Leave No One Behind

Leave No One Behind

When love that proceeded from the depths of their loins and belly was no longer there, the love of power arose in Kaole and he no longer hung on his wife’s gentle words or surrender himself to her caresses. His concern was now being with his mac and the comfy brown-leather seat that propagated his newly found life of working night and day to pay the bills; which later turned his back against the woman who held his spine.

Unknown rage that he couldn’t suppress began to hype as the two drifted farther apart. At first there was guilt and an attempt to stop but soon he gave way, realizing how much he enjoyed shouting and walloping his knuckles into her skin. With every hit he felt a cold zing of delight, a buzz he couldn’t get any other way.

A perfect marriage from outside it seemed yet Lisa hid purple ribs and "florets" that budded on her thighs; she hid them like a precious marble yet she oozed out pain with each strained breathe. Their home was a cage for her body and her body reciprocated the “favour”.

Over the years, Lisa laid on her matrimonial cradle listening to the songs and sounds of fury, anger and fight; and vehemently enjoyed every bit of it hoping that one day a tiny breach would pave way for her freedom.

‘C’mon’, open the door!’ Kaole’s brother pushed himself through into the hospital door handing over a withered piece of skin to the doctors.

“That’s what’s left of my brother’s manhood”, he irritably told the doctors as he gave-out a numb piece of scrotum to them; One that he hurriedly picked up in a pool of blood where his brother’s body laid.

His skin was peeled off from the vital organs, blood oozing from his belly.  Although he seemed peaceful, you could see that tissues were torn and his blood slowly turned into a thick-turbid brown with its power to ooze dying out. Their urgings culminated into a horrific ordeal whose pangs will stick around forever_ his blood was squarely on her hands; she killed him.

Neighbours called in the police who arrested Kaole’s wife because, if it happens to women, it can happen to men too; my worry being, will justice prevail?

https://en.wordpress.com/tag/gender-based-violence/

The corpse was rushed to the morgue as mourners flocked into their home you’d think they were heaped together, waiting for that one call.

Such is domestic violence; it’s lethal!

This is a familiar story for many who’ve endured the gruelling pain and trauma of Gender Based Violence (GBV) whether domestic violence, sexual violence such as rape, sexual assault or harassment, harmful practices such as FGM, child and force marriages, psychological violence or even economic violence among many more; and the fact that many of these have been normalized and perpetuated through structural inequalities makes it more arduous.

With the International campaign to challenge violence against women and girls already underway, posters and billboards are taking rounds in various media podiums with high profile cases wallowing on newspapers’ headlines on strategies towards overcoming GBV. #16 days of fight against Gender Based Violence.  

While gender-based violence cases are way too high for women compared to men, a considerable number of such cases for men occur with many ending up unreported and they too need help.

In fact, GBV has been coined to refer to women problems which clarifies why most platforms that exist to address GBV issues are naturally inclined to resolving such matters from a woman’s viewpoint. For decades, women have been found on the frontline in fight against the demon yet we still find ourselves in the same predicament many eras later.

This is not to demean the fight on violence against women and girls at all which is extremely huge and should be out-rightly condemned and perpetrators persecuted but even further, to bring on board both genders towards creating collective and lasting solutions and therefore, both men and women have a role to play.

But even better, prevention is better than cure!

 

preventconnect.org

The question is; are you aware, willing and determined to rightfully play your role?

Surrounded by four black walls, there was nothing else to do for Lisa but to stare at them. To blindly look at the ballast that was chipping off with time. Anything to pass time was meaningful for her, slowly going mad, theorizing absurd meanings from the wall's blank stare. 

“I am finally free from the blows even though I'm caged” she sighed. She will be there for a long time!

#beyond 16 days of fight against Gender Based Violence

Mwende

UNMASK IT

UNMASK IT

---

October is here and women worldwide (and friends of women) are unearthing the pink goodies and ribbons that mark breast cancer awareness month across the world. Stand up to be counted!

If today you walked into a hospital for a check-up only to be diagnosed with cancer (of any kind) how would you react to such outcomes?

‘God forbid!’ you say and I absolutely concur. It’s frightening and definitely a dark world that we all are hesitant to venture into.

