African Christian Writers

Kenya after the Post Election Violence

2008-07-29T01:02:00.000-07:00

Will Kenyans vote in 2012?
By Catherine Muraguri

Susan is a 29 year old mother of two. As far back as she can remember, she always voted in Kenya’s general elections and the 2007 one was no different. She was heavily pregnant in December with her second child but this did not stop her from waking up early in the morning to go and cast her vote.

However, after the disputed December 29 elections, she is not sure she wants to vote again. “If casting my vote will result in people being killed, many others loosing their property and having Kenyans who are refugees in their own country, it is not worth it,” she says.

Her friend Dora disagrees however. “Regardless of the outcome of last year’s elections, I will continue to cast my vote because it is my democratic right to do so every five years.”

Since the disputed elections last year, divisions have emerged with Kenyans not decided if they will vote again in future elections. The Internally Displaced People in refugee camps have had many thinking about the repercussions of elections.

“Some of the people in refugee camps voted just like me and look where they are now. The same leaders I voted for seem to be dragging their feet about their (displaced persons) plight so what is the point of voting?” Susan continues.

Over 1000 people died and over 300,000 others lost their homes and their property was destroyed. Many friendships and relationships including a significant number of marriages of people from different tribes were severed due to the tribal animosity that arose as a result of different tribes voting for different presidential candidates.

Internal displaced persons are slowly being repatriated back to their ancestral homes. However, their plight has raised questions as to how they can ever trust people they once regarded as their friends and neighbours, people they interacted with on a daily basis and their children played together. Will friendships and relationships that are slowly starting to heal be broken again come the next elections?

Already political leaders have started talking about the 2012 elections, with several of them declaring their presidential ambitions. Only time will tell if Kenyans will show the same enthusiasm for voting as they did last year.

We will get there, someday
By Mary Kiio

I had been sent to Kibera , one of the areas in the city of Nairobi that had been adversely affected in the post election violence in the country, to cover a story of a woman who had been raped during the skirmishes.

As it is a slum I had to walk through closely knit homes from the bus stop with my guide to get to the house of the interviewee. I could not help but notice the open stares I received from the people around me.

In the past their stares would not have made me uneasy because I would have accepted it as a look of a stranger among them. But this time, based on the post election violence, I was in the vicinity of people who were not from my community.

At that time all I could think was, I hope my guide would stay by my side and not betray me. Luckily, she was a popular woman and we had to stop from time to time to greet a friend and she would introduce me. They smiled and so did I but that did not help alleviate my level of consciousness of been an open target to anyone who might want to harm me.

Later on that evening as I was in the “comfort” of my home, I reflected on that day and was shocked at how I had looked and had been looked at by my fellow Kenyans. Had it not just been three months ago when I was not afraid of any Kenyan unless they were a thief or a murderer?

I wrote this down on 27/2/2008, a few days before the peace deal was signed between the two major political parties in Kenya. This was a landmark moment for Kenyans, because we knew that their was now hope that we could start rebuilding our nation.

Five months later, I sit a few paces away from where I first wrote the beginning part of this article. As I reflect on what has happened so far, I am amazed at the resilience of my fellow countrymen. The fear and hatred that threatened to engulf us all is slowly chipping away.

I have travelled to various parts of the country where there are many people who are in displaced camps and despite the horrors they have faced and the suffering they are submitted to, as the government’s agenda shifts from addressing their plight to political wrangles that are an eyesore to all, the displaced people do their best to carry on.

Some of the Kenyans emotional wounds are healing, while others still require a triple portion of healing balms and a continuous change of bandages. My prayer is that we- the people of Kenya- will keep forging forward as we seek lasting solutions for our cohesion, not only for our generation but for the generations to come.

