The spark in their eyes #33

Dear Mum,

Have you ever thought that you were helping someone, then later you realize that they actually helped you? You think you are making them smile, but they make you smile, and you discover that you needed that smile more than them…

Well, Happy New Week! I have no doubt that you are doing well, especially with the kind of people who visited you over the weekend, you must be beaming with joy…and so I’m I. My Saturdays never cease to be memorable. We had been planning for last Saturday for more than a month. So we rose up to the occasion; spending a day  at Help Kenya Children Rescue Centre.

Ngong…that place is so far from the CBD, it felt as if I was coming home. How do people live there and still work at Mombasa Road? Nairobians have drama. Or should we say Ngong-arians? Those road trips where you pay 50 shillings and in your heart, you know very well that you have conned the conductor. They deserve more, but you can’t give it to them, because you know very well that when it rains, you can as well pay ten times of that…not by choice of course.

“We are constituted so that simple acts of kindness, such as giving to charity or expressing gratitude, have a positive effect on our long-term moods. The key to the happy life, it seems, is the good life: a life with sustained relationships, challenging work, and connections to community”, Paul Bloom

We were welcomed by Monica Nguata, one of the most kind-hearted ladies I have met. She serves those children with every beat of her heart. You should see how she hugs them when they come from school. They call her Auntie, but from the look of it, she is more than that to them. Then there was Benson Ruoro, they call him Uncle Ben. He never gets tired of playing with the boys, carrying the younger ones and being their role model. Kara! A volunteer from the U.S.A. You would so easily love her. She is ready to help, always asking what else she can do.

And she has that spark! A smile that tells you that she has something you don’t have. A brightness in her eyes, you don’t need Meta-Physics to know that she loves her life. You can see the same spark in Monica’s eyes…Uncle Ben’s, and each of those kids. They spend their days serving and loving others, teaching, mentoring and giving themselves away to those children.

If you want stories, carry several handkerchiefs and make your way to that children’s home. Then sit down with them and listen. Their stories will blow your mind. Better still, watch them. Despite everything they have been through, they are positive. They keep hope alive. They live life, one day at a time. Oh you should see them singing! They clap with all their energy, the girls can’t help jumping and dancing to God, they are so full of life. They are happy.

You and me might think that we have more than them, but shock on us: they have everything. You see those smiles right there? They made us smile. The spark in their eyes triggered so much hope, joy and peace in our hearts, that we couldn’t help but light up. So guess what…they helped us! We went all the way to Ngong to be helped by those kids.

“No one has ever become poor by giving.” ― Anne Frank, diary of Anne Frank: the play

Help Kenya Children Rescue Centre has children of all ages, and you can join the Women of Honor Mentoring Initiative by becoming a mentor to one of those children, ages 13-18. We need both male and female mentors. Interested? Let me know… You will be surprised how fulfilling it is to walk with them in their journey.

Enjoy the week…and keep the spark!

Ndindafah

 

Meet Cyanne… #32

Dear Mum,

I call her Miss Wi-Fi. I don’t think she can survive offline. When it comes to internet, think of fish outside a water body…she can’t do without it. I wake up every week-day knowing that I will be spending my day with her- someone graceful, eager to work and committed to our course. She’s more than beautiful, but that doesn’t stop her from being diligent. I think she is the best that my boss has.

Guess what she is always browsing about…food! Food that she never wants to eat. Unless of course her eyes do the eating. Her first day working here was equally ‘foodious’. We took her for lunch in this base we call ‘moshi’. You get in and wash your hands from an improvised tap…that bucket where they put water, cover it and place a bar soap on top of it. Then you pass by this guy who is roasting meat, the aroma arouses every digestive fluid in you, he hands you a piece and you can’t wait to see your ugali choma on the table.

That day she couldn’t chew it. It was too tough for her tender teeth. The smoke was perhaps choking her and blinding her vision. I suppose she almost shed tears of joy…what kind of colleagues are these? She must have grieved inwardly. She barely ate half of her food, yet her stomach went haywire. What an orientation!

Don’t ask me how I manage that stuff myself, I’m just flexible. This is life… Give me a folk and a knife at Kempinski, I promise you that I will be equally good. So we had to apologize with actions. You see, when you make gross mistakes like those, words are not enough to make a Kogelo girl feel comforted. So we have since taken her to Dusit, Artcaffe, Westgate mall, Village Market, The Sarit, Warwick Centre, and we are working on buying her pizza at Big Square…expensive girl I tell you.

