. In James 2:14-17, we are challenged to meet the needs of those around us. "if a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food, and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, be warned and be filled," and yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body, what use is it? Even so faith, if it has no works, is dead, being by itself."

In our busy lives, we must not forget to live out our faith. There is nothing wrong with having nice stuff, and buying things that you like. But if we forget about the needs of those around us, and aren't willing to sacrifice a little of what God has given us, how can we expect God or others to do same for us. As the body without the spirit is dead, and faith without deeds is dead, so also we become dead when all we look only to our own needs.