Children's Writers Workshop April 2008

2008-07-14T02:25:00.000-07:00

Writing for Kenya 2008
By LeAnne Hardy

Stories are sneaky. They slip around our arguments and through our defenses and catch at our hearts and force us to see the world in a new way. Perhaps it is a story about a lost sheep and the Shepherd who searches until the sheep is found. Maybe it is a story about a hare who tricks a lion and saves the animals or of a child who had to leave behind a valued possession when he fled to the displaced persons camp.
Kenyan children “learned” many negative lessons in the recent post-election upheavals. They learned that violence is an acceptable way of solving problems. They learned that friends cannot be trusted, and that the world is an insecure and frightening place. They learned these lessons from the terrible things they experienced and from what they heard adults around them saying.
Stories can help them to unlearn these lessons. Traditional African storytelling has long used stories to talk about issues important to the community without accusing or condemning an individual. Stories that demonstrate hope, inspire trust or show that there are still good people out there (even in that other ethnic group) will help children to grow beyond the negative lessons of recent days and contribute toward preventing a repetition in the next generation.
Many children will need professional help in future months and years to overcome the traumas they experienced, but they can be helped with stories that express their feelings and fears in other words.

What makes a good children’s story?

A good story is about an interesting character in a challenging situation. That situation might be a crisis like burning houses and angry neighbors that cannot be avoided and must be dealt with immediately. Or it might be a challenge that the character has chosen to take on like befriending the new neighbor who is too frightened to come out of her room after the terrible events that forced her family out of their old home.
The challenge or crisis should be appropriate to the age of the target audience. In the recent unrest, even very small children experienced things that no child should ever have to go through. We don’t have to write directly about those traumatic experiences. We can write about a simpler, more every day experience, with the same conclusion of hope and trust that we want to communicate.
Your character needs to overcome opposition to solve his problem or reach his goal. Opposition might come from another character—a ‘bad guy’ or maybe a rival who isn’t all that different from the main character. It might come from nature as in a threatening storm, a mountain to climb or a wilderness survival story. Internal opposition comes from within the character as a fear or prejudice to overcome. The best stories often involve both an external conflict and an internal conflict.
The main character will be a child with whom readers can identify. Children like to read about the person they may become, so make your character the same age or slightly older than the age of your target audience. An active character who makes things happen is more interesting to read about than a passive victim. Remember that real people have both strengths and weaknesses. Your character shouldn’t be perfect, but he or she should be likeable.
Sensitive subjects like violence and prejudice may be easier to write about if you use animal characters, especially in stories for younger children. An antelope hiding from a lion puts some distance between the story and the traumatized child reader and makes it easier to talk about the feelings they have in common. A story about monkeys and zebras can make the same point without risking the offensive stereotypes that might inadvertently be communicated in a story about specific ethnic groups.

A good story has a beginning, a middle and an end.

The beginning introduces the character and the conflict in a way that grabs the reader’s attention and makes him want to know more. Begin with something exciting happening or about to happen. In real life, you get to know another person by seeing what they do and hearing what they say. A good beginning shows us what the character is like in words and action. It doesn’t tell us about the character or explain the situation.
I could have begun my story about a very small boy finding out about a very big God by telling the reader “Once there was a little boy named Themba who lived in South Africa.” Instead I tried to show my character. “Themba was the smallest in his family except for baby Hannah.” The illustrations make it clear that Themba lives in Africa.
The middle of a story develops the conflict. It shows us what the character does to solve his problem and what happens as a result. The problem shouldn’t be too simple. There must be obstacles for your character to overcome so your reader feels the satisfaction of finally achieving the goal.
In Western story telling, the magic number is three—three little pigs, three billy goats gruff, three wishes, etc. To Western listeners, three attempts to solve the problem feels complete. In Native American folklore, four is the magic number—four winds, four directions, four elements that make up the world. Examine your traditional tales and ask yourself what is the number that will feel most complete for my readers? That is probably the number of attempts to solve his problem that your character should make. The first few times the character will fail. His or her attempts may even make the problem worse. Only the last time, when the situation seems most hopeless, will the character make that last heroic effort and overcome.
Don’t fall into the trap of letting an adult show up to save the day or an unexpected circumstance. Your reader will feel cheated. Force your child character to come up with the solution, to act in some way that solves the problem. If there must be an adult at the end, make sure the child must do something that makes it possible for the adult to save the day.
The ending resolves the problem that was presented in the beginning. At last the crisis is averted or the challenge met. Sometimes the character fails in what he thought was his goal, but in the process achieves something greater. We call this a ‘come to know’ story. Whether he achieves his goal or not, your character has grown in some way as a result of the struggle, and your readers will grow along with him or her.

