Maybe there is a loving God….

Two nights ago, my friend was attacked in her apartment at 5am in the morning. Some guy climbed over the balcony, jammed a window open, stole all her electronics and then raped her. He stabbed her pet first to show her that he was deathly serious.

I am speechless and no matter how much I tell myself that this is a freak accident (Dakar is pretty safe)…I still cannot sleep for more than 20 min without getting up in a panic. Thankfully, my friend is ok…as ok as one can be. She has gotten prophylaxis treatment and done the police thing. And she is strong, stronger that we all imagined. We are all loving on her and wishing that our efforts would provide an eternal cushion from further pain. Sadly, we know they are not nearly enough.

Another dear friend has also had a traumatizing incident. Her house-mate wasn’t really sick, just coughing which meant she needed to lie down on her side every couple of hours in order to breath easier. One morning she called for help when she had trouble breathing, they did CPR and rushed her to the hospital. It was too late. Her brain had stayed without oxygen for too long. She was declared brain dead. Her burial is this coming weekend and my heart bleeds for my dear friend who has had more than her share of trials this year. I would love to undo this incident and take away the pain of these next couple of weeks.

My mind just cannot resolve this. How does a loving God let bad things happen to good people?

I am like Job’s frenemies…I don’t get it. I am really struggling with a God who was there when this happened. I find it easier to accept a God who punishes sin. Thus suffering, tragedy, evil and violence can be attributed to bad choices.

But this, this I don’t understand. Nobody deserves this, especially not my two gentle, kind-hearted, peace-loving friends. So there is my quandary, a God who is… sovereign mighty all-sufficient…though seemingly sometimes unloving? Surely, could this be a loving God?

I don’t have answers so I am going to share part of a devotional a friend emailed me earlier today. It’s a funny story because i just found out that, its my mother’s weekly devotional. Lol. How life goes round and people start sending back to me useful resources from my own family. You can find the link to my mami’s weekly devotional on the home-page (on the blog-roll to the right)

Balancing Between Hope and Pain – The ‘Schizophrenic’ Worshipper

God sometimes permits what he hates, to accomplish what he loves (Joni Erickson Tada)

The problem of pain and suffering is not a theological one or a theology game of lining up all appropriate logical arguments and syllogisms. As Philip Yancey says, it is a problem of relationships. Unless we understand our situation from God’s perspective, we will suffer more than we need to. In addition, we also need to remind ourselves that as the day of Christ’s second coming is drawing near, we are going to witness more calamities and devastations. ‘When you hear of wars and revolutions, do not be frightened. These things must happen first, but the end will not come right away.”10 Then he said to them: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. 11 There will be great earthquakes, famines and pestilences in various places, and fearful events and great signs from heaven’ (Luke 21:9-11).

1. Hope and pain are intertwined – In a way pain is a proof of life, of connection and of hope. It is not wise to numb the pain. The feeling of being hurt and betrayed can ‘paralyse a person inside’ if it is handled badly. It is important to acknowledge the pain one feels as an honour to have longings, to love and to be disappointed. There are times in life when one desperately grasps for hope while crying to God and at times shouting at God. Think of Job, Jeremiah or David who were kind of schizophrenic worshippers, asking hard questions such as ‘is God doing anything about the issue that is so pressing’. And at the same time you see acknowledgement of God the very present help in times of trouble, the rock, the fortress. David would do ‘self talk’ ‘why are you cast down within me, hope in God’. Through the tears, and disappointments, acknowledge the fatherhood of God, his love and might, and make your request know to Him (Philippians 4:6).

2. God is in control but there are things that we may not understand – Some things we will not know partly because we live within limitations of our humanness. – ‘The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law’ (Deuteronomy 29:29). However, God does have a plan and has promised to bring to completion what he had started (Philippians 1:6).

3. God in his love does permit what he hates to refine us and bring out the best in us – Pain makes us depend on God and brings out the hidden treasure in us. We need grace for the moment fully aware that God’s discipline is for those he loves (Hebrews 12:5-11). In times of pain and despair, when simplistic formulas or theology cliché’s fail, we tend to become honest with ourselves and it is then that one realizes that, The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms’(Deuteronomy 33:27). Pain can purify if we remain open to God’s loving presence in our lives. That is where the life of faith begins.

