Le'ON

Daddy Days: Missing Our Fathers

It must have been the sixth stairs, though my right foot was already resting on the seventh. There, was a beggar seated on the step with a cup scantily filled with coins. The footbridge at Ngara was choked with people; descending and ascending in quick succession. It was in the evening, the sun was ogling from the horizon, and the curfew hour was fast approaching. So I had to speedily squeeze myself among the flux of humans so that I would make it home before I landed on the wrong side of the law. Nowadays, it’s easy to offend the government and our men in uniform lose their heads whenever they find a civilian on the wrong side. I guess those who shall have made it through this corona pandemic without being arrested should as well be pronounced or pronounce themselves as heroes. Maaanh, it’s so easy to get arrested in Kenya during this uncanny period of the world’s history.

A senior man passes next to me, and the waft he leaves on my face throws me down the memory lane. The smell is a concoction of mature sweat and a faint old cologne; exactly how dad used to smell whenever he came home in the evenings after a long tireless day in his hustle. As I climbed the remaining stairs to cross over, my mind travels back and gets occupied by the fragments of memory about daddy. It’s eight-strong years since he passed.

Things that make us miss our dads! If it’s not rhumba music, Kolela, Dolla Kabari, or Okatch Dolla music being played by a roadside shop or over the local vernacular radio station, then it is the twisti dance by mzee Nzenze or Daudi Kabaka’s hilarious lyrics with a sweetly grotesque melody. Sometimes the fatherless children see someone with a jacket like their dad’s along the road and their memories are awakened. They dream about their fathers.

Sometimes, it’s their old emotionless photo, hanging on the living room, sometimes it’s their favorite seat that remains unoccupied in the house. These are some of the mundane stuff that makes us wish we had a dad. And now that on Father’s day, people will hopefully be appreciating their dads, orphans will be watching and saying, “We miss our dads.”

Yet that may not be the crux of the matter until we realize that those to whom, grace has permitted to still have a father in their lives, do the very least in appreciating them. Fathers receive the very least of attention when people are being prized.

Naturally, children tend to love and bond with their mothers more than with their fathers. To be a father, therefore, is to be thrown on the unfavorable side of nature; too much expectation, a little sympathy, and little appreciation even when you’ve done your best.

Other Voices

“I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father’s protection.” Sigmund Freud.

“The father who does not teach his son his duties is equally guilty with the son who neglects them.” Confucius

“It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.” Anne Sexton.

Many boys are going without fathers hence they are not getting the skills of how to be husbands to girls who perhaps also grew up without fathers. Too many girls growing without their fathers into mothers with little knowledge on how to handle a man who perhaps grew without a father and is lost in his eternal search to be a father. A lot many relationships are today in bad shape because there was a missing link: fatherhood. Always taken slightingly, yet Fatherhood, to this end, has proven to be very important.

So today, as we appreciate our fathers, having lost my dad during my teenage, I can only reminisce upon those old days; the daddy days. And I have, in my recollection enlisted some of the few lessons have deduced:

Daddy days remind me of how fickle time is and how it passes so fast. It is now clear that my childhood with its drama, complexities, and challenges, has now varnished. And despite the tragic death of my dad, I have learned to cope up, man up, and trying to grow up into the man he never was but would want to be.
Daddy days remind of that a man must always work hard and provide for the family.
That to father a child, one needs not only the material resources but also enough emotional and spiritual preparations; a great deal of it.
That while I may not have had a great childhood with a perfect father, yet I may still just be a great father to my children. For indeed, even the seemingly great parents also failed at some point.
That being authentic and true to self is imperative. It implies; creating exorbitant time for yourself to grow without hurrying into fatherhood.
That being able to spread sperms doesn’t make one a father, even those who can’t bear children can still be fathers. Fatherhood is more than just making a woman pregnant.
That a man must Pray! And love his children as His Father loves him. Faith is indeed the reservoir of courage, hope, and purpose.

My memory with my dad is a lot more to me like the Northern star, through his mistakes I learn to mend, through his success I set a formidable grounding. While I, as most fatherless children, always searching for a mentor in my life, before I get one, I use my dad’s recollections to forge my path. So, to the boys with dads, the girls with dads, how I wish you knew we strongly crave for those old bearded, face-wrinkled, stubborn, sometimes autocratic, nagging, overly possessive, full of mistakes, sometimes negligent, and what-have-you type of human beings in our lives. Fathers are incredible humans!

HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO FATHERS AND POTENTIAL FATHERS

Mama’s Love-Happy Mother’s Day

Because you bore in fulfillment all the naggings,

The pain, the deserting miseries of motherhood,

Certainly knowing, believing,

And praying that the fetus will grow past childhood

And become a person that would fix your broken pieces

And embrace your inadequacies, You’re the true mother

Because you’ve always taken a chance with your babies

Your dreams, education, career, and ambitions you forfeited,

Or put them on hold to take care of the person you had conceived,

It’s the true sacrifice to see one person lay her life down for the other

And in this regard, we celebrate the mother

She has done what ten men combined could never

Yet she embraces her duty, deriving satisfaction in every bit of it

She treads on earth like one who has known no pain

She is not the victim of her perturbations, she loves being a mother

While we love babies, we only love the products

She loves and indeed so, endures and faithfully so

The trouble that comes with bringing a human being to earth

Mama wears love as her favorite garment

Wrapped in the ribbon of peace and compassion

She embraces her role with devotion

And ungrudgingly she makes her children grow in strength;

Of mind, spirit, and intellect

Preparing them to meet the purpose

For which they were created

She doesn’t curse or becomes bitter

For she is a woman, a mother, she has only known

How the hearts melt and tears run down

The passion she has to take care of her own

Going without food, but at least they’ve eaten and grown

She is a true mother, our respect and compassion you’ve always won

Has few clothes but her baby has enough to wear

Can’t protect herself some from the searing cold

But her baby, in her bosom, finds the warmth

The shrilling cry of her child is to her a beacon of hope

That she is bringing up a child that would one day grow up

To fulfill the earth’s broken dreams

Mama’s blessings from the depth of womanhood

Like a fountain that flows searchingly from the mountain through the wood

It gives strengths to our wilting and timid ambitions

Her smile is like the fire that we inhale

And ignites brimstones of hope in our deepest chambers

Her liveliness is like the magical wings

That gives her children the buoyancy to keep striving

So mother, keep making this life deserving

And radiantly our lives shining

To wake up each day knowing

That your prayers are being answered bit by bit

In your children’s lives in the world full of sham

Mother, plant your hope in the sunshine of our youth

Keep believing in us despite our shortcomings

Keep cheering us even when we are falling

It’s your voice of encouragement that keeps us going

For all the sacrifice and lost aspirations

For the love and the continued support

We derive not satisfaction

In celebrating you on one day, this day

We celebrate you, mothers, every day of our lives.

Happy Mother’s Day to My Mum, Nyobera.

Happy Mother’s Day to all Mothers.

Happy Birthday Winnie- A Tribute

It was evening, and the skylarks flew;

As they sang their sweetest melodies;

Cattle, gracefully, carried home their bulging bodies;

The stars tarried, brightly shining, it was hope

While the clouds to a far horizon had eloped;

Winds moved with whispering conspiracy of tales untold

And the trees swayed to a quieting rhythm

That was the day, before, she was born;

Earth conspired in preparation to receive the princess,

The magnificent trophy which life had won.

The lady whose smile makes the sun blush

Doves cooing, the day broke with unison chorus;

Their psalms tuned the hearts, it was all dazzle, and time had no rush;

25^th day of April, [26] years ago, it happened like a drill;

To mum and daddy, the day brought a thrill;

The entire family rejoiced after a long waiting;

The beautiful girl was ushered with much rejoicing;

To the world to make her purpose best befitting;

And one day get me a poem writing;

Expressing my gratitude for the nice person she is becoming;

Rocking life like a fearless lioness;

Wedded to her dreams like bees sucking nectar,

From the flowers of life to give to the world her honey;

And your name is Nyaboke, which is honey;

Honey! Honey! Can you hear me calling?

Your devotion to the things you love is unmatched;

Poetry, psychiatry, liberation, education; books and the talks you watch;

Your treasures; family and friends whom you value so much;

And your detest for earthly vanity;

Distinguishes you from others who lust after triviality;

Yet you entertain a little bit of levity;

Your confession; the things that make us friends is as much stupidity;

As is intellect, candidness, compassion and integrity;

No one is going to get you off from the love of your life

Be it by hook or by crook, girl you love so firmly,

You are the friend whose love strikes like thunder;

And palpably affects me like a magnet, you are a wonder;

A sure source of inspiration to those who dare to dream;

And an anchor that supports those who can win.

To the girl with a crystalline personality, our admiration you earn;

Sharp like a razor’s edge yet does no harm;

Has a soft and pliable persona like a little baby’s arm;

And wears kindness like a crown of charm;

Still sparks, and is spirited like a high voltage electricity;

That brings power to the system of humanity;

Your face, it lusters and with shining rays;

Of your smile that turns the darkest nights to days;

Now as you turn a year older may this day;

With its celestial glory make you gay;

Yet find in it the inspiration to grow in an upward way;

Go and have of yourself; a bountiful and happy birthday.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PINEAPPLE

Your passion for education inspires the galaxy of humanity. Our professor in the making.

