Uaridi

International Women's Day

2007-03-08T20:31:00.000Z

The red rose is supposed to show deepest love and respect and it goes out to all the women of the world.

Happy International Women's Day

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MSHAIRI

2006-12-24T00:18:00.000Z

Mshairi, lover of all things purple, science fiction, fantasy and old black and white movies, this is my birthday prayer for you.

A day filled with love, peace and beauty, and the sounds of laughter, with sunshine and joy.

and the presence of friends and family, sharing in your joy and laughter, love and serenity

building wonderful memories and the love of God surrounding you.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY and the good God grant you many, many more.

(and because I could not find cold Tusker beer and your usual birthday cake, I hope this selection of purple/lavender roses will do)

www.armstronggarden.com/Rose_Library/HybridTe...

Why this tumult?

2006-12-19T21:49:00.000Z

Since 1st November (or even earlier) toy makers, perfume manufacturers, jewellers, music companies, super-markets and high street shops have been bashing our ears out with CHRISTMAS SHOPPING. For the last few weeks, we have been bombarded with cosmetics, perfumes, the latest DVD releases of obscure musicians and risque comedians, books, toys, gadgets and even per-cooked Christmas day meals.

Oh the incessant drip, drip and drip of adverts, commercials and jingles. It is enough to make one stark staring made. Buy this toy for your child; buy this one for your lover, your parent or else they will not love you. Without this ultimate gift for a loved one, Christmas is ruined.

SHOP, SHOP, SHOP. Oh and if you cannot come to the shops, do it on-line and we will be more than happy to deliver it to you.

I ask you, who on earth said that Christmas equates gifts - the biggest, splashiest and most expensive the better? Where is it written that to celebrate Christmas, we must spend, spend and spend some more?

Christmas is definitely not any of the following:

Santa Claus or his elves or the North Pole.
Or his reindeers, especially Rudolf
Shopping till you drop
The spirit of Christmas, whatever that means
The gifts – no matter the thought behind it.
The tree despite how 'festive' it looks.
Cooking a great meal for people you are obliged to see once a year
Stuffing your face until you cannot walk
Drinking until you lose all sense of proportion
'Jingle bells', a red robin, or holly or mistletoe or the Yule log.
Neither is it snow flakes, or a white Christmas as romantic as that sounds
Oh and especially the office parties where everyone forget their manners

None of above equals Christmas, and Christmas is none of the above. Unfortunately, we all fall into either one or all of the above traps, giving us a false sense of expection. Come Christmas day, there is a feeling of anti-climax. The expected joy does not come, and we are left feeling cheated and letdown. YES, we fell for the lies again, and all we are left with is an empty bank account and excess weight we shall have to spend the next three months trying to lose.

Christmas is about the birthday of Jesus – the Anointed One.

grahics from hiking-cyclingchristain.net

[Christmas]

Jamuhuri Day

2006-12-12T22:13:00.000Z

Happy Jamuhuri Day to one and all.

As I was surfing the net, I saw a picture of the old Kenya Colony flag

which we exchanged for this model on 12th December 1962, amid songs, dance and much celebrations.

I hope everyone has a wonderful day. I am especially thinking of those who will have the chance to enjoy a cold Tusker and nyama choma, in the sunshine!!!!

God bless Kenya and all Kenyans - and as the posters, buttons and tee-shirts say, "Proud to be a Kenyan"

flags from www.frontiersmen.org.au/kenya.htm and www.visit-kenya.com/visit-kenya_homepage1.htm

Its been brought to my attention that I made a mistake on the year we go our independence - Sorry all - it was actually 1963 not 1962.

World AIDS Day

2006-12-01T20:22:00.000Z

Today I join the rest of the world in commemorating World AIDS Day and remembering all those who have died from this disease.

According to UN AIDS and the World Health Organization, HIV/AIDS has spread to every region of the world. More than 65 million people are infected with HIV. More than 25 million people have died of AIDS since 1981, 2.9 million in 2006 alone.

I pray that a cure for this terrible pandemic will be discovered soon.

Wear the red ribbon

Blogger Identity

2006-10-09T17:03:00.000+01:00

This post is my contribution to the first Carnival of African Women will be held on the African Women’s Blog on Monday October 9th.

I have been blogging since September 2004, more in the form of a lark and for my family, than a need to write about burning issues of the day. When my first non-family visitor posted a comment I was surprised because I had forgotten that I everything I transmitted to the cyber world would be read by “strangers”.

I am the quiet one in the family and have no liking for long winded discussions, arguments and conflict. I am also very private person, so what then was there to blog about? Certainly not my faith, my dating life or my personal life; these are too private to discus out in the world forum.

I do not blog about poverty, race, gender and justice. These remind me too much of my work, and much as I love it, I want to stop thinking about it when I am at home. A niece who works as a computer programmer, says that she does not blog because computers remind her too much of work. Much as she enjoys her job, as soon as 5 o’clock rolls along, she shuts down her computer and puts away everything that reminds her of work. She hardly ever e-mails!!! I understand her feelings every time I try and write a work related post.

I have been an activist for a long time and have worked on gender issues, and all manner of topics relating to African women, both in Africa or the Diaspora. Somehow, I find that I have no desire to discuss these kinds of issues on my blog. I have started many posts of that nature and have not been able to complete them. I suppose my blog is my leisure world, and once I am here, I do not want to change the world, or raise consciousness on this blog.

A young friend told me the other day that one of the greatest things about blogging is being anonymous. That one can say almost anything to the world, without revealing your identity. Of course it is easier to write anonymously – but I am always aware of the fact that my writing style (language, sentence construction etc) and even the topics I blog about can hint about me to the cyber world. I do not mind it, and actually think it great fun to mess about as Uaridi.

A while back, I had began a post on identity which had been sparked by the sci-fi TV show, Babylon 5, based the Vorlon question that "Who are you?" A question embodied on Vorlon philosophy, which encourages introspection, patience, and places identity as the proper motivator over personal goals. I did not post it since it revealed a stuff about me I was not ready to share with the cyber world.

For the purpose of this post, I am an African woman, and everything I am and I do has a bearing on this. I am judged, helped, encouraged, supported or hated, loved, liked because of my race, my skin colour and my sex. That I can not change (without going under the knife – WHY???). I am a Christian. This is my choice and I am so glad of this choice - a lot of what I do – work, leisure and everything in between is dictated by this choice. I am a dreamer, an artist and an avid reader – which I suppose is reflected in my blog. The issue of my identify as a blogger has not bothered me greatly – I remain who I am even when blogging, although my alter-ego does all the talking, this does not change who I am.

My blog is my alter ego – a place where I am learning about this new persona hidden in my subconscious, but not a place where I explore my subconscious, my reason for being, my faith, sexuality or politics. Although I must admit I enjoy reading serious blogs like Black Looks or Mshairi's poems or bloggers that talk about their personal life, although I myself am not able to write serious posts. Once in a while I will blog about these things, but mostly I want to write about life in general: things that amuse me, touch me or interest me.

To end this long winded discussion on identity, I have a private thought to share that comes to me every time I see a perfect rose. I often wish I could be as beautiful as that rose and for that brief moment of its flowering, I would glorify God with my whole being.

(The photo of the rose is from Wikipeida gallery)
blogging, identity, African Women's carnival

Mother's milk

2006-09-17T14:54:00.000+01:00

This post is written for the Erase Racism Carnival being hosted this month at Black Looks and at Erase Racism Carnival.

I heard about a young man who did something remarkable many years ago. One day, a little girl called him the n-word. He was obviously quite upset and asked the girl to take him to her mother. The girl’s mother when faced with this incident was extremely embarrassed and apologised, saying that she would talk to her child about name calling – especially the use of that racist word. This young man however refused to accept the mother’s apology, saying that the problem was not with the girl but with her parents, who must have taught her the n-word, either directly or indirectly. That was a brave and wise young man, and I would have loved to see the mother’s reaction to this down to earth words.

I too believe that a racist is not made but bred and nurtured in the home. Just as children learn values, life and beliefs from their parents, so too will a racist learn to hate someone because of their skin colour. It might not be direct name calling or hatred, it can be implied; for instant the constant moaning and complaining about “those people”, and eventually, a beautiful trusting soul is turned into a racist by the very people who should teach him/her to love.

In the council estate where I live, most the world races are represented by the tenants. Africans, Asians and Europeans share the same playgrounds, shops, and schools. Recently, a group of boys aged between four and six, who represent a majority of the races in the estate have been riding their bikes every evening – they have races, trade bikes, do stunts and generally play like all boys do. I am not sure these children can see any racial difference - they are just boys playing – the most exciting thing that happens to them is when someone has a new thingy for their bike, or when someone falls off the bike and there is blood everywhere.

How sad to reflect that in a few years time, these boys will not play together any more because they will have learnt that what separates them is not flashier bikes, or trendier outfits, but race – the difference in their skin colour.

It is all very well for governments to make laws about racism and making laws on equality or diversity, but until the conviction comes from deep within people’s hearts, no law will make the slightest difference. Like Mshairi says, you cannot legislate what is in people’s hearts. You can only teach children and pray that God will bring the change in people's hearts.

racism, children,london

Why this colour ?

2006-09-05T21:09:00.000+01:00

It has been brought to my attention that I have not done a post on roses for a while, so this is for you.

Roses come in a variety of colours and each colour (and sometimes shade) has different symbolism. I have selected a few of the commoner rose colours as an aid for you to interpret the meaning behind the roses he brings to you.
When he brings you white roses, I suggest caution; he could be wanting to place you on a pedestal because white roses symbolise innocence, purity, secrecy, friendship, reverence and humility.

The white rose was also a symbol of the White Rose non-violent resistance group in Germany during WW 11 that carried out a leaflet campaign in opposition to the Nazi regime.

