Amnesty

I was mugged yesterday. And it would have ended pretty badly had things gone any differently from how they did. 

Having travelled by the afternoon train to Nairobi from the Coast, I got into the city fairly late. The matatu from the terminus dropped us off at Railways even though the tout had wooed us into it with a promise that he’d take us up to Commercial. So I had to find my way across town at 8 p.m. so as to get a matatu going home.

Suddenly, a young man who was quite disheveled approached and fist bumped me, as is common among us young people. He didn't stop there though; he inched closer, pretended he wanted to start a conversation, then flashed a broken bottle from underneath his jacket. He then calmly told me that his friends were behind me and that I should keep on walking. I was petrified. These were uncharted waters. In fact, before, I had only read and heard of muggings.

So the guy walked me to the front of The Kenya National Archives and brazenly demanded that I 'gift' him something he could share with his friends. In fact he gave me a figure and said that if I acted stupidly, he'd stab me.

The feeling that ran through my body was surprisingly familiar. I remember it from my first heartbreak. And also that one day I had really flunked a really important job interview. It was a mixture of fear  and helplessness, with a dash of malice towards the originator of my woes. My hands were trembling like crazy as I emptied my pockets, with my mind firmly fixated on the broken shard that was ready to slice my neck or abdomen, or even gouge my eye, should I ‘act stupidly’. A group of young men and women an arm stretch away stared horrifiedly.

The young man took my money and casually joined the mass of unaware, laughing passersby going who knows where. Then my heart remembered its job. Boiling blood raced through my veins. Dazedly, I found my way to the matatu stage and hopped into an empty one that was even still pulling in.

I always thought I was too smart to be mugged. I have loved ones who’ve been mugged and I always imagined such instances could be avoided. The world is a funny place. By the way, in the train I had really reprimanded myself for not writing as much as I wish to - in fact, for not writing at all - so I came up with a stupid creative story that I had promised myself to write the instant I got home. But as I neared Nairobi I could feel the familiar chokehold of procrastination start to creep in. I then decided to not write until the following day (today) but I clearly knew where that would lead to. Then the mugging happened.

In the matatu, rage revved in my chest. I felt like doing bad things to that young man. I, honestly, actually hoped that one of those killer cops I read about on Facebook bumps into him and shows him the wrong in his ways. I wished that he die. Painfully. Then a thought crossed my mind. A very very stupid thought.

I thought to myself; Xave, you know how you feel because that dumbass has wronged you, imagine that's the exact feeling  God has  every time you sin! That pain, that rage, that feeling of detest and weakness and helplessness, that’s kinda how God also feels when you sin against Him. He feels bad when we sin.  Like for real! I had nearly been stabbed a few minutes before and that’s all my brain could conjure up. But how true that was!

***Genesis 1:26-27***

Then God said, "Let us make humankind in our image, after our likeness, so they may rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move on the earth." God created humankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them.

That thought wasn’t going away, try as I did to water it down. However, when I got home and was about to sleep, I thought some more about it. God basically has a personality! Just like you and I. Scripture is rife with different showings of His different emotions – his love, joy, sorrow, compassion etc.- and we also read of how He specifically feels towards sin. A fine example is how He felt towards the Israelites’ sin in the desert in Deuturonomy 9. He speaks of how His anger was stirred up by the Israelites stubbornness and rebellion. That shows that He actually has feelings, and bad ones too, when He is wronged.

Yet another would be Genesis 6:5-6. God was so worked up with mankind’s sinful nature that He actually regretted creating them and, in anger, decided to wipe all of them out! Psalms 5:4-5, Psalms 7:11 and Romans 1:18 also show how sin makes God feel. It riles Him up pretty good.

Then, while in the matatu, another crazy, yet quite fascinating thought fizzed in my mind: But Xave, imagine even after making God feel exactly how you feel right now, if you ask Him to forgive you, He does it INSTANTLY, and even kinda forgets it! Like He doesn't hold it against you ever again! He interacts with you like you've never done anything wrong ever!

