a fork in the road...

When I was in campus I had these things that made life easier. When I left I gave them to some girls so their lives would be made easier as well. But then there are those I carried home, they were reminders for me of a place in my life, a stage I went through and came out of alive. I thought I would keep them for a while, maybe even until my own daughter (my mouth to Your ears Lord!!) was old enough to see them, you know… and then I had to let them go. And I finally realized that it was over. I am done with campus. I am, again, out there, the real ‘out there’ forget the one we always fussed about in high school. That ‘out’ was nothing. This is it. And it’s here.

I know countless people have walked before me along this road. Some have made it easy, some have made it through nothing short of sheer stubbornness, and some have tried and failed. And I wonder, how did they feel after campus? How did they feel when they sent out applications to any and every job advertised because any job at that point would suffice?  Were they as confused and unsure as I am? Today I watched this movie, this guy told this girl that the reason she could never find anyone who could make her dreams come true was the fact that she didn’t know those dreams herself. When you don’t know what you’re looking for, how do you know when you’ve found it? When you don’t know where you’re going, how do you know when you get there? How easy is it to decide the rest of my life based on my 20-some years worth of knowledge? What do I know about corporate affairs, and seven to five jobs… how will I feel if in 10 years I’m still doing what I’m doing now? Will I be satisfied, will I be happy? Or will I start counting the years to retirement with nothing to do but work on because the bills need paying? Should I take that course everyone seems to believe is the answer to a direct sure job? After I get there will I want to be in the field for the rest of my life?

Did anyone ever find one answer to just one of these questions? Some welcome to life…

it's just another birthday, and i am fine...

#np: Just Another Birthday - Casting Crowns

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY. I turn, well sixteen(ish). I’m old enough. I have loved this birthday more than the last few birthdays because I was forced to sit down and not think about myself today. I had an exam. The paper was in the afternoon, so thankfully, there went my plans for a quiet dinner in town, granted, that’s still gonna happen like it or yes, but not today. Today was a calm day. In the past I’ve made such a fuss of the day, by evening I really didn’t know what being a year older meant. Today I came from my paper, and just sat in my room and thought. And decided to write.

This year has been about the craziest year I have had in my life ever. I suppose it gets crazier as one grows up. I’ve had days I wished could be thirty hours long, I’ve beaten deadlines in the true Kenyan fashion, at the last possible second. Why, just immediately after writing this I should set about writing this practical report for a trip we went on three weeks ago, because it is due tomorrow, and after the report read for the paper that I’m sitting for tomorrow. Like I said, najivunia kuwa Mkenya. Also I love the ease with which things get done when you’re at the now or never point. But I digress.

Within the year I have lost quite a few things I’d rather not have. I’ve lost a few people I wish I didn’t have to. I have come face to face with rock bottom, I have known what it must be like for things to get so bad sometimes death seems like a worthy reprieve. Perhaps not for me, but I know a little of what that is. My friend lost her brother because he took his own life, it was incredibly sad, also annoying, because he was fourteen and in that season suicides in Kenya were like flies, everyday in the news there were about two. And he became a statistic, just like that. 

I’m just about to finish campus, what a relief that is for me, it has been a hectic ride, it still is… Sometimes I wish someone would lend me six hours from their day, sometimes I wish I could bring back all that time I had idle in January, cause I need it now, and then some. But the Lord is faithful. I am here today because God kept me. I’m alive only because of His grace. And these are not just words; I mean alive in the literal sense of the word. Breathing.

There are just things that no one can ever teach you, there are lessons one must learn for themselves, mistakes one must make so that they can learn. There are thing only Time teaches, wounds only Time heals… I’ve learnt a few lessons this year...