JUST SCREAM Revamped, Revised, Reedited and Republished

I come to you with a message, a good one; That my maiden book got rebirthed. You see, when I first published this book, it was quite naïve and innocent like a virgin. It bore in it my raw, novice and indeed green thoughts. And from my estimation, it wasn’t properly done both from the publisher, and the author. I wasn’t proud.

I went back to the drawing board and revamped the book.

And now, this is the version of the book that I desired to have published. Tweaked to address senior high school and college students, Just Scream is a one-on-one conversation with the youth. In it, I share my two cents and experiences with being a youth who is called a millennial, and cursed by life.

Just Scream is about Hope, about staying positive, about being happy with unhappiness. It’s my slim, though significant, attempt to help my young brothers and sisters prevent and cope up with mental illnesses like depression. I would be arrogant to say the book is the ultimate balm of Gilead for mental illness. No. To say so, is only comparative to a wishful thinking, that one man can successfully hug a mountain. I have only provided my small effort in the collective fight against mental illness, something that ravages the lives of our young brothers and sisters.

And as Viktor Frankl says, “But there was no need to be ashamed of tears, for tears bore witness that a man had the greatest courage, the courage to suffer,” my book challenges men to cry, or better yet, Just Scream. Because there is indeed some power there, in crying.

I will avail the digital versions soon so that we keep distance as we read. And for those in Nairobi, I will be availing sanitized hard copies, soon.

Grace and Gratitude- My Birthday Reflections.

It’s in the afternoon, the sun ogles at the earth with intense scrutiny. We are seated at the beautiful sunny beach of Gerard Larose, Seychelles. The water shore swings rhythmically like two lovers, enamored into a romantic chit chat while dancing salsa in a less tense atmosphere. We are seated shoulder to shoulder, very close. The type of closeness that violates the “social-distancing rule”. There is no covid-19 here.

She has her legs crossed over mine as we watch from afar, dolphins squirm on the blue sea that spreads in front of us. Her legs though, I’m enchanted. Girl has got cute legs, those legs that would prestigiously walk you into your dream life. The type of legs that hug the ground with an authority. I mean, premium legs.

Some legs are not just to be called legs, that name is so precise, and it comes out loose and rough, ati legs, just like that!?!!. Some legs ought to be called smooth names like; poyee, canopy, yogoyogo, potopoto or better yet rabolomaler. ‘Legs’ isn’t a cute name for two admirable thick strands of flesh supporting a gorgeous woman.

While her attention is trapped by the scene of playful dolphins, my eyes are entrapped in admiration to her potopoto, the cute poyees, the cool canopy. And I don’t bulge. When I love I love, I can die while admiring such monumental legs. Legs that deserve seventeen air gunshots and straight-up army parade oversighted by His Excellency, the commander-in-chief of Cute legs. Epic.

“Dolphins can be so beautiful, wow!” she exclaims.

“What? Legs can be so beautiful,” I retort.

“Which legs, boy, dolphins got fins not legs?”

“Yes, but humans got legs, not fins.”

It’s only then that she discovers that I have been, for all this time admiring her poyees. She blushes, thunderously. I then dynamically stretch out my arm to hug and draw her closer for a peck.

I wake up. I turn. I get mad, and grudge. What I wasted dream!

I only discover that I’m lying on my bed like a lifeless bull, and tightly hugging my fluffy pillow which is softer than the mushy loam soil of Kadem. I reach out for my phone to confirm the time, it’s 4:34 am, 26 minutes to 5:00 am. My alarm always rings at 5:00 am. Since I joined the 5 am CLUB, I wake up every day at 5 to pray, read, exercise and yeah…kick start my day.

But since the corona global crisis, my sleep partner has been distorted. Staying indoors most of the day, I find myself sleeping very late. But today, I have woken up earlier than usual and I can’t bring myself to understand why.

Seated on the edge of my bed, bare chest, jerking my chin with my arms, my thoughts race back and forth. Sometimes thoughts go grazing afar, and they must be summoned back in dire times of need. My brain kicks up and I remember it’s 25^th March, MY BIRTHDAY.

“Boooooy! It’s your birthday amidst a coronavirus crisis, a global pandemic.”

“The world is full of negativity, many people have lost their lives, Italy is crumbling, China is resuscitating. Hope has been blasted. Do we really have anything to be thankful for? As a musician puts it: Do you see anything to smile about.?”

“I guess, there are things to be thankful for,” I reassure myself.

Turns on the light, seats on my reading table and opens the laptop to write positive vibes only, the things I am sure God in His awesomeness has granted me an opportunity to be thankful for. Indeed, for the years I have been in the world, as much as things stand gloomy, there is a lot more to reflect and be thankful. It’s grace.

