Cousin Sisters…and memories

(If you are reading this post, this is my tribute to my beautiful cousin sister, who left to be with the Lord today. It may remind you of your own loss, as I share ours, as her family and friends…)

I won’t share a birthday with you this year. We won’t call or text and wish each other the same way that we did in the past. But I will remember and blow an extra candle out, for us.

I remember that Dec’ hols where we were seven kids in the house and you were one of them, and we would go sliding down the stairs and split several mangoes at snack time. Weren’t we all so carefree? So memorable was that one day that we remembered it for years later. And the laughter.

I remember the way you were happy that we were going to start meeting in the neighbourhood, cause you had friends nearby and were always welcome in our home. It was not strange that you struck such close rapport with shared friends and made life long connections.

I remember your First Aid zeal, and the energy with which you participated in your beloved St John’s. I wanted to take that activity up, because you were so interested. Not only that, but i wanted to have same concern for others as you did.

I heard you mourn the death of your friend some time. I felt your pain as you wondered what would happen and when you would ever meet again. You felt the pain that we feel now as we say goodbye, really, you did. You even said what we were saying now. “Too young, not now”

I remember passing time with you at the Video Library and knowing that you would always be there when we came on Saturday mornings. Despite the distance from home, you made sure that you got out and did things, always something. You refused to just pose, and wait for us to come see you. You came to see us too. Every time, you came.

I was part of the tests and the numerous hospital visits, as we run into each other in town, and at Home too. Never did i hear a single word of complaint, as we talked and chatted about trivia. What a gal! What a gal!

You always knew what was going on with your friends and you took the time to ask every one what they were planning for the next day. No detail was too small, not for you, no. A true friend, caring and warm, with that winsome smile.

You took such a great interest in me and being in school and were always happy when i got good grades. I loved your support even when my childish arrogance superceded the things that mattered, like you, and my other sisters and brothers.

I remember when you took up computers. I saw the spark in your eye when you were thinking about all the jobs that you would pursue after school and the possibilities.

Mummy, and the other aunties and uncles always treated us like we were the same. because we were so few per family, we were truly like siblings living in the same compound. I loved the way Grandma never treated us like we were separate children and never let us take namesake pictures only. I remember you protested and we all took the pictures together.

You were always so pretty, even after the beginning of your ails. You never let us know that you were suffering, and always told us never to feel sorry for you. You were so brave and came to family meetings regardless.

I will miss you darling sister, we all will. As we gather all over the world and mourn your passing, we are so shocked. We are beside ourselves with grief. Nothing we can say or do will bring you back and that makes us so very sad.

We are left with so many questions, and we are angry that we don’t have more years to spend with you. We rejoice, however, knowing that you are resting with pur Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, in whom you put your trust.

You are our angel, our rose. Everybody agrees that your cheer and smile and loving self will always remain with us. Our tears will never dry, nor our memories fade of our time together. It is not over yet, we shall meet again.

Hopefully, now you know just how much God is welcoming you home, with all His angels and i know you don’t feel pain any more, only light.

Your sunny smile and your pretty personality are our inspiration, never to forget the way you led us together round you from all over the world.

What makes a life worthwhile? What things will we carry away from the masterpiece God created in you. Will we cry forever? Will you ever know how much we love you? Our gratitude overflows for the gift of you, in life, you sought and gave much love and we hope we may be as brave as you were, always.

La Femme Afrique shows topical insights from an African woman living in the United States. Africa content includes the arts, writing, food and people.

Faith: A Must or a Question of Choice

Someone sent me a forward, as many, many people back home are fond of doing. The little girl’s teacher was discounting the presence of God in the classroom of six and seven year-olds. Not in Kenya, though, as anyone who went through all those years of C.R.E can tell you. Teacher Ann, her name was, favoured the view that if you cannot see God, then you really have no grounds to believe that he is there. Needless to say, these children in the class were full believers of what teacher said, and their oneness of belief showed during their break. The kids were telling one another that Teacher must be right, that there is no God.

Then the little girl spoke up saying,
“Teacher Ann has no brain.”
All the kids fell silent as they absorbed this shocking statement.
Another kid, Jimmy, retorted, “Who says?”
“Well, we can’t see it so it can’t be there”

The story tickled me because it sounds more and more like all the arguments against religion and faith and general belief that are floating all over the ‘Net, the classroom and even boardrooms all over the world.

There is no higher Being therefore no reason to believe in anything but oneself. Isn’t there? Intellectuals in some areas scorn those who are ’simple’ enough to believe in the power of God.Even an untrained scholar may query faith in Someone. Me thinks people do wonder a fair bit about their upbringing versus the current situation, and whether the religious scholars tell the truth.