You see how gorgeous she looks? I have to handle that elegance on a daily basis. Once at a while she will flash a smile and I will think, “Pleasure working with you”. So Mum, I have good company. Except that I have to switch off Wi-Fi to be really heard. Then I will be showed pictures of delicious cuisines just when I’m starving. She is perhaps dating Instagram, taken out by Twitter or engaged to WordPress.

Talking of Twitter, I will never forget how much she helped me out. A broke day, and all I had was 500 bob on M-pesa. Instead of withdrawing at an agent, I bought airtime. I was so messed up…we both hate being penniless. We went to the Safaricom customer care and the queue was unbearable. Calling 100 is always a nightmare, and I almost started to feel helpless.

Certainly not with this girl. She lends a hand, anytime, even when you least expect it.

“Let’s just tweet @Safaricom_Care”

“You are sure they will sort me out?”

“Definitely, I’ve done this before”

“Go ahead, nothing to lose”

So she asks me to type a direct message to Safaricom and wow… My money was back to my account within minutes. Cyanne, this is for you: “I’m not the smartest fellow in the world, but I can sure pick smart colleagues”, Franklin D. Roosevelt

Work things,

Ndindafah

 

 

Letters to my Mum #31

Dear Mum,

Happy new week! You know what… I think weekends should go up to Wednesday. Then the week can begin on Thursday and end on Friday. Why do we need a whole five days?! Talking of weekend, mine was all the fun I needed. I just love the idea of having a whole 24 hours to myself, then I decide!

So it’s a Saturday. Your girl decides to spend half of her day in church with CITAM Women Ministry. She’s curious about what they know that she needs to know. She wants to make a virtuous wife, an amazing mom, she wants to be the best and you know that… So she shines in blue jeans, white rubbers and…? Strolls to the stage, a stroll that perhaps made her foretell the goodness of the day ahead.

Men! They spice our lives, don’t they? The first one calls me “Malkia”. He does that everyday, yet I don’t even know his name, but I smile, say good morning and move on. “Hi sister…”, that’s the second one. I look back, smile and wave. I mean, he is kind enough to greet me, is there anything wrong with returning the favor? “Hey…sasa Sweetie?” the third one! Goodness gracious! I had to look at myself, did something extra grow on me? I was perfectly okay…the usual me…just a little bit younger due to my clad. So I didn’t reply the third, my mind suddenly got engrossed with myself.

To survive in Nairobi, one thing you have to learn is negotiation skills. So, I talk to the conductor before I ride his boat. Cause once I’m in, we play with his rules. There are days I have paid half of what everyone else is paying. I didn’t blackmail anyone, I just negotiated. Thirty shillings…I pay, sit next to him and start admiring the scenery. By the way, that’s part of why I live where I live; the scenery is a stress-reliever. Unfortunately our bus is stopped by the traffic police, they order all of us to step out, get back our fares and look for different vehicles. Well I was feeling sporty, so I walked a few minutes and got to church in no time.

It’s Women Ministry, remember? Every girl needs to meet other girls…talk, eat, laugh, cry and just be. I know you don’t know this, so listen carefully; were it not for Jesus, I would have become a feminist. Oh yes…you heard me. Growing up, there was a point in my life when I felt as if being a woman was a disadvantage, a weakness, something to be ashamed of. I saw the mistreatment of women, their suffering, their pain, their frustrations and their problems. I wished I would go around some stone in Ukambani where superstition has it that your gender changes after seven rounds. I would have given up my life to fight for our rights.

Then I met this man… He was gentle, slow to anger and abounding in love. He had women around Him, and wherever His word was preached, women were liberated. I found my freedom and identity in Him, and the best I could do is point other women to Him, tell them that He is the answer…and that they can find all the love they needed, in His arms. His loving-kindness is better than life, and when you have Him, you have everything. You no longer look for satisfaction in your man, you are already satisfied…so you add value to him.

The preacher! I would pay to listen to her again. That woman is a well of wisdom. Her green pearls and green ring gave her chocolate complexion such a graceful feel. She spoke, admonished, encouraged and inspired simultaneously. I still remember this, “What you did not do yesterday plus what you will not do today will make you crazy tomorrow. That doesn’t mean you do everything; organize your life as a woman. Value prayer, praise and the power of the Holy Spirit, more than you value possessions, position and worldly power”. Doctor Florence… I loved her. She asked us to celebrate life very single day, terming it as a precious gift that could fade away anytime without our knowledge.

Every woman needs to hear that. So in as much as I adore women, love to listen and interact with them, I also recognize the necessity of men in completing the puzzle of life. Can you imagine a world of women alone? I think we would pluck out each other’s hair. We’re not that bad, but we need minds to still our emotions, sweet words to satisfy our craving hearts and strong arms to hold our beautiful frames.