Family and Friends

I’m eternally grateful for my family. God blessed us with a strong, wise and insightful mother who holds our family in place. And she is prayerful, mothers can pray. Growing up without a father has come with its shades of challenges but it’s the challenges that are refining us to live up to our dreams and aspirations. We’ve always missed Papa Ratego, but such is life, we live and leave when the time comes. My brother and sisters, cousins, nephews, aunties and uncles, big love.

True and genuine friends are a gem and are indeed difficult to find. For the friends that I always count on, I’m indebted to your love and comradeship. I also strive to be a true and genuine friend. And for the Boy’s circle, we keep it spirited.

Life and Aspirations

Enjoying my little achievements keep me going, however infinitesimal. I’m the optimist. I look at the positive side of life because I have been through much darkness to keep myself bogged down by negativity. So, I hope, light up and enthuse. I don’t distress myself of dark imaginings, for paranoia, fatigue and loneliness are the seedbeds of fear.

I have learned to keep myself interested in my career and keep grinding on my work. Follow closely, my passions. And while at it, aim at making the world a better place. I think this is what I was called for; service to humanity.

I have learned to be tolerant of others whom I don’t share views, culture, and religion, for life is full of humor; I have met many nice people and have been helped a lot many times by people from the other side. And there is nothing cool about being rigid, for no one has the monopoly of wisdom in life. It’s just as prudent to learn a few things from others as you would them learn from you.

Listening keenly to people’s story opens one up to see the world from a different perspective. And never belittling those who look ignorant is a glorious hallmark of patience, kindness, tolerance, and maturity.

God

There are times I have felt that God lets me down. So I have always confronted Him. I ask Him tough questions. We argue, he is my dad. Sometimes I have doubted Him. We wrestle. And it’s amidst the struggle that He has reassured my soul. He is the source of wisdom. He has fixed my spiritually broken bones.

Hey, Big Man, Much LOVE for this far. I’m your favorite kid who keeps asking a lot of questions. A curious kid. But also obedient. I bow, I Love you.

Sometimes I think of myself that a believer who hasn’t been an atheist even for 5 minutes in his/her life hasn’t actually discovered who God is. Because, it takes doubt to decide, and demanding questions to discover answers to the deep issues of life. There is a revelation in drilling, searching, asking and learning.

And to the youths who are struggling with the question of Faith and Spirituality, hold on there. Don’t give up, because it’s when you seem lost that you are close to discovering yourself. And remember, spirituality is an important frontier of your life, you must ensure you perk it up. As much as you desire to grow intellectually, emotionally, and physically, you must grow spiritually. And as my pastor advises, “God finds the lost,” so hold on there.

Let’s Talk About Food

I still don’t like githeri unless it’s served with avocado that went to “the group of schools”, the type of avocado that can heal broken relationships. Arrow roots (aka nduma) are still my favorite breakfast meal, and a lot of chickens break bones whenever I get paid. My latest addiction is tea and kebab, sounds pedestrian. Boy can leave his house board a matatu to town (Uber once in a while), alight at Commercial, walk to Home Lunch restaurant along Moi Avenue just to take Kebab and chai, now that is the stupid thing with addiction. Maybe, it’s a fleeting thing.

Books

It’s not going to end well if I don’t talk about books. So this month I’m reading Obama’s The Audacity of Hope, seems likely, the best for the current situation, that we all need an audacious Hope. Besides, I’m enjoying Chimamanda’s novel Half of a Yellow Sun. Which ones are you?

And as this week’s routine, I wake up early in the morning to recite a verse or two of my all-time favorite poems; Desiderata by Max Ehrmann. The first and last verses:

GO PLACIDLY amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it’s still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. STRIVE TO BE HAPPY.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DON

P.S: You, the lady with the potopoto, canopy or poyee type of legs, can we meet at Home Lunch for tea and kebab? My budget is tight.

This is Leonard, by then he was called Len June. I don’t know what happened until his name was changed to Leonard. But he indeed a very bubbling and obnoxious child. Fortunately, he has some how grown up

The Flamboyant and young Leonard is seen rocking in a vest, mavin and a track pant, in his village, Karachuonyo Homa bay. Gone are the days when he had money that could summon every expense with a Lionlike roar, he is currently resuscitating.

He is here caught on camera hanging out with one of the city’s oligarchs, Eng Churchil.

To My Friends Whom We’ve Lost Touch Yet, I Still Think About

Had we imagined we could get this far, we would have maximized those moments. How easy was it then when we were all in one place? We were sure to see each other as frequently as possible. We didn’t anticipate much change. Even though we felt things would change but we didn’t give it a good estimate. Until it surely happened.

Now, those times are gone, those moments we took for granted and we wish we had spent more time with each other. We’ve grown apart and the times we can get to at least meet each other have slowly diminished.