I’ve learnt that being right is not nearly as important as we make it to be. And I wish I wasn’t right so many times, because when I got to be right, sometimes I lost someone I cared about, and I would sit on my bed and fume about how I was justified, but my justification wasn’t there for me when I needed a shoulder to lean on, someone was. Other times I was wrong, but I was too stubborn to make things right, so I made myself right. Some relationships actually did end, some got scarred and broken, and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces thereof, and some I don’t even know where to begin. What's that they say about starting afresh, is that even possible? Say if I broke a cup’s handle, can I just put tea in cup and tell cup let’s start afresh, you were never broken? I have to learn how to hold cup again without a handle, where to place my hands so I don’t get burnt, or maybe use cup for a different thing altogether. But I can’t say let’s start over… And so somehow I’m still trying to figure out where to start mending those relationships. Cups are easy going, people, not so much…

I have learnt to hold my head up high, no matter how beat up I really feel... Everyone's fighting battles of their own, not just me. Everyone is struggling and dealing with baggage under the weight of which I could easily suffocate. But we faint not  hold our heads up high, we make ourselves available for our friends, because maybe even if we can't solve our own, we can help them work through their baggage. Even though we can't pray for ourselves, we can cry out to God for our friends, and maybe, maybe in searching for answers to someone else's problems, in being answers to someone else's prayers, we may find what we so desperately look for. And meanwhile we walk tall. I am not Atlas, I do not bear the weight of the world on my shoulders. So I treat myself kindly, I've learnt to say no to commitments I feel are too much for me. I've learnt the beauty of delegation, and with that the grace to accept less than perfection, and appreciate honest effort. I've learnt that people are not donkeys, they don't need to be pushed to live. And I've learnt to allow people to be who they are, to be with who they want, and do what they feel is right for them at the time. Many lessons I have learnt not by my friends' nagging,but by my choosing my own path. I have learnt that true  friendship involves mastery of the art of silence. But I also learnt not to get less than I deserve. I learnt to politely but firmly refuse to be pushed and walked all over. I have come to admire the quiet dignity and gumption I see in my older friends, the boldness that makes my mum walk into a bank and demand from the manager what is rightfully hers, on a matter of principle. And I want that...


And I’ve learnt that it’s not that serious. If it is not about my God, then it just is not that serious. I’ve learnt not to break my back for things that will never truly satisfy. I’ve learnt not to worry about things I have no control over. I’ve learnt not to borrow from tomorrow its evil to mule over today. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. In less than one month I am going to be a Kenyan. My folks have this thing about how I should start making the transition from bread-eater to bread-earner, about sooner rather than later. So I thought about it, and about how I don’t see myself in a lab for the rest of my life, and how I don’t know where I’ll end up, and what if I don’t like it there, and why did I do biochemistry anyway… I thought about many things without answers, I talked to people who could only smile because they don’t know either, eventually it was too much. And the worries wouldn't stop piling on. I couldn’t focus on now worrying about tomorrow. A tomorrow I don’t even know I have, and you know what, it just is not that serious. When the time comes for me to sit and work through that, then I will. But I won’t borrow trouble from tomorrow as if I’ve got all of today’s sorted out. Give it Time, you never know what’s coming. Half of the things I worried about getting into campus never happened, and the ones that could have happened already did, and I’m still here. Nothing is ever that serious. Nothing is ever forever and thank the Lord that it’s not.

So I thank God for last year, I thank God for this new year. I’m 23 now, who knows what that holds... all I know is that I cannot wait to find out!!!.

jar of hearts

When I was in my first semester of first year a bunch of us landed in a Bible study group with a former schoolmate of mine. She was kind enough to break my idealistic view of the education system early enough, for which I’m eternally grateful. Otherwise, I would have been sore disappointed with the Kenyan public university system. But she also told us something else I’ve never forgotten. She said, “Don’t ever squander any young man’s money; you’ll have sons one day”. Well, I had already been given ‘the talk’ about campus boys, what I hadn’t been told I saw within two weeks of being in campus (my roommate then was REALLY sweet and pretty, as everyone noticed, me, well… I have that face that needs to keep smiling or else… ;)))). 

I’m a bit of an introvert, I don’t take to novelty easily, especially new people. Hence some people think I’m really quiet, others know me as chatterbox Joy. Anyhow, even when I was a teenager, I was always so scared of well, boys – all boys. Not because they want ‘one thing’, back then I didn’t even know about this ‘thing’. But I was afraid of anyone ever mistaking my attention and infectious affection for anything other than what it was. When a boy came along, I was quick to say no, coz I always  wanted to marry my first boyfriend, and that high school chap was soooooo not it. So why go for that date, why should I waste his money (his mother’s money), and yet I wasn’t going to give him what he wants.

