My Greatest Undoing

My greatest undoing,
Is the only glory I accord the Father,
Is a finger pointed heavenward,
Accompanied by the phrase ‘It’s Jesus, yo!’
But in my heart I sing a different song
‘Ulinidharau, who’s laughing now’

And in my mind I am exalted on a vain throne
With everyone bowing as if to say
‘You’re the man, Serah!’

My greatest undoing,
Is that I quote verses on these twitter streets
And are quick to condemn on facebook walls
In exactly the same way Pharisees did in Bible times
I blog my prayers
And parade my righteousness for all to see
‘Filthy rags, dear’ The Lord calls my best show
But nothing beats the promise of the World Wide Web
‘Once posted, forever online’
I will be crowned saint at my deathbed
For that I am certain

My greatest undoing
Is that I cry out ‘Maranatha- Lord come quickly’
But no, I will not go out
And tell the world about Jesus
Lamb that was slain for the redemption of mankind
No, I’d rather Christ return
And I live eternally
Everyone else can be statistic
Of the evil that dwells in the world
How divinely selfish of me!

My greatest undoing,
Is that I gossip at prayer meetings
In the guise of relaying prayer requests
‘For a friend’, I always say,
Funny how Christ took me as I was
But I sneer at men who come to me
Broken and undone
I desire mercy but have none to give
I pray for blessing but will not share!

My greatest undoing,
Is that I condemn myself
And exalt my ills above God’s grace
I wallow in pain
And let it drive me insane
I sulk at the bulk of its weight
And rant  at the darts it baits
Me with
Paints of me an image of nonentity
Taints from me the reality of eternity
As if Jesus love was laced with frugality

My greatest undoing
Is that I am human
No one on my own
Dead, dead, dead!
Born in sin
So dead from birth
Death by mere existence

But He loves me yo!
Jesus loves me
And He found me And Saved me
Found glory in my weakness
Undid my undoing
Gave meaning to my being

There is therefore now no condemnation
God’s word says
No more pain from guilt lacerations
My debt Jesus love pays
I have been crucified with Christ
The old has gone
The new is come
I am a new creation
Born of God
Bought at a price
His very own-
Indeed, I am home.

 

Different

I doubt that the cacti in Namib desert have ever sent a message with the birds of the air or the wind to say ‘i envy you’ to the acacia trees in the Savanna or the Oak trees in the Congo. I doubt that they feel insecure for having no canopy, leaves or bark; i doubt that they feel short and plump or too hot in the sweltering heat; i doubt  that they almost wish they could get on a plane and relocate to Alaska  🙂

I don’t think the ebony trees in rain forests feel chocked or wet and clammy; i doubt that they feel crowded and devoid of privacy because of all the climbing plants and creatures crawling all over them. I doubt that the wind-breakers around homesteads feel cold and beat and picked on; i doubt that the trees by river beds get scared in the night or wonder why they are rooted where they are.

Perhaps we should learn a lesson from all trees- that it is okay to stand different – it is great to be different; to either blossom purple flowers like the Jacaranda or have our red leaves turn green like the Maple tree or have no flowers at all like most trees. That there is nothing wrong with roots that run deep or with shallow roots. Our sources and lifelines are different, some may need to work longer than others or walk further and it is all good.

image courtesy of neatorama.com

What some trees lack in beauty, they make up for by being useful. Where would we get medicine from if all we had in the world were the splendid Aspen trees? We would be so dulled and bored right now and all dendrologists and arborists would be unemployed!

Different works, it is what makes us unique and defines us, it is what gives us a name, what initiates change in the world around us. Different is why we all need each other and matter, different is what builds a platform for each one of us and lets us stand out and reach out to everyone.

Different rocks. Be different. Be you.

 

I Would Rather

I would rather walk
And share a joke with the folk,
Than be in a VOLKswagen
Sitted in traffic with a frown;

I would rather walk
And soak wet like a rained on hawk,
Than sit in a matatu listening to cheap talk
On a radio station that dares say: STAY LOCKED!

I would rather read,
Than feed on the dying wit of a modern movie;
One in bleeding need of kneaded content,
Oh how a good book beckons and bids!

I would rather write,
Than bite my tongue in gossip;
Write of depths and heights,
Will and might,
Things dull and bright;

I would rather write:
Write away an outcast’s plight,
Than turn away and pass him by;
Write and milk my pen dry,
Write until I reach my sky high,
Write like there’s only today,
For that’s the truth per say;

I would rather smile:
That big and broad upward curve,
Shining bright on every one it serves,
Than cramp up a million face muscles,
In a big parcel called a frown-
Perhaps the saddest noun in town!