Red roses are no brainer. We know the symbolism since the high street florists and card makers have crammed it down our throats, especially on St. Valentine's Day. Love, love and more love. Some shades symbolise passion and unending love. If he brings you any red rose - he is in love.
Pink roses come in a variety of shades and each shade has it's own meaning. You will have to decide which shade stands for what symbol. For instance one shade of pink symbolises grace and lesser feelings of love, another stands for gratitude and another still symbolises admiration and sympathy.
Yellow roses generally mean dying love or platonic love. In some countries, yellow roses could stand for jealousy and infidelity.
When he brings you yellow roses with red tips, be very afraid because it could mean that he might either be asking for your friendship or he is falling in love.

Purple roses your favourite colour you will be pleased to note represents patience and trust and is reflective of faith and fasting, they symbolise opulence, enchantment. A rose of this colour simply confirms “I will always love and adore you.”

The blue rose does not grow in nature, I mean roses do not have the gene that produces blue pigment. So science lent a hand. First white roses were dyed blue and after 15 years of research and genetic engineering roses have been "given" the blue pigment producing gene.
The blue rose symbolises mystery.

There you are all educated now; give thanks to God for beauty and love.

One man, ??? wives?

2006-09-02T01:02:00.000+01:00

Who remembers the kids next door who had more than one mother? Did we feel somewhat superior to them? We had been taught that polgamy was wrong and yet, I do not know what my grandfathers would say about these people.

Like so many people say, while things change, they remain the same.

Happy Sunday everyone

blogday0'6

2006-08-31T13:30:00.000+01:00

A Kenyan I met in the USA told me that as a student he had been assigned a dorm room with a fellow African. Both he and his roommate asked that they be given American roommates because they had came to the US not just for book-learning, but to learn about Americans and their culture. While the Kenyan Blog Ring connects me with a majority of Kenyan bloggers, I am glad to take part in Blog day, where I can talk about bloggers who do not necessarily share our culture, language or ideas. The following are some of the bloggers I have visited and I know the suggestion was 5 blogs, but as my family knows, I tend to get rather enthusiastic about things. Well here goes my edited list (and believe me it is edited!!)

Big Brother Uber Gorgeous One
This gentleman says "For a long time, I felt as if I had no voice. Now that I have discovered my voice, I plan on making up for lost time" According this blogger, he is a mouthy introspective nice guy with a big heart and room for a few good friends. He is curious about himself and the world he lives in. I like to read about his life and and his journey to understand himself, his name and his age. My friend is recovering from a fight he had with a vending machine at work. I like his humour and his easy going attitude.

Ethical Thought
As an avid knitter, I am always learning and being challenged by knitters in the blogosphere. I was pleasantly surprised to find not just one or two men knitters, but a whole community. I chose Ethical Thought because he combines knitting with his studies of bioethics, teaching and his profession – Librarian. He loves to knit and play the occasional on-line game. He is in his 40’s married and has 2 children and a dog. I particularly liked posts that included a picture of his son, learning to knit and his growing courage to knit in the train. He is a brave and evolved man!!!

Diane's little Journey of Faith
Diana is from Malaysia and has a large extended family. She is the first Christian in her family (you go Diana!!). She lives in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and is majoring journalism. She speaks five languages fluently. Diana taught herself to play both the guitar and drums and she started her blog to share her walk with God and her everyday experiences.

MimKnits.com blog
This next blogger is an avid knitter who knits some of the most beautiful things I have seen, including socks (I have yet to try socks!!). She knits everywhere. She has been blogging in October 2004, and in 2005 began designing patterns for sale. She has had patterns published by KnitPicks.com, in Interweave Knits. Her other interests include book binding and cooking. She is developing her website to include other things like a forum for knitters and a gallery of finished items from her patterns. She welcomes visitors and knitters with questions.

Morphological Confetti
This next blogger was a link from Brother Jero. (Asante BJ.) Stephen Bess lives in Washington DC where he entertains and educates with snippets about life in DC, his family and most recently a visit to a plantation in the south. The number of visitors to his blog increases daily, and he will acknowledge your comments (not like some lazy roses). He explores writing, history, poetry and culture. He has recently added a flicker as he is a photographer.

3forward2back
This blogger says “I'm a good wife (after 22 years I think I finally earned the title) and a good mother. While my almost 20 yr old daughter will vouch for that, my 17 yr old son still has his doubts, I'm sure. I am a follower of Jesus Christ, and while some days it feels like I'm shadowing Him from a distance, most days there's a sense that perhaps He is indeed having His way in my heart. I'm a professional by day, and distance ed student by night, as I plug my way through a midlife career change, (just because starting all over again, from the bottom, is, oh so appealing).. and yes, it took me all this time to figure out what I REALLY want to be when I grow up, and now at 44 find myself optimistically terrified.” Her interests include reading writing decorating and peace making.

The Catbird Seat
The Catbird Seat was created to encourage, delight, refresh and humour and move and even challenge visitors by the blogger’s on-going life experiences. She hopes to share her struggles and victories in the faith (and in life) in a real and transparent way so that others that feel alone in those same struggles and victories will realize that they’re not alone.

Catbird does not care very much for people who think housewives are intellectually inferior to people in the workplace or students of educational institutions.

Her “Chair of the Week” page it is fun.

I hope you will find time to visit the people on my list. They are a great bunch of people.

BlogDay2006

You've come a long way typist

2006-08-14T01:14:00.000+01:00

I can't help thinking how far the word processing has come as I sit here with my laptop on - well my lap. I learnt how to type on a manual typewriter eons ago at Secretarial college. These machines were murder on the hands and for what seemed like months, my wrists were in constant pain. The typewriter pictured is almost like the one which I learnt how to type. Apart from the sheer muscle power needed to use these machines, there were some issues that came with these typewriters.

The typist had to listen out for a bell which warned her when she got close to the edge of the right margin, so that she could turn the carriage return lever, on the left of the typewriter to begin a new line on the paper. A lot of the old typewriters didn't have a separate key for the numbers one (1) or zero(0) so we improvised, using the lowercase letter l for the letter 1, and the uppercase O for the zero.

Oh the fun that was in changing the ribbon!!!!(made up of inked cotton strips which you used until they faded) and in correcting typos. If you threaded the ribbon the wrong way, you spent the whole day with inky fingers and tears of frustration, a ruined ribbon and a whole pile of black papers. Most typewriter ribbons were black; black and red ribbons were for used for special letters. The typewriter eraser made of a hard rubber, which had an abrasive material, and a stiff brush to brush away eraser crumbs. We had to be careful because if erasure debris fell into the typewriter, a build-up could cause the type bars to jam. The hell that was correcting carbon copies was a whole science in itself, and we to use something known as an eraser shield to stop the pressure of erasing on the upper copies from making carbon smudges on the lower copies.

When Liquid Paper, Wite-Out and Tipp-Ex arrived on the scene, it was like a miracle - these were sort of opaque white fast-drying paint which somehow produced a fresh white surface over the error. No more erasers, no more brushes. I could not find a single picture of a typewriter eraser anywhere. No big loss.

Of course these typewriters did not have different fonts, graphics or bold and italics. Words that needed highlighting were underlined. Even now, I cannot bring myself to use Times or neither Courier fonts, I do not underline anything. Reminds me too much of manual typewriters.

Electronic Typewriter (first seen in the early 1980s) changed the face of typing completely. The height of which was the IBM Correcting Selectric. The Selectric, and similar products, incorporated a black/white ribbon and a character memory. It suddenly became easy to make corrections (on the letterhead) with a single keystroke. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Most typists equate the invention of type balls or golf balls to cooking with gas. They replaced the type bars and eliminated “jams" when more than one key was struck at once, which happened when you typed too fast for the old manual and eventually when we were able to change the golf balls, multiple fonts could be be used in a single document.

The old ribbons were later replaced with "carbon film" ribbons that had a dry black or coloured powder on a "once-through" clear plastic tape. These could be used only once but later models used a cartridge that was simple to replace. Unfortunately, the text typed could be easily read from the used ribbon, thus making them unsuitable for typing classified documents. A document reconstructed from a used carbon ribbon was portrayed as the key to solving a crime in an episode of Colombo.

Oh yes, you have come a long way typist. I happily consign manual typewriters to museums and wholeheartedly embrace computers with all the benefits of fonts, spellcheck and graphics.

Sun fried rose

2006-08-10T02:39:00.000+01:00

While almost everyone is moaning about the heat, and putting their fans at full blast, I am in my element. I am one of those poor sad creatures who suffer from seasonal affective disorder (SAD). So I come alive as soon as the temperature rises.

Well the other day as I was taking my ease after supper, reading and knitting as usual, I began to feel woozy, confused and about to faint - an unheard of occurrence. After a few panicky moments, I made a rather shaky walk to the bathroom and splashed myself with cold water. I began to feel clearer, so I went to the kitchen and downed several glasses of water. I was HOT, HOT, HOT; my whole body was radiating heat. For the next few hours, I did everything I could to lower my body temperature – showered, shampooed my hair and drank cold water.

Eventually, I told my roomie what had happened. According to said roomie, heatstroke happen to anyone, not just the elderly. When I explained to her what I had gone through the last few hours, she showed me a website (she’s good at things like that) that talks about heatstroke. This website said that once the human body reaches a certain temperature - which I do not wish to know - will not recover but will start cooking, like an egg, and death will surely follow.

Talk about a worm in the apple!!! Now by my side is a bottle of cold water and a spray of water to lower the temperature. NO,I do not have air-con and I cannot stand fans. To show that it is not just dumdum who was affected by the heat, my sister, nephew and niece had the same experience - in the same week.

On a serious note, I am aware that a large number of people, not just the elderly have died during this heatwave, and I hope that soon, the western governments will take global warming seriously and work towards reversing its effects.

Enjoy the summer carefully everyone!!!

Tagged!!

2006-08-04T00:31:00.001+01:00

Six weird things about myself

I was tagged by Mental (I will get you) and Spicey (and you too my pretty!!) to disclose six weird things about myself that will NOT be used against me.

1. I love the company of children. They are good judges of characters - because children see beyond the masks we wear. I learnt a lot from children, especially what Jesus said of them –accepting the Kingdom of God like little children – without calculation, questions or doubts.

2. I loath small talk and making conversations, and “serious discussions on issues” - be they religion, art,politics or football. I switch off when people start arguing to prove their points of view.

