Cock And Bull

• Come and let me Look in Your Eyes

  Posted: February 23, 2009, 9:45 am by Administrator

  I guess growing isn’t hard to do
  Just stand against the wall
  Once I was just two feet high
  Today I’m six feet tall

  But knowing who to listen to
  Is something else again
  Words just whistle ’round my head
  Like seasons in the wind

  All across the water the clouds are sailing
  They won’t let me look at the sky
  All I want to do is try and find myself
  Come and let me look in your eyes

  In searching for the way to go
  I’ve followed all the rules
  The way they say to chooses between
  The wise men and the fools

  I listen to the words they say
  I read what I should read
  I do whatever’s right to do
  Try to be what I should be

  Someone let me in I think the sky is falling
  Seems I’ve gotten lost on my way
  All I want to do is try and find myself
  Come and let me look in your eyes

  Ah, but wisdom isn’t underground
  Nor on a mountainside
  And where am I to take myself
  There’s no place here to hide

  All across the universe the stars are fading
  Seems we’ve gotten lost on our way
  All I want to do is try and find myself
  Come and let me look in your eyes
  Come and let me look in your eyes
  Come and let me look in your eyes

  Words by John Denver and Joe Henry
  - Music by John Denver

• Dance of Life

  Posted: February 23, 2009, 8:02 am by Administrator

  I read somewhere a few days ago that ‘the real dance of life takes place between the person that you once were and the person that you are becoming’. Since then I have thought about life and about the dance floor.

  There is a dance that is energetic and fun and very joyful and life is filled with sunshine and butterflies, and the dance that is fast and furious and almost violent and life is filled with drama and tempest. I have thought about the dance that is slow and sensual and very calming – one that happens when a person knows the place of love, and the one that is slow and melancholic and very lonely – one where a person will not find completeness even in the middle of a crowd.

  When who I have been and who I am becoming are too radically different, my dance of life is like that of partners that have never danced together before – quite jagged and might result in smarting toes. On the other hand if who I have been and who I am becoming isn’t much different, my dance of life is very lethargic – and yet it gives a chance to feel and to savor and to appreciate. Whatever the case might be now, life does not let us dance to the same rhythm for too long.

• The Simple

  Posted: February 20, 2009, 7:59 am by Administrator

  I first saw him about two years ago while I was walking down the corner from where I live; a young man in his twenties. He was looking up at a banana tree where a small ball with a string attached to it was hanging. It was obvious at first glance that he was different; from the way that his mouth was twisted in a wet grin and the hand seemed to hang half-heartedly on his side. I concluded that he was one of those people that we call “mentally retarded”. On that day, I quietly went past him without much thought, and left him behind in his serious contemplation on how to get the ball from up the tree.

  I saw him again about a month ago. On that day, he was running behind a huge truck in high excitement. The lorry was traveling slowly on the bumpy road and he did not have much trouble keeping up. As the lorry passed by in a cloud of dry February dust, the young man jogged behind it, pointing it out to me and shouting “kilori!” – meaning – “big lorry!” Since that day, I have come to learn that he really likes lorries since I have seen him hanging around a neighborhood yard where lorries are parked – just waiting for one to move so that he can run after it.

  The day before yesterday, I was walking around the corner from where I live and came across him. It was the same place where I saw him for the first time. This time, he was just standing as if confused by a decision of where to go next. When he saw me, he shouted “Mambo!” – meaning “What’s up!” That word was uttered with the difficulty of a heavy tongue that people with such a condition endure, and yet there is only one “normal” person that I know who says “Mambo!” with as much enthusiastic sincerity as the young man. And as I said Hi to him, he extended his arm for a handshake. When I extended mine, he grabbed it with an oversized palm and covered it with his second palm in a ‘power handshake’ that many seasoned politicians would envy. And then, he held on to my hand briefly and started walking in the direction where I was going. He walked with me for about 20 meters and in that time, we had a little conversation. He can only manage one word at a time and when I asked him his name, he said “Annan”. When I asked him where he lived, he pointed towards the direction we were walking from. When I mentioned the word “lorry”, he became animated and started uttering words such as “big lorry” and “road” and “town”. By then we met another person and he once again offered a warm, “Mambo!” to the man. The man responded warmly to him, and it seemed like they knew each other well, and I left them together.

  It was simplicity that the young man reminded me of. I vividly remember how much fun it used to be when I was a boy to run after a lorry on a dusty village trail. What is a lorry now? A noisy engine that disturbs my peace when I am on the cell phone and covers me in dust when I am hurrying along in my bright shirt? It was sincerity that the young man reminded me of. When did I last feel compelled to use a double handed handshake molded by the warmth of the heart? When did I say “Mambo!” to a total stranger without a second thought? It is such encounters that remind us that humanity is much more than what people look like and that the spirit cannot be suppressed by any human condition.

• The Diamond Necklace Of The Heart

  Posted: February 19, 2009, 1:30 am by Administrator

  There is the story that is told of the woman who owned a diamond necklace. One day she was at home frantically looking everywhere for it – from room to room in her mansion – not knowing that all the while it was hanging around her neck. This story was told to illustrate to us that we might look all around us for Peace, joy, health and well-being not knowing that these treasure can only be found inside us. If the woman had looked at a mirror, she would have seen that she had the precious necklace all the while. What is the mirror that we can use to see the treasures inside? Awareness. Awareness gives us the eyes to see the diamond necklace of the heart.