4. Appreciate the seasons of life – God allows varying season of life to make his people grow (Ecclesiastes 3:4), there is a time to weep and a time to mourn. Weeping may last for the night but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5). Joy is coming.

5. God has given us free will and the choices people make can affect us and others- The world we live in is imperfect where ignorance, carelessness or purposeful intent causes a lot of suffering. If God took away the freedom to make choices we would be robots. God wants us to choose to have a relationship with Him. Some of the struggles we go through come from our wanting to be in control.

Are you going through rough times? Are you wondering how to explain God’s part or role as the earth quakes drowning people and hopes of poor people in an Island that has more unmet needs than luxuries? Are you struggling to hold on to your faith in the midst of secret fears and tears? Do you wonder where God is? He is where you are. God’s word is explicit that times of going through the fire or waters (Isaiah 43:2), or valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23) will come. The promise of God is that he will be with his people. That is the answer to the question of where God is when people are going through tough times. He is where his people are. He was with Daniel in the lion’s den and also with Shadrack, Meshack and Abednego when they were thrown into the fire (Daniel 3). It is you to confirm to the people who do not know God that he is a very present help in times of trouble. God is counting on you who know that even though you may not see him, you can count on his word that he will be with you always (Matthew 28:20), and know for certain that he has not forsaken you. Looking for help in people can be confusing as they may be struggling with the theology. Look up to God who has the Big Picture and knows what you can stand. Whether it is national disaster or individual challenge, God remains Almighty and loving. He knows what you are going through and he is with you. Is the Lord your shield when challenging times set in?

‘Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand’ (Isaiah 64:8)

SONG OF THE WEEK – Praise you in the storm – Casting Crowns

Desert Geography

This week I am at a climate change meeting in Mopti, Mali. Mopti is smack in the center of the Malian desert and only a few hours away from Timbuktu. (I might have headed for the famous Timbuktu but I doubt my family could afford the ransom. Lol. Ok, not very funny. ) My colleague and I awoke at 4am for the 640km drive from Bamako to Mopti. Thank God the road is well-tarmacked most of the way (Another thing that is pleasantly surprising about the roads here). It took us 8 hours with a breakfast stop in Segou and several ‘bush-style’ bathroom breaks. We got here in time for the 40 degree mid-day heat as well as lunch served under a tree – white rice, a stew of fish and cabbage followed by a glass of hot Chinese green tea. Thankfully the rest of the workshop happens in an air-conditioned room.

The visits to the remote villages shall likely be the most exciting part. You see, the desert has no signage, no landmarks, nothing to follow. Even old tyre marks are quickly erased by the wind or rain. The last time I was here, it took us 4 hours to cover a distance of 80km as our driver kept trying to remember if he had seen that bush or tree before. The local inhabitants speak several different dialects so despite the fact that my co-passengers were locals, asking for directions didnt quite help. That trip gave me a whole new respect for this desert.

This area’s geography is absolutely fascinating. It’s all hot and dry except for the network of small rivers that run through it. Mali hosts the middle part of River Niger that rises in Guinea-Conakry’s mountainous regions and flows through 9 West African countries before ending up in the Atlantic. Bamako is situated upon a wider part of the river and a sunset drive across this city’s bridges is strikingly memorable.

Mopti, where I am, is situated on the part of the river called the Inner Niger Delta. The most amazing thing is that some of the year (Feb to July) it is a desert – arid and dusty with a few bushes here and there. The most common mode of transport is the motorbike, often seen crisscrossing across the desert. For the second half of the year, boats are the primary mode of transport. During their only rainy season that starts in July, the Niger River swells and bursts its banks thus flooding thousands of hectares of desert land surrounding it. Imagine that, a desert then a lake. How cool is that?

The Inner Niger Delta has three main economic activities – agriculture, pastoralism and fishing. During the flood, the herds are taken farther into the desert until the waters subside and they can return and enjoy the bourgou pasture that the flooding has left behind. The flood waters are also ideal for growing rice, a staple in the region. It still amazes me that 30mm rain, which is nothing compared to Kenya’s rainfall, can grow rice to feed an entire country!! The delta is also famous for a wide range of water-birds that come here during Europe’s winter. Increasing climate variability is threatening this unique biodiversity and making life even more difficult for Mopti’s inhabitants.