3. I am a solitary person by nature and by desire.

4. I can go for days without talking to people – my stimulation comes from within not from without

5. I always feel sorry for competitors who lose. I hate to see the look of defeat on their faces when they come second, third or last.

6. I like the songs of the late John Denver, especially “Annie’s Song”
(Ann is one of my baptism names which I do not use)

It is too hot for me to think about who to tag next – so this time; I let off my potential victims.

Enjoy the summer everyone

Happy Birthday No. 1 Niece

2006-07-19T01:31:00.000+01:00

I think the giraffe is one of the most beautiful and graceful creature that God made. It walks tall, graceful, making no excuses for its height
So when I call you giraffe, it is not just because of your height. Keep your head held high and walk proud - you are one in a million. I thank God for you.

Happy Birthday and God bless you.

Take time ....

2006-07-14T23:22:00.000+01:00

Depending on my family's point of view, I have either an annoying, scary or endearing habit of stopping to admire people’s gardens. Even worse, if the owners are friendly, I will talk to them. The other day I stopped and complimented a lady sitting outside her front garden. In my opinion, she has the best spot for morning sunshine. Even now when I shut my eyes, I can see myself sitting in a similar spot of an early morning, sipping my early morning coffee and watching the world go by, serenaded by the morning birds.

I hope with all the busyness and summer fun that every one of my blog friends will take the time to smell the roses and give thanks to God for the beauty that surrounds us and the hearts and eyes to appreciate it. Winter will soon be upon us.

ENJOY THE SUMMER EVERYONE!!!

Madaraka Day!!!

2006-06-01T13:07:00.000+01:00

In my travels, I have had people gush at me about Kenya, the animals and our fast runners to nauseating details. Their knowledge of Kenya is limited to only those two things.

To save myself from drastic and probable litigation (for instance giving them a vicious left hook), I gathered the following facts about Kenya, first to celebrate Madaraka Day with my KBW family, and secondly to serve as my personal ammo next time someone says to me, “Ah Kenya, I want to go on a “safari” to see the “animals”, or "you Kenyans are such fast “runners”". I will dazzle them back with these facts:

Did you know that?

• Kenya is sometimes called the 'cradle of humanity' because archaeological finds in the Rift Valley include some of the oldest known records of mankind’s history on earth? These include the Austropithicus amamenis, Orroin tugenisis, and Kenythropus.

• In AD 930, Claudius Ptolemy drew a map of the East Coast of Africa which showed the Kenya coast pinpointing Lamu, Malindi and Mombasa (Latin names were ignored)

• The movie the Ghost and the Darkness is based on a true story of two man eating lions at Tsavo that terrorised workers building a bridge for the Kenya-Uganda railway in 1898-99?

• That several movies have been shot in Kenya, including “King Solomon’s Mines”, “Mogambo”, “Out of Africa”, “The African Queen” and the Joy Adamson stories?

• The word “safari” is a Swahili word that means journey or to travel?

• That the names “Simba”, “Shenzi” and “Rafiki” are Swahili words used in Disney’s “Lion King”?

• The African American holiday of Kwanza derives its name from the Swahili word –which means first or beginning?

• That the British learnt to counteract guerrilla warfare when they fought the Mau Mau?

• That before the Lion King “borrowed” the song “Hakuna Matata” it was famous on its own merit in Kenya?

• The word Harambee, means “pulling together”, and is the Kenyan motto?

• That the song “Malaika” was composed by Fadhili Williams, and was made famous by Miriam Makeba?

• Lamu, a World Heritage site, is Kenya's oldest town? (see Ptolemy)

• The largest viper, the Gabon Viper, can be found in the Kakamega Forest? (Not my favourite fact)

• That in February 1952, Princess Elizabeth and her husband visited Kenya, and while at the Treetops Hotel, her father died making her Queen Elizabeth 11 giving rise to the quote “the princess who went up a tree and came down a queen”?

• The most famous runner, Kip Keino introduced the world to Kenyan runners during the 1968 Olympics when he defeated the legendary American runner Jim Ryun in the 1,500 meters race?

• Although most of us are irritated when people expect us to do well at sports, experts in every sporting and genetic field have carried out studies to see why Kenyans, in particular Kalenjins are so fast. In fact, some genetic experts say that the average Kalenjin could outran 90% of the rest of the human race. This is a fact that we can be proud of, after all they bring us all the gold, silver and bronze medals.

There you are - enough to dumbfound the next gusher. By all means let them come to Kenya, but please, please take note all visitors there is more to Kenya than animals and runners!!!!

HAPPY MADARAKA DAY TO EVERYONE (I wish I were home enjoying a cold Tusker and nyama choma!!!)

Some Resources http://www.oxfam.org.uk/coolplanet/kidsweb/world/kenya/kenhist.htm http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orrorin_tugenensis http://www.sibiloi.com/prehistory.htm

HELP the world cup cometh!!!

2006-05-30T23:10:00.000+01:00

It is coming round again!!! You can tell from the advertisers who are all cashing in on it, making sure that their adverts are linked to this big event. From TV stations, making sure that we all know they have a share of the pie. No am not talking about Most Haunted (huh?), Will and Grace (good gracious, why?), or Big Brother (how ghastly!!) it is WORLD CUP

This has the makings of a most horrid and boring and irritating summer ever!!!

Time for English (not British mind you) pride. Time to support our "boys" and for every house and car in the block (save mine) to sport the St. George flag with great pride. Time to paint our faces, our dogs, our nails, our cars with the English colours, never mind that your people came from Africa or Asia. Oh help!!!

I ask you where is the fun in watching grown men chasing an inflated pig skin. I do not care what everyone says, it is BORING!!!!!! blah, blah, blah, blah goes the commentator and strategists, former players and experts. Oh those instant replays, slow motions, dissecting the play of the day to everlasting boring and tedious details that are as much fun as watching grass grow. Yawn, bring in the clowns says I.

Last time round, employers allowed their people watch telly at work so they would not miss each and every “exciting” moment. A friend of mine was almost lynched for daring to cheer BRAZIL. Ken Livingston, the "innovative" mayor of London put up large TVs in Trafalgar square so that people could watch the UK matches and for miles you could hear the roar of the crowds at every move.

Well, I will definitely have to look for something to do this summer. What with Big Brother – God spare us – and World Cup taking up all that broadcast time, there will be a very big gap in my TV watching calendar.

Here’s to long walks along the London Bridges

Sight for sore eyes

2006-05-24T13:08:00.000+01:00

Roses are beginning to flower despite the overcast skies.

"See the winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come..." (Song of Songs 2:12)

ENJOY and overlook the rain and overcast skies. Look at the beauty of nature rather than the currenty dank and rainy weather.

Seeing RED

2006-05-16T19:33:00.000+01:00

I do not know how seriously I should take this No news today. African governments and activists have raised these issues, to seemingly deaf ears. Why should Bono’s article make the difference to the western governments?

Most African activists talked about Trade not Aid (with figures and example to back them up), no answer. We talked about farm subsidies – again silence. African leaders talked to pharmaceutical companies and their governments to consider a slight reduction in the prices they charge our poor for drugs - silence (well some excuses and promises, silence would have been better).

As a worn out, pessimistic and discouraged activist, I do not hold much hope for this new stunt, just as I was not excited by Live 8 and I most certainly will not be ecstatic over the next stunt.

I firmly hold that the playing fields must be equalized otherwise the cycle of debt and aid will be perpetuated ad nauseam, and most important of all, we Africans must take responsibility for our own development and fight our own battles.

We have to stop relying on handouts. No one is coming to rescue us, nor should we expect them to.

London cabbies

2006-05-11T16:35:00.000+01:00

Granted, they no longer come in basic black, but London cabs, whatever the colour are unique to London and a tourist attraction. To me however, it is the drivers, those Cockney drivers who call all women passengers “love” and “darling”, who are unique. They can talk the proverbial hind leg off a donkey if you give them a chance, discussing any topic under the sun. They will give you their take on life and dish the latest from the House of Commons, the current state of Mr. Blair's party and his life expectancy in power and the latest on the royals. They know everything from the Stock Exchange and can forecast the weather.

I enjoy talking politics with them and hearing their opinions on the politics of the day, the Labour party, and the rising number of migrants in London. (The people of African origin in Brixton, outnumber white people like 5-1. Here food, music, cloth and hair products come direct from the Continent or the West Indies). Most cabbies say they like the influx of migrants, especially our influence on the foods and music of the Londoners. (I am aware they might be diplomatic because of the passenger) but I refuse to be a cynic.

One day I asked a cabbie what he felt about economic migrants – those who come to the UK to work. This man was of the opinion that people should be allowed to go anywhere they could to earn a living. He said, “If my family were starving and I heard there was work in them countries, I would swim to get there. Just let anyone try and stop me love,” he said. Obviously, he did not hold with the government on deporting undocumented workers.

London cabbies are mostly kind souls. When I have had to take a cab to hospital, and not only have they been gentle with me but they have encouraged me. Last year, this cabbie drove me to hospital when I was quite ill. Not only did he refuse to take the fare I owed him, he was oh so very gentle with me, apologising for every bump on the road. I pray for him as often as I remember.

God bless them one and all.

Pictures of the black cabs provided by FreeFoto.com and wikipeda

DISTRACTED BY SPRING

2006-05-05T16:50:00.000+01:00

I certainly had not planned on this long a break from blogging. The plan had been to take time off during the Easter break, however, some technical hitches occurred with my computer and connection. Fortunately, all has been sorted out. I also had knitting projects to complete - thank God all done and dusted.

Meanwhile, the weather has been so wonderful that I cannot resist soaking up as much sunshine as I can. One is never sure what the weather will be from day to day. Despite being homesick, I rather enjoy the seasonal changes in this country. In particualar, spring when flowers, especially roses start to bloom. My walks are made more enjoyable by the sight of roses beginning to open up.
Glory to God for the beauty around us. (Hi, BJ!!)

What price beauty? or WHY???