I would rather smile
In the darkest of days,
And hum to the best of tunes
On a cold afternoon,
Than pout and sulk
And count my losses,
As though life’s blessings and joys
Belonged in a pouch that circumstances could steal!

I would rather dance
And miss my step or break a bone,
Than sink in a corner competing with The Jonses;
I will not wait until I can afford Ballerina lessons,
I will not miss the dance until I get
A better job,
A bigger house,
A changed spouse,
Shoes that fit,
Or a water bed!
(God forbid they burst my bubble/ mattress!)

No.

I would rather dance
And smile
And write
And walk
And be grateful over everything
In the here and the now.

 

I Choose Peace

In 1963, men, women and children wept, laughed, clapped and danced as Kenya gained independence. It had come at a heavy cost, but the pain and loss was well worth the gain of freedom. Anyone who saw Kenya at that time would tell you how senseless and foolish the war of brothers against brothers would be. In the end, we lose it all- our hearts, families, friends, homes, resources, et al. It is well not worth it.

Image courtesy of Wikipedia

In ten days, 14,337,399 Kenyans will take up six slips each and vote for a handful of leaders. The winners will be very privileged to lead a country of brilliant minds, kind hearts, strong muscle, creative personalities and entrepreneurial spirits.

But here is the problem: we are a generation that knows our country’s history just as well as we are aware of the LadyBird Series fairy-tales. We often forget the price that was paid for liberty and so we trash it at any opportunity without thinking of the implications. We second guess the value of our country and its kinsmen over that of a few individuals and in the end, we risk losing all the blessing bestowed on our beautiful country.

Like Roger Whittaker, My land is Kenya. I cannot afford to be careless in my responsibilities to my nation every five years. Neither can you. Not in comments made in our social circles or social media, not on National television or newspapers read by millions everyday, not by feeding propaganda to a population that trusts us and especially not by playing the tribalism card. With all due respect, we are voting for National leaders- Kenyan leaders, not for clan representatives or cultural chiefs or personal-agenda carriers.

If you have watched Seconds from Disaster, then you know ten days is enough time for us to make a conscious decision to choose peace for our nation rather than pointless destruction. It is enough time to get all aspiring leaders to agree to put people above self in the coming week. It can be done. It is enough time for each of us to rethink our will and intent for this Nation.

In ten days, our Nation grows or goes. We are the ones to choose. My name is Serah Njambi, I love my country and I choose Peace.

 

The Auction

I remember this one time i went to an auction; scratch that, i was in an auction. There is a difference, you know. The former implies i planned to go and dressed up for it, the latter just lays it bare; i was the commodity, the piece, the junk being tagged and put up on the stand for the highest bidder to pick.

So what is a common girl’s worth?
What amount is enough for one lost from birth?
One that has known nothing but sinister stares
From ministers and mayors,
Yea, and from naysayers too.
what is such a person worth?

I spent most of my life blindfolded or in dark rooms, nibbling food from floors like chicken; only that it was mostly rotten and conjured up with diarrheal remains. Are you cringing? Is it unimaginable, surreal, disgusting? Is it in bad taste for 2013’s first blog post? Such is life. Some of us are dug from pits so deep and dark, so scary and lonesome… but guess what, gold and diamonds come from such depths too. 🙂

Dressed in a beautiful garment,
They paraded me on a platform of cement;
“Too skinny!” came the retorts and laments
“Ugly!” the comments took a dangerous plummet
but there i stood, with vacant eyes
No tears, no fear and no- it isn’t that my heart is of ice
After years and years of nothing but pain and suffering
You learn to throw it all away, to stop dreaming;
It kills you inside, but keeps you alive an extra day.

They were all there, the women in silk and purple linen, the men in corduroy pants and leather belts, the little girls in pretty dresses and the boys with chubby faces. They all looked, frowned, shouted out petty bid prices and laughed loudly. The air was pungent with pride, scorn and vanity but only for a while…

“I will take the girl” came the voice,
“Infact, i will have them all, they are my choice.”
Hush. Silence. Not an ounce of noise.
I look up, expecting nothing, really.
Perhaps a man with a Tower-of-Babel sized ego
Pretending to be so nice, we could be amigos

But my eyes behold a sight like no other. I see no man standing before me, no, i see life. I see life my friends. I see healing and a second chance. I see Jesus. I see life everlasting.
It is true what they say,
The train that derails one’s hopes and dreams
Is the very one that delivers them
Where they were needed to be in the first place.