So next time the Touareg/Bambara people of Mali or the famous historic Timbuktu come up in your conversation, I hope you shall have a little more to tell them about this very unique corner of the world. Here are a few photos of the Inner Niger Delta, when its not so dry and desert-like.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Song of the Week – Loliwe by Zahara
She is a new southern African artist with a super rich voice and fresh sound.
uLoliwe wayidudula ["the train is pushing"]
Nang’esiza ["here it comes"]
Sul’ezonyembezi mntakwethu ["wipe those tears off, loved one'']
Phezulu, eNkosini ["in Heaven, in the Lord"]
Kuhlal ‘ingcwele zodwa ["lives only the holy"]
Mawufuna ukuya khona, thandaza ["if you want to go there, pray"]

Curve-balls

I filled up my journal today, which is to say that I wrote on its last empty page this morning. This was a journal I have carried around with me since 2007. I still remember the first time I spotted it on the shelves of the TBC bookshop in Sarit Center. It made me laugh, something I still do to this day whenever I pick it up. On its cover are images of sheep standing upright (shamba la wanyama style) along with the line – beware of the sheep .

2007 is also the year I purchased my first laptop (still in use to write this post). And with the laptop came more typing and less hand-journaling. I have never been fond of writing by hand, in fact I often joke that if handwriting was a determinant then I should certainly be a doctor – they of the illegible prescriptions fame. Believe me its bad, I can hardly read some of the thoughts I put down in the journal.

Yet I still love to write in my journal. Reading through the writing brings me many wonderful memories as well as insight into how far I have come. It also offers a wonderful birds-eye perspective of life in general. With powerful reminders that God does work everything out for my good, that nothing in this world is permanent or repeatable, that I am much stronger than I think I am…it’s never the same on a computer. I have lost numerous intimate reflections to reformatting and bad organization (mostly because I cannot remember where I last saved them ).

Handwriting can say a lot about a person. During my short stint as a teaching assistant of 7 year olds, I remember being taught to pay attention to how they write…especially on the blackboard in front of the class. I learned that writing straight on a blackboard wall has a lot do with being truly centered. Centered here referring to that balanced peaceful place where one has a healthy image of themselves and the world. At the time I was going through a disillusioned phase and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my writing horizontal. It would always slant, sometimes upwards but most times it dipped downwards. I know it’s not an exact science but isn’t it interesting how our unconscious actions can point to the state of our inner mind/heart?

My bowling experience last week was some-what like that, actually worse than that. I was a bowling group’s horror. My ball would start out in the center and about half-way make a contour toward the pit on the side of the aisle. It would have been a perfect curve-ball for a soft-ball or cricket game. And the ball was right, I was bowling exactly as I felt. Tired, frustrated and emotionally out of sync.

It’s hard to remain centered when things are happening that I would rather were not. Being centered here means taking in information without clouding it with expectations or fear; instead making creative, intuitive decisions whose axis is the knowledge of myself as God’s beloved. It’s even harder to feel centered when a full day has provided me no time to digest my feelings or give perspective to my fears. On such days ”faking it till I make it” is what I tend to do.

And this pretense feels dishonest and deceitful. Much like lying, pretense makes us conflicted and weak. Conversely, truth and honesty are associated with strength and peace. We see this in lie detector tests or even hand-wrestling. If you want to win an arm wrestling match, ask your opponent to repeat something personal that they also know to be untrue. It can be anything, just a statement…like “I have never lied to my partner.” Try it, they will not be able to push against you and lie at the same time! Again, not a science but in my limited experimentation, spot on.

Doesn’t that make you want to be more honest, more truthful, more fearless, more centered? It makes me want to find that place where I can hear God’s voice of truth most clearly; where I am in step with the world around me; where I can counter anxiety or frustration with God-centered belonging and love.

Any ideas on how I can do that? On a busy demanding day, how do you keep yourself centered?

