My father and I set off for the construction site. My heart was heavy but I dared not be true to my feelings; I feared to ‘jolt’, to life, the latent fury of my father.
I will not forget the impression the Indian contractor made on me when I first saw him.
He was a short man with a slight paunch. He had such mean eyes that I felt like running away before I was introduced to him. His eyes reminded me of The Undertaker in wrestling.
When I was introduced to him, he gave me a penetrating look as if trying to judge whether ‘there was any work in me’. Then, rather coldly, he extended his inky hand for a handshake. I could feel the roughness of his calloused palm as it scraped against my soft, ‘naïve’, palm. A shudder ran up my arm.
To show that he was the one who called the shots there, he bade my father goodbye rather prematurely, and added, in heavy Indian accent: “Tutaelewana na kijana, wewe ondoka.”
He turned to me and said, “Chugua kajiko na ufuate wengne.” At first I did not understand his Kiswahili. But he repeated what he had said gesturing towards a spade that lay on the ground near his feet. Then I understood what he meant.
First things first, the spade I was told to pick up was among the heaviest things I had ever lifted. Anyway, how I managed to carry it to the construction site is somewhat abstruse. I lay it down, sighed and made to sit down. By a fluke of ‘good luck’ I looked up only to find the Indian close by, monitoring my every move.
His eyes seemed to tell me: “Boy, stand up and get to work or else I’ll fire you right here and now!” There was that conviction in them that I scrambled to my feet and set to do what the others were doing.
Then I caught my breath; my eyes glimmered and grew bigger to take in the whole scene. ‘My fellow workers’ were all muscle and brawn – as if they had gulped huge chunks of meat in their lifetime (and the chunks had wend their way into their biceps and chests!). And how they handled the spades was something to admire – the rhythm of their body movements; their glistening bodies; their rants, raves and heavy breathing, the works!
I looked down at myself: my weak hands, my equally flat chest and what next…I could not even handle an empty spade let alone when it was full of sand and gravel. A formidable, dampening spirit enveloped me; I was more than ready to throw in the towel.
But one thing held me back from facing the Indian contractor; the plain thought that it was my father who had ‘traversed’ the lengths of ‘landing’ me that job. It would be unfair to him if I gave up before I tasted what the job entailed.
To be continued…
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Monday, August 20, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
My One Day Experience at a ‘Mjengo’ Job
That day, 13th of March, 1997 (a Thursday, if I am not wrong), I had been reading a very gripping novel by Danielle Steel. The title was Kaleidoscope. It was a particularly hot day. Come four o’clock, I went to bathe to remove the day’s heat from my body.
After the bath, I went back to our house and found my father there waiting for me.
(My father and I used to live at Starehe Boys’ School staff quarters for my father was working at the school at the time. My mum and the rest of the family had gone to live at our upcountry home.)
Before I went to my room, he called me and said: “I don’t see why you should just laze at home day in day out while you can do something with yourself and get paid for it.”
What did he mean by “lazing”? I had just finished my O levels the previous year. So, in essence, I was not lazing but was gathering momentum that would push me through the next academic phase in my life.
Before I could say anything, he continued: “I have talked to a mhindi contractor and he has agreed to offer you a ‘mjengo’ job.”
I looked at him in consternation, not wanting to believe that I had heard it right. The look that greeted me, a serious (almost stern) look, turned mine to a ‘concerned’ look.
He continued: “This mhindi contractor has been given the tender of building a wall to separate the Starehe fields from the Total Fuel Station and the Race Course side. This job starts tomorrow.”
From my experience with him, I knew that that was that. I had to take the job if I wanted peace in the house.
**** ****
Come Friday, 14th March, 1997 and I was up and about very early. The mjengo job (if I may be permitted to call it a ‘job’) was to start at 7.30. I made a cup of strong tea (‘turungi’ in Kikuyu) and literally gulped it down because the time was close to 7.15 a.m.
To be Continued…
Don’t Miss the Rest of the narration on Monday.
After the bath, I went back to our house and found my father there waiting for me.
