A New Step

Dear diary,
Today I made a new step. Okay, Maybe a couple of steps. Today I gathered, or rather mastered up courage and talked to one of the chiqs who had resented me since my childhood days, and all through my puberty. I can confidently say that’s a stone unturned.
But a bigger stone that got turned was that a finally began THE MESSIAH practice as a base. but before we got to the practice part a lot happened.
it all started when I was in town. the practice session  was at seven and I was boarding the matatu at six. I boarded the matatu hurriedly hoping that the city jam would have mercy on me… it turned out that I boarded the wrong matatu… I ended up getting lost. I had to think fast. it was already past seven. so I had walked back and began looking for the music hall. it took me an hour to find the hall.
I found the choiristers at the tea break, having cake! and biscuits and tea! what a late but good way to begin..
we sang chorus number 28, 46. and to finish we performed the famous HALLELUJAH chorus. that was a grand feeling. I felt like I was in concert already. and so I was a registered famous professional Singer. that was a great breakthrough for me! I thank God for this grand opportunity.

Baptized

Today I was baptized. Cool right? Not quite. I know the feeling of being a new, starting a fresh is a feeling like no other. However, there was an unprecedented issue. There wasnt a priest. Okay, this is getting puzzling now, isn’t it? As a matter of fact, it only took two minutes!
So, I was given the name Issak, JUMA ISSAK. I absolutely fell in love with the name despite the circumstances. It wasn’t as frequent as Mohammed or as regular as Ali. It was just right. And yes, it is Muslim! There i said it! And so Juma Issak was my new name……….
I was seated in the company of strangers. Okay they were people I knew but not that I was acquainted to. I was under pressure. They were all staring at me, waiting to see my first move. Infront of me was a plate. It was a conglameration of foods. Weird looking. And so I did. Those must have been the longest two minutes of my life….
And so here I was paying for my irresponsibility. Chasing the desires of my flesh blindly. Something I have learned not to do ever! But until then, I will be called Juma Issak …. Oscar is no more!

With A Heavy Heart

Every time I leave the city, I get into the bus with a heavy heart. My parents have always told me that I have a big heart (whatever that means), but I think that comment came from the way I empathize with the people I always found on the streets of the city.
But this case is different. I was sympathetic to another kind of people, a different kind. The economy was dwindling! The ripples were being felt all over the world. Some *self proclaimed* people, if I may say so, said we deserved it. According to them, we were, the whole of humanity, paying for their poor financial decisions and lavish lifestyles we had. But we’re not here to talk about the economy, story for another day … i mean blog.
So, everyday at my bus stop, I came across this lady. She looked hunger stricken. She was carrying a box full of toothpaste, a brand I had never seen or heard of. I font even recall it’s name. Everyday I saw her at the same spot. And it occurred to me that the number of toothpastes wasn’t changing. Besides, every one bought toothpaste at the supermarket, or at a retail shop. Who buys toothpaste off the street?!!
I took a good glance at the lady. She was wearing a ring. No doubt she was married. I began to wonder, how does she feed her family? There was no telling how many kids she had. But, from the societys background, I was cock sure it wasn’t one or less than three. And what if she was a single parent? Are the kids in school? Do they even have a home? Is there food? What about medical care? Questions were burning me to my soul. A part of me wanted to pull her aside and talk to her, ask about her life situation. But what would I do after that? Just sympathise and that’s it?! I opted not to.
I am in a bus heading home. And my heart feels heavy again….. I don’t know for how long I will keep up….

Haircut

There are times I wish life was like a haircut in a barber’s shop. What goes in, shaggy and shabby, comes out smart. And unlike in the salons, the whole beauty making process is short and precise. Or should I say handsome making process?
just like with hair, humans wait until their tribulations have grown, or grown out of hand rather, before they seek ways to cut them down. Procastination is deeply rooted in us. It is in our blood as some would have put it…. We postpone almost everything that we could do in a matter of minutes. Procrastination is the thief….(yeah yeah blah blah blah, am sure we are all familiar with the saying)
However, unlike at the barbers where he only takes a matter of minutes to cut down the “hair”, the issues we procrastinate take a lifetime to be brought down. They come back to haunt us, and haunt us good.
As I write this I am at the brink of giving up. Brink of having a panic attack all because I decided to put aside” the

task

“for later.
At least I have learnt my lesson …. and my wallet bears testimony to that.

Agonising Choice

It is a common question that keeps bombarding my mind. Does fate define our destiny or do we write our own destinies? Or even better, does mankind write out his fate? My current status is sitting at home. Quite literally. But i dont just sit. I sit in hope. Hope for a brighter future. Hope thay fate favors me and my destiny, or for those who believe in the latter, hope that I will be able to write my future. I sit in hope to receive a letter. A single letter, that’ll define my future! And so it occurs to me that it is only a single letter that’ll define the road my life will take. is it in my power to control whether i get the letter? Or is it fate. How many times have qualified bright students failed to go upon the journey they had wished? Or pushed to open another dooor they never wanted? Or is my future left to the person drafting the letter?

As i think about these things, the olympics are here! i can only wish MYBELOVED COUNTRY KENYA all the best in all its participation. whether it is fate that they will come back home with nine medals or only three or whether it is of their own making is a question i’ll leave for you.

Meanwhile, I’m still seated at home, waiting….and doing a little more waiting! And what agony it is!