Song Of The Week – I choose to be dancing – Donnie Mcclurkin

End Of Week Ramblings

Thoughts # 1, 2 and 3

This week my thinking is disjointed and incomplete. It’s what happens when all my brain energy is taken up by work. The blog gets the left-over ramblings. I have three different thoughts that I’d love to get your feedback on. They emanate from recent interactions and really have no reason for being on the same blog post. Seriously, don’t bother looking for a missing link, there isn’t one. Also I have made plenty of foot-in-my-mouth generalisations, don’t take them too seriously. For instance, not all city women are privileged or rural women disadvantaged. Neither are all tailors in Dakar as ‘creative’ as the one I describe below.

Thought #1 –Dakar Tailors Rule the World

My Dakar tailor stories can fill a book. I recently gave something to a neighborhood tailor for repair, along with extra matching fabric to patch it up properly. He is on my street so I passed there 3 to 4 times a week, and always got the same story, “come tomorrow, come tomorrow.” So on Saturday as I am leaving my apartment building, I see the lady next door putting out her baby’s clothes to dry. Lo and behold, one of them looks exactly like my fabric!! I go to the tailor and after a few threats, he admits that he used ‘a little’ of my fabric to make a baby’s outfit!!!! SMH-Shaking my head, what else can I do, take the baby’s clothing away? You can see why Dakar never ceases to amaze me.

Thought #2 – The cute factor, womanly wiles or privilege of beauty

It’s referred to as the cute factor, womanly wiles or even the privilege of beauty. Whatever you call it, I am convinced that every professional woman has mastered it; when to bring it on and when to turn it off. Let me explain what i mean because they don’t teach us this in school.

I think I come across as pretty assertive. No, not abrasive or aggressive but confident and capable. And I think there’s lots of situations where being ‘compelling’ gets the job done. Other-times, assertion is a huge roadblock, and lowering my chin or giggling while smiling sweetly is way more effective.

I also think that people are more likely to help if you express interest in their lives…in a feminine way. (breaking lots of gender rules here). The way that you chat to a colleague – about their out of office life, children, interests – just expressing interest in them as a person as ‘caring, feminine women’ are supposed to works wonders. It never helps to act like ‘I want you to do what I want you to because I say so’. This is especially true of my west-african experience.

Or let’s say I have a tyre puncture and don’t really want to get myself dirty and sweaty changing it. Please note that I am born into a family of girls who can all change a wheel faster than you can blink. So anyway what do I do? Although I do not pose a picture of your typical damsel in distress, I will bow my shoulders, smile sweetly and look helplessly clueless. And without a doubt, some male passerby will stop and offer to help me change it.

I think being feminine is an advantage in almost any environment or situation. However, am I wrong for knowingly using my femininity to manipulate a situation, am I perpetuating the perception of women as fragile, or am I just taking advantage of the privileges that God gave me?

Thought #3 – Affirmative Action
A friend recently declared that she is sick and tired of all this affirmative action mambo-jambo. Tired of always feeling like the ‘token 30%‘, only selected for gender balance, to keep the numbers equal rather than for her superior knowledge and skills. I get where she is coming from. We’ve gone to school and worked hard to get where we are. It’s dis-affirming to be informed that it is our skirt and not our intelligence that got us here.

On the other hand, we are city girls. Privileged to have gone to good schools and been exposed to the same opportunities that our brothers did. Many rural women don’t get the same chances. If they do go to school, they are strapped with domestic responsibilities and social expectations that obstruct their access to benefits that come with an education. No matter how deserving we are, majority of the world’s women still don’t have the advantages that men do. Affirmative action must persist if we are to tilt the balance in the opposite direction. I was going to define affirmative action, but if you are reading this you probably also know how to use google .

So there are my three thoughts. Do weigh in and tell me what you think. If you hit the comment button, I promise to respond.

Song of the Week
The song of the week is a ramble in itself. Kenya is at war. I don’t know that it’s a religious war, at least on the Kenyan government side, it definitely is for the Alshabaab. So here is Anthony David’s controversial song, “Don’t put the blame on me, I’m just doing what God said”. For those that want some background, you can see Anthony David’s comments here.

