She's here..

I have been waiting for quite a while now....not that I was anxious because I knew she would eventually get here. It was the excitement,  enough to join into the chorus of the masses as we awaited her arrival...everyone waits. It starts with the chirps of conversations that seem so truant at the time, and so are mostly spoken in smiley silence, like our whispers, if heard, would delay her arrival. 

Then it moves to excited gargles of anxious excitement, like you've heard the engines of her carriage chiming from a distance and for a while, everyone in town thinks they are the first to hear the chimes and proudly inform the next person, friend or foe, warranted or not..everyone must know regardless of whether they can hear them or not...they must know that something approaches and we should probably be ready.

Then the probable engine sounds die down, and so does the chatter. Where have they gone, another town maybe?, got lost along the way? or maybe this is one of those years where we are not worthy of her company... then, Silence.. 

We get on with our days like we did before, wearing a courageous smile that is not without effort, and trying...trying not to think or talk about it...but just get on with the things we can control. Like most things where she comes from, she is far too alive and intense for us to comprehend her ways, let alone have any say as to when she should get here or how she should handle herself when she does.

Then the shift begins. The true indicators of her arrival, again we are quaint and passive about the changes before us and hum along to the routine of our days, least we jinx it(whatever that means..). Many walk on in silence and don't see the real magic of her arrival.. the signs!..

This time, I feel everything. Maybe its the excitement, maybe its the prelude of this mode of appreciation through what I try to make a conscious experience, to see more, to smile more, to be present more .. but its like my lungs open up in anticipation, more air, clearer vision, more sound...its great. The colors begin the change, then the songs change their tune..even the wind brushes the skin with assurance that something good and kind is coming through from the horizon. Before long the trees and flowers begin to come alive, as if building a barrier to protect her when she gets here, and they put on their best regalia, for a ceremony truly fitting a very special arrival.

Shes here now, and shes beautiful, her arms stretch out indiscriminately and they feel lovingly warm, surely we can now bask in the glow of the day we have been waiting for. 

A day when you unceremoniously smile to a stranger and they smile back, effortless, agendaless, excited...even the rules of engagement have changed. Days when the joy is in the waking and not in the slumber, in the open and not the shelter...there is so much more to see, so much more to do, or so it seems. For all accounts, the long wait has been worth while. For now, she is here, we are here and that's all that matters and everyone looks grateful in their own way..

No one can change the laws of nature but somehow the laws seem to have changed....The Summer is here!

Safe Travels Madoss.

Lately I have been excited by the prospects of really indulging into the joys of writing and expression, yet all I feel now is sadness and bitterness. I have lost a great friend...a good man who taught me above all else, that to be yourself is to be everything. and to be everything you should be good to people but not to make "being good" your mission but let it be one of your senses of purpose that will make this, a better life... 


My friend Anthony Ndungu loved my stories..no like seriously, he would see me coming into a room and reach out.."You guys have to listen to Angey's story", he would say..."Angey, tell them that storo"...and as I looked at his ever genuine smile and that heart which was always open to the possibilities of a communal laugh, I would oblige and tell the story. Sometimes, if not most, my stories were exaggerations of a minuscule event I had extrapolated....but I told them anyway (A Little exaggeration never killed a story)...and we had a good laugh afterwards..
I told them not because he made me...no...but because I could see the genuine feeling it invoked in him. He would spread the happiness, and why else would I give a story, but to spread some love and light. So I would get right to it and tell it with the vigor and passion it deserved, albeit some exaggeration, but as I said.... :-) All I know is that he wanted to share our stories.


...and I want to share one of our stories now...Madoss as we all knew him, was one of the first people to welcome me to the neighborhood when we moved from the mini city of Westlands.He seemed to have a brood around him, people including me really enjoyed being around him, he was kind, he was smart and most of all he was the reallest guy in town (if anyone from town takes offence, well..that's that) I initially hated being in this village, it had no city lights and no one called on the weekend to see if you were home....it was too far for a random pick up to the rave. 
But he made me and us believe, that it was okay to be away from the mini cities for now..for what more lights do you need than those of the bone fire as we barbecued below the night sky, or the lights under the pool table at "Club 145"...Madoss, you will forever remain..... "the Legend of the Pool Table", and why wait for people to call when you can all meet at one place and share the Coca Cola pick up (they owned the Coca Cola distributorship in my town, and that truck did its rounds to the city center (30Kms away) and back....almost every weekend.
Our journeys to and fro the city rave were always flawless.....Until "PASTOR" Ngata Ngan'ga, a neighbor, an age mate and a good friend, at the time he was a preacher in the US. He was home for the holidays and it just so happened he would be giving the sermon in the Local Church on Sunday. For some reason we left him with a promise that we would go and listen to his sermon the next day....It was some form of story telling I thought and as we all knew, we loved sharing in a man's story, so we accorded to the invitation.