But, it’s life. Sometimes it gets hectic. And in the midst of it all, priorities change. We get carried away by new things as we push away the old stuff. We’ve never been ready for these. In the midst of growth, we just shake hands with newness and discover other aspects of life. And we drift, sadly; differently.

We Innocently Dreamt

As kids, we dreamt in unison; pass exams, go to university. Become doctors, engineers, pilots, and lawyers. We didn’t see ourselves becoming teachers, accountants, writers or even worse still job seekers. As kids we knew we would wed together and ensure our kids grew together in families better than ours; where they would apply blueband (margarine) on bread for breakfast.

Sadly; life slyly winked at us. It saw us coming into the future with so much ignorance. And we’ve discovered thinks don’t work like those fairy tales. Probably, they have met their loved ones when you are still confused in the streets of life. Maybe they have settled when you are not yet with your education. Or you’ve just gotten your dream job while they are still tarmacking. Some have moved abroad while you still don’t know “where next” for you.

Change is Inevitable

I got the cue when things started changing but I didn’t want to believe it. I was so much obsessed with the belief that; as long as we lived on this green planet, we could create room for each other. But I was wrong. Some people have simply said, ‘if someone loves and cares for you, they will create time for you.’ But it’s never this simple. Sadly; we can try but it’s never easy. Life can strike like a thunderbolt and your entire universe is changed.

Schedules aren’t ready to cooperate with our wishes, and when we try to create space, other challenges creep in: financial issues, sicknesses and bills, and a lot of uncertainties. Besides, aren’t we humans who can’t handle all of it at once?

During my moments of introspection and reflection, I wonder if we still truly matter to each other. We’ve grown so far away that life begins to look strange. Are we strangers to reality? Does it mean that all the friendships and love we once lavished each other was fake? Was it just a fleeting scene in the episode of our youth?

Memories Are Here with Me

Yet; regardless of the mute and the overcoming feeling that I now have, you can rest assured; I still think about you even if we’ve not seen for a while.

I remember childhood games. I remember the obnoxious us; making fun of crazy jokes. I remember how we studied together and competed in the class. I remember how we fought, cried and forgave. I remember our dedication in church and the memory verses. Those childhood memories are a craze in my world.

I remember the high school funkies. I remember how we exchanged contacts using our shirt collars because we didn’t have phones in school. I remember the dances. I remember academic trips. I remember getting into trouble with master on duty, and the school assembly sessions were terrible when we had committed offenses. I remember the entertainment sessions and how we watched the movies together sometimes fighting over the remote control.

I remember on campus, we read big books and walked everywhere with T-square for engineering drawing. I remember our first meetings and liking each other on the spot. I remember we sang in the choir. We ate dinners together and made fun. I remember how we went out for dates and experimented with things we hadn’t known.

I remember the encouragement you gave me when I was falling apart. I remember your praises when I was succeeding. We loved and cared. We were excited. We thought, believed and promised to spend the rest of our lives by each other’s side. And even when I felt unloved, you showed that I was lovable.

When I reflect on whom we’ve become over time it pales in comparison with whom we were then. Incredibly, we’ve not just grown apart but we’ve grown up.

And so, I remember everything. I think about you at least; most of the time even though it feels like I don’t.

You Are My Friend Forever

I, therefore, hope to see you soon. I want to meet the new you and I want you to see who I am becoming. I believe I have made some incredible improvements in my life. And if indeed I have become better then know that you are a part of the success.

You are the reason I believe in true love and genuine friendship. You are the reason I work hard, not to compete with others but to improve myself and make the world a better place. You are the reason I still believe in myself even in the face of defeats and shortcomings. You are that person! You are the reason I still believe there are true friends. And you are the reason I never shall trade my authenticity for approval.

For so many reasons, you are the person I still count on and will keep thinking about for the rest of my life. Even if we’ve lost touch and we don’t see as often as we would want, I want you to know, I still think about you.

We Lost 14 Lovely Young Souls in a Stampede, Yet We Are Only Mourning Mzee

It’s a bizarre occurrence of how young pupils to a total of fourteen lost their lives in the Kakamega stampede. The fuzziness around the happening isn’t enough to cure Kenyans’ curiosity. And the government’s ambivalence and triviality of it is quite telling. Hence it has staged a situation of no certainty and grayness, as conspiracy stories paint the whole issue into a mystery for varied interpretations.

Yet one thing is certain; that the Kenyan government has done little to unearth the cause of this brutal killing of fourteen promising citizens. The CS for Education promised a forthwith investigation and no one can ascertain that investigations are going on. A decent Kenyan would, therefore, concede that there is more than meet the eye.