(My father and I used to live at Starehe Boys’ School staff quarters for my father was working at the school at the time. My mum and the rest of the family had gone to live at our upcountry home.)
Before I went to my room, he called me and said: “I don’t see why you should just laze at home day in day out while you can do something with yourself and get paid for it.”
What did he mean by “lazing”? I had just finished my O levels the previous year. So, in essence, I was not lazing but was gathering momentum that would push me through the next academic phase in my life.
Before I could say anything, he continued: “I have talked to a mhindi contractor and he has agreed to offer you a ‘mjengo’ job.”
I looked at him in consternation, not wanting to believe that I had heard it right. The look that greeted me, a serious (almost stern) look, turned mine to a ‘concerned’ look.
He continued: “This mhindi contractor has been given the tender of building a wall to separate the Starehe fields from the Total Fuel Station and the Race Course side. This job starts tomorrow.”
From my experience with him, I knew that that was that. I had to take the job if I wanted peace in the house.
**** ****
Come Friday, 14th March, 1997 and I was up and about very early. The mjengo job (if I may be permitted to call it a ‘job’) was to start at 7.30. I made a cup of strong tea (‘turungi’ in Kikuyu) and literally gulped it down because the time was close to 7.15 a.m.
To be Continued…
Don’t Miss the Rest of the narration on Monday.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Valuable Than Gold: In The Hands of a Mentor
There are times you feel you are indebted to somebody for something they did (or have done) for you but you just don’t know what best to give. How about trying the power of words to do that arduous task for you like I did some years ago.
What has to be said has to,
Whatever the cost and the pain too,
It’s this that’s driving me on,
To write all this down.
When I first met you,
I was but a child in the faith,
But your encouragement and words,
Drove me on like no other could.
Being in your presence,
Has taught me things of essence,
And I saw things in a different light,
Things that you brought to light.
You know, forgive me for this,
I had always thought all ladies were the same,
None could be trusted in anything,
But you’ve proved me wrong.
Really God pre-ordained this friendship,
For it is not based on empty words,
But on actions that speak louder than words,
Those acts of kindness and selfless giving.
My stay here,
Has always been made meaningful,
By your presence and attitude,
That attitude of care and concern.
This is why my going hurts me,
And pulls at my heartstrings,
For I know what it means,
To our very stable, unshakeable friendship.
May your future be as bright as a full moon,
May the Lord add more days to your number,
So that you may keep dazzling and shining,
And smiling and laughing into posterity.
What you’ve taught me is invaluable,
All this will be stored in a fold of my heart,
Where no one can steal,
Not even who or whoever.
Though I am leaving this place,
I say you are one in a million,
And your presence to me , for sure,
Was more valuable than Gold.
What has to be said has to,
Whatever the cost and the pain too,
It’s this that’s driving me on,
To write all this down.
When I first met you,
I was but a child in the faith,
But your encouragement and words,
Drove me on like no other could.
Being in your presence,
Has taught me things of essence,
And I saw things in a different light,
Things that you brought to light.
You know, forgive me for this,
I had always thought all ladies were the same,
None could be trusted in anything,
But you’ve proved me wrong.
Really God pre-ordained this friendship,
For it is not based on empty words,
But on actions that speak louder than words,
Those acts of kindness and selfless giving.
My stay here,
Has always been made meaningful,
By your presence and attitude,
That attitude of care and concern.
This is why my going hurts me,
And pulls at my heartstrings,
For I know what it means,
To our very stable, unshakeable friendship.
May your future be as bright as a full moon,
May the Lord add more days to your number,
So that you may keep dazzling and shining,
And smiling and laughing into posterity.
What you’ve taught me is invaluable,
All this will be stored in a fold of my heart,
Where no one can steal,
Not even who or whoever.
Though I am leaving this place,
I say you are one in a million,
And your presence to me , for sure,
Was more valuable than Gold.