The crazy thoughts didn't stop there I'm afraid. They went on and asked me to say, audibly, that I forgive that young man! Like for real! Guys, it's 9 p.m. on Friday night in a mat and a voice in my head asks me to audibly forgive someone who held a shard to my rib! Everyone would definitely think I was drunk! But I did. Imagine! haha. And even went ahead and asked God to sustain him, transform him and use him! And then I repented of my many sins like crazy! The repenting and the other words were inaudible though, lol.

Honestly people, how many times are we as believers always reminded to forgive those who wrong us and we usually quickly do it with our lips, but our hearts are honestly wishing terrible things to those who offend us? I frankly have experienced that countless times. The crazy thoughts that fleeted in my mind however made me really think about God’s really amazing forgiving nature.

As long as we repent, God forgives and forgets!

***1 John 1:9***

But if we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous, forgiving us our sins and cleansing us from all unrighteousness. 

***Jeremiah 31:34***

"People will no longer need to teach their neighbors and relatives to know me. For all of them, from the least important to the most important, will know me," says the Lord. "For I will forgive their sin and will no longer call to mind the wrong they have done." 

On the contrary though, until we repent, God actually remembers the sin we commit, and would actually hold it against us. Ezekiel 18 talks of how God was changing how He dealt with sin. Initially God used to punish generations for an individual’s sin, but He decided to change His approach of dealing with sin. He started dealing with individuals. Everyone would, henceforth, carry their own cross. Verse 24 brings up an interesting perspective to how God deals with sin. You sin, you become liable for punishment, and because He says numerous times in His word that He has to punish sin, He has to live up to His word. And He assures that He will punish you. In His exact words – You will die!

Thankfully though, He did die for your and my past, present and future sins, and simply offers forgiveness to those who accept it! 

***1 John 2:2***

(My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin.) But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous One, and He himself is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for our sins but also for the whole world. 

***Ephesians 1:7***

In Him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace. 

Do you understand what this means? That sin you will commit tomorrow, God sorted it! As in God judged and paid for sin that you haven’t even committed yet! Sounds really crazy, right? But it is true. If you accept His forgiveness, you can live without any pressure from anyone no matter how far you fall as long as you trust God to keep on working in you so as to transform you into what He wants you to be. 

"What kind of love is this, friends? What kind of love is so big, so without bounds, that He would come, He would want, He would want to do so much to rescue people who wanted nothing to do with Him? Who fought Him even when He came to cleave us from hell?
What kind of love is it that sees us in our filth, comes to rescue us, sees us resist that rescue, but continues to rescue us anyway? What foolishness is this? That He would come offer us rescue and we would say, "No!" Why? What are we gaining by our resistance? Oh,
how glorious He is, that He saw you like that and didn't give up!"

Wolvesat The Gate -The Father’s Bargain

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White Elephants Prt 2

To read part one of this story click here :-)

The lawn behind the Presidential Palace teemed with guests when Mustafa finally pulled into the crowded driveway, an hour after checking into the gates. Security had been heightened in and around the premises, with numerous checkpoints being set up on the road that led to the palace. Jazz music emanating from a band playing under a pavilion softly accompanied the guests’ din. A man in a crisp red coat yanked Anisa’s door open and effortlessly flashed her a smile. It was clearly practiced. Mustafa was already at her side by the time she had stood upright beside the already pulling away car. White gloves extending to her elbows now covered her forearms and Mustafa hastily held a stylish bisque jacket behind her. She slid her arms into it before he gently pulled it over her shoulders and then adjusted a paisley tie that throttled his thick neck. His bespoke black suit was equally immaculate, befitting the elegance that the surroundings reeked.

“Are you okay?”

Anisa nodded at her brother.

They made their way into the foyer and on emerging on the lawn, Anisa’s coat and gloves had yet again given way to her lanky arms and slightly visible back.