A good story is about something deeper than mere events.
The events we call ‘plot’, but that something deeper is the theme. A theme is not the same as a moral. It is not a lesson demonstrated by contrived events. The theme is more like a question we are exploring than an answer we are giving the reader ready made. The theme might be something about forgiveness, working together, overcoming fear, or learning to trust.
As Christians we are tempted to explain our stories. The lesson of salvation is too important to risk being missed. That is not inappropriate in curriculum development, but it is not literature. Discussion questions can be useful in helping children to talk about what they have read, especially when the story reflects deep emotions that they may have found difficult to articulate on their own. But your readers will remember the lesson better if they have seen it themselves than if you have told them in so many words at the end of your story.
You may learn the theme of your story only as you develop the plot, but once you determine what it is, you will want to focus on it and eliminate the bits of story that don’t support that theme.

Writing your story
When you have thought about your character, the problem, how your character will try to solve the problem, what complications will result, and how you will resolve the story, you are ready to write. You will want to use simple words and uncomplicated sentences appropriate to the age level of your readers. Show your character in action, and let us hear, see, feel, smell and taste what your character experiences and we, your readers, will feel like we are right there in the middle of the action.
When you have gotten the story down on paper, get someone else to read it, preferably someone who shares your passion for children and for writing. Ask them to help you make your story better by suggesting places where it is unclear or moves too slowly. Are there places where more vivid language would make the story come alive for young readers?
Revise your story and share it again. Reading it aloud to a group of children will give you a sense of where still needs work.

Share your story
Even if your story is never published in a book or magazine, you can share it with Sunday school classes or after school clubs, your own children or those of neighbors. Encourage them to talk about times when they have had similar feelings or experiences. They may enjoy illustrating the scenes or events of the story.
Even children who did not directly experience violence need an opportunity to process their feelings about what has happened in their country. They need to unlearn the dreadful ‘lessons’ of those terrible days so that they will never be repeated. By writing stories you can help them in that process.

LeAnne Hardy conducted this children’s’ writers workshop in Nairobi, Kenya a short while after the post election violence in Kenya. The workshop which was held in April 2008 was organized by the African Christian Writers Association (ACWA). 13 participants were in attendance.

LeAnne Hardy has lived in six countries on four continents. The plots and settings of her books for children and young people reflect the variety of her cultural experiences. She currently lives in South Africa where she writes and works with children affected by HIV/AIDS.

Email:leannehardy@gmail.com

I Almost Aborted My Only Child

2008-03-16T11:17:00.001-07:00

A true story as told to Simon Kahoko Mureu

I looked at the new born baby boy the nurse had handed to me and shed tears. I had tried to abort him three times yet he had been born healthy and strong. I named him Victor because he had overcome my attempts to abort him and Mutuku because he was born at night. When the nurse left the room, I whispered to the boy that he was lucky and blessed.

I remembered how I conceived Victor. I was working at Mirema Drive Estate, Kasarani, when I met Johanna Mweu. I was new in the area. The place had very few people and the only people close to me were two elderly men who worked for my boss. I mostly felt lonely and in need of company.

To minimize my loneliness I took long walks in the evenings. My work was simple, to cook for my boss, a white man who lived alone. This meant I could take a long walk to Thika Road, Zimmerman or Githurai and come to the house in time for supper.

I was employed in June 1982. In July of the same year, new occupants came to live in a vacant house next to mine. One of the new comers was a young man who spoke Kikamba, my mother tongue. For sometime, we lived as if we did not notice each other though I could hear him sing Kikamba songs across the fence. We by-passed one another several times in the evening as each took a walk.

The young man had a voice that comforted me. He would sing for hours without a break and at times I laughed alone at the way he mixed up the various tunes.

Then one day, as I was going to the shops, I found him standing in the middle of the path we used as a short cut to the dukas (shuka). He seemed to be concentrating on looking at something on the ground. I greeted him and was about to pass by when he warned me,

“Don’t step on that snake.”

On the mention of word snake I stopped instantly. Right ahead of me was a snake. It was black with yellow spots. I had never seen such a snake in my life. Beside it were six baby snakes. Again, I had never seen snakes accompanying an adult one.

“What kind of a snake is this one?” I curiously asked the young man.
“It is a kali (dangerous) one,” he said and laughed. “I too have never seen another like it but nyoka ni nyoka (a snake is a snake) and should be avoided,” he added.

