TESTIFY

Without assuming too much, I believe that you have been on the receiving end or perhaps the dishing-out end of an exchange such as this:

You: (collapsing on the couch) “I am so tired! I just finished mopping the entire house, cleaning out the dog house, went to the market and cooked lunch.”

Mum/Dad/Older sibling..etc : “That’s nothing. When I was your age, we didn’t even have gas or a stove, you’re too privileged. We had to chop down a whole tree every morning before going to school and kindle a fire by rubbing sticks just to make tea.”

Of course, in those days they had to walk 10 kilometres to school (one way) and the route happened to be uphill both ways. Everyone used to live in valleys apparently.

Image Source: TV Tropes

 

SELF PORTRAIT

Image Source: Pinterest

Sometimes I think I have it figured out – why I love and hate writing in equal measure. I theorize endlessly on my motivations and fears, influences and hindrances, passions and distractions. The reason then seemingly dawns on me, and I go “Aha! I have attained self-actualization and know why I haven’t put out a blog in two years.”

The reasons vary from fluctuating weather patterns affecting my moods, a sudden and all-consuming interest in the behavior of the honey bee, a self-imposed ban from social media, joblessness, a heart stolen by a love interest, laziness (I’m putting my money on this one), repeated episodes of existential crises, and by far the largest motivator – insecurity. Which is ironic, considering I’m Maasai, and we make amazing watchmen; you’d imagine I’d be at least secure in my own self.

GOOD INTENTIONS

We all know that nice person in our lives. That inviting person who you’d trust with your newborn baby.That person you’re willing to leave with your half eaten sandwich and know you’ll find with the same fraction of sandwich you left them with. And if anyone asked you, you’d just say you trust that person. You know they wouldn’t harm a fly. Because they mean well. And if they did do wrong, it wasn’t their intention. Something must have made them make that mistake, because that is so unlike them.

Any of that ring a bell?

Welcome to my world.

LET’S PRETEND I WAS HERE ALL ALONG

Hello darkness my old friend. That’s what I say in greeting to the blinking cursor on my computer screen. The herald to all the stories I tell and don’t. The judgmental, sneering critic to every word I type out. It looks back at the trail of words it leaves behind like the slime behind a snail. Asking me silently, “You sure you want to send that out? You know I could just backspace you to the start where it was just us two. Don’t you love me anymore? Why don’t you want us to be alone by ourselves?”

WORDS

word /wərd/: a single unit of language which means something and can be spoken or written.

Reading that definition from the Oxford dictionary takes me back a couple of years to my Biology class in high school. I can very clearly recall being seated on the wonderfully uncomfortable metallic chairs, a Form One student, shiny and new – eager for knowledge.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ THIS. REALLY,YOU DON’T.

I think I may have a problem.
And it’s affecting my life.
I’ll be turning 21 years old today (depending on when you read this), and I’m a student in the University. That may be all you need to know. I am the world’s leading procrastinator and this condition…this…this illness – it will perhaps be the end of me.

HOW I CAME TO FAITH

Grain of mustard seed on palm of hand

The last time we spoke, I left off my story with a promise to introduce you to a good friend of mine. As is the custom, at least with me, I have procrastinated the writing of this piece, and the introduction to my said friend, till there was virtually nothing else to do. And that is when I sat to write.

I digress. You came here for the story, I suppose. Not my melodramatics.

And into the story let us dive. I only mentioned in passing the role my Friend has had in my life. Which is quite a terrible thing to do, considering I literally owe my life to him. So allow me to set things straight, and to begin at the beginning – where I believe all stories should.

I USED TO HAVE A DREAM

It is a sad thing in life that many people never get to live out their dreams. In fact it is a tragedy that many dreams often remain just that. And never get to have life breathed into them.

Martin Luther King looking deep and philosophical, probably because he had a cool dream.

This man had a dream, and not even his death could quiet it. No. His dream lived beyond him…into today, and I daresay his dream is more alive than most people’s I know. Maybe even yours.

FIRST POST ON THE WAY

Well, technically speaking the second post is on the way…because apparently this counts as a post…but I don’t think it should be considered one because it’s just a heads up, and that shouldn’t be taken to be a post because its like a greeting, and if someone just greeted you then you didn’t really hold a conversation-you had an encounter…and now I’m just sounding crazy.

*phew*

This has succeeded in being quite a strange first encounter, but I’m positive our next date will be more rewarding, probably.

Watch this space though…because that’s all there’s going to be till I pull down that sign up there.

See you all soon!