Broken Diamonds
(In memory of the Nairobi bomb blast: Friday, 7th August, 1998. I wrote this poem on Saturday, 22nd August, 1998 at 4 pm)
I picked ‘Broken Diamonds’ as the title of this poem as a token of appreciation of the lives of the people who perished. They were diamonds, to say the least. And, of course, there’s a lot of pain in losing a diamond, isn’t there?
They were born,
On a day in the past,
And lived their lives,
Till that fateful day,
Seventh of August.
The scene was aghast,
After the blast,
The blast that claimed them,
And what a mayhem it caused.
The glasses flew,
As if they knew,
Where they were going;
They cut deep in the skin,
And the memory,
Remains deeply etched in our hearts.
‘Can’t imagine,
That those people,
So beautiful, so handsome,
So young, so old,
Will never again,
Share a light joke with bus,
I simply can’t imagine.
Children were left crying,
Mothers and fathers the same,
After they were left,
Without a bye,
By people who knew less,
Of where they were going;
And made that journey,
Very unprepared,
For they weren’t spared.
My heart is paining,
At such senseless,
Loss of precious lives,
Which were nipped in the bud,
Before they were ripe enough,
To be swallowed by the soil.
Seventh of August,
Will always (and forever),
Be remembered by all Kenyans,
Young and old,
Born and unborn,
As the day,
When the world,
Came tumbling down on us.
The blasts of the bomb,
Will always ring out,
Throughout Kenya,
For ages to come,
For they left memories,
Which are more than stories.
Charred stumps,
Dot the hollowness in our hearts;
Smouldering embers,
Keep our latent emotions alive.
I picked ‘Broken Diamonds’ as the title of this poem as a token of appreciation of the lives of the people who perished. They were diamonds, to say the least. And, of course, there’s a lot of pain in losing a diamond, isn’t there?
They were born,
On a day in the past,
And lived their lives,
Till that fateful day,
Seventh of August.
The scene was aghast,
After the blast,
The blast that claimed them,
And what a mayhem it caused.
The glasses flew,
As if they knew,
Where they were going;
They cut deep in the skin,
And the memory,
Remains deeply etched in our hearts.
‘Can’t imagine,
That those people,
So beautiful, so handsome,
So young, so old,
Will never again,
Share a light joke with bus,
I simply can’t imagine.
Children were left crying,
Mothers and fathers the same,
After they were left,
Without a bye,
By people who knew less,
Of where they were going;
And made that journey,
Very unprepared,
For they weren’t spared.
My heart is paining,
At such senseless,
Loss of precious lives,
Which were nipped in the bud,
Before they were ripe enough,
To be swallowed by the soil.
Seventh of August,
Will always (and forever),
Be remembered by all Kenyans,
Young and old,
Born and unborn,
As the day,
When the world,
Came tumbling down on us.
The blasts of the bomb,
Will always ring out,
Throughout Kenya,
For ages to come,
For they left memories,
Which are more than stories.
Charred stumps,
Dot the hollowness in our hearts;
Smouldering embers,
Keep our latent emotions alive.
A Day Off! What Do You mean?
Can You Figure This Out?
So you want a day off? Let’s take a look at what you are asking for. There are 365 days per year available for work.
There are 52 weeks per year in which you have already 2 days off per week leaving 261 days available for work.
Since you spend 16 hours each day away from work you have used up 170 days leaving only 91 days available for work. You spend 30 minutes each day on coffee break. That accounts for 23 days each year leaving only 68 days available for work. With 1 hour lunch period each day, you have used up another 46 days leaving only 22 days for work.
You normally use 2 days per year on sick leave. This leaves only 20 days available for work. We are off 5 holidays per year leaving 15 days available for work. We generously give 14 days vacation per year which only leaves 1 day available for work. I’ll be damned if you are going to take this day off!!
So you want a day off? Let’s take a look at what you are asking for. There are 365 days per year available for work.
There are 52 weeks per year in which you have already 2 days off per week leaving 261 days available for work.
Since you spend 16 hours each day away from work you have used up 170 days leaving only 91 days available for work. You spend 30 minutes each day on coffee break. That accounts for 23 days each year leaving only 68 days available for work. With 1 hour lunch period each day, you have used up another 46 days leaving only 22 days for work.