• Perhaps Love

  Posted: February 19, 2009, 1:04 am by Administrator

  Perhaps love is like a resting place
  A shelter from the storm
  It exists to give you comfort
  It is there to keep you warm
  And in those times of trouble
  When you are most alone
  The memory of love will bring you home

  Perhaps love is like a window
  Perhaps an open door
  It invites you to come closer
  It wants to show you more
  And even if you lose yourself
  And don’t know what to do
  The memory of love will see you through

  Oh, love to some is like a cloud
  To some as strong as steel
  For some a way of living
  For some a way to feel
  And some say love is holding on
  And some say letting go
  And some say love is everything
  And some say they don’t know

  Perhaps love is like the ocean
  Full of conflict, full of Pain
  Like a fire when it’s cold outside
  Or thunder when it rains
  If I should live forever
  And all my dreams come true
  My memories of love will be of you

  - Song by John Denver

• The Keepers

  Posted: February 19, 2009, 1:01 am by Administrator

  I bought an internet modem from Safaricom about a month ago. It was at a time when the modems were going at a huge discount and it took me at least 2 hours of queuing before I could purchase the modem. After getting the modem, I asked for help from one of the assistants who showed me how to set it up on the computer after unpacking the modem from the box. But as soon as I got home, I realized that I had forgotten to re-park the card containing the details of the pin number for the sim card that the modem was using. However, the thought of the crowds as Safaricom lounge along Kimathi Street kept me from going back to look for the card. I wondered, where would I start looking anyway?

  Today, I needed to load more credit in order to continue using the modem, but I realized that I needed one of the numbers on the card that I left on a bench at Safaricom about a month ago. So, I decided to go back to the Safaricom lounge on Kimathi Street and ask for help. Hopefully, the technicians would figure out how to add more money to the modem without the missing number.

  When I arrived at Safaricom, there were relatively few people, and I went to the nearest technician to explain my problem. When I told him that I lost the card about a month ago, he put on a forlorn face and told me that customers always make the mistake of leaving behind their cards and it would be almost impossible to trace mine amongst the hundreds available. With that, he asked to see my modem. When I gave it to him, he turned it around and looked at the markings on the sim card. He them reached into his wallet and removed a card and compared the numbers on it with the numbers on my modem’s sim card. He then said, “This is the card that you lost. It is good that you have come back since I have kept it in my wallet since that day.”

  Two things surprised me; that of all the cards that have been left behind, mine was the one in his wallet. Why would he think of putting it in his wallet? Of all the technicians that were there today, I went straight to him. How did he even think about comparing my modem’s sim card with the card in his wallet? I couldn’t hide my curiosity and so I asked him about the coincidence. To which he said that he remembered me from that day that I bought the modem and he knew that I would go back.

  I have now become used to these kinds of coincidences and no longer spend too much time with my jaw hanging open. But as I was walking away from Safaricom, I was reminded once again that despite our not knowing it, there are forces that are always working in our favor in the background. Our Keepers. About the incident, my friend said, “Some things are meant to be.”

• The Reassured 50

  Posted: February 19, 2009, 12:21 am by Administrator

  As I clear the clutter of receipts and scraps of papers that accumulated in the pockets of the clothes that I wore today, I look inside my wallet and see a tattered 50 shillings note. It is among other notes that are clean and crisp. Of all the money that is in my wallet, the 50 shillings note is the only one that I did not get from the bank. I think about removing it from the wallet, but then I change my mind and decide to let it stay. And as I finish clearing the clutter, the story of the tattered 50 shillings note suddenly comes to mind.

  While I was going to work in the morning, some school boys boarded the public transport matatu that I was traveling in. When the time came for everyone to pay their fare, one of the boys gave a 100 shillings note, and was given back a 50 shillings note as his change. However, he angrily thrust the note back at the conductor since it looked old and dirty. The conductor must have been offended by the boy’s rudeness since he refused to change the note for him, and they began arguing over the issue. I was amused when the conductor matter of factly told the school boy that the 50 shillings note was not meant for hanging in the house, and so its beauty did not really matter. But that only incensed the boy who insisted on getting a different note from the conductor to no avail. And that is when I fished a clean 50 shillings note from my pocket and exchanged it with the school boy’s. That is how the tattered 50 shillings note ended up in my wallet.

  When I look at the tired 50 shillings note, all I can think is that rejection can sometimes make a person lose themselves in self pity and easily forget his or her true value. In the face, the 50 shillings note looks tattered, and yet its value is exactly the same as all the other 50 shillings notes in the country. And as I think about the 50 in my wallet hanging out with all the 100s and 200s and 500s and 1000s, I know that this might just be what it needs right now; to know that others accept it as it is. For just like each one of us once in a while, a tattered 50 needs to hear someone tell it that everything will be OK.

• Garden Song

  Posted: February 3, 2009, 8:39 am by Administrator

  Inch by inch, row by row
  Gonna make this garden grow
  All it takes is a rake and a hoe
  And a piece of fertile ground

  Inch by inch, row by row
  Someone bless these seeds I sow
  Someone warm them from below
  Till the rain comes tumblin’ down

  Pullin’ weeds and pickin’ stones
  Man is made of dreams and bones
  Feel the need to grow my own
  Cause the time is close at hand

  Rainful rain, sun and rain
  Find my way in nature’s chain
  Tune my body and my brain
  To the music from the land

  Plant your rows straight and long
  Temper them with prayer and song
  Mother earth will make you strong
  If you give her love and care

  Old crow watchin’ hungrily
  From his perch in yonder tree
  In my garden I’m as free
  As that feathered thief up there

  - Song by John Denver

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Fish cakes

Alas a fish cake.

Yet more fish cakes

Guess what ... yeah ... fish cakes.

The end of the fish cakes