“Women need to feel loved and men need to feel needed.” ― Rita Mae Brown, Riding Shotgun

To all the men in my world, this one is for you: “Try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value”, Albert Einstein.

Keep making us feel special. We know we are, but how about you tell us gain?

Enjoy the week, and make someone feel special.

Ndindafah

 

 

 

Letters to my Mum #30

Dear Mum,

Lots of ‘missments’ from your girl. I almost clicked a week without writing to you… I had a lot going on in my head, so I preferred to let the dust settle down. Then there is this crazy flu I caught on Friday, that has made me cough out all my laughter…you have no idea how much I want to laugh. I’m so glad you’ve been checking on me daily…makes me feel special, though you forgot to call yesterday. You guessed right, I’m doing far much better.

So my long-time friend who happens to be an IT geek called me for some random lunch today, and I thought, why not?! I showed up with my beautiful smile, cause mostly, that’s all it takes to make someone else’s day. You see, that’s what I like about friendship; remembrance. Please, if you haven’t remembered me lately, come on…I’m giving you a chance to make my day.

“Where do you want to have lunch?”

“Sankara!” (with a wide smile).

That’s what will happen next time someone tries to ask me that. However today I was very kind to my friend’s pocket. So we landed at this Swahili dishes restaurant…the aroma! Mum, it makes me love life. We sit there and my friend Googles me from East to West, North-pole to South-pole. Like, “So, what’s going on in your life? Are you sure he is a nice guy? Why are you being so nice to him?” Damn! He is none of your business, I am!

As if that was not enough, there was this guy who came and sat next to us. My expectation was that he was going to mind his own business, close his ears and keep his mouth shut…no suggestions, opinions or requests. After all I was busy catching up with one of my favorite friends. So we talked about every other topic including his one and only stunning girlfriend, his always busy job and his tech-savvy blog.

“You would be very surprised with how much positive changes that you could make in your life, if you could make it your top priority to mind your own business”, Edmond Mbiaka

Fully packed with Pilau (as spicy as I like it, prepared with a Coastal touch), smiling all wide and saying “Lord, You open your hand, and I am satisfied with every good thing”. Our neighbor! Well, some lovely brown chic had joined him minutes ago so I assumed he was blown away by her charm and wasn’t hearing nothing. Then he goes…

“Hey, I’ve heard you talk about your blogs…what do you write about?” Then we had to be all nice, dishing out our links and phone numbers (on request) while deep down our hearts we were wondering, “What else did he hear?”. Well, we were not planning a bank robbery or an assassination, but we were having a private lunch meeting in a public place. I didn’t want to think that anybody might have been recording us. Anyhow, even walls have ears.

I celebrate the kindness of reaching out, especially in this day and time when everyone is glued to their cell phone, everywhere. So we made a new friend over lunch and we hope he enjoys reading our blog-posts. Most importantly, he ought to say nothing of what he eavesdropped. The pretty girl he had was his cousin? Mmmmh, where are my cousins? Free hook-up, no charges… you will just owe me a favor.

Cheers,

Ndindafah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letters to my Mum #29

Dear Mum,

Greetings greetings and happy weekend! What is your favorite movie? Mmmh, you don’t do movies right…? Well I think you should smell a flower and watch Divergent and Insurgent. You will not like it I promise…you will love it. One thing that amuses me whenever we succeed in getting you to watch a movie is the way we have to pause and tell you what’s gonna happen next. Then you fall asleep in the middle of it. Just like someone I know, sleeping on a movie…very boring…be warned.

Let me fill you in on Divergent, cause I’ve watched it severally and most recently. In a futuristic Chicago, the founders of the city divided their society into 5 different factions. Abnegation (the selfless), Amity (the peaceful), Candor (the honest), Dauntless (the brave), and Erudite (the intellectual). The remaining population are the Factionless, who have no status or privilege in this society. Whenever a child turns the age of 16, they get to decide whether they want to stay with their family, or abandon them.

For Tris, it’s difficult. The constant struggle to decide what to do nags at her. When she takes the aptitude test, which will help place them in a faction, she expects her faction of origin which is Abnegation. But she gets some surprising results. She doesn’t fall into any of the four factions, neither can she be Factionless. She is Divergent, hence hunted and still she has to find herself! So she jumps into Dauntless where she meets Four, this guy who wants to be everything (selfless, peaceful, honest, dauntless, brave and intelligent).

