Memoirs

The day my father died was just like any other day. The sun rose and set like it had done the day before and did the day after. We had lunch and failed on dinner because the adults were wailing non-stop. I was thirteen years old -that is old enough to know and feel the pain of losing a loved one. Losing a father.  I, however didn't feel anything at the time except guilt for still wanting to eat when everyone else in the house didn't feel hungry. Thing is, I hardly knew this guy who had passed on. I could count the number of conversations we'd had in his lifetime with my one hand and even then there'd still be a few fingers left.  The burial ceremony was set in motion, relatives from far and near came to bid farewell to him and I still felt like a stranger in this sea of humans who kept saying "Bambi! obwana nga buto! " Loosely translated to " Shame! The children are still young! "..... My siblings got to wear the black clothes and got

"Mummy, let me hold your hand so that you don't fall" My three year old son was my pillar of support this morning as we made our way via a very rugged path to their day care center. I was rendered speechless by his offer and just had to take his little hand until he was sure we were on steady ground and that is when he let go.  Today, I had on a pair of heels that was a little higher than normal and given the terrain we were traversing my ankle was getting a raw deal.  All through my day today I kept going back to that one offer. It is a simple thing or so it seems to be a simple thing but think about it. How many times have you needed a hand? Maybe to help you up or down or ahead.  Of the times you have needed a hand, how many hands have been stretched out to you? Better yet, how many times have you stretched your hand out to another? When you stretch your hand out, do you do it to your known associates or does humanity as a whole benefit from your str

"Can you imagine what Maureen is wearing today?" "Maureen is so annoying!" Maureen this, Maureen that, Maureen there! Lord! when does this all stop? "Life is the best teacher there can ever be"- I always doubted that when my Lifetime Friend mentioned it some years ago but now.... Now I know. I know that Life has her lesson plans panned out all through one's lifespan and she will ensure that every student gets to learn their portion before she sends them to the next world. I also know that not everyone is a nice person-regardless of how bright their smiles and "awws" are- They simply aren't nice at all. They will plan your exit one minute and kiss you a second after they've implemented their plan. Take for instance this one time random night when I was tossing in my bed- totally sleepless and bored. My phone rang and the caller ID got me grinning but what the caller talked about about was not grin-worthy. Here goes: Ring

Job 33:16- says: For God speaks once, yea twice, yet man perceives it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls  upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; Then he opens the ears  of men, and seals their instruction, That he may turn man  from his purpose, and hide pride from man. He keeps back his  soul from the pit, and his life from perishing by the sword. Once or more, I have often wondered why religion exists. The teachers (parents, priests, Sheikhs etc) have time and again told about the importance of religion and why one needs to cultivate and maintain a working relationship with God (whomever they perceive Him to be). Now, I am not saying I do not believe in the existence of powers supernatural- I do. But the one question that still fails to get answered satisfactorily is why we have to all belong to different religious sects and yet still claim there is one GOD. That beats my understanding and has me running around almost Godlessly. The other day I w

I woke up today with all intent to write and publish a post but somehow all that goodwill and great energy has vanished. It's not that I have nothing to write about- I do. I have many stories to recollect, lots of memoirs I would like to store somewhere- if only to beat myself up two years after for the bad grammar. However, after reading everyone (almost everyone) else's powerful and fact filled posts, mine seem to shrink in comparison. And no one really wants to be a failure in their own eyes- I am no exception! Two months ago I nearly combusted in front of my teenage daughter and the head of the school she goes to. This child refused to hand in her homework because her answers differed from her peers'! Well, Talk about the apple not falling so far from the tree, matter of fact- this apple refuses to fall from the tree. I am very sure she would feel the same way about me right now if I explained to her why I have millions of drafts and not a single completed story!