You normally use 2 days per year on sick leave. This leaves only 20 days available for work. We are off 5 holidays per year leaving 15 days available for work. We generously give 14 days vacation per year which only leaves 1 day available for work. I’ll be damned if you are going to take this day off!!
Friday, March 30, 2007
The injection
He, in a white coat,
With a slight twitch of his lips,
Looked me dead in the eye and said,
“You have Pneumonia.”
Amidst wracking coughs,
I looked at him weakly,
Hoping against hope,
He’d say something to clear the air.
“You need an injection real fast;
Four shots of BenzylPenicillin Sodium,
Will do you a world of good!”
Benzy…? Four shots? I was bewildered.
He tied my wrist tightly,
And with the precision of a marksman,
Injected the Benz… substance into a vein,
That clearly stood out on the ‘strangulated’ hand.
The prick is one I’ll not forget for a long time,
As the needle wend its way into the vein,
I shut my eyes and waited for the worst,
All this time my hand was trembling slightly.
Finally, the needle was pulled out of the vein,
The nurse with a reassuring smile said,
“You’ll be alright, my friend;
Remember the second shot’s in six hours time.”
With a slight twitch of his lips,
Looked me dead in the eye and said,
“You have Pneumonia.”
Amidst wracking coughs,
I looked at him weakly,
Hoping against hope,
He’d say something to clear the air.
“You need an injection real fast;
Four shots of BenzylPenicillin Sodium,
Will do you a world of good!”
Benzy…? Four shots? I was bewildered.
He tied my wrist tightly,
And with the precision of a marksman,
Injected the Benz… substance into a vein,
That clearly stood out on the ‘strangulated’ hand.
The prick is one I’ll not forget for a long time,
As the needle wend its way into the vein,
I shut my eyes and waited for the worst,
All this time my hand was trembling slightly.
Finally, the needle was pulled out of the vein,
The nurse with a reassuring smile said,
“You’ll be alright, my friend;
Remember the second shot’s in six hours time.”
All Thanks to You, Mama
Dear Mama this is for you,
Oh, how I wish you only knew,
What I feel in my heart,
Why? You are a mother so smart.
In darkness I walked,
In darkness I moved,
But you, with ‘loads’ of pity,
Lifted me from the pit.
Darkness fled when to school you took me,
You did sacrifice just for me,
From Primary School to University,
Your care has surely been proven.
In my heart of hearts, I know,
All this I cannot repay,
But my gratitude knows no bounds,
Dear Mama, you’ve really made me bounce.
Oh, how I wish you only knew,
What I feel in my heart,
Why? You are a mother so smart.
In darkness I walked,
In darkness I moved,
But you, with ‘loads’ of pity,
Lifted me from the pit.
Darkness fled when to school you took me,
You did sacrifice just for me,
From Primary School to University,
Your care has surely been proven.
In my heart of hearts, I know,
All this I cannot repay,
But my gratitude knows no bounds,
Dear Mama, you’ve really made me bounce.
Brighter Side?
A thought comes,
It makes a fog,
And a mist to match,
In your clear mind.
All things seem useless,
All thoughts baseless,
And all ideas worthless,
In your now foggy mind.
You’re pessimistic, they say,
Look at the brighter side,
Life is not always a rough road,
It’s got a bright side to it.
I do say, verily,
Optimism or pessimism,
Are just big words,
For life, surely, is your own doing.
It makes a fog,
And a mist to match,
In your clear mind.
All things seem useless,
All thoughts baseless,
And all ideas worthless,
In your now foggy mind.
You’re pessimistic, they say,
Look at the brighter side,
Life is not always a rough road,
It’s got a bright side to it.
I do say, verily,
Optimism or pessimism,
Are just big words,
For life, surely, is your own doing.
Obituary
Lying here,
In this big body bag,
Is our friend, comrade,
Who passed away the other day.
He stood, when with us,
With lots of confidence,
And talked sheer sense,
That made us feel good.