But then our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that Matter- Martin Luther King Jr.

Let’s turn up the volume…

Five years ago…

Here is a story of a woman whose perfect imperfections have made her who she is today,

A woman who undoubtedly comprehends that the very rug that you stand on today can be pulled off your feet with absolutely no warning,

A woman who strives to pursue her dreams no matter what life throws at her_ because she still believes in them,

As we sat together today in the comfort of her home, I couldn’t imagine how our conversation would turn out to be. I couldn’t comprehend how stout of a person she was to still afford a smile even after all the trauma. “I still remember that day like it was yesterday 5 years ago_ the day that doctors confirmed that I had breast cancer” she calmly said with a mild smile (one that felt grateful and humbling).

Her company feeling reassuring_ it felt pleasing in every way!

istockphoto.com

Her emotions were easily hidden on her jovial face. Yet her pain was evident in the tuck of her pretty brow and the down-curve of her lips. Her eyes showed the depths of her soul. They were built, firm and brave; a reflection of a deep pool of restless gold, an ocean of hopeless anguish, a blow that kept knocking her down only to watch her rise up and knock her back again. But above all, I saw an emerging glow of optimism and conviction of better things to come.

‘My world crumbled before my eyes; I watched as every single bit of it melted away and I hated it ’_she continued with a gush of such ache flashing on her temple anyone could literally touch it. Yet her passion to live turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them I read clearly that she would wrestle to the very last gasp for her life. She couldn’t let this malady rip off her free spirit. She hung on it with passion and that passion made her beautiful.

‘Today I live to tell a story of victory’, she affirmed, her skin lighting up with humour and assurance.  Even though the dawn was still some miles away, I could sense a spark of hope; a ray of sunshine yet to come and I loved it.

‘Be informed, do self-examination. Don’t be afraid_ the importance of cancer being detected in its early stage determines the treatment and the success thereof. Be positive but above all, never give up_ we can’t give up now’, she tells me with such confidence and tenderness of a mother. I snuggled in for a goodbye hug in her warm embrace having learnt that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.

daysoftheyear.com

Reflecting…

I write to celebrate her for the courage to soldier on; and to women making it through every step of the way_ a step at a time.

And to many more heroines who succumbed to the disease; they still remain warriors because every day lived was victory won!

Early detection of breast cancer saves lives!

Self- Examination is Key!

Be informed and inform others!

Mwende 

Now is the Moment

NOW IS THE MOMENT

Years back my maternal grannie resembled a lofty lean damsel ready to conquer the world but not anymore; age has since engulfed her making her seem small and laid-back.

She now sits close to the wide kitchen-window on her brown wooden armchair with a floral cushion stack on it. And while perched there, she leans forward and dimly notices the passers-by and makes remarks about them with a stray thought about the cup of tea at the base of the chair close to her feet.

Over the years, I have continually looked forward to watching her preoccupied face with the morning light gracefully reflecting on her tanned and wrinkled skin and eyes that belie her eighty years; plus the laughter lines on the forehead that coil effortlessly when no one is watching. She’s simply a dazzling woman!

For the last 15 years, grandma has constantly sat there, on the same old chair, watching the same old passers-by and hilariously enjoyed every moment of it like it was shanking new.

We recently held a get-together to mark her 80^th birthday and of course devour the toppings that come with it if you know what I mean_ she was astoundingly thrilled.

You should have seen her cheery face giving instructions and calling out persons to serve her every now and then. As long as you were one of the people strolling around, grandma spontaneously turned you into family and ultimately if your body-frame betrayed you, you were considered a grandchild obliged to tap into her astuteness.

She sang melodiously the old-time hymns picking up every stanza just at the right time; putting enough emphasis on the choruses you’d think time was undying.

The sun was setting-in dimly into the hills with striking rays cutting through the unruffled crowd and threads of light lingering in the sky. Everyone was full and satisfied having had their kind of fun; ready to give out their goodbye embraces.

It was a beautiful day; certainly one that I remember with a smile, gratitude and hope for better things to come.

“Grandma, if you can be any age, what age would you be?” a clear voice oozed from the kitchen; too vibrant it almost scattered the crowd. It was one of her grandsons packing scraps for breakfast the following day but still following the debates outside.