2006-03-31T11:51:00.000+01:00

Picture this: a warm WINDY spring day, pretty slim girl walking down the road - hunched up and wishing she had rocks in her pocket because the wind is threatening to carry her away. The problem is exacerbated by those new stilettos she is wearing because she is actually wobbling and praying most desperately that she will not fall or be swept away by the wind.
Talk about torture!!! The Chinese foot binding ritual was condemned as a crime against women; yet modern day woman willingly submits to this new form of torture daily. We all know that high heels can be hazardous to your health; orthopaedists have warned women for years that high heels can contribute to the development of a variety of illnesses from corns and calluses to hammertoes, arthritis, chronic knee pain, sprained ankles and back problems. Uncomfortable shoes often lead to calluses, heel pain, bunions, hammertoes, ingrown toenails and even stress fractures

I watch in amazement and amusement as women totter on their ridiculous high heels knowing (from experience of course) that by the end of the day, they will have headaches, backaches and feet ache. They will want a bowl of hot water to soothe their feet and one or three glasses of martini to calm their nerves. And for what? To look beautiful? Attractive? To complement their looks?

What prize beauty if after 30 or so years of wearing high heels, you have chronic back pain, calluses, heel pain, bunions, hammertoes, ingrown toenails and you can never wear low heels because your feet and legs conform to the shape of high heels. I personally know 2 women who can no longer wear flat shoes!!
Is this beauty or torture?

SPRING

2006-03-28T14:50:00.000+01:00

Spring is certainly in the air. I for one am glad not to wear my third layer of armour to protect myself from winter’s harsh embrace.

I am waiting for Mshairi's poem on the joys of spring hopefully she has recovered from her bout of homesickness!!!

World Day for Water

2006-03-22T13:06:00.000Z

The United Nations General Assembly adopted resolution A/RES/47/193 of 22 December 1992 by which 22 March of each year was declared World Day for Water, to be observed starting in 1993, in conformity with the recommendations of the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED) contained in Chapter 18 (Fresh Water Resources) of Agenda 21. States were invited to devote the Day, as appropriate in the national context, to concrete activities such as the promotion of public awareness through the publication and diffusion of documentaries and the organization of conferences, round tables, seminars and expositions related to the conservation and development of water resources and the implementation of the recommendations of Agenda 21.

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

2006-03-14T12:22:00.000Z

When these letters are put together they are transformed into wonderful and exciting things – BOOKS. A story, a yarn, an adventure, my passport to a different world of make believe. Just think: a bunch of words strung together to create a new world where you meet the Hobbits, dwarfs, elves, the crime fighter, the beautiful spy, the brave soldier, the car that flies, the nanny who makes you go through a stone pavement, the star-crossed lovers. What a world!!!

Reading is a family thing. We all read. One of my fondest childhood memories is of me sitting up high on a tree reading at the back garden of our home way in the country. I carry a book with me always. Even when I am watching the TV, I will sneak a read during commercial breaks. Sometimes the book is more exciting than the TV show. When I am knitting, I will prop the book up and read when the stitches are not complicated.

Books are my sanctuary, my stress busters and my entry into the world of make-believe, where the good guys win, evil defeated and the rights of the downtrodden people restored. If I have to choose between a champagne meal and a good book, the book wins all the time!!!

So long as the story line is good, the book absorbing and there is a minimum of swear words, I will read it. For example, I read Dick Francis who writes about horses, jockeys and things connected with horse riding. Places and people who I have absolutely no connection with, but the heroes are likeable, the storyline clear and the good guys win every day.

The only books I will not read are horror stories and books that encourage evil.

Give me a good book any day, or like DANIEL J. BOORSTEIN says: A wonderful thing about a book, in contrast to a computer screen, is that you can take it to bed with you. Or as KATHARINE MANSFIELD puts it: The pleasure of all reading is doubled when one lives with another who shares the same books or Austin Phelps who says: Wear the old coat and buy the new book.

IN PRAISE OF WOMEN

2006-03-07T13:33:00.000Z

Proverbs 31:10 A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.

In commemoration of the International Women's Day I want to praise my special heroine; the working mother. She who holds a job and raises a family. She is usually the first one up; she feeds, dresses and makes sure the family is ready for school and work. She remembers everyone’s timetable- who is doing what after school, who needs extra money, who forgot to do their homework and if hubby has remembered to take the all important document to work (that he is well dressed because he reflect on her). After a 8 or 9 hour day, my heroine comes home, makes dinner, cleans up, supervises her children’s homework and does the laundry, makes the phone calls or visits to family and friends.

The women who live and work in the country deserve more than an honourable mention. These women have no running water, electricity, or reliable public transport, there are very few doctors and hospitals close to their homes, and they earn very little money. Not only will my heroine do the same as her her town sister every morning, she also has the added task of taking care of the domestic animals (milking the cow, feeding the chickens and so forth). She will then take up her hoe and walk miles to her small farm carrying her youngest on her back, and spend a good 8-9 hours cultivating the land. She will then gather firewood, sometimes water and then walk back home to prepare supper and make sure the animals are ready for the night.

My heroine, makes the house a home for her children and husband, will be there for her children's friends, husband's co-workers and her own work mates. She makes time for the family, friends and charitable causes. She remembers birthdays, anniversaries, mother-in-law’s favourite food, pet hates and even husband's second cousin once removed birthday. She is of course a wonderful lover, best friend, and confidante, nurse, doctor, teacher and family accountant.

A memory that stays with me is one I once saw in my infrequent journeys upcountry. A woman was walking home in the evening, on her back was a basket filled with food; a load of firewood, and her youngest child. Next to her was another child, and as she was walking, she was shelling peas – for supper of course.

GOD BLESS WORKING MOTHERS EVERYWHERE

Now if I was WANGARI I would have that song "Am every woman" playing while you were reading this post!!!.

Waiting

2006-03-03T12:43:00.000Z

I am the least poetic of my family - I know that. My art lies in other directions. I have learnt to appreciate verse because of Mshairi, and others. So please do not be too harsh. It is probably my one and only poem. (Mshairi - put away your red pen!!!)

Waiting
I am waiting, waiting for an answer
When first it started I cried,
I wept, I begged and I pleaded
And I waited
I bribed, I sacrificed and had massive temper tantrums
And waited
No answer
SILENCE.

He said – wait for me
I will not delay
I will answer

I am still waiting
“Out of the depths I cry to You Oh Lord,
Lord hear my prayer…”

I have prayed and have fasted
I asked
“When was silence ever an answer?”
But His response
“Wait for me, the answer is soon”

I am still waiting
Waiting for His soon
Praying
And still hoping
And waiting
“Tears on my pillow…!”
When will you answer?

You will answer
You have promised
I hold on to this promise and I
Wait
And praying
And believing
And trusting
“In You Oh Lord I put my trust…”

He will answer. He always does
“Those who put their trust in the Lord are like Mt. Zion that cannot be shaken…”

I should have posted this on 24th January, but for some reason I was unable to.

Press Freedom: Letter to Kibaki

2006-03-02T16:47:00.001Z

On March 2, 2006 government forces raided the headquarters and printing plant of the Standard Group. In addition to destroying equipment and newspapers, they shut down the KTN news station.

This latest attack follows the jailing of three journalists from Standard Newspaper, attacks on Citizen Weekly, and ongoing harassment of journalists by government-sponsored forces.

I urge you to condemn these attacks and to support freedom of the press and call for the immediate release of the journalists.

Cut and pasted from Keguro

A sad phobia

2006-02-15T10:39:00.000Z

I enjoy walking and exploring where I live. But this enjoyment is generally controlled by my fear of crossing roads. I do not know where this fear came from, but it is a real one. Whenever, I have to cross the road, I make sure that I am at the place where there is green and red man,

and I will not cross until the green man shows his face, even if there are hardly any cars coming. I will walk long distances to avoid places where there are no lights or pedestrian crossings

because I am afraid to face cars.

I am the person who slings behind the large crowd that crosses with “kifua” at all crossing levels, because I definitely do not want cross by myself. I am the person who stands and ensures that the lights are definitely green for the pedestrian before crossing. I will not jay walk for whatever reason. (Not because it is against the law), but because I am a crossing chicken.

This fear has grown to become a phobia. My hands sweat, my heart beats fast and I panic at the thought of crossing the road. The other day, I had to cross a busy road, and there were builders building something behind Kings Cross station, and this man comes and asks me, “Want to cross the road luv?” I said yes, but you have to hold my hand because I am a chicken!!! Fortunately he did and I did.

I watch in fear and trembling at people who ran across the road without a thought while the cars barely brush their behinds – and those who casually jaunt across the road while the lights are turning from green to amber.

My favourite city for walking is Manhattan - the lights and zebra crossings are all pedestrain friendly. The worst places to walk is Los Angeles. There people live in their cars. Nairobi? Drivers or pedestrian - always on the defensive.

Never too late

2006-02-13T16:19:00.000Z

Happy New Year everyone!!!!

I am pretending that 31st December 2005, and I have not been in hiberation all this time and wish everyone a very blessed 2006.

I hope it is a fun filled one.

Peace to you

2005-12-22T16:14:00.000Z

To my family, friends and "relatives" in the blogsphere

Recieve my prayers and best wishes to you and yours

May the Babe of Bethlehem bless us one and all

Wear the red ribbon

2005-12-01T15:53:00.001Z

In memory of friends and relatives who have died from HIV/Aids

That a cure will be found soon, and that people who suffer from HIV/aids are recieve the treatment and care they need.

Wear the red ribbon. Light a candle. Say a prayer. Remember the HIV/Aids victims and their families

A phobia

2005-11-14T11:40:00.000Z

One of the things I fear and hate most is SNAKES. Even writing this makes my skin creep, and I furtively lift my feet up from the carpet, although I know that these things do not live in London, and even if they did, they would be hibernating. Thank God. I cannot watch anything that has these creatures be it telly or movies or pictures because of my deep-seated loathing for them. Of course there is no logic or reason to my phobia, but it is there and it is real!!!