Our friend, dear comrades,
Was a man of virtue,
With no vice in him,
He did good to everyone.
Now as is custom,
The evil one, death,
Reaps where he’s not sown,
And that’s what he did.
We loved him,
Old and young,
Boy and girl,
We did it well and truly.
Now as we send him off,
Let us shed a tear,
A warm tear of love,
That will make him smile.
Let us say we love him,
We’ll always do,
And he shouldn’t worry,
Let us say it this once.
Anyway, we are headed that way,
Our friend has just gone before us,
So take heart, my comrades,
For we’ll see him on that day.
In this big body bag,
Is our friend, comrade,
Who passed away the other day.
He stood, when with us,
With lots of confidence,
And talked sheer sense,
That made us feel good.
Our friend, dear comrades,
Was a man of virtue,
With no vice in him,
He did good to everyone.
Now as is custom,
The evil one, death,
Reaps where he’s not sown,
And that’s what he did.
We loved him,
Old and young,
Boy and girl,
We did it well and truly.
Now as we send him off,
Let us shed a tear,
A warm tear of love,
That will make him smile.
Let us say we love him,
We’ll always do,
And he shouldn’t worry,
Let us say it this once.
Anyway, we are headed that way,
Our friend has just gone before us,
So take heart, my comrades,
For we’ll see him on that day.
Monday, March 26, 2007
EL-NINO: Proper or Misnomer?
Rain droplets peered from the clouds. What they saw, made their hearts break. They saw dust, dust everywhere: the earth was hungry and thirsty. Its lips were cracked, parched and lifeless. It needed water to save its soul. The water droplets, out of a sense of duty to help, held an emergency meeting at the expansive plenary hall in the clouds. They were so small and many that their silvery colour blended to become one big dark mass.
They reasoned that it wasn’t good to make merry while earth was so thirsty and disgruntled. The mother of all water droplets moved closer to the peering hole and peered down to the earth. With all the energy it could muster, earth lifted its eyes and looked up at the clouds. It saw mother rain wearing a long face that bespoke of the compassion it felt towards poor earth. With one last snap at the nerves, it lifted its arms and pleaded earnestly with mother rain to send at least two of its children to wet its cracked lips.
The children heard this plea of the earth to mother rain and, out of an uncontrollable ‘goodwill’ emotion, pushed their mother with all their might down to the earth through the peeping hole in the clouds. The children followed suit.
Great rumbles and arguments ensued as the droplets fought to get a chance to jump to the earth. The earth, in return, gave a belch as a sure sign of the respite brought about by the ‘goodwill’ action. Its intestines came to life once more as water washed down every dirt and dust on its path.
Satisfied, it raised one of its hands to signify that the droplets could now stop jumping from the clouds and that it was very grateful. The droplets misunderstood this motion of the hand and came tumbling down a million fold.
Fear set in. Great fear. The earth foresaw the repercussions of being misunderstood. It tried to open its mouth to speak but as it parted its lips water gushed in; so all the sound it could make was a muffle as more water made rushed down the gullet. In essence, nothing could deter the rain droplets from jumping off the clouds. Rumbles traversed the lengths of the sky as more water inundated the face of the earth.
Rain clouds were all smiles as they gleefully jumped from the opening in the clouds. Least did they know that by doing so they were endangering the life of their friend, earth.
The inhabitants of the face of the earth called this ridiculous jumping of rain droplets from the clouds EL-NINO. Whatever that means I know not! But I know how it came about.
You know this rain thing left a number of things in its wake. People came down with coughs and colds. Their shoes were left in a horrible mess. They were gaping, yawning, name it. People died and houses were either destroyed or their roofs blown off. All these things wrought by the rain meant that the inhabitants of the earth had to dive into their pockets to buy medicine and also ‘cajole’ the cobblers to restore their shoes to their once good condition. New houses had to be built and the dead had to be buried.
One question was clearly written on their scowled foreheads: Why did it have to rain with such continuity here while there were places that needed water of such immensity more than us guys? The Sahara, for example!