GOD-INCIDENCE – Part Two

…………………………………….continued

Downhill
The newness and excitement soon faded away as life in the house quickly spiraled into messy chaos. It’s difficult to accurately pin-point everything that was wrong. Dysfunctional is a good word. A tonne of pent-up emotion – wrapped up in frustration, sadness, anger, bitterness – at the world, the absentee father, other functional people, God, everyone – for dealing them that ‘set of poker cards’.

The children couldn’t understand why my black skin wouldn’t get ‘clean’. I remember them making fun of how I walked; they said that my behind moved and swayed with me. I wondered what the little girl with the African genes would do when she realized she had inherited a black-person ‘derrière’.

I prayed that I would handle them all with love and kindness. Things only grew worse. If it wasn’t the children using me as a punching bag, it was the grandmother yelling at me for being too quiet, too talkative, too happy, too social, too anything and everything. Whatever I did and didn’t do was a reason for one more insult, one more verbal attack.

I didn’t know what to do. In just a few weeks, my European adventure had turned into a nightmare. Too embarrassed to call my parents and tell them the truth of what was happening, I tried to get away from the house as much as I could. It took me a while to accept that the situation was not going to change. I felt like the young, foolish man who had used up his inheritance; eating with the pigs yet having a place at my father’s table.

After one particularly tough tongue-lashing from the grandmother and endless hours of crying alone in my attic-room, I decided that I had had enough. I remember gliding down the stairs, stopping at the front door to wear my winter gear before running out of the house. There was a snow storm outside but I didn’t care. I wanted to get away…far away from the house and from the voices racing through my mind calling me a coward and a failure.

What was I going to say to people back home? Should I stay just to prove that I was tough, would leaving be giving up? I still had two months of the language course left. If I stayed in the country, where would I live, how would I eat? I was at the end of my rope. I needed a solution ‘pronto’. God just had to come through for me.

What do you do when your hopes come tumbling down, when what you thought was your dream turns into a nightmare? What do you do when your perfect world is shattering around you?

My Good Samaritan
I had met Mrs. B at the Episcopalian church the first week I arrived. She was a retiree, an older jovial Christian lady. She had sought me out at the end of the service and offered to help me find a congregation nearer my own age. Sure enough she telephoned later that week with directions to another church that I much preferred. We made plans to have tea together.

So imagine my surprise and relief when I came up to Mrs. B that day. She was standing right outside her house bidding farewell to a guest when she turned and saw me walking towards her. I was sobbing heavily and my tear stained face must have clued her in on the state of affairs. Mrs B didn’t ask many questions, just invited me into her house for some tea. She let me cry.

It took a couple of minutes and several sips of chamomile tea before my sobs quietened down into coherent speech. I told her about what had been happening at the house, how I was feeling and that I was ready to go back home. She listened to me and assured me that I had come to the right place; everything was going to be ok. There is something about sharing your troubles with someone else that lightens the load. I was so glad to hear that I was not crazy; that there really was something out of whack; that it was ok for me to cry.

Eventually, Mrs. B (my very own good Samaritan) helped me find a students hostel and paid my rent for the remainder of my time in Germany. As the warm spring replaced the cold winter months, she gave me odd jobs around her house in exchange for pocket money. Her family took me in as one of their own. What followed were – innumerable lunches and dinners – treasure hunting and playing in the park with the grandkids – beautiful plays and music recitals – numerous visits to museums, botanical gardens, lakes and other awe-inspiring places – endless trips in and around Southern Germany – my social calendar was full. They even sent me back-packing to Paris – one of the most amazing experiences of my life!! (A post for another day).

“Our heavenly Father never takes anything from his children unless he means to give them something better.” – George Muller

In the end, God turned my tears into dancing, my sorrow into joy. Now, when I think of that time in Germany I know that God was there with me. I can see him in the tears and sadness as clearly as in the incredible love and kindness of Mrs. B and her family. I will never thank them enough for truly being Jesus to me. I just love how the story turned out, an incredible God-incidence.

Song of the week – Never Once – Matt Redman

GOD-INCIDENCE – Part One

God-incidence. More than coincidence, a moment when God does something so great and wonderful that years later you still marvel at how beautifully everything came together.