Once my family and I went to the Nairobi museum, and afterwards, some brave souls decided to go to the snake house. I and a younger sister waited outside enjoying our ice-cream, after a few minutes, we heard screams coming out from the snake house and one of the “brave” ones came running out, screaming and shaking – why? because she had been leaning on a wall and when she turned around she came face to face with a snake. Granted it was cased in a glass thingy but the fact that it was that close to her was just beyond fear.

Someone once told me about a type of snakes in Western Kenya that come to play with babies, while their mothers work in the gardens. She said that they are like nannies and will play them while the mother is busy, and when it is time for the mother go home, she will thank the snake for taking such good care of the baby, plead with it to give the baby back and promise to bring it back the following day. All I can say is HELP!!!

A while back an expert on reality TV was working with people to "cure" them of their fears. He challenged several to hold the things they feared (snakes, spiders, creepy crawlies etc) so that they could overcome their fear. Who me? Not for all the tea in China, India and Kenya combined would I allow myself to be in a room with snakes.

I am sure there are several experts who would be more than happy to tell me the reasons for my fear and what I ought to do to overcome this fear, but if it means being anywhere near them – FORGET IT. Let’s not reason it out, overcome it or analyse the fear. Let snakes stay where they belong – in holes in the ground and as far away from me as possible.

When I give thanks to the Almighty for His great works, I will thank Him because He is the Boss, but I will find a way of pointing out to Him that snakes are a very bad idea. Thank You God, anyway - some people like snakes, but me - I work very hard to avoid them.

ROSES, ROSES

2005-10-31T13:49:00.000Z

I learnt to love flowers, most especially roses from my mother

There is nothing as peaceful and soothing to me like looking at flowers.

I grew up loving red, pink and white roses. It was not until I left home and travelled overseas that I have seen a variety of colours, shapes and sizes of roses.

When I lived "across the pond" I planted a bare-root rose in my backyard. It was a delight to the eyes. Every morning before I went to work, I would water it and watch it grow. It had deep red blossoms. One of my roommates told me that she loved sitting in the yard watching the rose, because it made her feel good.

I am constantly stopping outside people's front yards when I walk to gaze at the beauty of roses, thank God the British love roses. One day as I walked with a nephew in a posh area of London, a beautiful red and white rose almost took my breath away. I stood and stared at the rose for such a long time, I am sure the householder thought I was slightly touched!!

It is a constant wonder for me that God created flowers to delight our senses.

Thank you God for eyes to see and a heart to love and a mind to appreciate!!!

Autumn blues

2005-10-11T15:26:00.000+01:00

When this time of the year rolls along, my entire being begins the process of hibernation. This is my least favourite season. 'Tis the season the leaves fall off the trees, making ghosts of trees limbs (nevermind the fact that the leaves turn all sorts of beautiful colours before they fall off). This is the season birds fly away, insects die, creatures hibernate and the clouds hide the sky. Roses die off and are pruned at this time of the year. It is the season of rain, rain, grey clouds, rain and more rain.

It is my season for introspection. So if I am not at my blog frequently, it is because I am hiding in my bed and wishing that all my nephews and nieces were rich enough to buy me that cottage in Nyali Beach and keep me in the style to which I would love to get used to.

Showing off!!!

2005-09-27T12:05:00.000+01:00

Knitting is my number one hobby. It has kept me sane and stress free, especially in the early part of this year. The ponchos I have made are snatched out of my hands even before I finish the last fringe. This green one is part of a "thank you" project to some very special people.

I pleased to boast also that I have learnt how to work a digital camera and download photos to the computer. Never too old to learn!!!!

Yes Nick. You are on the list, I promise!!!!.

All relative?

2005-09-19T13:22:00.000+01:00

The other day I started a little argument between two boys. The two boys, one Bengali and the other English were playing outside our little flat when I as I walked by. So the Bengali boy says "Hello Auntie," and I answered "Hello Sweetie" (or whatever) and talked to him as Aunties generally do, then walked on. Then I over heard the English boy say to him "She can't be your Auntie!" and my boy says "Of course she is". I did not hear the boy's explanation because I was out of earshoot.

Were you to follow me around my neighbourhood, you would think I was related to every race in the world. When the young people are outside, I am followed by an echo of "Hello Auntie, Hello Auntie!!" Someties I do not even know who is shouting the greetings, but I always shout hello back. Sometimes some of the "nephews" behave typically - asking me for chocolate money and making those face no grownup can ignore. Sometimes I will ask one of the many "nieces" and "nephews" to ran to the shop for me - just as if I were back home.

My first young friend when I first moved to this place about 7 years ago, was a Bengali boy. In his cheeky way he asked me what my name was - so I looked at him and said quite sternly "To you, I am Auntie" and that started the whole Auntie business. Sometimes, I will meet my "nephews" and "nieces" in the presence of their parents who look at me in some confusion when their offspring say "hello Auntie" to a total stranger.

I do enjoy walking around in my neighbourhood, especially in the summer when most of my "family" is playing outside. I do not feel so isolated in the company of all those children who despite racial differences know that we are all part of the same human family. We should all be like children - accepting each other without questions.

God is The DJ

2005-09-09T14:12:00.000+01:00

The other day a voice in the telly said "God is the DJ". He was advertising something this person and is likely one of those who are rather careless about taking the Lord's name. To begin with I was rather offended, but on reflection I realised that the person was right although not quite in the way he had said it.

God is truly a DJ. His musical arrangement is in the voices of the birds as they sing the morning chorus waking up the world, in the sound of the wind as it rushes in the trees, making the leaves dance. He choregraphs the voices of the insects in the evening as they sing the end of the day, singing His praises and thanking Him for His bounty as they prepare to rest.

God is the DJ. He conducts the rain, and the thunder and the lightening. His spinning technique is unsurpassed in the rushing of water, the crashing of the waves and the thunder of waterfalls.

God's DJ skills are awesome in the laughter ofwomen, in giggles of girls, in chuckles of boys and the gaffaws of men. But most of all is His skills are beyond compare when one hears the laughter of children.

Look for laughter not for tears. Look for joy not saddness. Celebrate in the music that God, the ultimate DJ creates for us to hear.

Now Mshairi, put this in prose form

A Random Act of Kindness

2005-09-06T14:06:00.000+01:00

Sometimes, strangers give us a helping hand, and it is only afterwards that realise the enormity of the gesture, then it is late to give thanks to the person. This story is about an act of kindness I have no way of repaying.

Many years ago, after visiting my sister in the eastern province of Canada, I had to take a few trains to go back to the Mid West of the USA where I lived. According to directions, the last train I had to take would stop in the Canadian city that borders Michigan, USA. I would then walk accross to the border control and take a bus to my home town. At the planning level, we often forget about nighttime, delays or getting lost.

I started a converstion with the barman in the train, mainly because there were only the two of us black people on the train. We talked about our home countries, him from Aruba, me from Kenya and so on, until we got to the story of my travels. It was almost 8.00 pm before we got to the station and it was getting dark, so this young man asked me if I know exactly where I was going. Being young and naive and confident, I only had a vague idea of where to go but was sure that all would be well. This person looked at me and suggested that I spend the night at his hotel suite - it came with two rooms. He said that the street I would take was not very safe, and there were no buses to Michigan after a certain hour.

After he had done his paper work, he walked me to the hotel, showed me the bed room and said goodnight. The next morning, he woke me up, bought me breakfast and walked me to the Canadian passport control office and said goodbye. Just like that.

I cannot remember his name or how he looked like. He was just your ran of the mill black man. I know we did not exchange phone numbers or even last names.

Anything could have happened to me that night. But nothing did.

All I can do is to thank God for directing my feet in his direction, and to pray for his safety and wellbeing. What else is there to do?

So this piece is dedicated to the gentleman from Aruba especially and all people who do acts of random kindness without waiting for reward or thank yous. May God bless you all.

Suffer the child

2005-09-02T12:02:00.000+01:00

A while back, I took the children to a gallery. A nephew is a budding artist, and I thought the works of artists long gone would encourage and challenge him. While in the gift shop I noticed a lady being stressed by a little boy about 3-4 years. So in my usual helpful (?) way, I went to see if I could be of service. It turned out that the boy - her grandson wanted a picture of a lion - he had just seen the "Lion King" and he was not impressed by the Turners, Picassos and Titians postcards and calendars being sold.

So I helped grandma look for a picture of a lion. There was none - but we persuaded him to accept a picture of a leopard. So I said to him in my cheerful, keep-baby happy voice, "Here pumpkin, see a leopard, he has spots" or words to that effect. The young man looked at me and said in a matter of fact voice - "Pay". It was a demand. "Okay Sir," I said "You are so right, stay right here, I will pay for it, and bring it to you right now". I paid for the postcard and brought it right back. His grandmother and mother - who came while I was paying for the postcard - were horrified, how dared he ask a total stranger to pay for his postcard. They were so embarassed, and could not apologise enough. Before the little drama became a great scene, they wanted to give me back the £1.00 something I spent, or the boy to return the postcard to me. (He was not having any of that!!) I assured the ladies that I was not offended. I explained that I am an aunty and things like that happen to me all the time. So I gave the child his card and asked for a kiss and a hug, which he did willingly.

The boy, who was blond and blue-eyed did not see my colour, all he knew was that before he could take the card, it had to be paid and since I picked it up, I was the most logical person to pay for it. There was no bad manners on the boy's side. He taught me a lesson - do not be afraid to ask for what you want. He so charmed me, I could have bought the whole gallery for him if he had asked for it.

BLOG wedding

2005-09-01T15:07:00.000+01:00

So now there is going to be a blog wedding. The Blue Poet has proposed to Ms Mshairi. I wonder if Blue knew what "makelele" and furore he would generate from his simple statement.

Our weddings are usually very formal and fussy affairs (to my mind) and the prospective groom has to appease so many relatives - aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, grand parents, in-laws and several family members who rejoice in creating chaos. And chaos is what this blog wedding becoming, with everyone putting in their 0.50p worth of comments.