We did not attempt to kill the snakes.
Instead we took a different route to the duka (shop). As we walked we introduced ourselves.

“I am Jane Mueni from Iveti,” I told him.
“I am Johanna Mweu from Makueni,” he replied

From that day, we kept talking whenever we met. As time went on our closeness grew. Mweu began coming to visit me. I did not pay back his visits. During the time we spent together, he would sing for me. I would serve him a meal and escort him to the gate.

When December came our bosses left the country and allowed us to spend our time as we wished but we could not leave the compound. On Christmas eve, I was alone in our compound because my co- workers had gone to look for local beer. I felt a strange sort of loneliness and decided to visit Mweu, I found him cooking chickensoup. He was surprised to see me. It was my first visit to his room and it was at night. He welcomed me in and we talked a lot about Christmas and its accompanying merriment.

When soup was ready we took it and then leisurely began sipping some sodas. Mweu switched on the record payer. The music got us into dancing around the room first we danced separately but after a while we held one another and danced in a slow motion. Suddenly, the electricity went out.

As if Mweu was afraid of darkness he held me very tightly around the waist. I tried to push him away but his grip was too tight. I felt him trying to kiss my mouth and turned away. Then I pushed him away violently. He slipped and we both fell onto the stool on which the record player was placed breaking some of the records.

We struggled on the floor but Mweu did not let me go. I tried to scream but he slapped me hard on the face and placed his hand on my mouth. Finally he raped me violently without taking into consideration that I was a virgin. It was very painful.

When he was satisfied he released me and ordered me to go to my house. Before I left I took a stool and hit him on the head with all the force I could master, then I slipped away to my house. I thought I heard him groan but I wasn’t concerned. He had behaved like an animal to me.

Back in my room I thought of ringing the Muthaiga police station to report. But what would I say I was doing at a man’s house at night? I dropped the idea.

For many days that followed, I did not hear Mweu sing. I was happy because I hated the very voice that used to entertain me.

Then I was told by one of Mweus work mates that he had been admitted to Kenyatta National Hospital with head injuries. Mweu’s work mate continued to claim that thieves had broken into Mweus house stolen his goods and beat him. I knew it was a lie but I did not reveal the truth. I pretended to sympathize. The only thing I wished was that Mweu would not die as I would never have wanted to kill a man.

Even as days went by the shame I had suffered in the hands of Mweu’s did not leave me. Self-pity overwhelmed me but I did not share my feelings with anybody. Then in January, 1983, my boss returned from abroad and gave me a two weeks leave. At home I began feeling tired and vomited oftenly. I thought the change of climate was the cause but even when I reported back to duty, the tiredness and vomiting did not stop.

When I came back from my leave, I found Mweu’s boss moved away and a new mzungu (white man) had moved into the house. With the new mzungu, came in a young man who worked for him. The name of the young man was Simon Mureu (the author of this article) he was sociable and hard working. He cleared his master’s compound and planted vegetables. Soon we were buying from him vegetables. I became free with him and one day when I needed some money, I went to his house and asked him to lend me some.

“I don’t lend money to pregnant girls,” he replied.

I denied I was pregnant.
“But even a child can know you are pregnant,” he replied.

Two days later as I was ironing clothes, my boss asked me whether I was pregnant. I cheated him that I was not but I could tell he was not convinced. By then I had known a number of ladies in the area and I thought they would help me.

One evening I visited a lady who operated a hair saloon at Zimmermann and disclosed to her that I was pregnant. She felt my belly and confirmed my fears, “you are about four months pregnant,” she said.

I was alarmed. I did not want to be a single mother.

The following weekend I traveled home to Iveti Hills, to a girl I knew had aborted a year before to seek help. She said she could help me if I paid a small fee. I paid and she put a straw into my private part and blew in air. She instructed me to wait for some hours and the child would come out. I waited but nothing happened.

After one week I went to a lady at Githurai (a place near where I worked) who put a plastic pipe into my private part and told me it would allow air to go in and destroy the fetus. After two days nothing had happened. Then I tried an overdose of malariaquine. I went to three different dukas (shops) and from each bought four tablets which I later swallowed.

After a few minutes, I began sweating and vomiting, then I fainted. I must have shouted because some people from the neighboring house who were having a prayer fellowship rushed to my room. They looked for a car that took me to a city clinic.