I was so young then, so naive, so unschooled and unexposed. No one had ever told me any of this stuff; don’t even know where I came up with it, God just worked overtime on my behalf before I even knew what He was up to. But I still live by those rules I made for myself as a girl, because now I have the understanding. I’m responsible for every heart I break, I’m responsible for every ambiguous message I give. That boy has a Father to whom I will answer. I have a Father to whom I will answer for how I watched over His daughter. One day I may have sons, and they will do some searching before they find a wife, if I bleed him dry now, yet I know we’re not headed anywhere, my sons may be the ones who take the fall for it. As a result, I haven’t been on too many dates… sometimes it’s a good thing, sometimes I don’t think it is. Maybe if I was a bit more ‘out there’ I’d… Sigh!!

Right now on replay is Christina Perri’s Jar of Hearts:

And who do you think you are?
Runnin' 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me
Who do you think you are?

I like that ‘running around leaving scars’ part, ain’t that what we do now? Breaking hearts upon hearts for that momentary high? How many hearts have we got in our jars? I know I have some; I have not been too faithful to 16 year old me… We have so much trivialized relationships, and the responsibility that comes with them… Nine year old girls are in love, and their parents think it’s ‘cute’ and everyone goes, ‘Aaaawwww!!!’ Is it a wonder girls in primary school are having sex now? What is this world my children will come into? 

When my mum was in Form 1 she got a letter from a boy in our brother school. She cried!!! Real tears!! She was so distraught, why would he write me such a letter?!  So, I didn’t see the letter, but I don’t think this boy wrote any derogatory things, just the normal ‘I can’t sleep thinking about you’, we know them, those letters. We wrote them or got them. But I envy that innocence, maybe it isn’t all good, but we’re raising a generation of adult children. Between civilization – the Internet, social networks, telly and novels – the result is babies trying to carry the emotional weight of an adult. and then when we become adults, we're still babies. But we don’t listen; we want to make all the mistakes ourselves, coz our folks don’t know what they’re saying.

Can you honestly get your heart broken thrice, even just once, and go into another relationship whole? I won’t even talk about ‘chips funga’. A lady came one Sunday and told us “Marriage is not for children”. Every heart in your jar will affect your marriage, every meaningless fling, every friends-with-benefit, every relationship that didn’t work. This guy, Richard Cohen, wrote for the Washington Post years back about this open marriage couple (quoted by Chuck Swindoll):

Open Marriage… Broken Marriage

“There were these couples I know. They were open. They were honest. They were having affairs. They were not sneaking around (applause), they were not lying (applause), they were being honest (whistles). Everyone agreed that it was wonderful. The men agreed and the women agreed and I agreed and it all made you wonder.

Then they split. There was something wrong. Invariably someone couldn't take it. It had nothing to do with the head. The head understood. It was the heart; it was - you should pardon the expression - broken.

It all made you think. It made you think that maybe there are things we still don't know about men and women and maybe before we spit in the eye of tradition we ought to know what we're doing. I have some theories and one of them is that one of the ways you measure love is not with words, but with actions, with commitment, with what you are willing to give up, with what you are willing to share with no one else.”

Are we experts on the human psyche? Do some of us know more about human beings the rest of humanity doesn't? Do we know what we are doing? God, forgive my ignorance… forgive my ignorance…

Who do you think you are, running around leaving scars,

Collecting your jar of hearts, tearing love apart…

some time later

I forgot how to write. So much happening, so much change, not enough time to process. It’s a new morning, I’m listening to Rigga's album - The Awakening, he sings that stuff I hate – hip-hop, rap – but I’m listening to him because of the depth of the message he preaches. I’d love for it to be uhmm… much much less noisy, but his stuff is deep.

