Happy Mothers' Day Sarah

Happy mother’s day Sarah 

They had just arrived in their new city, her master and their nephew Lot,

Quite tired from the long journey, but thrilled by the great promise echoed to them,

Probably the two men familiarizing themselves with the new grounds,

Maybe as she prepared some traditional porridge for them; flashbacks of past events,

Probably giggling to herself and thinking of how her master had tricked Pharaoh’s officials,

 

True to Abram’s word, she really is beautiful even at 80 years of age,

But the reality of their situation still glaring,

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Her womb isn’t right, and her master now an old man clocking his 90’s,

For sure time isn’t waiting for anyone including them,

Do you realize that every time she sees a child it bothers her?

Even in her master’s wealth, goats, camels and donkeys; she is not at peace,

She desires a baby; a fruit of her womb,

Her skin is falling apart; drawing a clear picture of her age and struggles,

The society has judged her; they now call her the barren woman in town,

And she so strongly believes them,

In fact, she’s convinced that Hagar can take her position as the home maker,
 

Frustration and misery protruding from her long face,

She doesn’t care anymore; not about their matrimonial bed or the shadows of their vows,

But even then; sparks of once uttered promise still flaring around,

From Abram to Abraham; the father of Nations,

From Sarai to Sarah; nations to nations would call her blessed,



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The world needs to know that she is not barren; in fact she was never barren from the beginning,

Because her situation doesn’t define her; a seed of greatness resides inside her since the very beginning,

For when God changes your name he bestows on you a new purpose,

His timing is always perfect, not a minute earlier nor a minute late,

It doesn’t matter how long he takes, he finally shows up just at the right time,

And so, believe him not because you need a son; believe him because he is God and he can do it even without you asking,

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Sarah; your womb isn’t a waste of flesh,

It’s a fertile ground too significant to be ignored,

A great destiny is about to be achieved through you, for with God all things are possible,

Sarah; fill your house with toys, baby cloths and paint your house walls with bright baby colours,

Imagine kicks of a young life inside your womb, smile big as you wait for your bundles of joy,

Get some delivery kits if need be,

Start visualizing what you imagined some decades back- being a mother,

And if I won’t be around to receive these bundles with you, I wish you well in advance,

Happy mother’s day Sarah.

Mwende.

Its My Signature

Its My Signature

“Hey you; use your other hand” she shouted.

“But madam, it’s not strong enough to write anything” I murmured. A conversation that continued for quite a while taking all the wrong moves; imposing a totally conflicting message from what I had ever believed in.

 

Like any other young girl in my sleepy village then, school was fun and simply enjoyable.

A jovial, confident and fun girl I was, and brilliant too- at least dad/mum made me believe that I was. 

Until that cold conversation that early Monday morning with my English teacher came into picture; clogging my system with a shadow of self- doubt and phobia; tossing my identity left right and centre.

 

The moments there after were unique- not for better though!

Every time I had to write something on our dilapidated black board, something would just go wrong.

I couldn’t understand why they had to force me use my right hand.

 

Somehow they found their way through; piercing deep into my soul and igniting a birth of a young fearful and quiet girl; I was no longer excited and especially on things that had to do with my condemned left hand.



I could almost always confuse those mandatory righty-handshakes.

Talk of school right- handed desks; which constantly reminded me that I was different plus my misbehaving left arm elbow which pushed my seatmates away.

How I loved music festivals! Despite my deviating left leg; when everybody else is moving to the right, I move to the left but maintain the harmonious rhythm- I think I’m also left- legged.J

 

Even now, all these things seem to be oriented for just righties so to speak- talk of being left- handed in right- handed world!

I precisely had to fight my way through and it’s not been a cakewalk.

Those moments made me stronger and still more moments continue to be born. 

Despite all these, I'm glad that I regained my profound identity- freedom in left handedness!

And yes my fun, jovial and bold girl is back- she’s here to stay- she’s grown and clearly understands her purpose in life.

And her left hand will have to be part of the journey!
 

And this is the story of my left- hand wrangle!!

Left- hand fingers jolly typing J....

Mwende