Moi’s Death Clout

And it seems that the death of Kenya’s second President, Late Hon Daniel Arap Moi has diverged the attentions of the government and its machinery. All eyes are now focused on the laying to rest of the Baringo descent. A public holiday has already been promised to effect on the 11^th of February. Besides, Kenyans have been invariably urged through mainstream media to mourn the old man. A Kenyan daily, The Standard Newspaper, flooded almost its entire pages with memorial events in picturesque of the late president.

The death of President Moi has accumulated with itself so much clout. With a two divide; those who extremely hate him for his iron fist rulership and poor economic growth during his reign. While there are those harbor glorious memories of his reign; mostly the issuance of free Nyayo milk and songs of braggadocio that enabled the man to wield so much power, unprecedented.

Moi is said to have died at 96 years, though some allege that he was 103 years old. At such an age, all we should expect from a human being is death. He had lived his life, he accomplished his goals. At that age, in fact, we wanted him dead. Do we live forever however good we are? So Moi deserved to have died and we shouldn’t make a big deal of it.

When We Lose Kids, We puncture a Wheel to Destiny

But young girls and boys, some barely 10 years old, died mysteriously in a stampede and we have whisked off the story like it was a small football derby over a weekend! What happened to humanity? Where is the spirit of Ubuntu; the love for each other? Do we really embrace the brand Kenya? The Kenyan spirit. The Kenyans love for each other!

Look, a Kenyan spirit should mean if any Kenyan dies the whole country should be worried about it more so if he/she is a youth. Kids dying mysteriously in a public school isn’t something to treat with a dose of frivolity. This, at least, shouldn’t be a light issue.

Kenyans ought to have mourned the young boys and girls we lost. Kenyans ought to have demanded to know what happened in the school that led to the torturous deaths. But the Kenyans we have wanted a holiday to celebrate the late President who overstayed his welcome and died when everything point he ought to have died. Moi’s life wasn’t snatched of him, he grew too old that he let it go.

But we’ve lost young boys and girls, a brilliant and promising future for a country. The government ought to have given it a top priority. The families need to be handsomely compensated. Well, a dark spell; a curse from the God of compassion will be cast upon us if we do nothing. Kenyans of good will should all together stand and console with those bereaved families.

Diary of the Miaha- Review

It’s one of the rawest and perhaps the realest memoir that I have read in the recent. Verah Omwocha Dinda through her story ushers a reader into the ‘house’ called marriage, which seems to have so many rooms with many intricate hallways and doors. With her little but rich experience in marriage life- as a newly married woman-miaha, Verah does well to exhaustively talk about her experience in the new life into which she has to fit. The book is her exposition about marriage; giving the youths a sneak-peek into life after the wedding day.

To many, the book may merely be about two people who are enamored to each other, but to me, the book is about change. Verah challenges people through her book about what wedding is all about and at least through their experience explains why it does little harm to settle for a modest wedding that will not leave the couple in debts, loans or have people cursing because you forced them to contribute for your wedding.

The book is about change because Verah experiences a lot of changes in her life since she transitioned into being a miaha. She questions if she is really married, she asks the husband how it feels to be married. She discovers that there some changes going on through her husband’s life, they are experiencing it, it’s called change. This puts into context a conversation I had with some wise old man in our village over the holiday. I remember he told me repeatedly, “Leo, marriage changes one’s life, it’s like a turbulent that comes to almost overly overturn how you have linearly led your own life for a long time.”

She challenges cultural theories and negative stories that have made various tribes cast aspersions against each other. And now that theirs is intermarriage (Luo and Kisii), she lives to deflate the myths and ugly stories she heard about the Luo people-men. And she challenges society to triumph over the tribal barriers and balkanizations that have been perpetrated by such negative stories.

And for FGM and its negative effects, the writer goes full force with blows. She is a victim of a practice that doesn’t only humiliate but also predisposes many young girls to other health hazards. The writer is essentially crazing for change; for the annihilation of cultural practices that are barbaric and virtually serves little importance, where FGM among Kisii and other tribes is an example.

Yet, at the end of the day, I must concede that the book is also supremely about love. It’s about a fresh marriage that like a tree planted along a riverbank, sups its sustaining water from the mainstream of LOVE. The book is about Verah as much as it’s about Dinda. The book is about the couple as much as it’s about God. The book is about three people; God, Dinda, and Verah- a trio.

A friend of mine doesn’t like reading books that are about women and are for women. I told him, just read them, bro, it’s one way of seeing the world through a woman’s eye. I think I used to be like him until I realized reading books for and by women is as good to a man as it’s to women. Hence, while I may strongly recommend the book for ladies, I equally recommend it for men.

MY BEST READ 2019

First forward, I challenged myself to devour 52 books this year. Unfortunately, due to my small ‘tummy’ and my slow ‘chewing mechanism’, I have only done 45 books. I have failed! But I have learned a lot through the 45 copies, out of which I have enlisted what I may call the best 10 of them.