Among the loudest protesters of this wedding are Mama Junkyard and Nick: they don't like the way Blue proposed, they want to see the engagment ring and know the size of the dowry (bride price). When MJY and Nick got married they did not tell anyone, including and especially the family. Suddenly there were new links - wifey and blog husband - on their blogspots, a done deal. No comments allowed. It was a bush wedding (or ohiki wa mabebeini)

Meanwhile back to the proposal. It is clear to me that this was a well-thought out strategy on Blue's part. While waging the war on Nick, he saw the vast numbers of supporters on his enemy's side and has decided to join the winning family. Numbers do count. He is insuring that for whatever reason, he will always this large (and growing) family on his side. GOOD STRATEGY BLUE.

There was some benefit

2005-08-23T13:24:00.000+01:00

This is going to sound strange, but in a way I am not too sad that the Europeans came to our country.

Yes, there was and still is the exploitation of our people and land. Yes, we were denied of our rights for generations. Yes again, terrible things that were done to us and our forebearers like my grandparents being forcibly moved from their ancenstral homes and planted in the Rift Valley. The slave trade etc etc.

But now, I cannot imagine my life without coffee, cigarettes and BLOGGING. I shudder to think what my life would have been in those old days - child bearing, co-wives,working in the shamba, carrying water from the river (tried that once and nearly broke my back!!) fendidng off raids from the Maasai and the Kambas.

What would I do without my books and the TV, movies and travelling?

Them old days are all very well and good for the romantics, but the realist in me is glad not to live in them. I am happy to be a child of the 20th century, to be a Christian. I am happy am independent and have been able to make my own choices, and to have been spared of that life.

Summer time

2005-08-12T14:07:00.000+01:00

Thank God for sunshine, heat and SUMMER. It is not as hot as I would like (Mombasa, White Sands, the Indian Ocean !!! Sigh)

I do not have to wear a heavy sweater or coat. This rose is grateful to God for this season. This is the season where I sit in the sunshine and collect as much warmth as I can in preparation for the rains and dark clouds of the autunm.

Oh yes, I miss home very much.

Congratulations Mich PH.D

2005-08-05T14:48:00.000+01:00

We have another PH.D. in the family. WELL DONE MICHAEL. I am SO VERY proud of you. You have worked so hard, and stayed focused despite everything.

My cottage at Bamburi Beach is getting closer to becoming a reality

Catching up with (old) AGE?

2005-07-28T11:24:00.000+01:00

My birthday is coming up soon, and with its impending arrival, all those philosphical thoughts firmly forced to the back of my mind are beginning insist that I pay them mind. Thoughts like where have the years gone by? I cannot believe I am this old and what have I achieved? And so on and so forth.

I am horrified by the realisation that if these were the bad old days, I would be a grandmother (that is if I had a daughter at 14, and she did the same of course). I have become a "nyakinywa", a matriach to the rest of the world, and consequently, I am becoming more like the boys on "Grumpy Old Men" as can be seen on BBC Two. I was shaken to find my head nodding in agreement with the likes of (Oh Dear God help me!!) Bob Geldof and his posse of middle-aged men as they complained about mobile phones, thongs, fast foods and the way the world is being ran.

So like the Nyakinywa I have become, I listing warning signs for all you bright young things to bear in mind when your times comes so that you can age gracefully (or not). It is not just the usual eyes going or aching back and knees, take that for granted, but things like fashions you wore a few decades ago that are now "dead trendy" say like miniskirts, bell-bottomed trousers and platform shoes (which contributed to the knee and back problem no doubt)

The list runs like this:
You know you are old if:

1. Instead of planning how you will "pull" that right tasty bloke, you start matching him up with your niece or next door neighbour's daughter (an "African niece" of course).
2. You see a young girl wearing a very short skirt and you are having to force yourself not to go and pull it down.
3. You do not have a date on Friday or Saturday. To be truthful you'd perfer not to go out on the weekends since you would rather rest up.
4. You want to leave the party early - because you want (yes you guessed it)to rest up.
5.Those children you carried on your back and whose diapers you changed have become your colleagues and confidantes
6. You start forecasting the weather through the various pains and aches in your knees
7. You are stuck on the last millenum's dance steps (who remembers the bump, the funky chicken or the hustle)?
8. The music you danced to back in the day (and is still fresh in your mind) is what is nowadays referred to as "Golden Oldies" or "Wazee Wakumbuka"
9. Like Tom Selleck in "Friends" who thought he was hanging with the guys but the guys thought he was the "most fun dad"!!
10. You start getting the names of your nieces and nephews mixed up and end up shouting all the names in the hopes that the one you want will answer you
11. The eyes are going, the ears and the knees
12. Horrors of horrors you have become your mother (or father)

The Lizard and the Iroko Tree

2005-07-19T10:51:00.000+01:00

This morning my roomie must have thought she would have to call the nice men who drive the padded waggon to come for me. I bust into her room dancing and saying (I do not believe I was shouting) "It fits!! It fits!! It fits!!!" Yes, that pair of black jeans I had not been able to wear for over 4 years finally fits me - and with room to spare. I have not felt this trim for a very long time.

No it is not Atkins or some other exotic diet. Would you believe it is because of a few weeks in the Middlesex Hospital? While I do not advocate it, there seems to be a benefit to spending time in a hospital.

Roomie told me about that one of lizard and the Iroko tree when I told her that I was feeling like a peacock. Or else like the cock who says "If I do not praise myself who will praise me?"

Invaded by Jerry (of Tom & Jerry)

2005-07-14T15:10:00.000+01:00

For over two years we have been sharing our living space with a family of mice. Yeech!!!!! You understand it is not our choice. Jerry did not ask to flatshare. One morning we woke up - and there he was. Ugh!! Yeech!!! How I loath the things.

Visualise my roomie and I, both Jerry phobic, ridding our flat of Jerry. What to do? Neither of us want to physically touch or see Jerry mouse, so nothing like mousetrap or rat poison. In year one, we got gizmos that emit a supersonic sound and was supposed to chase them away. It seemed to work because that winter, we did not see them. We lifted up glasses of cheer because I had got rid of the critters bila matata. Wapi!!! Kumbe Jerry was hidding next door, getting aclimatised to the supersonic sound because the following spring he wanted to share the flat with us more fully.

Come spring and they start reproducing and getting bolder. Can you imagine Jerry mouse staring at me as I eat, jumping all over cables, my feet and waiting for me to leave the kitchen so that they can go 'eat their dinner'. How I wished I was in Kenya. All I needed was a tabby cat and the problem was over.

Finally in frustration we bought stickly paper and this fearless hunter managed to trap FOUR - 4 - of the beasts. Of course I had to get the building supervisor to come and remove Jerry from the kitchen - which is their favourite place.

For about two months we have not seen Jerry - I believe that my fame as the fearless mouse killer has spread far and wide in the mouse kingdom and that they will stay away from my flat.

London united

2005-07-14T15:02:00.000+01:00

At 12.00 noon (or thereabouts) everyone in London, including buses and taxis came to a halt to remember last week's event.

I was visiting someone when the hour came, and I joined her and all the people who live and work in that area (close to Warren street). It was a very moving event, and was a good idea. I pray that all who were affected in anyway will be healed.

It finally happened

2005-07-08T11:33:00.000+01:00

So the bombing of London finally happened. Like all Londoners, I am still reeling from yesterday's bombing. I can't help feeling that the bombers failed in achieving their objective since they bombed ordinary people going about their daily business, not people with economic and political clout.

I was very proud to Londoners yesterday. The atmosphere of calm despite the weather (it was raining of course - in the summer but that is another story), the anxiety and tension in the air. None of this seemed to faze Londoners, we all walked home and stayed optimistic.

All I can say to the bombers is SHAME ON you are not looking for sympathy but to cause as much damamge as possible. I mean what sympathy will you ever get from the people of Kenya and Tanzania?

I am back!!!!

2005-07-08T11:19:00.000+01:00

Hey everyone, friends and family.

I am back and ready to blog.

I have been taking a break - starting with a visit to the Middlesex Hospital in Camden over the Easter Holiday. But I believe that I am now all mended.

Thank you to everyone who sent me cards and flowers. All those who visited and who called my family. Thank you for your prayers and good wishes.

Uarida

Happy New 2005

2005-01-01T00:55:00.001Z

Happy New Year everyone of my blog buddies, especially the Kenya Webring.

New challenges, new hopes, new plans and of course new resolutions (quit smoking, lose weight, keep fit etc) I hope we will keep these resolutions. Of course I stopped doing that when I reached a certain age.

I wish God's blessings on everyone of my friends and may 2005 be full of joy, happiness, opportunities for growth and pleasant surprises at every corner.

Movies - Africans in the Media

2004-12-01T13:26:00.000Z

Once in a while, I enjoy watching old time movies made in Africa like King Solomon’s Mines (Haggard Rider), She, Mogambo and others, which were made before we could complain about the negative portrayal of Africans. It is somewhat amusing to see the wierd and tactless ideas moviemakers and writers had of Africa and Africans. We were portrayed as ignorant, lazy and cowardly and that we desperately needed western civilisation to save us from chaos.

What I strongly protest is the modern remakes of those same old stereotypes like King Solomon’s Mine being shown by Hallmark TV and staring Patrick Swayze, - you know the Ghost guy. I was irritated by Hallmark and this movie and so I watched a few scenes so that I could register my objections. Some of the ideas about the “Dark Continent” that still persist include:

Africa as one great lump of land
The people, languages, cultures and countries are interchangeable
Africans are superstitious and under the power of witchdoctors
white people are still smart and come to our rescue – we need them to survive
Africans are uncivilised, ignoring proof of our ancestors’ civilisations
Africans are naïve and are easily duped
Africans do nothing all day but sit outside their thatched huts – who does the cooking, farming or even build the huts? Who makes the clothes, takes care of the animals and fetches water?
The natives will spontaneously start singing and dancing to entertain the white man or the chief (king, headman etc)
The movie makers do not differentiate between regional dressing, hairstyles or dances

The list is endless, the faults and stereotypes are the same – even in this day and age.
The most annoying fact was that the movie makers did not bother to recruit Africans who speak the same language. There were several languages spoken by a number of people, who understood each other!!! Wonder of wonders. People who spoke Swahili, Zulu, Xhosa and others could all understand each other. Here is an example of a narrative

Speaker one in Swahili: I am the rightful ruler, not Twala
Speaker two in Zulu: How can I believe you are the king?
Speaker one Swahili: Look at my markings
Speaker three in another language: Yes those are the markings of the King
Chorus of Africans in a Babel of languages; Hail to the King

Swahili is my second language and I know a few Zulu words so it was apparent to me that the actors were separated not only by language but by a several thousands of miles. The cultures and customs are as different as Germany is to England. But did the movie makers take this into consideration?