At the clinic they gave me medicine that made me vomit all the Malariaquine I had swallowed. I kept vomiting and taking water for many hours. My stomach and head ached terribly. I was later taken home and I slept just before-dawn.

The following day I was taken to the clinic again. When the nurses saw I wasn’t as badly off as the previous day, they mocked, abused and insulted me, calling me a prostitute of the first order.They warned me never to try aborting again.

When I finally recovered some Christians led by Simon kept coming to my house and shared the gospel with me. I was convicted of my sins and accepted the Lord Jesus as my Lord and Savior and asked Him to forgive me. They nursed my young faith and gave me a lot of encouragement. In September 1983, I took time off from work and went to Machakos General Hospital where I gave birth to Victor Mutuku.

Three years later, I met John, an evangelist from Nairobi. We loved one another and got married. It is ten years now since we got married and we have not been blessed with a child. Now I realize that I could have aborted the only child that God gave me. I do not hate Mutuku because he was conceived through rape, as I had feared. I thank God for saving Mutuku’s life and for giving me the joy of being a mother.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Simon .K. Mureu is a freelance writer in Nairobi-Kenya and has had his works published in South Africa, Kenya and in USA. He is half-Blind.

Baring My Soul on Kenya's Political Crisis

2008-03-16T11:15:00.000-07:00

By Lynn Nyanyae

Now that the political stalement has come to a close, I can not help but feel that all this was planned right from the start. It has left scores killed, others wounded and thousands left homeless. With all the skirmishes that took place, I would have expected our leaders to do something to bring the unease to a standstill but that was not the case. While the ODM camp was screaming for everyone who cared to listen that it was the rightful winner, PNU on the other hand acted as though it was not moved at all by the allegations directed towards it by its rival.

As a Christian, if my Christian Religious Education (CRE) when I was back in high school serves me right, it is my duty to take part in elections so as to play a part in choosing the leaders of my country. I did not expect the fracas that took place in last year’s elections to occur or even go to the extent it did. When I remember all that has happened, I feel sad and depressed because there are many people who have been left homeless, children left without parents, scores killed, all because two people could not put their differences aside earlier for the sake of the innocent citizens.

It is alleged that the Party of National Unity (PNU) rigged the elections now that remains to be proved. I did not understand why the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) group at the height of the violence kept calling for mass action.

Many Kenyans have not been working since the skirmishes broke out because they were either laid off because many businesses were affected. Most, if not all, have families to fend for. They did not ask for the violence that left them jobless. I remember seeing video clips of people attacking their fellow friends all because they felt cheated-so what? I say they should have taken their issues to the party in question instead of attacking those not involved.

I may come across as one not well versed with political issues. Crazy? That I am not, a pacifist? Yes. All I am saying is that innocent people did not have to die, others remain jobless, homeless all just to satisfy people’s ego. Come on, we were being held ransom in our own country and it took the intervention of outsiders to come and assist us.

If I had one wish now, it would be to see Koffi Annan and give him a hug. I mean he was God sent. I dread to think what would have transpired had he failed. God bless his soul and all the others who came to our rescue. My final word to Kibaki and Raila-shame on them- because they were not thinking about me during their tag of war but of themselves.

SEEK RECONCILIATION-PART THREE

2008-03-16T11:10:00.000-07:00

Reconciliation will help us bury our differences and restore our first relationship of love, peace and unity.

The story of Jacob and Esau gives us a good example of forgiveness and reconciliation. Even though Jacob had stolen his brother’s birthright, many years later, he asked for forgiveness. God worked in Esau’s heart and changed him. Instead of taking revenge for the precious birthright stolen by Jacob, he received his brother in a friendly manner, not in a hostile manner that Jacob was expecting. He fell on his brother’s neck, kissed him, and wept as a true sign of forgiveness. They buried their differences and reconciled with each other. (Gen.32 & 33).