Damn! Did I just write to you two paragraphs of a movie? Here’s what I’m getting to: The Factions of Life. At first when I watched Divergent, I caught what everybody else would; unexpected romances, tough battles, and extreme bravery shown through Tris that she didn’t know she had in her. I felt there was more to the film, so as I watched it again and again, I looked into myself and saw factions, interests, abilities and dreams that vary, contend, fluctuate and deviate.

Complicated? Let’s break down your very own daughter: I’m a daughter of faith. I love my God, I’m proud about Him, it’s no secret and I have no apology about that. Then I’m a lover of knowledge. Reading, studying and learning. I miss school, the library, lectures and daily discoveries in the Chemistry lab. I miss waking up early in the morning, packing up my books and pens and walking into a room where people aren’t talking because brains are at work. Then I have a third faction: people. I love my friends, don’t want to lose any of them, and occasionally going out of my way to make someone smile.

Then there is another part of me that you know nothing about: that girl that loves heights, wants to go to the top of every high building and feel the wind. Cross legs in the beach, lift both hands and smell the pacific ocean, think about nothing and watch the beaming city lights breaking through the night. The very same girl that wants to spend 24 hours in the house, alone, writing and imagining. My last faction is perhaps the weakest. That girl that loves classy and expensive, but simply watches it and likes it, hesitating to be it…enjoys mingling with the high and powerful, going where they go and walking where they walk…then shrinks back to her conservative status quo.

Five factions right there! So Mum, I’m I five people or I’m I one person? I’m I living five lives or just one? Perhaps I need to watch Insurgent and see what becomes of Tris and Four. Can I overcome every fear that holds me back and be godly, intelligent, loving, lively and refined? Ooooh, I know I sound ‘miss wanna-be’ right there.

Yesterday morning I was listening to Classic Fm in the morning, the only station where married women call an unmarried man to advice and encourage them on their marital quagmires. One song that they all sang was that a man cannot be both loving and rich. He is one, he misses the other. Other times I’ve heard, he is godly, spiritual heaven-going but that’s all he talks about, he’s boring to be around. Or he has everything except manners.

You see…this ‘faction problem’ is everywhere. Is there something like a balanced life, a holistic life…a wholesome life?

Somebody tell me,

Ndindafah

 

Letters to my Mum #28

Dear Mum,

I can trust you with my dreams, right? Coz last night I had a mega-dream, call it the dream of dreams? It’s the best I’ve had so far, so trust me you want to read this letter to the detail; between the lines, under the lines and beyond the lines.

When we talked yesterday you asked me to give thanks to God. I suppose it’s because you know that in some situations, one can be tempted to shout at God, to make demands or to complain. I’ve done that severally, especially when I feel that I have prayed too long about something and it’s not coming through. I start getting into God’s mind, wondering why He has not done it, and what He might be keeping Him. This is usually a forbidden and dangerous venture, so I wouldn’t ask anyone to try it at home.

So I decided not to ask God for what I have been asking for, every other day. I followed your advice…gave thanks and slept. After all I had done exceptionally well in getting myself exhausted by the end of yesterday. Several days ago, I had asked God to speak into my life during my sleep…yeah…weird prayers we make. I borrowed that from my colleague who asks God for dreams. You should see how he expounds his dreams with with signs and gestures.

I had three dreams: One took me home… I will call you for the story. The other one took me to my boss’s house… He was so enthusiastic about his business, fascinated about some financial details on his wall-screen (that happens a lot in movies) but I couldn’t see nothing! The third and last dream is the reason of this letter.

We were expected to die a painful death. But in a fraction of a second, we were caught up in the clouds. It was the most beautiful scene my eyes have ever seen. Jesus, and some others who were all in white… I could see the clouds, some below us, others at the same level with us. I wasn’t keen to look at the face of Jesus, but I knew him…like I could point him out. I felt so good that it’s inexplicable and incomparable with any emotion that has ever rushed through my system. I didn’t even think of who was with me and who had been left…I just wanted to be there. I knew the rapture was taking place.

Before I got carried away, my spirit was taken back to Earth, where some people had disappeared, and a group of people who were on a certain mission had been left without a leader. They were begging a certain woman “please be our leader” and she rejected their offer. She was expectant. Those were men begging her…that was creepy. They were desperate for a leader. They seemed to have no idea what had happened, and one thing was clear: It was business as usual on Earth. Then I woke up and it was 4:49 a.m today.

The thoughts of what I had seen and why it had been shown to me overwhelmed me. Was I too engrossed with matters of family, work and business that I was losing glimpse of eternity? I’m still marveling at that dream, so I thought it was worth sharing with you.

What are your thoughts?