I suppose the movie makers’ primary audience are non-Africans so it would not matter if such things as African languages, cultures and customs were rather hazy. The primary audience would not be the wiser and would thus not affect them.

It is incredible that these famous stars and reputable movie companies can make such movies that are insult to Africans without a second thought. I suppose the fact that there were Africans acting in the movie did nothing to ensure that the movie was not an insult to Africans.

Christmas part one

2004-12-01T13:19:00.000Z

Well, that season is well and truly upon us now. There is no escape - everyone even your cats and dogs are sending lists to Santa. But what does Christmas mean to us in this brave new millennium? If you believe in adverts, it is presents, food, drinks and parties. Retailers and manufactures, start their commercials earlier and earlier in the year. This year, the prize goes to Azda for starting their Christmas commercials right after “Back to School” sales were over.

In the USA it is possible that shoppers are marginally protected from the Christmas commercial frenzy by the Thanksgiving commercials until the last weekend in November. But in other parts of the world, as soon as it is decently possible, (and the lines get more burred each year) shoppers are bombarded with everything from perfumes to toys to room deodorisers to music and electronic gadgets as possible gifts for people you hardly know or care about. High Streets are nightmares of crowds who look more like sleepwalkers or zombies hunting for presents. Everyone works super hard to separate us from our hard earned money in anyway possible.

In November, we are bombarded with commercials of upcoming movies, shows and TV programmes for the Christmas season. Musicians release their biggest CDs at this time; movie producers release their soppiest movies. There is a variety of Christmas this and Christmas that shows, and of course Santa Claus – and his reindeers, and his movies!!!! Santa Clause, Mrs Claus, Santa Claws and a variety of combinations that are just mind boggling.

What about the Christmas paraphernalia? There is so many of the seasonal hats, scarves, cards, underwear, reindeers, trees, lights and trimmings on sale all. And the songs, the jingles!! This year, the one I want to cancel, rub, erase and delete from existence is that one “Santa Claus is coming to town…” I might just scream if I hear it one more time. It is Argos’ favourite method of torture for this season.

Where is it written that Christmas equals gifts, toys or drinks? What has more (and expensive) gifts, more food or drinks have to do with Peace on Earth? Who said that Santa equal to Christmas? That without him there is no Christmas?

Some 2,000 years ago in a remote part of the Roman Empire a poor carpenter’s wife gave birth to a Baby Boy in an animal shelter. This event would have been unremarkable but for the signs that followed this Boy’s birth – angels sang to shepherds about peace on earth and goodwill to men. Several wise men travelled from places unknown to pay Him homage. This Child’s birth brought change to this world.

Let us look beyond the noise and commercial for the truth of Christmas – why it is a season of goodwill.

Silence

2004-11-24T12:13:00.000Z

When I started blogging I was so sure that I would have to tear myself away from the computer because I would not bring myself to stop writing. I beleived that I would never ran out of words of wisdom to share on my soap box - here hidden in my room behind the Uaridi barrier.

It has been a long time since I wrote something - surprise surprise. I have not ran out of words. It is just finding a way in which to share all these thoughts to people in cyberspace.

How Africa is courting its exiles

2004-10-27T12:16:00.001+01:00

By Elizabeth Blunt
BBC News

Estimates suggest Africans working abroad send home $45bn a year. On the fringes of the European Social Forum in London, people of African descent are holding their own conference - and discussing how Africa could benefit from their achievements.

Suddenly Africa is wooing its exiles. Some of the continent's best brains, and deepest pockets are in London, Paris or New York, not in Lagos or Nairobi.

Add in all the people of African descent, black Americans, the population of the Caribbean and large parts of Brazil, and Africa has millions of prosperous and influential people potentially on its side.

When the new African Union was drawing up its constitution it made space for these people of African origin; after north, south, east west and central Africa, the diaspora was designated the sixth region of the continent.

Sophie Kalinde, the African Union's ambassador in Geneva, is one of the links with this constituency in Europe.

"It's a big population. You know that the dispersal of the population is such that Africa cannot ignore the presence of its own outside Africa," she said.

Perhaps the real wake-up call came after 11 September, when governments began to make careful records of money movements.

Best estimates suggest that Africans working abroad send home some $45bn a year.

Collective strength

But most of it goes on living expenses for their families; they are less likely than expatriate Indians for instance, to invest their savings back home in Africa.

I asked Ambassador Kalinde what she thought Africa could learn from India, or from that other great success story in mobilising its diaspora - Israel.

"You can learn that you can be small and be very powerful. You can learn that you can defend yourself in the public arena, through debate."

"You can see that India has gone even so far as having nuclear power, and most of the resources are the resources that India has had by being so well organised as a diaspora."

But if African governments want the diaspora's money, they will have to earn it.

Another message to this meeting was that collectively Africans living abroad have real strength.

If they want better governance, more transparency, a more stable investment climate, they should demand it; now they know the demands are backed by $45bn a year, their governments may be more ready to listen.

Writer's block

2004-10-15T09:42:00.000+01:00

I had this idea that I should write wonderful, thrilling and confounding murder mysteries and show those authors who can't write fast enought for me how it is done. But before I could start, I hit a serious block. To write crime novels, the writer has to have quite a lot of knoweldge of both the bad guys and the good guys. She needs to know things like police procedure, foresic science and the law. The author has describe crime scenes so realistically that the reader feels they are truly there. The writer must understand and write about the bad guy's personality, what he/she looks like, thinks about and their dreams and desires. Essentially, one has to get into their minds. Me!

Nah, not this chicken. I only seen exactly two horror movies and was so tramatised that for days I could not sleep without a light on (well that has not changed, but I have a new excuse nowadays). I who shut my eyes at bang bang scenes and hate the sight of blood and violence. I did not know what I was thinking of. I would have to visit jails (who me?)and talk to the baddies, talk to the police - well not so bad, but who wants to go to the police station, read psychology and things like that. Besides, who wants to get into the mind of murderers, rapists and psychotic killers. Who wants to make nice with all these baddie, bad enough that they are nasty in fiction who wants to meet the real thing.

That dream has been quashed, and never allowed to surfaces.

Traditions, traditions

2004-10-15T09:31:00.000+01:00

To all those who believe that we have lost our culture and traditions!!!!!

How Ngugi and Njeeri Got 'Properly' Married at Ngurario

By STEPHEN MBURU
SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT

Holding one end of a goat's roasted right "arm" in his left hand and a knife in the other, the bridegroom asks his bride to hold the other end.

Then with the precision of a surgeon, renowned Kenya author Ngugi wa Thiong'o cuts the piece of meat into two.

His now excited bride, Njeeri, holds her piece high in the air, waving it about amid ululation from simply-clad village women. Invited guests join in, clapping and cheering the "newly-wed" couple.

The occasion, in the dusty village of Mitero in Thika district in Kenya's Central Province, was a traditional wedding ceremony on August 28.

Ngugi, who professes to practice his native Gikuyu culture, had returned to the country from the US on July 31, after a 22-year self exile. His main mission was to formalise his marriage to Njeeri under Gikuyu rites.

The author had fled Kenya in 1982 at the height of state persecution of dissidents, when he was perceived to be a thorn in the flesh of then Kanu government of former president Daniel arap Moi.

"There are two things you can never shed: your age-group and your culture,'' he said, during the ceremony at the humble chief's camp in Mitero.

It was interesting to see the celebrated author receive lessons in tradition, and more so, from a villager of modest education.

So over the course of the hot afternoon, the director of the Irvine-based International Centre of Writing and Translation, became the willing student of his agemate, 70-year-old Paul Muthumbi.

Ngugi and Muthumbi belong to the Gikuyu age-group Warurungana, which comprises young men who were circumcised between 1951 and 1953.

Muthumbi is the chairman of Warurungana group from Ngugi's home village of Kamirithu in Limuru, about 30km northwest of Nairobi.

Muthumbi explained to the guests that, in Gikuyu tradition, a marriage is incomplete without the Ngurario ceremony.

This tradition requires the bridegroom to take to the bride's home, days before the ceremony, a he-goat that is the same colour allover.

The ceremonial cuts are the goat's right "arm" (guoko); entrails (gitungo kia mara); ribs (inkengeto) and the two kidneys (higo).

These cuts are served in a bowl covered with banana leaves. Should the kidneys, which the "experts" roasting the meat are wont to eat themselves, be missing, the bridegroom is fined another goat that is slaughtered and roasted on the spot.

To be on the safe side, the bridegroom brings along several goats.

Like a university lecturer supervising a student's thesis, Muthumbi uncovered the bowl, picked up the meat pieces one by one, and upon finding all the ritual cuts there, declared: "Ngugi has passed the exam.''

He added, "Normally, only one ceremonial goat is needed, but because of Ngugi's generosity, he has brought two.''

The author had in fact brought rather more animals, more perhaps than was necessary. There were nine goats and two bulls. But only five goats and the bulls were slaughtered – at Njeeri's former homestead, about 50 metres from the chief's camp. Tradition demands the animals' blood be spilt within a bride's homestead.

There was also plenty of traditional brew, muratina, which the elders as well as the young men and women drank from big horns.

The Ngurario ceremony was mainly attended by villagers. However, a few VIPs were present, including psychiatrist Frank Njenga, who was the couple's key counsellor during their four-day stay at Nairobi Hospital following the attack.

Seeming eager to learn, Ngugi followed the instructions carefully as Muthumbi guided him in cutting the roasted "arm" (guoko) into two. The author remained with the lower-part and Njeeri the upper, kiande (shoulder).

The couple then fed each other a piece each. And the Ngurario ceremony had reached its climax.