That’s why, in one last bid to rave mad, they cooked up a name that befit this midsummer madness: EL-NINO. I think it’s a misnomer but let it rest at that.
They reasoned that it wasn’t good to make merry while earth was so thirsty and disgruntled. The mother of all water droplets moved closer to the peering hole and peered down to the earth. With all the energy it could muster, earth lifted its eyes and looked up at the clouds. It saw mother rain wearing a long face that bespoke of the compassion it felt towards poor earth. With one last snap at the nerves, it lifted its arms and pleaded earnestly with mother rain to send at least two of its children to wet its cracked lips.
The children heard this plea of the earth to mother rain and, out of an uncontrollable ‘goodwill’ emotion, pushed their mother with all their might down to the earth through the peeping hole in the clouds. The children followed suit.
Great rumbles and arguments ensued as the droplets fought to get a chance to jump to the earth. The earth, in return, gave a belch as a sure sign of the respite brought about by the ‘goodwill’ action. Its intestines came to life once more as water washed down every dirt and dust on its path.
Satisfied, it raised one of its hands to signify that the droplets could now stop jumping from the clouds and that it was very grateful. The droplets misunderstood this motion of the hand and came tumbling down a million fold.
Fear set in. Great fear. The earth foresaw the repercussions of being misunderstood. It tried to open its mouth to speak but as it parted its lips water gushed in; so all the sound it could make was a muffle as more water made rushed down the gullet. In essence, nothing could deter the rain droplets from jumping off the clouds. Rumbles traversed the lengths of the sky as more water inundated the face of the earth.
Rain clouds were all smiles as they gleefully jumped from the opening in the clouds. Least did they know that by doing so they were endangering the life of their friend, earth.
The inhabitants of the face of the earth called this ridiculous jumping of rain droplets from the clouds EL-NINO. Whatever that means I know not! But I know how it came about.
You know this rain thing left a number of things in its wake. People came down with coughs and colds. Their shoes were left in a horrible mess. They were gaping, yawning, name it. People died and houses were either destroyed or their roofs blown off. All these things wrought by the rain meant that the inhabitants of the earth had to dive into their pockets to buy medicine and also ‘cajole’ the cobblers to restore their shoes to their once good condition. New houses had to be built and the dead had to be buried.
One question was clearly written on their scowled foreheads: Why did it have to rain with such continuity here while there were places that needed water of such immensity more than us guys? The Sahara, for example!
That’s why, in one last bid to rave mad, they cooked up a name that befit this midsummer madness: EL-NINO. I think it’s a misnomer but let it rest at that.
A Bad Dream or...
(The “I” in the poem is “me”. This really happened to me!)
Went home one day,
Everything was tranquil and quiet,
Everything beautiful and sweet,
But for my mum.
She just sat there,
Cabbage-sack style,
Not moving,
Just staring and muttering incessantly.
Her body so worn out,
Her bones all showing,
Her eyes sunken,
And hair dirty and ruffled.
‘was awe struck,
I didn’t expect this,
To happen to one of my family,
At least not to someone I knew.
Her words incomprehensible,
Her actions intolerable,
She took the baby by the hand,
And, unfeelingly, threw her out.
Sped out of the room, I did,
Went out and wept,
Hoping that all along,
It was only a bad dream.
Went home one day,
Everything was tranquil and quiet,
Everything beautiful and sweet,
But for my mum.
She just sat there,
Cabbage-sack style,
Not moving,
Just staring and muttering incessantly.
Her body so worn out,
Her bones all showing,
Her eyes sunken,
And hair dirty and ruffled.
‘was awe struck,
I didn’t expect this,
To happen to one of my family,
At least not to someone I knew.
Her words incomprehensible,
Her actions intolerable,
She took the baby by the hand,
And, unfeelingly, threw her out.
Sped out of the room, I did,
Went out and wept,
Hoping that all along,
It was only a bad dream.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Mid-night Brawl
Prevailing altercation,
A string of expletives,
A dash of angry shouting,
Rent the warm night air.