Ndindafah

 

 

Letters to my Mum #27

Dear Mum,

Happy Mother’s Day! Today, I celebrate you for being my mother, my friend and my number one prayer partner. You are perhaps the only person on the face of the Earth who prays for me every morning. That automatically puts me and my siz on the top of your priorities in life. For that, I’m eternally grateful.

Again, you have made every manner of sacrifice for us to have a good life. From sleeping late, waking up early and working till you are exhausted on every single day…just to make sure that your girls have a good life. More often than not, you’ve gone out of your way to do more than required to stay abreast with our lives. I have particularly loved the way you keep me accountable to you, by calling me almost on a daily basis…and you never forget to ask where I am. I hope you never catch me in the wrong place.

“A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary”, Dorothy Canfield Fisher

Thank you for beating me up mercilessly, every time I lied to you as a child. I have since grown up hating deception, lies and dishonesty. In fact I do my best to stay away from people who struggle with telling the truth, lest they infect me with the scourge. I have realized that the more a person gets used to lying, the more they can’t help it, they live a lie coz every lie needs another lie to cover itself of its nakedness.

Mum, there is one more thing I will always adore you for: values. You have all the time to advise us when we need it, to offer free counselling, and to tell us what we should or should not do. Well, you are not a woman of many words, but the few you speak are worth living up to. When you do not speak, we see those values in your very own life: godliness, playfulness, decency, diligence, kindness and much much more.

I’m glad you called yesterday, though I felt that I should have done that instead. So you thought I might have been in that Nakumatt that got flooded? Well, I work right next to it but I hardly shop there… Your girl is safe, and  I absolutely love your concern. That must be what motherhood is made of.

“May our effort, confidence and concern for others be the altar from which we pray for personal abundance.” ― Laura Teresa Marquez

I appreciate your encouragement on patience, having faith in God and knowing that He is working something beautiful out of my life. Whenever I look at your life, I want to believe that even more. It is my prayer that you continue to help us grow to become what we were made to be. As you take this journey with us, I want you to know that we appreciate everything you do for us.

I hope that once at a while you look at us with a humble smile of pride and say, “those are my daughters”.

Loving you to the moon and back,

Ndindafah

Letters to my Mum #26

Dear Mum,

Happy new month! Long time no write… Well, every writer needs a break, once at a while- to read, listen and think. Otherwise the world would be full of books without readers, stories without purpose and proposals without fruition.

Just tell me for a moment, why should a holiday be called ‘Labor Day’? Well, I like the off-day that comes with it, but I don’t celebrate it. Everyone who celebrates such a holiday should join the nearest school of sadists. What is there to celebrate about labor? It sounds to me more of slavery, existing and surviving. Why we call it labor must be because many of us don’t like our jobs, we fight with our potential every day because we know we were made for better, but as for now, here we are…laboring.

More often than not, I have told people to work hard. I said the said the same to my sister when she was going back to school. But what really is working hard? I have no idea, though I have memories. I was in class 8. Barely 13 years old. I slept at midnight and woke up at 4 a.m to study, every single day. My dream of a brighter future kept me passionate about my education…that was hard work! I remember you, Mum, complaining that I was working too hard and that I needed to take it easy and trust God.

With time, I have seen hard working people get to the top, live their dreams and achieve their desired life. Not long ago, we saw those who put the work into their studies in campus get scholarships, awards and celebration for their labor. I have also seen another category of people; those who think hard and work less. All they have is an idea, an executable plan and the world buys it, works for them and pays them for their thinking. They a lazy, easy going and philanthropic.

“I always choose a lazy person to do a difficult job because he will find an easy way to do it”, Bill Gates

The most hard working people are many times the least paid, not unless their hard work gets them to the top. Think of people who are paid for making others laugh, for investing money in a company where they have never worked, or just for who they are. Have you seen those bosses who make technical appearances into their offices few times a week, yet make millions… But there are those who have to endure the cold mornings and alternate them with the scorch of the Sun, 15 hours a day, to make Kshs. 150 a day. Someone recently observed, “Men in Suits look really successful until you realize that they work for men in t-shirts and jeans…”. Anybody hurt by that? Count one…

It is important to realize your calling in life, that thing that you would do for free. Then choose what you want to put into it, whether thought, work or labor. At the end of the day, each of them pays. So whatever your job is, keep at it…serve, live and make a difference.

This month of May 2016,

May your work bring you pleasure

May you enjoy the fruit of your labor

May your thinking be inspired

May you live life abundantly

Oh that you may Grow, Glow, and Overflow.

Thinking and Working,

Ndindafah