“That’s a difficult question” grandma said. Sounding not too confident about what she was about to say.

“It is indeed a difficult question only because I was in a race to get though life; many of those years are fuzzy_ but I loved being 65 years because that’s when I finally learnt to pay attention to the present”, sheepishly smiling she affirmed.

And since then, she continually nurtures a non-judgemental awareness of the present and a smile that never seems to fade away.

priotime.com

I can only pray and hope for an inch of her free-spirit because I certainly need some. For we cannot rewind the past or even predict with precession the future, but we can undoubtedly take charge of our present moment.

And one by one we embraced and bid her goodbye then she returned to her spot of laughter and continued watching the same old passers-by and hilariously enjoying every moment, because every moment is new and should be enjoyed as it is!

Mwende 

Death (The Ordeal)

Death (The Ordeal)

I recall this day 10 years ago like it was just yesterday,

I still remember that tiny hospital waiting room packed to the brim with horrified faces in search of their own; all too anxious any further silence would literally kill them,

I remember staring at a portrait of a scenery beach sprawled on the four walls of the tiny room each depicting striking waves on tranquil sands contrary to the sulk within. Across from me stood a tiny black wooden coffee table holding health magazines and other tiny books neatly arranged. Underneath it a dull grey carpet that covered the whole room with showing patches of haughty stains. A slim television hung straight opposite from the tiny door displaying boring commercials with mild voices proceeding from it. Steel chairs were stack together in one corner to create space for two more persons in the already filled room, everyone gazing into the space in their own worlds of anxiety, worry and acquiescent.

I was too apprehensive to read any of the journals so I let my foot tap impatiently on the carpeted floor with teary eyes tightly locked on the door.

Just before I could create a rhythm, someone tapped my left shoulder which almost drove me mad; gladly disrupting arduous thoughts that were calling for rushed verdicts. Mother signalled from her corner of anxieties and we converged into the already squeezed space hopeful that ours wasn’t such a bad fate.

‘I mean she can’t be among the dead!’ so I thought. It appeared that any jiffy stillness opened a pot of differing opinions in my head; I was worried. Then a cold quiver ran through my belly up into my throat and I belched furiously; it’s like anger substituted the foul breath.  

“God please don’t take her away from us- I mean she’s so young to die now” I was literally negotiating with God on her behalf when dozens of rebuking queries bombarded me and I gave up only to realize that none of us was in charge!

In the heat of all the reprimands I sobbed desperately but still buoyant that my only niece then would be well and alive.

Viola had been involved in a road accident on her way to school. She left home at 9:30am of that fateful day, after a recap of counselling session plus a couple of warnings on boyfriends and forbidden pregnancies (you know how that goes) _ you’d think she was pregnant already!

We then bid her, “see you-s” because that was always our way of saying goodbye (it makes us less emotive). Two hours later such a young, sassy and intelligent girl was among many whose fate only God knew and that’s how we found ourselves in the tiny hospital waiting room.

‘Doctor!’ I mumbled when the tiny door whined and a man in a white apron squeezed himself through the crowd,

He said several students were in the ICU; and I could somehow tell that Viola was among them (just to mention that my qualms were confirmed that very day!).

I saw a ventilator tube go down her throat with its steady automated inhales and exhales, the light over her bed softly illuminating her face; she was overly covered in a heavy sky-blue cloth and nothing could stop my tears.

She later succumbed to the injuries and rested with the angels.

memorialtealightholder.com

10 years later, we still instinctively watch the gates and wish to see our cheerful lassie back home,

We never seem to get over her departure; truth is we will never get over it.

Because children are supposed to grow, learn and marry and of course bring grandchildren on our laps; then we can rest in peace_ at-least that’s our intuitive expectation.

Fast-forward…

The fire tragedy at Moi Girls School can’t be ignored; but even more the innocent lives lost should never be forgotten,  the wounds caused will take time to fill even before a scar can be spotted,

Their families’ hearts broken twice along the very same fault lines_ first by the way they had to die and second by why they died.

I still sit here and wonder why!

Why such young lives had to be cut short in such a manner!

I still wonder how one should to respond to such news; that your child is burnt beyond recognition in the very place they ought to be safe!