The faithful night breeze,
Carried the commotion far and wide,
Rats stopped their activities to listen,
Crickets stopped their innocuous sounds.
The man could be heard quite distinctly,
Effing and blinding strenuously,
Barking, screaming and shouting,
As he pulled his wife by her hair.
Finally, the two were outside.
And the whole world with them,
The world watched as they rolled and turned,
Clutched, clawed and hit each other.
The man shouted:
You have betrayed our love,
You did confidently sleep,
With my friend, under my very roof!
The neighbours very well remembered,
The tall, lanky fellow,
Who had discreetly left the man's house,
Early that evening.
The woman heatedly rejoined:
You slept with the chief's wife last week,
You moved around with my best friend,
And I did not raise as much as an eyebrow.
The bandying was sustained for as long as it could hold,
With either party venting their heart's contents on the other,
The man was the first one to have enough of it all,
As he slammed his burning fist against her face.
A string of expletives,
A dash of angry shouting,
Rent the warm night air.
The faithful night breeze,
Carried the commotion far and wide,
Rats stopped their activities to listen,
Crickets stopped their innocuous sounds.
The man could be heard quite distinctly,
Effing and blinding strenuously,
Barking, screaming and shouting,
As he pulled his wife by her hair.
Finally, the two were outside.
And the whole world with them,
The world watched as they rolled and turned,
Clutched, clawed and hit each other.
The man shouted:
You have betrayed our love,
You did confidently sleep,
With my friend, under my very roof!
The neighbours very well remembered,
The tall, lanky fellow,
Who had discreetly left the man's house,
Early that evening.
The woman heatedly rejoined:
You slept with the chief's wife last week,
You moved around with my best friend,
And I did not raise as much as an eyebrow.
The bandying was sustained for as long as it could hold,
With either party venting their heart's contents on the other,
The man was the first one to have enough of it all,
As he slammed his burning fist against her face.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Face Challenges Head-on: The Battle is not for the Self-effacing
In his book Ake, Wole Soyinka writes what his grandfather told him about dealing with bullies:
"Wherever you find yourself, don't run away from a fight. Your adversary will probably be bigger, he will trounce you the first time. Next time you meet him, challenge him again. He will beat you all over again. The third, time I promise you this, you will either defeat him or he will run away."
As we enter this New Year, let us brace ourselves for change, new challenges and new ways of dealing with these challenges and difficulties. Life is not for the faint-hearted but for those who have the heart of a lion.
Dr Maya Angelou once said: "You may encounter many defeats, but you must never be defeated. It may even be necessary to encounter some defeats to know who you are. Forgive yourself – no one else will."
The good thing is that challenges never leave you where they find you. When you bare your muscle and brawn and fight through the mist of near-defeat, you emerge better than you started out. Furthermore, nothing good comes easy. In fact, faint heart never won fair lady!
Challenges come to mould us and make us strong. They come to help us focus even more intently on matters at hand.
My call to us today is to face challenges that come our way with sober minds and to realise that the battle is for the strong (not necessarily physical strength) and not for the fearful and self-effacing.
"Wherever you find yourself, don't run away from a fight. Your adversary will probably be bigger, he will trounce you the first time. Next time you meet him, challenge him again. He will beat you all over again. The third, time I promise you this, you will either defeat him or he will run away."
As we enter this New Year, let us brace ourselves for change, new challenges and new ways of dealing with these challenges and difficulties. Life is not for the faint-hearted but for those who have the heart of a lion.
Dr Maya Angelou once said: "You may encounter many defeats, but you must never be defeated. It may even be necessary to encounter some defeats to know who you are. Forgive yourself – no one else will."
The good thing is that challenges never leave you where they find you. When you bare your muscle and brawn and fight through the mist of near-defeat, you emerge better than you started out. Furthermore, nothing good comes easy. In fact, faint heart never won fair lady!
Challenges come to mould us and make us strong. They come to help us focus even more intently on matters at hand.
My call to us today is to face challenges that come our way with sober minds and to realise that the battle is for the strong (not necessarily physical strength) and not for the fearful and self-effacing.
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