“Daddy, what’s the colour of our school gate?” Andrei asked unexpectedly, in the middle of a casual chitchat.
“The colour of your school gate is… mhh.” I hesitated because I was thinking of a few colours. But I was mostly wondering why he asked. Recently, he’s been complaining that I don’t take him to school. Last week, I had to convince him over the phone that I had gone to work, and that’s why I couldn’t be there to take him to school. He goes to school after 8am, you see the challenge with that.
“Inaanza na (It starts with) letter P…” he decided to give me a clue.
Continue reading The School Gate
I wanted to leave immediately, but then we decided that we would have one more round of poker. I was sure that I would win this round, so I was getting my mind into it, mending one strategy after another, waiting for the next person who would say they were kadi alafu akule zake tano. The game was intriguing; nobody dared even sip a pint of water. We were all eyes until we got a knock on the door.
She was a pretty lady, probably in her mid-twenties, and she wore a dress top. She said, “Ni stima zimeenda huku ama? I was wondering, “Niaje kwetu kumezima tu.” We all shifted our attention to her, then she continued, “Oh, I’m Lorna. I’m sorry for disrupting you. I was over at my son’s friend’s house; they have a birthday party.”
Read more: I just needed someone to pay some attention
Continue reading I just needed someone to pay some attention
In 2014, Church on the Rock was planting a new church in Kudou, near Beni in North Eastern Congo (DRC). A pastor had been sent there with his family to lead the church. Two weeks later, rebels attacked their village and slaughtered 28 people, among them the pastor and his wife. The pastor’s little children saw an axe being planted into their mother’s head.
The children later reported, “some white stuff came out from our mother’s head.” Their father was slaughtered and chopped with machetes behind their house.
Continue reading We are being suffocated, the Congolese cry for peace and freedom
In the book ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, something profound is said in Chapter 11 by Atticus, the father of the narrator of the story. The book is written from the perspective of Scout, a young girl who is 6 to 9 years old in the course of the book.
Atticus who is a lawyer has taken up a case to defend a black man who’s accused of raping a white girl. It’s a big deal in 1930s Alabama in a racially charged small town and the whole family suffers because of his decision. Scout and his brother Jem are constantly mocked in school, the neighbors call them names and the extended family is openly against it.
Continue reading Should you always follow your conscience?
On 20th May 2022, the judiciary held it’s inaugural Day of Prayer and Fasting, coinciding with Martha Koome’s first anniversary as CJ. The theme of the day was God loves righteousness and justice, from Psalms 33:5. Clergy from different religions were present at the event that was held at the supreme court and simultaneously in courts across the country.
In the opening remarks, one of the judges said, “We are gathered in this solemn assembly to seek the face of God concerning the affairs of the judiciary.” She read 2 Chronicles 7:14, upon which they had gathered to pray for the healing of the judiciary.
Continue reading Is the Kenyan Judiciary on a spiritual journey?
The general election is upon us and that means another opportunity to participate in deciding who will lead us for the next five years. Even though Christians are divided along tribal and other lines, there’s still some discernment of God’s sovereignty in appointment of leaders.
The questions linger. Do we get the leaders that God chooses for us or does God let us choose leaders for ourselves? Are the candidates we elect on 9th August of God’s making? Or shall get the leaders we deserve, as people often say. If God chooses leaders for us, does it even matter if we vote?
Ours is a complex situation where either camp believes their candidate is the chosen one. But I also know many people who are genuinely confused about the will of God in this election.
Continue reading Election: Our will or God’s will
On 4th March 2022, 8 days before the start of the DVBS in Mt. Elgon, we gathered at Mama Mirriam’s place to discuss the planning progress. There was palpable anxiety and uncertainty in the room. Sentences were short, responses were measured and updates on the points of action were unsurely muttered. Everyone was thinking about one thing but no one had the courage to say it. Would the DVBS happen or not?
Earlier that week, mama Mirriam, the founder of Mt. Elgon Children ministries had come straight from the prayer mountain and got admitted in hospital. She was feeling weak and dizzy but on investigating no specific illness was found.
At the same time, we were struggling to raise funds. Out of a budget of Kshs. 250,000, we only had 20,000 in the account. Continue reading Mt. Elgon DVBS 2022 – A Journey of Faith
During the daily debriefs at the Children’s outreach in Mt. Elgon, one man stood out. He gave the reports of his class in unadulterated Swahili, much to the amazement of the group. He used some words like, ‘mshike mshike, mawaa, bugtha’ and many more that some of us had not heard in a while and only thought they belonged in inshas. But they were not just words thrown in sentences to sound good, there was flow and cadence and order in his speech that was immaculate.
It’s not like when someone brought up in some upcountry village trying to speak Swahili with the coastal accent and you just want to close your ears. No, this guy had it. Did you know that Continue reading The Broken Vessel
You can read Chapter 1 HERE
Thankfully, a friend offered me a job in industrial area. I was staying with friends and random people. At one point I stayed with some girls from Meru. I didn’t even know them but their compassion was familiar. I was moving on slowly; healing and starting to find myself.
Then I met another guy. I was 21, he was 2-3 years older than me, looked naïve like me, was patient with me and had a small nice place that he lived in. In my desperation, I found myself in the arms that showed me what looked like love. But I was also tired of being exiled by the Meru girls Continue reading My Father Through my Eyes – Chapter II
One night during family devotion, after dad had taught us about Noah and the ark, I was asked to pray. I stumbled through the prayer, saying my own things. My older brother laughed. That’s the last time he ever laughed during devotion. The rod was not spared; the seriousness of God’s matters was communicated to him effectively.
I was born in Pumwani and raised in Nairobi to strict parents. My dad was extra stringent. He believed in the cane and there was no negotiation for misbehavior. We somehow knew we were loved but those words were never verbalized by dad. He would do things like remembering our birthdays which he does up to now. There are no more gifts like in childhood but he calls.
My dad was working for the government press, was a part time pastor and did quite a bit of missionary work. From an early age I watched dad Continue reading My Father Through my Eyes – Chapter I