I won’t give you any answers coz I don’t have any; but I believe we can walk through this together,

We can ask questions that none of us comprehends; queries that leave us gasping for answers_ and that’s ok,

Yes we can call out their names and wait eagerly for a reply,

Only to be crashed by their silence and their absence,

Because the sting of death is cruel,

You see, life thrives in conversations; which through them we interact, learn and live,

Life in itself is a huge conversation of friendships, family, businesses and sometimes much more,

And so when death sneaks in, its pain is unexplainable (I mean even in our daily lives silence in itself is repulsive!).

When all conversations and interactions perish, hope withers and lousy muteness kicks in,

And that which was born in love now culminates in loss where no one seems to speak back,

Ultimately it is a scary and daunting realization that death is inevitable,

But we can be courageous and learn to finish such conversations that were once blossoming,

We can learn to live a day at a time in our own little ways; with the strength given to us,

We can still celebrate their lives and appreciate that they were once here,

We can treasure those memories and giggly chats we once held,

We can live appreciating the opportunity that we once talked and had a conversation,

memorialtealightholder.com

We can keep their names buzzing in our tiny candid chats,

Because love is honourable and it must be honoured in return,

So light a candle and ring a buzzer, you princess’ chuckles will be heard by all,

Its a 'see you', Till we meet them again in paradise.

Mwende 

Country Girl

Country Girl

Let’s just say that I’m a village girl,

I sometimes shrab very simple English words you’re left wondering what the heck just happened!

I love bright colors that do not necessarily correspond; thank God for color-blocking I no longer seem weird,

Heels make me uncomfortable, too high up the sky; and I literally walk like a new born calf risking breaking my knee caps.

When I finally garner the courage to try on make-up; a creepy thought of a heavy rain emerges and thwarts my dreams; I have never shaved my eyebrows all my life; I simply don’t get why I have to shave them off and then draw a thin black line,

I like jeans and t-shirts and riding bicycles; too official dress codes makes me nervous that I will have to deliver a speech,

I am one of those girls who enjoy prolonged laughs and slurping tea,

pinterest.com

I was born in one of the deepest villages of the world where technology was one of those demons my folks chased out in fire spitting prowess.

School rules didn’t allow me to grow my kinky hair; a clean shave felt heavenly and once in a while I experienced a touch of cold breeze massaging my forehead in the wee hours of the morning as I walked to school.

I enjoyed reading out loud in class and shrabbing off words (I didn’t notice until I was in college); for two decades I lived convinced my pronunciation was fleek,

pinterest.com

You had to be a smart student to be a bell-ringer and for two years I held that coveted seat; and of course raising and lowering the national flag on Tuesdays and Fridays in the watch of the whole dilation of pupils and teachers- it felt prestigious,

The top of my head still bears a perfect stripe of a rope that rested on it every single day for 17 years; I went with the same old jerry-can and the same rope to fetch water and nothing felt wrong,

I enjoyed fresh waters of our stream during the rainy seasons; my friends and I held happy sprees every evening in the cool of the day,

Until I came to the capital and realized just how fast one can die in a swimming pool!

Sunrise basked on my cheeks as I milked my father’s goats and cultivated my love for goat milk to this day,

For close to two decades of my life I watched a black and white TV screen (which used to break down almost every week); I lived knowing that those TV folks had a standard dress code- black and white; well until I came to the city,

My devotion to succeed thrived in my small world; and up to this day it still does,

Today I enjoy being in the city; surrounded by all these people and all kinds of high-tech, but I still break loose to my small village to catch a glimpse of pureness,

Then my village girl comes out alive again,

It’s a tradition that has now borne strong roots in my soul,

And I am not abandoning it any day soon,

Because life is made of tiny tokens of fun, appreciation and bliss of unconditional love.

Mwende

A Free Bird

A FREE BIRD

That’s what worry does; it messes up with you big deal!

And being the extremely emotional being that I am, I found myself worrying about things- things here include everything!