True, sin enslaves and blinds, corrupts and drains us. Then it sets us up for sale at throw away prices, lies to us that we are plain and worthless… and done for. But Christ chases us, He runs after us, yes, He paid the highest price at the auction, He gave His life. HIS LIFE. Not for show (i think there are many (vain) ways of showing off, He would have picked any one) but for love. There is nothing more intimate. Nothing.

I stepped off the cement platform at the auction
And into an eternity of concrete love and life;
I left the mediocre, the hollow, the empty
And let Him fill this shell with Himself.
Life began that day,
When i woke up and showed up
At my last auction.

Christ is waiting at your auction today, will you show up?

 

If Life is Really Short… A Spoken Word Piece

If life is really short,
Then perhaps we shouldn’t distort The Message,
shouldn’t concort our rage in purported platforms and stages… always working against good and God,
leaving out what we should do for what we want to do,
Never mind we play the fools-
Pooling in masses,
Making the worst passes at any
and every granted opportunity;

Oh its hot so nudity gives,
Oh its cold so immorality gives-
We really are good at this, aren’t we?

If life’s really short,
Maybe stupidity needs to meet its maker,
Maybe common and sense need to marry,
Maybe nothing else matters;
Not new Gospel hits
or prosperity gospel-your seed for a vitz,
Maybe the only modeling we need to do
Is Christlikeness
and the only thing that needs to get into shape
is our wretchedness …
For our righteousness is as filthy rags,
And if that isn’t enough to bug us,
Perhaps we are some dry bones in the valley
In dire need of Fresh breath in our lungs,
The Holy Spirit to revive and work our conscience.

If life is really short,
then perhaps the only thing that needs to be on billboards is The Message…
Not faces and laces or drinks and the Sphinx:
just The Message.

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.

Think about it.

 

WOLO – Why Only Live Once?

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life telling tales about how i died at twenty three,
about how i used to be just as good as the ABCs my children look up to
and as talented in the XYZs that they love to do;

I don’t want to forever rhyme and whine about how what is left of me
isn’t nearly as blest as the rest of me used to be;

I don’t want to hang around and rant about the things i could have,
should have, would have done but never quite got down to;

I don’t want to be as predictable as the next hour,
or as expendable as a flat tire-
no i am not immortal but pray,
I want to count!

What is it they say- You Only Live Once- YOLO?
WOLO- Why Only Live Once- i ask;
Live everyday!
Live right,
Be wise,
Life is not merely a game of dice!

There is plenty to do
and billions of people to do it for,
Maybe millions to work against;
But there is only one me,
One brilliant, beautiful, amazing you too 🙂

So forgetting what i don’t want,
Forfeiting what makes me think i can’t,
Remembering that indeed i can
do all things through Christ;
LEGOOOOO!

It’s a get-going, keep-working,
WOLO moment for me 🙂

 

Congratulations on Your Graduation

This poem is for all my amazing friends who made it through to the end of their first degrees 🙂 I am mighty proud and very happy for all of you 🙂

Sixteen or so years you have heard them say,
“Oh work hard and do not stray,
Stay in school, please do not bail;
Be up and on your toes lest you fail,
Get out, get going and keep your head!
To school we send you to be well read,
Out here awaits you your dream job,
So  keep at it until you wear that black robe!”

And so you tried and toiled
If only to see that day,
When all you’d hear them say
Is ” well done dear!
For braving your fears,
Laboring in tears;
For not veering off course!”

And here we are,
Saluting you ma’ams and sirs,
For being workers austere;
The pride of your Fathers and mothers,
Role models for your brothers and sisters.
“I want to be just like you!”
Squeals an excited cousin;
“Share your secret, what did you do?”
As questions and congratulations buzz in,
You can only smile and thank them.

For there is no file big enough,
To document your academic journey at length;
There is no time long enough,
To narrate the joys and tears,
Of the spoils and the peers;
Of the days of panic
and those of utter surrender;
Of the wins
and the even bigger wins!

There is no canvas fit enough,
To draw out the years,
The memories,
The friendships,
All the knowledge you’ve acquired
And the wisdom you found.