Every once in a while I find myself anxious and afraid; life’s challenges seemingly impermeable to all my prayers and effort. Stuck with a myopic perspective, I am helpless, hopeless and desperate. Like David feeling stuck in the ‘lowest pit’ with ‘darkness as his closest friend’, I need forever eyes – to see my circumstances, my world, and the people in my world from an eternal perspective. This is a God-incidence; a condensed account of a ‘muddy pit’ that God took me out of.

In Search Of Adventure
A couple of years back, I found myself in a little town in the southern part of Germany. Of course, I didn’t just find myself there; I hoped, prayed and strategized till a whole set of factors aligned in my favor.

Soon after my graduation, I began taking German language lessons…to while away the ‘tarmacking’ time as I searched for a real job. This eventually led to a volunteer teaching position at a German-curriculum school in Nairobi. Then through a friend of a colleague I was introduced to a ‘nice’ family in Germany that was happy to host me for three months as I advanced my German.

The final challenge had been convincing my parents that this was the journey to the life I wanted. They had questions about my living costs and I remember praying for a George Mueller experience. He was an 18th Century preacher that refused to ask anyone for support. Rather, he made his requests known unto God and took him at his word. He dared to trust God for the daily needs of countless of orphans that he cared for. There were many years where he had just enough food or money to feed his orphans that day. Many times food or money appeared just before they sat down to eat. In the end my parents agreed, not because of my determined pestering but because they knew how much I wanted it.

The truth? I was a disillusioned graduate who didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life or education. Something I thought a little European adventure, in the name of searching for a Masters school, could cure. I could hear the sound of music playing in my head:

Climb every mountain,
Ford every stream,
Follow every rainbow,
‘Till you find your dream.

A White Whispy Winter
And so it was that I found myself in a small picturesque town bordering the famous Schwarzwald – black forest. In winter it looked like something straight out of a Christmas movie. Sparkling white snow resting on endless hills of evergreen trees; the scenery was breathtaking. My first winter was unusually cold with temperatures plunging well below negative twenty degrees; on occasion up to two meters of snow would fall in a single day.

Even with the ghastly biting cold, the mountains of snow were a delight. I would sit by the window sill watching its pure white form leisurely drop to the ground, almost in slow motion. It felt magical. I loved playing in/with it, making snow balls and snowmen just like in the movies. I loved the challenge of walking in knee-high snow, the squishy sound it made as I trudged through it in my winter boots. Clearing the pavements of snow felt like digging a ‘shamba’ without the benefit of a harvest, but even that I didn’t mind. In super organized German fashion, all sidewalks had to be snow and slide free; the homeowners were liable for any and all injuries that occurred on their part of the street. It was all new and exciting just as adventure always is.

The Host Family
The first few days of living with my host family were great. They lived in a 2 storey corner house with a small garden and white picket fence. I had my own little attic room complete with white walls and slanting windows. The two storey’s below housed 4 people: a 7 year old girl, her 5 year old brother, their German mother and grandmother. The children’s mother, only a year older than I, was away for a three month internship to complete her undergraduate course. She didn’t want to leave the children alone with their retired, polio-challenged grandmother. Plus with less than ten non-Caucasian people in the entire town, the mother thought it wise for the children to get in touch with their ‘African roots’. The bi-racial children shared the same African Father, whom they had never met.

My new world came with all kinds of new sounds, tastes and smells. I loved the grandma’s cooking and it was with joy that we all gathered around the dining table sometimes 5 times a day. Digestion produces heat energy that keeps the cold at bay. My duty was to walk the children to their school, playground and violin or piano lessons. It was a small town so everything was a short distance away. When the children were at school, I explored everything else – the boutique shops, malls, ancient churches from the 17hundreds and my all time favorite, the parks. My preferred park was by an elementary school named after George Mueller. I even had a favorite bench whence I watched my novel and interesting world pass by. The sun was shining, I had found my adventure and I was thrilled.

“God is real, God is trustworthy, God answers prayer”. George Mueller.

Song of the Week – 10,000 Reasons – Matt Redman

Extraordinary

Two world famous, greatly accomplished and very inspiring people have died in the past week – Wangari Maathai and Steve Jobs. I can’t seem to get enough of all that has been written, sang or said about them. I have watched/read the links i share below countless times. Everything about them fascinates me. Their families, upbringing, education, life choices and I can’t help feeling like they were born for this; born to be more than just ordinary. I admire, perhaps even envy them greatly. For their larger-than-life accomplishments, for following their hearts’ passions, for making tasty lemonade from lemons thrown at them, for living out their lives so very well. They have each died empty; used up all their potential; given the best of their gifts for the good of the universe. How extraordinary!