I got caught up with what I didn’t have and I worried about it big time,

I worried about a mountain bike that I had been planning to buy a decade ago; and I still don’t have it yet,

I worried about the house I’m living in and everything that seemed to be missing,

I worried about my friends and why we can’t have a sleepover,

I worried about a job that I really needed; in a location of my choice and for some reasons I believed God (I still do) somehow understands why I need to be there; I don’t have the job yet,

health.harvard.edu

I literally worried about everything,

I worried that my health will one day fail me; that I may never be able to achieve these gigantic dreams of mine,

I worried about getting married; that I was single and the clock was ticking as it always does; yet this crucial matter occurred to be off the radar of ‘the important things for now’ for all the potentials I met; I was  left with an anxious feeling in the pit of my uterus,

And every time I was perturbed about something; my body hurt and it felt like this huge heavy load was placed on my shoulders and the more I moved forward, the heavier it became,

I indisputably complained about my career and why God needed to enable me finish my studies that had become a thorn in the flesh,

I worried about financial stability; whether I will be able to provide for my family enough for every day,

I worried about my kid sister in college far away from home; was she really studying or doing her ‘own things?’

I just worried and it felt like I was racing after life and I never seemed to really get hold of it,

I neglected my passions and the desire to be more; and I turned into a living zombie with all these burdens of life on my shoulders,

Every time I wrestled with voices that kept telling me I’m not alright,

I worried that every time I fell; there are those who would call me a mistake,

photo: courtesy of Infinity Clix

I wanted to overcome it; but others made it worse with phrases like, ‘stop thinking about it’,

And their arguments got me into serious discussions with myself; which sustained more worrying,

Until I realized worry is like a rocking chair; it's always in motion but it never gets me anywhere,

It drained me and never made me feel better or change the situation; and I wanted something different,

I wanted to leave my list of what I didn’t have alone; but I didn’t know how,

Until I learnt about the Amazing Grace of God,

I learnt to be vulnerable so His Grace can work through me; learning to fight for joy without replacing grace,

I learnt to take the less travelled path; Learning to Lean on God’s Immeasurable Grace,

And this made all the DIFFERENCE,

I saw that my worrying had earned me NOTHING,

So I gave it up; only to realize that I was a SLAVE OF SELF,

Free to FLY as HIGH as my thoughts, imagination and passions could take me,

I resolved to walk into the dance hall,

Because opportunity dances with those already on the dance floor,

And I have since enjoyed the music in here.

Isaiah 41:15, ‘See, I will make you into a threshing sledge, new and sharp, with many teeth.You will thresh the mountains and crush them, and reduce the hills to chaff’.

Mwende 

Closer to the grave

CLOSER TO THE GRAVE

Ecclesiastes 9:10, “whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might for in the grave where you’re going there is neither working nor planning  nor knowledge nor wisdom”.

Is it only me that this verse gives goosebumps; do you feel the same?

You saying yes will make me feel better; but I guess I will learn to move on if you choose to say no,

I recently realized that there is no much time left to wander around if you get what I mean; you will be better placed to do what you have to do NOW,

Coincidentally these were the exact words written at the forefront of my childhood friend’s tribute; she went to be with the Lord two weeks ago,

While flipping through the pages, I figured out that God was whispering something to me and I needed to respond; “Lord I don’t want to be with you! Not now please” I shouted out.

I felt all alone in a crowd of mourners and I hated it, but I needed to bid farewell to my dear friend,

With my piercing voice cutting through the cliques of mourners who stood close in undisputable murmurings,

My mind tells me that they possibly were wondering how we got here; and how cruel death can be to deny the deceased relatives’ the pleasure of “eating” her dowry and the joy of grandchildren,

A portrait of her smiley face drawn perfectly on the front cover; her eyes staring straight at me like she was about to say something,

Her silky black hair styled graciously similarly to one of those photo shoots she enjoyed; and I was convinced she would walk in any minute from now to lighten up the mood like she always did which never happened,

https://pixabay.com/en/arlington-national-cemetery-2225762/

“Her time was DONE here; just how flimsy life can be!” I whispered,

You just never know how close you are to the grave until one of those close to you is gone!

But even then, we always feel like death was meant for others but us!

Habitually living like this day will never really come,

And when it finally shows up, because it will; what legacy will you have left behind?

Will you have achieved that dream that was embedded in you?

What impact will you have on your community?