How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie

Some of the Cardinal lessons in the first section of the book:

Principle one; Don’t criticize, condemn, or complain.

Principle two; Give honest and sincere appreciation

Principle three; Arouse in others an eager want

“You can make more friends in two months by becoming genuinely interested in others than you can in two years by getting others interested in you.” Dale Carnegie.

Dale Carnegie’s masterpiece is about diplomacy; diplomacy wins almost all the time. He encourages us to always try and see the world from other people’s viewpoint, then we will understand why they acted as they do. By trying to avoid conflict and unnecessary arguments, one becomes the best.

If you want to make a good leader, manager, husband or just be a friend whom people value and respect, this is the book. I will read it again and again.

Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama

The young lad, springing from an obscured and fractured background but through the spirit of determination, he knits up, patches up, rights the wrongs that were done by his father and comes to us as the most elegant, lustered personality, an influential world leader and most definitely the best leader that continues to inspire our galaxies. The book is one of the best memoirs that crossed my finger this year.

Favorite quote from the book, “Do we settle for the world as it is, or do we work for the world as it should be.” Barack Obama.

Becoming by Michelle Obama

Of the lady that writes so well about the husband; a tough woman, ambitious, brilliant and also willing to learn. Becoming is a demonstration of how Michelle transmuted through faces of time to become one of the best admired personalities in the world. It’s her poignant narration of the losses she had in her life; one; losing her favorite friend Susan and two that of her father. Both died and their demise transformed how she would look at life. In the book, she doesn’t shy from exposing her weaknesses, struggles, and doubts as a young girl trying to find her purpose in life. Also, it reveals a lot about the warm mutual relationship she has with her man.

Michelle says; Everyone on earth is carrying around an unseen history, and that alone deserves some tolerance.

When Breathe Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi

An incredible story of a young neurosurgeon in his heydays, contract cancer that deflates his hopes for a lovely marriage and a fulfilling life. The first time I read this book was in 2017, I got scared and despondent that I teared up. But reading it a second time has given me the oomph, and through Kalanithi’s courage I found a shade of boldness, and an inspiration to make the best of the short life.

What’s so Great About America by Dinesh D’Souza

I loved every bit, I turned every page with an enthuse. The book is rich in knowledge about Western culture and why it has dominated the world for a long time. It presents the reasons why the radical, fundamentalist Muslim nations are overly obsessed with exterminating America and the American idea. The book exposes the strengths of America in detail and persuades the citizens to love their nation to defend it. It’s a book about patriotism. It’s another grand book about diplomacy

It’s Our Turn to Eat by Michela Wrong

Ms. Wrong doesn’t get it wrong, she goes out for broke to provide an illuminating scene of how corruption stinks to high heavens within the Kenyan political class. John Githongo, once a chief Statehouse official and the anticorruption proponent is the whistleblower on the run and he gathers the courage to give Ms. Wrong chilling corruption details that compounded the Kenyan government under President Kibaki.

Martin Luther King Jnr On Leadership By Donald Philips

With so much love and admiration, we are wedded to his inspirational speeches which he dramatized through his reverberating voice chord. He is admired for his boldness, yet King had a lot of homework to do with his cynical and doubtful followers. Donald presents how this grand figure turned around the obstacles and betrayal he faced from his very inner circle, the Negros. It’s one of my best for a masterpiece on leadership.

The Defining Decade by Meg Jay

Meg Jay having studied the lives and behaviors of youths, especially in this information era provides an incredible package of solutions to the millennials. The Defining Decade talks about how young people, recently graduated from campus can adapt to the world without breaking through depression and addictions into drugs and sex. I have always recommended it to my peers, even those who don’t love books. Hey you, this is your book, check it out!

Paulo Coehlo: Warrior’s Life by Fernando Morais

Paulo is a great and famous writer. His biography by Fernando is an illuminating insight into the life of the writer. His struggles, especially with sex, are a great deal of the motif in the book. I admired his courage to boldly talk about those wrong things he did in his youth. Dude tried doing sex in the cemetery, tried homosexuality, tried brothels and every ugly thing around sex adventure; yet he came out sane. And how he metamorphosed from that moral decadence to elegance is something else to admire.

Love and Respect by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs

It’s one of the best family books I have read. Drawing its illustrations from the Christian Scriptures, Dr. Emerson explains how and why men need to give their women Love, and women give their men the Respect they so passionately crave. It’s so illuminating that it can probably help fix impending divorces and breakups, maybe.

MY BEST QUOTES 2019:

“The happiest, healthiest and holiest people on the planet are those who laugh at themselves the most” Mark Batterson.

“You can make more friends in two months by becoming genuinely interested in others than you can in two years by getting others interested in you.” Dale Carnegie.

