Everyone has a story and here goes mine!

As I woke up this morning I could not help but rush downstairs to put the kettle on for a cup of tea, a common phenomenal that I have perfected way too well as an adaptive measure against cold here in ‘Greenland’. As I sat down on my couch and started sipping the steaming tea and flowing down my throat warming my whole body I could not escape the experience of a serene atmosphere.  All of a sudden I found myself reciting the poem of Henry Timrod, a son of a bookbinder and amateur poet from South Carolina…….

Today’s most trivial act may hold the seed

of future fruitfulness, or future dearth; …..

and before I could move on to the third line, I stopped and my mind started unwinding to my past perhaps in the search of whether my past has anything to do with my present.

I was taken on a flight back into the village where I was born in the rural section of Kenya. Growing up in a family of six with meagre resources in a community that struggled to meet its’ own life-basic needs was my first stop giving me a very nice panoramic view of my past.  As I stood there I remembered how on rainy seasons we had to wade through swollen rivers to make it to school. On several occasions we would miss school and hope the following day the water levels would subside to allow safe passage across the valley.

We were blessed to have classrooms with a roof but not lucky enough to have windows installed and some of us would find it easier to use them as either entry or exit points depending on the location of your seat. One advantage to this was that there was fresh air flowing into the classroom through those open sections of the building but it became quite chilly during wet and windy seasons.

As I sat there I could vividly remember how learning materials and equipments were not adequate for all, an example of that being the recommended books that would be shared among several households. What a community it was, one that was concerned about the predicament of each other. A book would be passed on from the eldest in the family to the youngest which means in certain families it would change hands 3-5 times which would then be donated to another family in need. This meant economical use of every available resource.

 Proper lighting in my house was an impediment to my reading and doing homework at night, because we shared one kerosene lamp which would be kept on up to a specific time so as to save the oil for the following day.

I remembered how mobile communications, internet access, frequency modulation radios as well as access to television was a preserve of very few if not a luxury to all. However, this did not dampen my eagerness to explore and learn different things. At a very tender age I had discovered Short-wave radios which offered me the only option I had in learning about the outside world. I would listen to Voice of America (Karibu msikilizaji hii ni idhaa ya VOA tukitangaza kutoka Washington DC), Deutsch welle Radio  in Germany, John Nene on BBC World Service among others.  

My boyhood devious behaviours were refreshed as well. I could remember digging into my father’s collections of old magazines like the government banned-The Weekly Review-where I had learnt about our fallen heroes like Dr Robert Ouko and J.M. Kariuki.  From radios I had learnt about Christian Democratic Union of Germany under Roman Herzog,  the struggle for freedom and independence in Cambodia under Tamil Tigers, our brothers struggle in South Africa under the leadership of His excellency Nelson Mandela as well as lovely message of forgiveness from Gordon Wilson in Enniskillen….’I bear no ill will’  a message that was broadcast around world after the bombing on Remembrance Sunday .

At this stage I could see how this background had formed a big desire within me to one day explore the rest of the world. I remembered vividly while growing up as a little child some of the songs that we used to sing about aeroplanes----Ndege wathii utume marua,wire baba angurire,uniformu yakwa ninduiku, ituikite maguru-ini. Na ndukariganirwo ni waigua! –translated to mean—(Aeroplane when you go please send my dad a letter and tell him I need a pair of new uniform because the one that I have is torn at the hem. Please DO NOT FORGET!)  The idea of a heavy metal ‘bird’ flying over the air used to intrigue me and would always dream of flying in them some day. I remember one of the stories being told of a specific plane that used to fly over our land at 11pm every night. It was commonly believed that it carried Kenyan milk to distant lands. A story I would later learn, was only meant to provoke our imaginations.

In a flicker of a second my mind travelled back to my couch where I was seated and deeper reflections of what it meant for me being away from home for three years came into play. What a life changing experience it has been after coming to where the aeroplane ‘took our Kenyan milk’,(-I was involved in this soliloquy for few seconds-), a land I had always equated with peace, freedom and justice. For me it has been almost, for lack of better terms, baptism by fire. From a fairly conservative society which is very communal in nature to an independent but also a ‘bedroom peeping ‘society has offered me a test of all time. From a community whose concept of time is event-based and time at least by majority always rounded up to the nearest one or two hours, to a more time-based system whose adherents would be ready to go on riot for a meal served twenty minutes late than scheduled has not been easy. How well would anyone describe the movement from an awfully excellent weather to a brilliantly horrible weather if not- baptism by fire?

I liked the way up to this point my mind was playing these life changing experiences in form of slides and clips ….Being away from home has helped me a great deal in thinking and reflecting of things that I would not have thought of in my homeland. Issues like being black in white spaces have offered me incredible lessons that will stay in me for the rest of my life. I know in the past different people have asked the question whether our differences are irreconcilable while others have explored the beauty of diversity.

For me it has been a turn around! Things I held dear to my heart have been challenged, my perspectives put to a more clear focus and understanding of God and His care for humanity and His creation becoming clearer and clearer each day. Before I could unpack more of my experiences I woke up from my short slumber with my cup still warm in my hands .  I could only but remember  the next two lines in the first stanza of Henry Timrod wonderful  Poem dubbed THE PAST which ends………….

Oh, cherish always every word and deed!

The simplest record of thyself hath worth!