Next morning, we got back to town at about 5am,...we were al plastered...I was so plastered I had jumped off a moving truck as a result bruising my entire back (another story for another day)... but we had made a promise to go to church.....We got to my parents house me wreathing in pain and the others sweltering in sleepiness...and we hit the sacks....sleep was pain to some, but oblivion to most. 
But, we had made a promise and as we slept in my house, Madoss woke us up and made sure we were all ready in time for church...we ALL got on the truck and made our way to Church. This was just in time to get the back seats where no one ever saw you sleeping. Ultimately we were there, we showed up and fulfilled our promise..holy place or not, we had pledged our word, and according to him, we shall keep it. I dont remember much of the sermon, .but I remember he woke us up...because we made a promise...


R.I.P and travel well my friend...I am grateful for your life, even the bit we shared in this story, that if for nothing else I shall always remember, that we should always wake each other up.


Thanks Madoss!

Winning is a game!

I am an avid Formula 1 fan. I knew things were changing everywhere, but I am yet to watch a race of the caliber of the 2012 Spanish Grand Prix. This season I find myself asking when my boy Lewis Hamilton will win a race...yet ultimately I think he's one of the best drivers on the track, I find myself astonished by the over whelming evolution of the changes at the top of the grid...5 different winners in 5 different races.

But the story of today is Pastor Maldonado, new kid from Venezuela, with only 24 races under his belt has just won the Spanish Grand Prix; the old orders of 2 time world Champion Fernando Alonzo (2nd) and the legend of the sport Kimi Raikkonen (3rd), what a great win for the rookie.

Listening to the guys speak of the journey to this race win, I find the resonating story being that no one can ever be ruled out from winning. When the DNA of a win is built in you and the resilience of keeping at it even when the times are tough keeps you on the course...you fall down, you get up...and hail to those who stand and keep the watchful eye.The price is as much in the journey as it is on the podium...but yeah, truth is when the podium finally comes, it is sweet, it is exhilarating and, its always magical!

Now, I stand...

For a few weeks I have envisaged writing again. I have always felt that the written word has an effect that gives me a sense of creation, freedom, expression even, the kind that I rarely get to give in real time truth. The moments of a day are cramped with agendas and intentions, yet when I take these few minutes to gather my moments in one prose I feel my whole self, engulfed in a conscious moment of now, and my frequency as a being almost validated for spending that time truly with me.

As the days went by I found that my intention was strong, but like a man sitting on the edge of a bank he has to cross, yet remains seated there for hours wondering and being anxious of what he is about to embark on and find on the other side, I sat, waiting….

Then I remembered a story from my Dad. It was 9years ago and I was about to leave my home for the distant land of Ghana. My decision had come from my heart and I was so excited to go at it by myself for the first time, to discover, to remember, to learn and to make a positive difference to this new world. My excitement was however not shared by my parents; naturally they were scared and the more I tried to explain and convince them, the more it took its toll, my Mum went mum.

Sitting in the car with my Dad, he asked me if I was sure this was what I wanted to do. “Why not get a good job here son?” ,“why not pursue your studies further in a more conventional place”….”Because this is what I want this is my time”… “Right then..” and he told me the story of him at my age and the conversation he had with his father…about setting out on himself.

He had just finished High school, in those days jobs were not as hard to find for a guy who could read, so he got an offer at the post office to be a clerk, then also got accepted to University. Confused he went to his Dad for council, “what should I do Dad, take the job or go to University”…”Son”, “ I have done the best I can for you, to take you to school and all that begets this new system, I cannot tell you about places I have never been…and you are now at a place I can only let you go forth. Bigger decisions are coming as you venture to the new world, so, I believe you will know what to do”, and he went to University.

The world keeps changing, now faster than ever before, it’s like we are all about to head into a new world and like the man on the bank who waits, or the young man who seeks council, we are not sure of what lies on the other side, its ok to be scared, its ok to be anxious but it is vital to remember that bread of the future is ground by the mills of the choices we make now. So I stand up to be counted and head to the bridge I shall cross to this new world….and I make the choice to start moving…step, step…ohh I am already on my way… it will not be easy, am sure, but it will damn sure be amazing and pray for strength and the honor to find the good fight, I will show up..I will keep crossing this and other bridges, for no man crosses the same river twice, for it is never the same river, and he is never the same man…godspeed!