“I see Zu,” she said looking toward the performing band. A black woman next to the pavilion was speaking to a group of people whose faces were wreathed in smiles. She coincidentally tilted her head and met their glance. Smiling, she slumped her head sideways and winked. Anisa smiled back then sneakily waved at her.

“Your children will be so beautiful Mumu! If they take after their mother. You? You’re just plain ugly.”

Mustafa chortled and softly prodded her ribs.

“At least I’ll have children, cat lady.”

Zuria curled her arms around Anisa’s torso then darted backward to take in her appearance.

“You are so beautiful Isa!” she crowed.

“Not as you, Zu.”

Mustafa stood mutely, awkwardly taking in the female ritual unfolding in front of him. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, you too are beautiful Mustafa,” Zuria quipped as Mustafa pecked her cheek. “Aww, you wore the tie!”

“It’s hideous Zu!”

“I know!”

Anisa chortled.

“I’m glad you’re here! The Gambian ambassador, with his awful fake accent, has been all over me.”

“He still wants to buy you lunch?”

“He wants to get into my pants, that’s what!”

“If only he knew what I know…” Mustafa jested. Zuria covered her face with her hands in mock mortification.

“I love that band,” Anisa cut in, gently bobbing her head to the music’s lilt, her eyes firmly shut.

“Wanna join them?”

“Oh no no no! My father would kill me.”

“He’s not here though.”

“The cameras are,” Mustafa chimed in.

“I want to Mumu!” Anisa pleaded.

Musa was protective of his daughter. Overbearing at times even, but always let his guard down whenever she was around Mustafa. Mustafa was a toned down version of Musa. He was still his son though. One could tell. His indrawn disposition, firmness at times and jolie-laide warped nose.

“I’ll ask them not to take any photos.”

“I don’t know…” Anisa vacillated, casting Mustafa an imploring look.

“Okay. One song.”

“You are the bomb Mustafa.”

An excitement suddenly engulfed the room. Everyone’s attention was shifted to the palace’s well-lit patio. A short black man in a red cap, with a tall white man who clearly knew how to wear suits well in tow, walked towards a furnished green tent set up besides the pavilion. Two women on either side of the men followed slightly behind. The atmosphere around the garden abruptly filled with the sound of handclaps.

“Gotta go,” Zuria blurted before squeezing Mustafa’s hand.

The crowd grew quite suddenly. The two men sunk into the leather seats modishly arranged in the tent. A waiter stood rooted in front of Anisa and Mustafa, tray held out and fake smile riveted on his face. Anisa returned an equally fake smile and picked a glass of champagne. The fizzing bubbles popped as she took a generous sip of the yellow drink. Mustafa had picked a tumbler filled with vermouth. He supped at it, his tongue lapping against his lower lip every time the tumbler left his mouth.  

“You really want to sing?” Mustafa inquired nonchalantly. It was more of a statement than a question.

“It could be my big break.”

“Zuria is a bad influence on you.”

“She encourages my abilities,” Anisa softly protested.

Zuria got back to them just when everybody was moving to the tables set up in front of the green tent. The red tube dress she was in earlier had given way to an arresting blue blouson dress whose hem enthrallingly embraced her thickset hips. Mustafa coughed.

“What?” Zuria asked simpering.

“I chocked on sight of you.”

“I look that bad?” she quipped planting her lips on Mustafa’s.

“Far from it,” he answered as Zuria rubbed out a red lipstick smirch off his lower lip.

“The president must have an extra room available for his niece and her boyfriend,” Anisa hissed at them, her face slightly contorted.

“Sorry Isa,” Zuria apologized. “You’re on next by the way. Before the food is served.”

“Whoa! It’s that easy to get a gig?!”

“I know a friend,” Zuria smiled back.

The jazz band had long been replaced by a group of oddly dressed young men with bizarre hairstyles.

Kalimba, kalimbayooo…

“Do you know how much your president hates those guys?” Zuria asked.

“What! No way! They sing at every function the president graces!”