My woes began six months ago (it’s been that long already?), and as it has been from times past, it began with a boy. Unlike my brother, ours wasn’t a match made in heaven, but he made me laugh, and then he made me cry, and I cried for the rest of the year last year. For my truth all I got were lies, for my kindness all I received was manipulation. I know I’m too idealistic, I believe in the goodness of mankind too much. I also know the world is a cruel place where each one looks out for themselves, but the church too? Isn’t church the place we go to escape all that treachery? Isn’t church the place we go to lay ourselves bare before our peers, and try to walk the walk together? But the church too has become a stage, a place where they go to get the good ones. A place where you get the right profile for yourself, so that no one will doubt your story, you’re the perfect person. You’re born again. You’re even an official. You’re beyond reproach, your weaknesses are covered. No one can say anything against you. If they do, a thousand more will defend you. It’s a good place to be. Until the walls fall, and sooner or later, all walls fall.

Through all this I struggled with going to church, any church. How can do this to a God I love so much? How do I go back and fix what cannot be fixed? How do I stand before people and raise my hands to a God whose grace and mercy I find impossible to understand, hence accept? That just like that that, I confess my sin before Him, leave my sin, and just like that He forgets my sin. How? How can He say He forgets my sin, when as David says, my sin is ever before me? And I mean ever. How can He love me, after I spat on His face, took His blood for granted and destroyed the body that He paid the ultimate price for? So I went to church because it was easier not to have that discussion with anyone, and I looked around at those people who I knew since I was like zero, those people who taught me in Sunday school. Would they understand? Would their arms still be open when they realized she was not so perfect?

 And all the growing up I hadn’t done in the last since I reached puberty, I did in less than two months. The first thing I wanted to do was run to my blog and post Ntozake Shange’s poem here, “One thing I don’t need is sorry”. At the New Year I thought about a happy New Year post, but I had nothing to report, it was just another year to live, far as I was concerned. I shut everyone out; I sat in my room, cried all night and slept all day. I was only too relieved to come back to school, here I didn’t have to make small talk and pretend it was all right. Because it wasn’t all right. It wasn’t right at all.

I’d love to say there was a turning point, there was a moment of truth when it all got better, or I got angry and decided to let all the anger and guilt go, when I decided I won’t be captive to all that fear and helplessness. Maybe it was the diligent prayers of people like Dinah, and my mother. But the truth is, every day I wake up, it’s grace. Every time I lift my hands up to worship it’s grace. When I pray, when I go to church, all grace. Because I still don’t understand it, I still don’t understand what all that love is like, why it’s being poured out on a wretch like me. But if my father still loves me, if after everything he still said, “You are my daughter”, then how much more my heavenly Father? So I’m still here, I still try, and thank you Lord, by His grace, it gets easier.

the not-so-good days

Everyone thinks we make mistakes when we are young, but i don't think we make any fewer when we're grown up

~Jodi Picoult~

It's getting to that point when I'm realising I'm not as grown up as I thought I was... Apparently stupid decisions are not the reserve of children... well said Jodi, well said, that. I am of the opinion that everyone has a wild side they wish they had the courage to follow wherever... For a few weeks I forgot everything and went along with mine... 

I'm sitting on my bed, this cold November evening, exhausted, today was such a long day... two mammoth papers and one more tomorrow morning, sneezing every minute or so from the flu, and just feeling low-down all round... When I was in high school, someone once told me that sometimes when you are so down you can't pray, God raises up people to pray for you on your behalf... And I just feel like that, you know... I feel like "God, what do I even say?" I'm thinking of Kirk Franklin's song, Hold me now, I'm thinking of Still, MaryMary... Of Bebo Norman's So Afraid... i feel like this is it, Lord, You hold me or I fall, this is it...

Where do you run away from the past, where do you run away from the future? I feel like I'm on one long roller-coaster ride, and I just want it to be over... I don't know what lies ahead, sure the challenges grow with age... but i just want this constant nagging headache to be over... I know I made a couple of wrong turns, but is anything so big it cannot be forgiven? i just want this to end, i want it all to be over...

I am so afraid, that I'll find myself alone,

Looking for a Saviour, looking for a home,

I am so afraid, that I'll find myself alone,

Deep into the edges, deep into the foam

So don't leave me here alone, 

Don't leave me here alone...

~Bebo Norman~

#NowPlaying: Enya - Only Time, the next best thing after silence...