Conclusion:

Our National Anthem exhorts us to live in unity, peace, and liberty irrespective of our tribes. Why has our generation failed to live in unity as brothers? What causes fights and quarrels among us—Kenyans? Men and women of Kenya, are we not brothers and sisters irrespective of our tribe, race, religion, gender, political persuasions, generation gap or ethnic background? Why do we hurt each other? Let us all unite as one nation through embracing the process of forgiveness and reconciliation knowing that whatever hatred and animosity happening in Kenya is perpetrated by the devil. Kenya is too sweet a country to be destroyed by the devil through ethnic differences. Let us consider Jesus’ advice that “Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand.”12

This is not the time to point a finger at each other when bloodshed, loss of innocent lives, stealing, and hooliganism, continues due to the ethnic clashes. True Christians need to understand that what is happening in Kenya is the devil’s plan to ruin our stable and God-fearing Nation. If we seek and cultivate sincere forgiveness and reconciliation with each other, God will see us through this dark stage of our country’s history. God will protect us and our loved ones.

As I learned after my father who was murdered in 1993, the only way to heal relationships is through forgiveness and reconciliation. Kenyans, let us repent our sins and let us forgive one another so that our land may be healed.

Note
12. Matthew 12:25

*Excerpt from the soon to be published book –Let’s Save Our Nation by Samuel Kahura Chege.

HOW TO FORGIVE-PART TWO

2008-03-16T10:57:00.000-07:00

By Samuel Kahura Chege

To be able to start living in peace as one nation after the recent post-election violence that has created a deep valley between various communities in our country, we must be ready to forgive and pursue reconciliation. This is very hard, “But with God all things are possible.”1 It is possible for Christians to forgive and reconcile no matter the magnitude of the difference. Christ has given His true followers the ministry and message of reconciliation.2 We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors of peace and should promote reconciliation among our neighbours. Where there is reconciliation, love and peace is found.

We cannot experience peace and unity unless we learn to forgive and practice it. However, many people, including strong Christians, find it difficult to forgive and live at peace with those who have wronged them. They harbour permanent grudges in their hearts because of the scars left by the harm. Yet, Jesus taught His disciples, “If you are offering a gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift.”3

Forgiveness and reconciliation are essential to all Christians. A readiness to forgive others indicates that we have truly repented and are now true followers of Christ. God instructs His people: “Forgive and you will be forgiven.”4

As true believers, we should imitate Christ in forgiving those who wrong us: “As the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”5

Forgiveness should not be taken lightly as some people take it. For it to have a true meaning, it must be received with gratitude and regarded with awe and wonder. We need to realize that our God is “A forgiving God, gracious, and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love.”6 Also “The Lord our God is merciful and forgiving.”7

A sincere forgiveness brings healing and reconciliation to broken relationships. It also sets a person free: “If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”8

The Bible tells Christians to: “Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”9

DO NOT AVENGE

True forgiveness and reconciliation will only come if we restrain ourselves from taking revenge. We should leave this to God who says, “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbour as yourself. I am the LORD.”10

Also Paul admonished, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” 11

Even if someone offended you, the Lord commands you to take the initiative in seeking forgiveness and reconciling without giving any conditions. (Read Matthew 18:15 and Ephesians 4:32.)

Notes
1. Matthew 19:26 2. 2 Cor. 5:18-20
3. Matt. 5:23-24 4. Luke 6:37
5. Col. 3:13 6. Nehemiah 9:17
7. Daniel 9:9 8. John 20:23
9. Col 3:12-13 10. Lev. 19:18
11. Rom. 12:17-20

*Excerpt from the soon to be published book –Let’s Save Our Nation by Samuel Kahura Chege.
Used by permission of the author

I FORGAVE THE ONES WHO MURDERED MY FATHER-PART ONE

2008-03-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

By Samuel Kahura Chege

I learned of my father’s cruel death through the media. Five people from my village near Burnt Forest, in Eldoret had been killed on that fateful night in 1993. The scene was horrible. Dad was butchered like a sheep in what was believed to be an ethnic cleansing. His neck had been sliced through and only a small piece of fleshy tissue joined his head and the rest of the body. The attackers must have used a very sharp knife or panga since Dad had no other physical injury apart from the neck and a small cut on his right palm-probably caused by the sharp weapon as he struggled due to the unimaginable pain.

A person or people who knew what they were doing committed the murder. Probably Dad pleaded with his attackers; maybe people he had known for years as neighbours or as friends. But they were baying for his blood. They accomplished their devilish mission.