“He hates them. My father said the president told him he only has them sing because they sang to his wife once, and she thought he had asked them to. So she has always had them invited to state functions.”

The young men were now dancing on the pavilion, their lead singer gyrating his waist uncivilly. The black man in the green tent clapped his hands and laughed as he pointed out the lead singer’s evocative movements to the tall white man. The white man apathetically nodded his head.

“There’s the Gambian fool,” Zuria pointed at a table as he tapped Mustafa’s thigh.

A fat bald man was laughing as he grasped a woman’s waist. He shook as he laughed, as though he was having a series of convulsions.

“That’s not even his wife.”

A young man approached Zuria and whispered in her ear before leaving.

“It’s time Isa.”

Anisa sighed profoundly. She was used to singing in front of people. However, singing in front of the president was clearly an uncharted ocean. She trailed Zuria as they snaked their way between the tables onto the pavilion. The crowds chattering grew. The members of the jazz band ambled onto the stage. Anisa sat on a wooden stool and adjusted a silver microphone that had been thrust into her hand.

Then she started humming, her fingers snapping steadily. A wave of silence slowly descended upon the guests. Her lips parted. She sounded off-key. She kept singing. The murmurs arose once more. The band member with the red tie’s upright bass’ hollow plunks suddenly rend the air. The notes looped around Anisa’s now silvery voice before the saxophones timbres’, mellow yet bubbly, joined in ripping the air around with their reminiscent harmonies. Anisa closed her eyes and cranked up her voice an octave higher. The bass’ atonal strums intensified, the red-tied man now tugging on its strings wildly. Her voice remained stout and firm, her numerous vocal exercises coming off much to the awe of all around. The ensemble suddenly all together went mum, letting Anisa’s voice dance among the crowd. The saxophone player in a trilby then gently joined in, his instrument sounding like a man begging. The second saxophonist joined in the act, his instrument sounding kind of squeaky. Anisa opened her eyes, winked at the bassist and then suddenly stopped singing. The saxophones went dumb too, before the bassist started pinching on his strings and then swiftly damping their vibrations using his palms bringing the act to an end. The entire congregation was up on its feet. Anisa stood up and grinned. Mustafa was smiling and clapping too.

She walked down the set of stairs fixed beside the pavilion into Zuria’s embrace.

“Yeah, about pictures not being taken, the president kinda wants to award you a head of state commendation.”

“Wait, what?!” Anisa shrieked.

“The French embassy could also perhaps ask you to perform at an event next month.”

                                                                                     *

Anisa looked into the mirror in front of her. A card with her name lay next to her set of combs. It was an invite to attend a state banquet following Independence Day celebrations. Numerous luminaries would be in attendance, and several exceptional achievers would also be awarded state commendations. It was twenty years since she had gotten hers. As usual, her attendance was imperative. Her skin was a little wrinkled, time’s cruel hand starting to show. A five year old girl barged into the room.

“Mama, dad says we have to leave.”

“I’m done,” Anisa said smiling at the child. She ran out of the room.

Anisa picked up a lapel pin with the country’s flag and her name embroidered in its center. She pinned it on her coat and ran a hand through her cropped hair. She sighed and got up.

“Remember to carry your jacket Madison.”

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Mind Your Language

Hi people! How are all of you doing? This is me cleaning some cobwebs, as it has been eons since I last put up content here. I like to believe that I have valid reasons as to why, one being I got a job! Yippee? Anyway, frankly, I just have become lazy. Enough about that. Today, I would like to engage us in thinking about something that I feel is a massive misnomer, especially among us Kenyan users of English.

"...measure your height and weight..."

Every time I walk around the streets of our urban centers, I constantly run into people with machines that measure peoples ‘weight’. Weighing machines. However, today, during my lazy hour – a time when I just sit and seriously mull about important issues such as the meaning of the word ‘the’, life, yawning, why left is left and not right, death and myriad other beautiful complexities – I thought about something.