The Ngugis then distributed the rest of the meat to the guests, starting with Ngugi's mother-in-law, Mary Magdalene Wambui, who is in her late 1970s.

Muthumbi said a typical Gikuyu man was only truly married after performing such a ceremony.

The author was then seated between two agemates, after which he had his hair groomed by elderly local women.

He sipped porridge from a calabash, which was held for him by a villager, Mary Miring'u, who, from time to time, wiped Ngugi's lips with a white cloth.

Meanwhile, Njeeri had been whisked off to the chief's office, metres away, where she was covered with Swahili kangas from head to toe. Another 10 women of similar height were also covered.

Singing and dancing, the women surrounded and walked Njeeri to where Ngugi was seated. They challenged him to pick out his bride from the rest.

Ngugi thrilled guests as he danced and mingled with the women in a bid to identify Njeeri. There was ululation after he finally identified her, perhaps after recognising her light skinned legs, not to speak of her black leather shoes.

The couple sported beaded rings in place of their golden wedding bands, which were lost during the August 11 attack.

The author, who does not profess any religion, then asked Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology assistant chaplain Fr Peter Ngugi, and Pastor Shadrack Kang'iri of the African Independent Pentecostal Church, to bless the rings.

Ngugi had a traditional marriage to his first wife, the late Nyambura, with whom he has six children: Thiong'o, Kimunya, Nduchu, Mukoma, Wanjiku and Njoki. Apart from Kimunya, an economics graduate from the University of Nairobi, the rest attended US universities. All his children are working, in the US and different African countries.

Njeeri has a 24-year-old daughter from a previous relationship with an African-America partner.

The couple have two children, 10-year-old Mumbi-Wanjiku and Thiong'o, aged nine years.

The couple and their two children left Kenya for the US on the following day (August 29) via South Africa.

Ngugi was to take up his job at the International Centre for Writing and Translation. Njeeri is a counsellor in the US.

Njeeri told the press at Nairobi's Jomo Kenyatta Airport that the rape ordeal had actually encouraged her to market Kenya abroad. "Wherever we go, we will be telling people that Kenya is the best place to visit. The attack on us was just an isolated incident.''

Ngugi said he would be returning to his homeland "over and over again.''

Personality test

2004-10-11T01:31:00.000+01:00

Its fun and interesting. Take it. My test said that I am a Poet!

This is a bit of what they said about me!

Your personality is actually determined by two personality sub-types - your primary, or dominant sub-type, and your secondary sub-type. You are a Poet which means you are a Thinker / Golden Your primary sub-type is defined by "Thinker" characteristics and your secondary sub-type is defined by "Golden" characteristics. You're complex and artistic with a rich inner life. Chances are you're a bit shy and quiet, and you enjoy peaceful, comfortable environments. You're an interesting person to know, full of insights and inspiration, even though you're sometimes hesitant to express them.

http://web.tickle.com/personality/

Number one hobby

2004-10-09T21:43:00.000+01:00

It has been days since I last blogged. I have been side tracked by my number one hobby.

I enjoy knitting, and pride myself in being creative, since ponchos came back in fashion, I have not been able to make one successfully and it has been driving me nuts. So I went to the wonderful world wide web and found several FREE patterns for making ponchos. So guess where all my energies and creative drive has been directed to. KNITTING.

It is such a fun hobby, especially when the design comes out just right. I am particuarly enjoying making stuff for my new niece, and imagining how she will look when she wears it. Not forgetting the admiration I get from who ever sees my work.

RIGHT WINGERS

2004-09-30T12:48:00.000+01:00

Before the Jerry Springer show became more idiotic than it is nowadays, I saw a show he had hosted, with two right wing "Christian" groups as his guests, one white and the other a black one.

The similarity between the two groups was scary. Both believe they are right and there is no middle road, no comprise. They hate everyone who does not agree with them. Both groups are infamous in their treatment of women, as chattels or idiots, believing that a woman does not have rights, and her proper place is the kitchen, and that she, like children are to be seen and not heard.

Both these groups use the Holy Bible to prop up their racial hatred, believing that they have the divine right to hate and punish anyone who does not share their beliefs, way of life and/or belong to their racial group. They believe that they are the chosen few. They believe that Jesus belongs to their particular racial group, either white or black. And that God has given them permission to kill, maim and torture anyone who does not agree with them.

I wish both groups; black and white would go back to the truth of the Word of God. Jesus said that we should love our enemies, that we should forgive all who hurt us (seven times seventy times). Jesus encouraged us to turn the other cheek, but these right wing groups demand an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. I wonder if they actually say the Lord’s Prayer, and if they do, whether they actually pay attention to the words of this prayer.

What would their reaction would be if they actually realised that Jesus was a Jewish man and that He was olive-coloured; neither white nor black. (White groups particularly hate Jews) He had a Jewish heritage and had a Jewish background, and went through Jewish rites of passage. He was taught the laws and the prophets just like any other Jewish man of that period.

What would these groups do if they actually read the truth contained in the Bible? Or even more interesting, if they saw Jesus as He was 2,000 years ago, olive skinned and all? What are the chances that these groups would accept Him?

Yah right, I do not think so. He is not the Jesus they preach, He does not share their racial characteristics, but rather, He speaks about forgiveness, love, peace and freedom for all. He welcomes everyone, no matter what. He will neither destroy “unbelievers” nor will He hold grudges or punish anyone who does not fit into a false set of rules. Jesus is love, unhappy the people who do not see this.

Maranatha, Come Lord JESUS.

Racism

2004-09-25T16:11:00.000+01:00

Africans back down at UN race talks Special report: UN conference against racism. Although this happened a few years ago, the memory still breaks my heart.

Thank You

2004-09-24T19:49:00.000+01:00

When I am in trouble or need a favour, l like most people, bring my needs to God in prayer. When the answer I wanted comes, I can be like the 9 lepers and forget to say "Asante " or "thank you" for answered prayers.

On this my soap box, I say "Asante sana Mungu" for answering a prayer.

Babies and trust

2004-09-23T21:58:00.000+01:00

I have a new niece. She is 22 days old, and absolutely beautiful. She is so tiny, she fits in my arm perfectly. Her feet and hands amaze me, they are so perfect, everying about her is perfectly formed, she has a whole head of hair (that's an African thing)

My tiny niece trusts us, her family to protect her, feed her, keep her warm and safe. When she is wet, she is changed automatically. When she is hungry, mummy is there to breastfeed her. She is bathed, clothed and has constant attention. She is never alone - she has people watching over her. At this time of her new life, she is the centre of her family's attention. Nobody else (apart from her mom) is as important as she is right now.

The most important lesson this tiny baby is teaching me, as I hold her is to trust in God. I must look to Him at all to take care of me like we take care of my tiny niece. I might be a 40+ independent and strong African woman, but I still need God my loving Father to provide for me which means feeding me, nursing my hurts and pains and comforting me when I feel sad, lonely and "like a motherless child". My tiny niece teaches me to trust. I am learning all over again. I TRUST that God will not let me down.

"In You O God I put my trust, let me not be put to shame..."

Autumn

2004-09-21T12:16:00.000+01:00

I enjoy the seasonal changes, when leaves turn colour from green to all shades of earth tones. I like the feel of earth drawing into herself getting ready for winter. I even enjoy the shorter days.

What I truly do not like is the cold and rain that comes with autumn. If only it snowed in the winter. I lie to myslef and think that changes in the landscape can make up in a small way for the cold weather. Falling snow is beautiful, especially in the night time. The white of the snow softens the landscapes and creates new shapes, which for artistic types like myself is "interesting".

What it is is that this African Rose is getting ready for winter. I am searching for positive things about this time of the year. I want to face the cold with expectation of good things, just as I do for spring and summer. Surely there is good even when the world is cold and the sun's rays are as feeble as moonshine.

Bye summer, hello cold weather.

Finally

2004-09-21T10:59:00.000+01:00

For the last couple of weeks, I was not able to post stuff on my blog. I nearly gave up on blogging.

Where to start? I suppose I should talk about the virtue of never giving up no. This is a good topic because it speaks to my current situation.

For the last 19 months or so, life has been very "interesting". It has been 19 months of trial, of testing of my faith, friendship and courage. I have had to put my mouth where my faith is, a challenge. It is always easy it is to see solutions to other people's problems and cares, but I have to live by the words I preach to others.

There have been days I have wished to stay hidden under the covers, because I do not know what is following the rising sun. But I have faced these challenging days - fearfully and reluctantly. But faced them I have. I faced them through the power and support of the Almighty God who loves me, and cares for me. My loving Father God who cares for me, who strengthens my knocking knees and gives volume to my shaking voice.

I am learning who my true friends are, who puts their money where their faith is, who can be trusted, and who cannot be. It has been quite painful. But nevertheless, I am learning very important lessons daily. I am learning to forgive and forget, and most importantly to bear with my own failures and shortcomings.

The most important lesson I have learnt is that God loves me no matter what and that He supplies all our needs, BUT in His own time and His own way.

UA RIDI

2004-09-08T17:57:00.000+01:00

I chose my blogger name as Ua Ridi: rose flower - not because I think of myself as one - dainty, pretty, colourful and discriptions towards that effect - I certainly am not. It is because I am constanly amazed at the beauty in this world of ours.

Take for instance my blog name, rose flower. It is such a thing of beauty. There are so many varieties and types and colours. From pure white, to deep purple almost black. There are those lovely yellows, the delicate pinks and beautiful reds. I ran out of words to describe these beauties of nature! Now think of all other flowers in this world, the variety of colours, shapes, forms and uses. It is awe inspiring.

All this beauty is put there by the Great Landscaper for us to enjoy. It is free of charge for us to refresh ourselves, and to cheer us up. In the midst of all the chaos and turmoil in this world, when things seem to go wrong, I healed and soothed by the beauty I see around me. Then I go back to God, the Creator of all that is beautiful and healing, and realise I that He will overcome everything, despite what I see.

Soap box

2004-09-07T21:21:00.000+01:00

So here I am all ready with a blog to declare my presence to the world. My soap box!!!!