Three months after dad’s burial, the situation had calmed down. I went to the area to see whether there was anything to salvage. Our houses had been razed completely, our livestock stolen, and our crops harvested from our farm. As I strolled along the road I encountered a neighbour’s daughter smartly adorned in my wife’s attire. This hurt me. As I investigated for three days, I realized those who had stolen our household goods and burned our houses were people known to us. They were people from my own village. People I had lived with, went to school with, and worshipped in the same church for years. Some had even married daughters from our tribe and vice versa. It shocked me to learn that those suspected to have murdered my father were not strangers.

This troubled me for months. Should I avenge? Should I ever have anything to do with people from the tribe that killed my father? This and many other disturbing questions haunted me. Finally, I learned through the church about the true meaning of sincere forgiveness and reconciliation. I repented and asked God to forgive me for soiling my heart with hatred and bitterness towards those I considered were my enemies. Deep from my heart I forgave those who looted our properties, burned down our houses, stole our livestock, as well as those who killed my dad.

After this prayer of repentance and forgiveness, healing started to develop in my heart. I started to experience peace and joy in spite of what had happened to me. I started to love people from the community that had done evil to my community, my family and to me. The next time I visited my rural home in Burnt Forest, I visited some of my neighbors from the community that had killed my father. I started to show them love. Our relationship started to grow day by day. Today, we are great friends. I have no grudge towards anyone. I forgave them from deep within my heart. The love I developed helped us to reconcile, although it took some time.

*Excerpt from the soon to be published book –Let’s Save Our Nation by Samuel Kahura Chege.
Used by permission of the author

CHRISTIAN VOICES THROUGH THE PEN

2008-01-23T07:02:00.000-08:00

The pen is greater than the sword....someone said.I think they were right.I know they were right. I have witnessed how Kenyans are looking forward to reading the newspapers. Prime time news in Kenya has never been this lucrative in terms of advertising.Kenyans are looking to know what exactly is happening to their friends, their neighbors and their relatives.

So my prayer is that at this time we shall work towards lifting the spirit of Kenyans through the best way we know how....writing and Christian writing at that.Our pens will be our voices.

Yours truly has been busy writing the views and feelings of Kenyans.

It would be nice for you to visit with me on the following blogs and leave your comments right there.

http://www.kenya-twr.blogspot.com/ ...this is what l manage for the office.Very simple in approach.You can tell l am actually technically challenged hehehehe.But God...

or http://www.goodmorninggoliath.blogspot.com/ which is my personal blog where l holla and ask God questions that only a curious kid can ask the Father.Karibuni.Maria Wanza

Keep praying for Kenya.

Mum

2007-05-18T06:41:00.000-07:00

In her forty seven years, my mother has lived two lifetimes! Nothing she has came easy. She is a driven, hardworking, and only hindered by circumstances that for now she is still looking for a strategy to overcome! I do not think she has the following words in her vocabulary – failure, quitting, unachievable, impossible- at least it seems that way because all I know is her stick-to-it-ness! She does not let anything or anyone cower her, she pushes forth and even when she is between a rock and a hard place, she breaks the rock!

On mother’s day I sat down and counted my blessings as I recounted over the years what my mother has been to me. My mother is small in size, but she has a big heart, great faith and epitomizes courage under fire! Most days when the storms and gales pounded on our family, she held us nestled close together as a mother hen does to her chicks! In the harshness of such dark nights, she would whisper and tell us, “All this shall come to pass!” Most of it has passed and what remains, we have learned from a great woman to hang in there, do all we can and to borrow from Sir Winston Churchill, “Never ever give up!”

I am older and wiser because in the rough terrain she navigated me safely through the uncertainty! She was always cheering me on even when everyone else gave up on me, when the verdict, for example from one of my high school teachers was “ She will never amount to much!” , my mother told me to put my best foot forward and break out from the darkness! The darkness of doubt, a failure mentality; darkness that seemed to engulf and suffocate me! I pushed and pushed and believed not because I thought I could do it, but because my mother said I could! That was enough to make me see further than my eyes could see, that was the push I needed to step out and conquer my inadequacies! I can still hear her cheer in my heart and that makes me face each new day with confidence because “mama believes in me!”

What does one do to repay such greatness? How do you say a thank you that captures immense gratitude? Well for me, I decided that I would live my life with the example my mother displayed! I would face challenges head on and let no one snuff out my potential! My mother is my best friend because I am able to open up about my life and she is still guiding! She is an anchor and I thank God for His infinite wisdom to give me such a wonderful woman. I am proud to call her mother!