Physicists define weight as the force generated by gravitational pull on a body. They go ahead and classify it as a vector quantity. That is, a quantity that has both a magnitude and a direction. Quantities without direction are referred to as scalar quantities; quantities such as speed, volume and temperature. Weight is a vector because of the direction of gravitational force on a body, therefore it is the magnitude of force acting directionally on an object.  

Whenever we step on a scale somewhere along Tom Mboya Street, we actually want to know the amount of matter in us. Our mass. Has it increased, decreased or remained constant? Mass is not affected by directional force and remains the same no matter where you are in the universe. Physics measures mass in grams, while the S.I. unit of weight is the newton. So all this raises the questions: Is it right to refer to the contraptions we step on as weighing machines/scales and also, should we say we are getting weighed/weighing ourselves? Technically, I think it’s incorrect.

I remember a question that I got wrong once in primary school that went along the lines of: Which, between a kilogram of cotton and a kilogram of rocks, weighs more? I once shamelessly told Mr. Mangala the kilogram of rocks does. Needless to say, I was caned. I thereafter always said the two weigh the same. But is it really true? Does a kilogram of rocks on the moon weigh the same as a kilogram of cotton on earth? Definitely not! Their mass is the same but their weight isn’t.

Grammar is not exempt from this either. It is commonplace to hear someone say, “Weigh that bag of maize,” or hear a medical expert encourage someone to regularly weigh themselves. The nominal form ‘weight’ has birthed the verbal form ‘weigh’. Is it right, having agreed that what the enquirers actually mean is for one to find out the mass of something or oneself? I think grammarians should come up with a verb form of the word ‘mass’ for this precise instant. I have seen a verb form of the word, but its meaning is not remotely connected to the activity of stepping on top of a scale. The dictionary I consulted from defines the verb form of the word mass as: The action of joining together into a one body, as in:

The crowd will mass outside the palace.

The other  mass

Should we come up with a second meaning of the verb form?

Mass /mœs/ (verb): To determine the mass of something. (I find this funny because I remember joking around with one of my undergrad friends about how hard it’d be to get a doctorate in Linguistics without inventing a new word, as we believed all aspects of language had already been covered.)

And then we can construct sentences such as: ‘I am going to mass myself’ and ‘Make sure you mass yourself every three months’.

I think we should. And while we are at it, we should also change the names of our machines and how we word our Mathematics questions. We should call them massing scales/machines and ask unwitting class six pupils which masses more between a kilogram of meat and a kilogram of leaves. Am I thinking too much? Did someone else beat me to this? If not, I reques…nay, I DEMAND to be recognized as the inventor of the second definition of the verb ‘mass’. Let me know what you think :-)

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The Beauty of Grace

I recently caught a sermon on TV by Dr. Mamusha Fenta that really got my mental juices flowing. He was generally speaking about the duties of ministers of the gospel and leaders in the church, but, towards the end of his teaching, spoke of quite an interesting observation.

A study conducted by some organization had found that the number of people professing Christianity around the world, and especially in Africa, was at the highest it had ever been, and even was rising. What this suggests is that the number of individuals who have resolved to live upright lives as influenced by the work of Christ in them is actually on the rise. Dr. Mamusha however added an interesting twist to this discovery. Corruption, tribalism and decadence, he noted, are equally at an all-time high in the society we live in. Basically, we have a society of BELIEVERS who practice sin! Now this is unsettling.

This got me thinking. Why do Christians still engage in such vices despite submitting to the authority of Christ? Is it because of the hold of sin on us? Is the church to blame? Or is it that we do not truly embrace the faith we claim to profess?

God has of late been repeatedly speaking to my heart on the subject of grace, and I feel that we believers need to be resolutely reminded about the splendor that is God’s grace. A number of us fall short of the mark despite our candid relationships with Christ. If you are like me, after you sin, a feeling of guilt tends to sop your heart. I remember a while back, while still struggling with sin in an area of my life, the guilt of failing would at times become so much that I would even be ashamed to think about salvation or Christ. I always felt so filthy and far fallen, that I would even at times doubt the capability of God to forgive me at that point. So I always ended up getting into more sin, leaving myself stuck in this frustrating cycle that I seemingly couldn't break free from.