Because once you depart, we won’t remember the tower you built your folks back in the village,

Or the Land Cruiser V8 you surprised your dear wife with during her 30th birthday,

Or even that cosy office with purple velvet finishing where you always sat away from burdens of this world,

Including that prime piece of land you own along Naivasha-Limuru road, 

We won’t remember your flamboyant designer clothes; or the law degree you attained from one of the prestigious Universities of our time,

All the materialistic triumphs won’t be of any value anymore!

“Hey, give way”, I’m rudely interrupted by the funeral MC and wailing neighbours moving hurriedly towards the graveside,

Their send-off flowers beginning to wither from the waves of smiting sun,

I Move aside to pave way for the mourners,

And just like that, another one of my great friends departed!

With unpleasant swift, young men endowed with spades covered up the grave with a fresh pile of soil,

The red dust dismissing the multitude back to their normal lives for yet another call,

With the lifeless body back to dust where we all belong!

I find myself tearing up; tears that I can hardly control; my feet swollen from prolonged hours of standing with misery drawn all over my face; like I too was about to die; but even then life still goes on,

I then pressed myself up the granary corner in sobs not too far from the grave and calmly sat on one of the cornerstones shaken to the core,

Then suddenly one of those kind mamas tapped my back, “It is the way for all of us” she uttered,

And right there it was crystal clear that soon or later I too will be gone and so do you,

Will I have achieved what God intended me to?

I wonder all the time!

Mwende

STRIVING PROVERBS 31 WOMAN

STRIVING PROVERBS 31 WOMAN

If you have been around women of faith and Christian circles then you must have heard about her_ the Proverbs 31 Woman,

She is a gem, a sacred vessel and a phenomenal woman who doesn’t even seem to struggle being these things,

She is perfection in its entirety; I mean she must be so skilled and eloquent to trade in the market place,

She is strong, refined, multi talented and trusted; her husband and children praise her; I hope for these kind of praises when this man finally finds me,

She has inspired many and through her, inspirational books, conferences and teachings have emerged with many emulating her; and sometimes to women like me she revives feelings of guilt,

This woman doesn’t seem to sleep, she is all devoted and tirelessly working for her household; from sewing garments to planting a vineyard that she’s already identified and bought,

I imagine the rest of Jewish women reciting her wisdom and works in their homes every eve of the Sabbath while young girls sit around the fire place in the kitchen right after their chores for compulsory teachings,

I imagine her being sought after by her neighbours for wise counsel; she is unruffled and a woman of few words who is keen to listen and thereafter giving some prudence,

How can she even laugh (of course with etiquette) at the time to come while I apprehend at the future and my cheeks are filled with goosebumps?

She is fearless and composed; she is clearly prepared for the future_ I mean she’s been working day and night!

She has resisted seductions and repulsion of the day to focus on the needs of those who matter_ her family,

She is a wife of noble character and her description isn’t close to those who associate feminism with weakness and inadequacy,

theodysseyonline.com

She is calm, gentle and dignified; she is deliberate in her decisions and her personality isn’t swayed around by the winds that blow; she simply exhibits grace,

While I seem to apologise every day after throwing tantrums in the heat of the moment and allowing my emotions to rule_ thank God for grace,  

As I read through this epilogue I can’t help but think;  who is this woman who makes me feel like I have been in a femininity fight and  lost hands down!

I tend to imagine there was Proverbs 32 with a similar checklist for our dear men but the transcriber seems to have lost that part of the scroll,

But then just before I give up; I realize that the portrait of the virtuous woman flows from within her soul; not because of her accomplishments or the outward beauty_ and for that she is a superwoman,

She draws her strength from the Giver of them all; she categorically understands that charm is deceitful and beauty is vain but a woman who fears the Lord shall be praised,

Then my soul found peace,

I no longer stick myself against her as a measuring stick; and her achievements no longer haunt me!

I now see her as a friend, who points us to the Farmer who sows the WORD; knowing that I am Work In Progress,

For there is Honour and Strength for every woman who walks humbly with God; and undoubtedly for every man who does the same,

Until next time, please don’t be too picky on her

She is trying to be the BEST she can possibly be with the grace given to her.

Mwende