I ask myself the same questions as I watch “Hour of Prayer” or all those gangster movies where the main violence is in the house of prayer. I think about this walking to the bus stop and get handed an evangelism tract, and when I see a street corner filled with people yelling their faith over loudspeaker. And as i look across the street, where a counter argument is shouted back to the streetcorner squad, I hear the questioning of the ages, “To Believe or Not to Believe”

Back and forth, the arguments, writings and songs speak. Yesterday, I was listening to a rock song called “Heaven”, whose chorus said, “You aren’t going to heaven so there is no point of being saved on earth” Ergo, live and die, the rest is up to the fates and nobody knows for sure whether you will go or not. It has also become a cliche to

Too many times, we are faced with questions of when or whether or what will happen beyond the life we lead. Every way we turn, nothing seems to give conclusive reprieve to matters of faith. That is, unless you already believe in something. And we all do, yes even you, who is scoping this post with liberal sprinkles of cynicism. Walk out and look at what they are saying at the Bus Stop or at the Shops this afternoon.

To me, have a questioning day.

La Femme Afrique shows topical insights from an African woman living in the United States. Africa content includes the arts, writing, food and people.

for all the times

there are many paths that we take. Some lead us into the place called “There”, meaning the field of dreams where we place heart, soul and other earth bound connections. How you get there makes a difference, because it is not the when or the how, but the who and within yourself, the tireless spirit of travel.

I see another field before that field…as they all go in sequence. You and yours may have different views in real time, but i see things differently. I want nothing to do with wandering. Let us unite in soul minded purpose, and walk, just walk to the place called “I dream”

Bryan Adams wrote a song ‘Can’t stop this thing we started‘

He wasn’t in the mood to play around with his words. he bespeaks the unity of direction, headed to love, as most of this Canadian rocker’s songs bespeak. I keep seeing the words in my mind as i think of all the other things that are ahead, life, real adulthood( the kind that has no fan where the heat is full blast).

We are one, friends, comrades and brothers…mostly, just friends.

La Femme Afrique shows topical insights from an African woman living in the United States. Africa content includes the arts, writing, food and people.

Why I cannot Lose Hope (though the rain falls and tears pool!)

“Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won. It exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours.”

– Ayn Rand

Vita! Vita! Vita!

La Femme Afrique shows topical insights from an African woman living in the United States. Africa content includes the arts, writing, food and people.

Church and Me

When i was young and under the care of my family(i still am, but pretend i’m completely independent),I was sent to Sunday School and Church Camp and Vacation Bible School as well as Adults’Service(Big Church) when I was old enough to sit still for the whole service.

I loved all the teachers that I had. Many of them, we called Aunty and Uncle. My exposure to the church ran the full gamut from Protestant to Catholic. I recall in particular, the Masses in high school were a twice weekly staple. Truth must be told though, when i was a fresher I caught minimal parts of the Homily. Maybe I was the one who was asleep…who knows, it is my story, so i digress willingly.

For the longest time i took the liberty of going to church on my own accord here and visited church after church in a bid to get settled. I was sure I wanted to be in a church, but i found that when you are looking, you have to have specific requests. I prefer a mixed crowd, where there are older couples, singles and grandparents. I also prefer a place where one does not have to dress up formally, especially bearing in mind this summer heat. And please, can we see kids going to Sunday School? Pleease!

I don’t think that there are many places where you can find the kind of lively service and enthusiasm as there is in the Kenyan( more African based) types of services. I have seen them here as i attend churches that have a)Kenyan pastor b)Mostly Kenyan congregation c)Kenyan fellowships. For real, just for a micro moment, i am home again attending a mega service at Uhuru Park with Bishop So-and-So and i am in the Basilica downtown for Mass and I am in the 8,ooo seater hall off Lang’ata Road.

Still, i search. I think that home(read church) is where the heart is. The people that you meet when you are looking for a church are the ones who determine whether you will attend theirs or you will keep away. I have received varied invites to churches of different demographics. Whether it is a Southern Baptist congregation, or a Pentecostal assembly or a silent worship service. I wonder whether my bewilderment at the variety of options is THAT obvious.

Church is meant to be a home away from home. In Kenya, church is our community and our home.Our social gathering place and reference point for all of life( politicians can vouch for that one. I guess I still look for the church of my childhood everywhere i go.

Maybe this is the basis of a a bigger paper…a wider survey of the role of the church in Kenya as compared to the church here. You know you have been in college too long when every post turns out to be a sessional paper in itself!

Have a kanisan-Day!

La Femme Afrique shows topical insights from an African woman living in the United States. Africa content includes the arts, writing, food and people.