“Do we settle for the world as it is, or do we work for the world as it should be?” Barrack Obama.

BEST SCRIPTURE: “Repay no one evil for evil. Have regard for good things in the sight of all men. If it is possible, as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all men. Romans 12: 17-18.

Best Films 2019: I’m not a movie animal but these two gave me the thrill worth an entertainment: Blind Spot, and Money Heist.

Let’s do this again next year, take the challenge, let’s keep Reading, and of course, Writing.

In the comment section, you can recommend for me your best read. I will appreciate.

Merry Christmas and Happy holidays

Too Young and Skinny: Why I got Booed by My Students

“Wooiiiii! This is a student.” “We can’t be taught by a student!” a rascal female student shouted on top of her voice. She was plump, weighty, thick and looked motherly. The other one, skinny, brown skin with some funny hairstyle joined to chant a rebellious noise against the lecturer who had just stepped in for a Mathematics class at 2 pm. The lecturer was skinny, young with a clean face that would throw a deception about his actual age. That is the day I was booed for the first time. Why?

A class of more than sixty students and more than half of them are female students, it looked chaotic and unteachable much less ungovernable. These were students taking a course called Food Processing. Apparently, the lecturer who had been previously taking them through Mathematics was an old baggy man in his late sixties. Then he shows up, a young man in his early twenties to replace all that experience. That can be a little disappointing, so I understood them.

Butterflies were rapaciously somersaulting in my stomach. My lips dried, I have never been booed before. But I had to take charge. I have got a voice that commands but here they needed something more than a commanding voice to hush their reckless ego. So I looked at the semester’s course outline and began with the toughest topic: Quadratic Equations. Then I started teaching the concepts, bracing myself with confidence and meticulously solving problems relating to quadratic equations.

I endeavored to prove to them that the ultimate measure of a man is not in the size of his tummy but the content of his brain

Yet I had thought I would take at most 40 mins then I dash out of that class after the bully but I ended up taking two solid hours. They asked questions that I so easily and pristinely explained, that in the end, they were all glowing in admiration. I have now come to be one of (if not the most) favorite lecturer. I know if they indeed come across this story, they will tell me, “aki Mwalimu why did you write about us? We are sorry.”

A Society that Despises Its Youth

It is now one month since I joined this profession. Working in an environment where I’m the youngest of the teaching staff. I’m definitely enjoying every bit of it and also bagging a lot of lessons. I have learned to cooperatively work with older people, some are even older than my mother. I have come to learn to deal with students who are my age, younger, yet some are outrightly older than me. I’m tapping from the wisdom of the older staff, yet also growing the confidence to lead and instruct both younger and older students.

Yet, when students were rejecting me due to my youth, the president of the country was faced with harsh criticism for employing very old people in his cabinet and state co-corporations. Youths were and are still angry at the president. They feel neglected by the government, the sentiments to which I share with my fellow youths. African youths are not quite trusted with leading, managing organizations or just working at the helm of these most lucrative job positions.

It’s a cruel jest that even the very young people of Africa don’t seem to value their fellow youths. I mean, we’ve been conditioned to believe that if the person leading you doesn’t have grey hair or a projected tummy then he/she doesn’t deserve to be there. Look at my students, roaring with menacing voices of rebellion against my youthfulness, yet some of them now tell me that I teach way better than the previous chap. The students almost made me think of buying artificial beards just to convince them that I’m mature. So this misty presumption that youthfulness doesn’t have what it takes to replace the old geezers should be diffused into thin air. Vijana wanaweza.

For how long are we going to take the youths for a ride, thinking that they don’t deserve better job positions? For how long are we going to demand for long years of experience from young men and women who are indeed looking for experiences? And with the dynamism and complexities of modern systems, it seems most apparent that only the youths are fit for all these jobs. We aren’t going to fight the old guys but they need to just go home and let the young people work.

An African Mindset is the Problem.

It’s only in Africa where a hardworking and intelligent young person can’t be easily given the laurel of a Ph.D. You would easily find a kangaroo in Africa than you would a youth who is a professor in Africa. Yet I met with some friends from Estonia who are in their early thirties and they are already professors. In the West, young people are strengthened and supported to achieve virtually everything. In Kenya, you must-have grey hair, thick and ugly beards for you to be allowed to contend for the title. What’s all this pettiness about?

Something is painfully disturbing about how we perceive ourselves in the lens of possibility. We, Africans have a pathological disorder with our mindset. We’ve not really pitched ourselves for greatness yet. If we still sanctimoniously neglect and write off our energetic, intelligent, vibrant and young labor (youths) then we will still stay at the tail end of global growth and development. And as I have repeatedly said, we must begin by changing the African mindset. Even young people, can teach, can manage, can direct, can organize, can lead and even so, can president.