On mother’s day, I remembered what a friend of mine told me, “When she is still alive, as often times as you can tell her how great she is! Show her your gratitude and keep her close to heart!” We had gone to bury her mother. Well, here is to a year long mother’s day, make that lifetime long celebration of God’s gift to us! Don’t leave room for regrets!

Mum

2007-05-11T03:56:00.001-07:00

“My mum has never reached out to me and talked to me about being a woman. I don’t sense my mum’s impact in my life,” I told a group of women who were attending a HIV/AIDS seminar that our organization was conducting.

The silence in the room was echoing back at me and for the remaining part of the seminar, some of the women participants avoided talking to me and others would loudly proclaim the fact that they had only sons when I was an earshot away.

But a few women (who had daughters) walked up to me and thanked me for sharing, as they had seen themselves through my eyes for the love and guidance their girls might have been yearning for. They felt that they had understood their girls in a way they had never envisioned possible.

Do I regret saying those words then? No. At that time I had no relationship with my mum and our conversations were filled with shouting matches and at times she would tell me “Go look for your mother who you think can give you a better life.” This was a scary statement as I have step brothers and a step sister who left home when I was barely a teenager and that statement would make me think that just maybe I had been left behind by my sister and brothers with this “mum”.

Would I say those words today? Never. I would curse myself in the presence of God and ask Him to honor it in my life time.

It’s only when I was 28 years old, about five years since I made that statement that I started having a relationship with my mum. “Oh my! What a waste of time and energy we (mum and I) had spent running in the opposite direction that would have ended in pointless destruction.

Now my mum is the best person in my life. Some women tend to say that their relationship with their mum’s improved when they got married and had their own children. In my case it is not so, I am still single.

What happened then in my case? I realized that I had wonderful relationships with other older mum’s around me but could barely have a civil discussion with my mum for more than fifteen minutes. I didn’t like that.

For the first time in my life I had a yearning to know who mum is. I knew I could not achieve this if I didn’t learn how to keep silent when I felt that the conversation I was having with my mum was bound for an ugly turn. It was a major feat and still continues to be one and from time to time I tend to fail miserably but my words are less stinging every other day. This has really helped out because our fights have lessened over the years and now mum even comes to my room and we get to talk about her life, my life and other interesting things happening around us for hours when she visits or I visit her.

Through this chats that we have, I am learning about who she is and where she is coming from. Had she been a career woman in her day she would have been a great secretary, a good job in the past and would have been a professional photographer evidenced by the many pictures we all have from our childhood to date. Instead, she was busy being a “housewife” taking care of the farm that she owns with my dad to ensure that we didn’t starve and hence I missed out on having time with her as she was away most of the time. Her passion for life is amazing in spite of her age and often puts mine to shame.

I know we are told that in life we should try not to use the words “I wish” but I wish that I would have started having the relationship with my mum earlier on in life. I now know that I can never be half the woman she is, was I to live for 300 centuries or more.

Life is short....

2007-05-08T03:40:00.000-07:00

We always say life is short so live it to the fullest! I have been troubled by how often we let things pass by, we procrastinate, we take people for granted and feign friendships! I was deeply saddened by the Kenya Airways flight 570 that crashed in Douala, just reminds us about the brevity of life! I was thinking that most of us take it for granted each day we open our eyes, go about our daily business and at the end, go back home to look forward(or not) to tomorrow! Never once counting how lucky we are to be alive, healthy, happy, and despite what may appear like insurmountable problems, we are still here! We are still alive and that means, our purpose is not yet accomplished, our journey must go on!

I weep with the families and pray for God's comfort and grace in this time of great grief! I challenge you to pray for clarity in our purpose and take every opportunity God grants us to let those we love know how we feel, to have a love walk so that we can reach the lost, to use our gifts and talents to effect great change in our communities and at the end of it, hear Christ say, "Well done, good and faithful servant!" The world needs us, take your charge and run with the horses!!!

Karibuni!!!

2007-05-02T07:41:00.000-07:00

Hey guys,

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, so here is to our beginning! May you express your thoughts, commentaries on social issues and creativity in this blog!

God bless you as we endeavour to leave a mark in this life as we give life to our words! Write on scribes, write on!

Carole.