The bible speaks of the things an individual experiences when he/she sins. In 2^nd Corinthians 7:9&10, Paul, when addressing the church in Corinth, speaks of how his letter reproaching their corrupt conduct affected them.

***2^nd Corinthians 7:9 & 10***

Now I rejoice, not because you were made sad, but because you were made sad to the point of repentance. For you were made sad as God intended, so that you were not harmed in any way by us. For sadness as intended by God produces a repentance that leads to salvation, leaving no regret, but worldly sadness brings about death.

Each time we sin, we experience sorrow and sadness. How we react to this sorrow determines a lot though. When we feel sad after we falter, but still go back to our sin, we essentially are wooing death and distraction. Knowledge of our sin can however also push us to repentance. This, Paul refers to as godly sorrow. He actually advocated for it. He encouraged the church to repent whenever they came to the realization of their inadequacies. No sin is too great for God’s grace to cover. As believers, we have to remember that it is not our actions that earn us a chance to relate to God. We need not be perfect. Our own excellence He regards a filthy rag. We therefore should never despair when we fail, but instead should always run to God’s feet and make use of grace.

***1^st John 2:1 & 2***

My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous One, and He Himself is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for our sins, but also for the whole world.

I know a number of us cringe at this idea, as Paul in Romans 6 clearly admonishes those who sin because grace is readily available. I wholly agree with him. We should never choose to sin. What if I am really weak? I would rather run to the feet of Christ with my weakness every time I fall than stay far away and miss out on heaven just because I wouldn't want to ‘misuse’ grace. John clearly says that while the law was given through Moses, Christ brought grace and truth. Friends, we sin at times, but Christ’s death and resurrection were enough to cover all our faults, past present and future. We need to acknowledge God’s grace.

***Romans 3:21-24***

But now, apart from the law, the righteousness of God (which is attested by the law and the prophets) has been disclosed – namely, the righteousness of God through the faithfulness of Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. But they are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.

What acknowledging grace does is set us free from sin’s grip. You see, if we do not repent when we fall, we allow sin to become our master. Grace ensures that sin lacks mastery over us.

***Romans 6:14***

For sin will have no mastery over you, because you are not under law but under grace.

This enables us to walk freely towards sanctification in turn enslaving us to righteousness which changes and transforms us into individuals truly pure before God.

***1^st John 1:9***

But if we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous, forgiving us our sins and cleansing us from all unrighteousness.

Friends, let us be real with God. We tend to pretend in our relationships with each other that we forget and extend the same to Christ. Ernest, the writer of the beautiful blog Penstrokes recently spoke of how marriage reveals a person’s true nature. In marriage, the fake masks that we usually wear during the dating and courtship phases of our relationships are usually stripped off leaving our true selves to be seen by our partners. All the flaws and insecurities we oh so well hide, splay themselves in marriage. That is why it is good to be as real as we can with our partners from the very start. We should remember that we are Christ’s bride. We need to be real with Him.

***1^st John 1:6 & 7***                                       

If we say we have fellowship with Him and yet keep on walking in the darkness, we are lying and not practicing the truth. But if we walk in the light, we have fellowship with one another and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.

See, God knows our true selves, and loves us just as we are. He saw us in our sin and filth, and still out of deep love for us, still agreed to give up His glory and came to die as a man. What He desires of us is not perfection of our own. He makes us perfect Himself. All He wants is for us to be humble and repentant whenever we fall short. Embrace grace.

***2^nd Corinthians 12:9***

But He said to me, “My grace is enough for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” So then, I will boast most gladly about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may reside in me.

"...anywhere you are, it's never too far away. There's freedom from your scars, the mistakes that you made, forgiven. The memories erased, baby that's the beauty of grace..."

 - The Beauty of Grace, Krystal Meyers.

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