Soon after I started this blog, I made a friend who is absolutely convinced of my extraordinary nature. Every day they identify one more thought, perspective, or attitude that they see as extra-ordinary. I laugh about it, it’s cute (read: imaginative) but presently without factual backing. Then i offer to pay for their griot services, .

(Griots are a west-African phenomenon. Historically they were skilled musicians and poets that told the stories of the greats; they existed purely to sing the praises of extraordinary people around them. Today their songs basically target politicians and other wealthy people in the hope of getting kick-backs. Still, majority of Senegal’s musicians are from griot families.)

Who in this world wants to be ordinary? We are born wanting to be extra special. We grow up hoping that we have some valuable talent or soon to be discovered genius. We celebrate the child that can run faster, sing sweeter and do better at math than their compatriots. Though never giving up the approval-seeking behavior, those who rarely end up top begin to accept their ordinary nature. Reading Wangari’s and Steve’s stories is reigniting a spark, reminding me that ordinary can turn into extraordinary. Maybe I just need to find what I love and run with it.

When I was little, my extraordinary thing was reading; I read my first four-hundred page autobiography at the age of seven. It was no wonder that I wanted to be Christiane Amanpour; I was curious and talkative and everyone agreed that I’d make a great journalist. Then I went to journalism school, tried it for a while and instantly knew it was not for me. It’s hard to explain how. The French say, tastes and colors cannot be disputed, some things just are. I was not meant for news journalism, that I know for sure.

Recently I remembered my Christiane Amanpour dream, or more precisely what I loved about her. It was the way she interviewed people, the way she asked questions and got answers that even the interviewees never knew they had. She helped them tell their stories; she created a narrative, a context that made each one of them stand-out from the ordinary. That’s what I really loved, still love about her.

I have always loved storytelling. My parents often had friends, neighbors or young people they were mentoring come over late in the evening, when the kids had gone to bed. I loved hearing their stories. So I pretended to fall asleep then later got up and stealthily climbed down the stairs to eavesdrop. (I wonder if they knew this, I guess they do now ).

I love a good story, be it book, audio or film. I love listening to the tone, the choice of words, the emotion and the hard-to-believe twists… especially directly from the horse’s mouth. Autobiographies are my absolute favorite write-ups; in fact, I dream of someday writing my parents’ memoirs, perhaps even a family chronology.

I want to write stories that inspire; stories that redefine the world for a future 16-year-old version of me, just like the late Margaret Ogola did. I want to tell stories that give hope, that remind us that we are human and that God loves us anyway. Stories that make sense out of confusion, that remind us we are not alone. I want to put out words; my words, others’ words, words that will live on long after I find my way to the grave. I want to tell a story that leaves the world immeasurably better because I did.

Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish – Steve Jobs
Steve Jobs’s highlights are well-known: adopted, dropped out of college and, at 21, started a computer company in his parents’ garage; a multimillionaire by 25; on the cover of Time magazine at 26; and thrown out of the company at age 30, in 1985. Today he died internationally recognized as one of the greatest and most visionary CEOs that ever lived.

Here is a link to some of Steve’s jobs greatest quotes, and below the 2005 Stanford graduation speech that inspired the world.

Be a Humming Bird – Wangari Maathai
I admire her guts…how she organized people and stood up against the government;
I love the way she offers practical solutions to Africa’s problems;
I love the way that she spoke with clarity giving examples out of her daily experiences;
I love her tough as nails yet super positive and always smiling attitude;
I love that she had the courage to be the first in so many instances;
I love that none of that got into her head (a mark of a true leader);
I can go on and on, she accomplished all this and made it look so easy to attain;
But then again most extraordinary people do.

Here are two of my most favorite memories of Madame Wangari; a lengthy exclusive Interview with Wangari Maathai and the other a short video where she paints a beautiful picture-story of what motivated her.

Song of the Week – Mandisa – Born For This (From the Bible Story of Esther)