And at the end of the day,
When they grant you the Power to Read;
I hope your world will stop,
If only for the longest time possible;
To thank God for planting the seed,
For watering and tending to it patiently,
For bringing everything to fruition,
For continually loving and lavishing you like  so.

Congratulations my friend,
You did it!!!! 🙂

Colossians 3:23
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men,

Psalm 20:4
May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed.

 

Death of The Old Self

Maybe it is not enough to grow up and grow old. Perhaps we all desire something more, deep inside- beyond blowing out the cake candles and singing along to birthday songs. Surely, there has to be more to the lives and times of all of us, hasn’t there?

Everyone else seems to have gotten it- their niche I mean. Winning medals and awards, getting recognition for their exemplary works in all fields possible, thinking up million dollar ideas overnight! Me? Well, I have tried, tried and tried again. Sometimes I feigned interest in different works, other times it was genuine; but most times if not all, I missed the mark. So I got up, decided it was someone else’s field and I moved on, to covet and subdue new lands. But history is keen on repeating itself. Years upon years of hustle and trying in vain before running away did nothing but leave me scathed and scarred, rebellious, desperate and frustrated. Wondering where all the energy went, why I felt so wasted, why I had nothing to show for all that time i was alive, skilled and enabled.

And in a sunny and boring week day, I stopped dead in my dreary tracks and remembered a wise man’s quipping: one sharp tool surpasses the utility of ten blunt ones in the hour of need. It was time to slay this dragon of defeat and lack of direction lest it baked me in its sweltering heated breath and swallowed me whole.
Change of plan: Time to stop running, time to start working smart and hard, sharpening skill in what I know I should work towards and become  thoroughly good at .
Change of authority: I can no longer be trusted to make decisions. Total demotion of self, utter devotion to God. I die daily.
Change of attitude: I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. All things, including shutting down my pity-party, comparison and belittling factory and setting it ablaze.
Change of diet: Remembering at all times that I am what I read, I am what I watch, I am who I hang out with and what I listen to and believe in.

It is indeed not enough to grow up and grow old without purpose. Perhaps there is no time like the present to do away with irrelevancies and time wasting pursuits, to actually stop first and decide to start over on a clean slate. There is just one you- not twenty, not ten, not two. So why waste you? Ask He who knows the length of your days and the number of hairs on our head to help you know who you are and what you are about.
Then, onwards onwards! The world needs you 🙂

 

Christmas in Kakuma 4

The Seven Brothers

I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it. – Pablo Picasso

December 30, 2011- On this day, we were torn between visiting Lake Turkana and going to see life in the refugee camp. We settled for the latter. To get there, we had to cross a dry river bed (whose banks were unbelievable far apart) and walk a long distance. The camp set up was the last thing we expected. Semi-permanent and permanent houses, clearly labelled streets, retail shops selling the latest shoes and clothes, an Ethiopian restaurant and very many motorbikes to ease movement in the camps. This was one the six or so parts of the camp we were told. In some parts, the refugees live in tents and do not have as much as these ones do. But money is not the question here for home is where the heart is. They all share a common dream, that life here will not last forever. We took no photos or videos in the camp, it is illegal. But we had lunch at the Ethiopian Restaurant before heading back to pack up and catch our 3pm bus to Kitale.

After a one hour delay, we were finally on our way. Barely two minutes into the journey, the conductor started demanding tickets from someone at the back of the bus. We, however, could not see who it was until the bus driver pulled over at a police post. Six teenagers and a small boy of Sudanese descent were asked to step out of the bus. After a minute or so, one of them returned and removed all their belongings. The seven brothers had paid for three or four seats and wanted to travel in the bus to Nakuru where they were to meet their sponsor. All their documents were legit, but the conductor insisted they were too old to share seats the whole way. The lads had no extra money though and after a lot of grilling, the driver intervened and they were let into the bus. What intrigued all of us, however, is that one of them almost hit a woman when they got back into the bus- reason being that she had sat at the window seat they had paid for. So much for all the trouble!

Anyway, the rest of the journey was event-free, mainly an opportunity to reflect on all that we had seen and experienced. We spent the next day resting and visiting in Kitale then journeyed home on January 1, 2012. We wish to thank everyone that made the quest possible, everyone that believed in, prayed with and cheered us on. God richly bless!

If you have much, give of your wealth; If you have little, give of your heart – Arab Saying

The human contribution is the essential ingredient. It is only in the giving of oneself to others that we truly live. – Ethyl Percy