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
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
In about 100 years or so, my descendants and those of my brothers and sisters might not know each other. There’s a small chance they could, if they all live around the same area but I think they will be living their separate lives in different parts of Kenya and probably the world. If we are lucky, they might know us. I say all this because as of now, I know very few descendants of my grandparent’s siblings. Where are they? What do they do? What do they look like? I don’t know.
But something happened during the last holidays and it gave me and my siblings an opportunity to know some of them. Our grandma (dad’s mum) has always lived with us. When I was born, Continue reading From Kenya to Uganda, the holidays that redefined my heritage
Do you believe in destiny? Do you believe that you were supposed to do a particular thing in life and without it your life won’t be complete? That’s a question that always leaves us pondering whether we are on the right track in life. You haven’t really lived if you haven’t questioned your purpose on God’s blue circle we call home.
But earth is hard, Kenya is harder and Nairobi is said to be hardest, especially when you don’t get a sound foundation and support system as a child. Your dreams and what you call purpose can be derailed to a desolate destination. You get lost in a multitude of people, your screams for help deafened by the collective despair of society.
Continue reading Blackman
You can read part 1 of this story here
While living the life in Mombasa, Wanjohi got sick. He had measles, but it was first misdiagnosed as malaria at an estate dispensary. He hadn’t been vaccinated against measles as a child and as an adult, it got him proper. He was sick, so sick that he couldn’t move or do anything for himself. Being alone in the house made it worse. He was dying. It’s the neighbors who took him to hospital after noticing unusual quietness in his house and the fact that he hadn’t been out, or brought any girls into the house.
Continue reading The Trials and Tribulations of Wanjohi part II
“What have you come here to do?” asked Wanjohi’s mother, astounded that her son was standing right in front of her.
“I have come to visit my mum,” he answered. “You don’t come to visit us in ushago so I decided to come myself.”
“Who have you come with?”
Continue reading The Trials and Tribulations of Wanjohi part I