Rat lovers

At 7, boys are curious, discovering the world and the creatures around them.
Mich wants a pet, a creature he can own and look after, it's in his dreams and prayers, Santa Claus is going to have pressure.
Some of the book titles he’s borrowed from the school library include;- “Guinea Pigs”, “Training older dogs”, “Brave Dogs, Gentle Dogs” …
I don't know how to handle this.

His Dad is not a "pet fan", I am, but it depends on what kind of pet. It's not particularly comfortable having frogs and grasshoppers stare at us through plastic bottles placed on the dinning table and I have politely asked Mich to keep them somewhere else. This time I was handed a book on pet rats.

Here are a few excerpts from the book;

Choosing the right rat; These creatures come in more than 20 color variations; black, white, brown, grey, caramel … A healthy rat doesn’t sneeze, wheeze or have diarrhea. Okay!

Making a rat habitat; An aquarium works best. Buy aspen chips and hay to line the bottom of the aquarium, don’t forget rat food pellets, food dishes and a water bottle with a tube – apparently rats get pretty thirsty.

Working on your relationship; When rats are angry or afraid they bite, so play with the rat, make it comfortable and safe.

Cleaning up; Rats are neat freaks, so make sure to clean their little house, that involves removing droppings and stuff.

Exercise; Rats love to run around and are particularly interested in racing, especially towards food.
Tips on how to build a race track, a good rat diet and so on.

At this point I’m thinking, if I read any further I will catapolt into a feat.

Mich nearly mailed this book to grandma because she needs to read up on how to care for rats. She killed a rat the last time he visited her. He was traumatized and reduced to tears at how inrat (my version of inhumane) she was.

Wait a second - Ratatouille, Despereaux, Jerry, Stewart, these are all rats of some kind.

Come to think of it, “Rat race” is not a new phrase either.

Oh my goonness!! There are plenty of rat lovers out there.

What low maintainance, cute pet can get for my boy?

We are NOT getting a rat.

The National Book Festival

Last weekend I attended an amazing event organized by the Library of Congress - The National Book Festival. I was thrilled to be there on two accounts; I love reading and an amazing woman/writer/author/poet/Pulitzer prize winner was going to be there – Tony Morrison. I wanted to listen to her and later have her autograph a copy of her book for me.
The Metro (DC train) is incredibly jammed over the weekends, the connotation of being packed like sardines was quite appropriate. I imagined everyone was heading to the book festival and in fact many were, but many were also visiting museums and historical sites. DC has many attractions and being the Nation’s capital, it seems to draw the world.

I dashed towards the National mall only to find the crowds were already comfortable – as though they had spent the night or something. I was only 5 minutes late for Tony’s talk but her tent was over flowing. I stood at the back; tip toed and cringed my neck to see the lady. She looked just like I thought she would; light skinned with grey locks. She is in her 70’s and still looking great, sounding strong and very informed. Her interviewer kept up to a good pace, asking where she grew up, which schools she attended and why, and how did you end up doing what you do? - the kind of questions anyone would love to ask. The audience was glued to her, almost suffocating as they held on to her every word, they laughed in excitement and listened keenly.

When asked which people had impacted her life the most, she mentioned Angela Davis and Mohammed Ali. Angela who? Ali I knew but Angela Davis? Never heard of her, and just what would Angela and Ali have in common? - Nothing.

Angela Davis is an African American Philosopher and a civil rights activist. Mohamed Ali is the legendary boxer who “floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee”. She was fascinated by his humility and willingness to take instructions from her without questioning.

After the talk, I rushed out to buy her book but everybody was thinking the same thing, by the time I queued, the line was winding for miles like a giant python. The pretty ushers assured us that we would all have our books signed, so we waited patiently. One hour, two hours, the line was moving alright but maybe not fast enough. We kept hope alive, we were going to stand in line no matter what, we were going to meet this amazing woman, she was going to sign our books, shakes our hands and we would never be the same again, perhaps in that handshake we would be transfused with her talent and become the best writers yet. In the third hour it became apparent that some of our wishes wouldn’t be fulfilled, Ms Morison could not sign any more books. The line dispersed. I was disappointed. At least I saw her live, and listened to her speak - I could live with that. I found something to eat and strolled through the other tents. There was so much going on – Family storytelling, contemporary life, children’s authors, poetry and prose, history and biography but as you can imagine only 1 hour to drink it all in. I had to get back home and the bus service is none existent on the weekends, don’t understand why.

As I waited for my ride at the Vienna station, I was approached by a Mormon – never imagined this day would come. He talked about a new prophet called Joseph Smith, who with 12 other disciples wrote the book of Mormons, a somewhat contemporary bible. Why would I need another Prophet and an extra bible? Jesus and the original Bible work just fine for me. It made for an interesting conversation at most. So I’m home, thankful that my mind has been exposed to magical number of authors and genres of writing out there but mostly grateful that I know whom I have believed and I’m persuaded beyond a shadow of doubt.

Have a wonderful week good people.

http://www.mamamich-mjay.blogspot.com/

Luck all the way to IMF and back

The alarm screeched at 5:30am. I scrambled out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. I had to be dressed and ready by 6:30am to catch a ride with Patricia to Washington DC. I was going to meet an old friend. Our appointment was scheduled for 11:00 am but such is the price for a free ride.


Since she was running late, Patricia dropped me at the Metro train station and to prove self-sufficient, I said “sure no problem, I’ll find my way from here”. I stepped out of the car and immediately wondered who I was trying to impress, I didn’t recall how the system worked. I adorned the “I know what I’m about” look and walked into the station. The signs got me onto the right footing, when it came to the details, masses of people were walking in every conceivable direction; I couldn’t guess who to follow, so I asked. The lady at inquiries told me to walk to the end of the corridor and turn left. It was 8:30am, my stomach was beginning to tell stories.

In an open area, people were making cups of coffee and picking bites, I couldn’t believe my luck – free breakfast! But no, it turned out that after you picked your goodies, you were expected to pay at the counter. The chances that someone could make a cup of coffee and walk away were very high (but maybe that’s just the sinner in me).

Right opposite this coffee area was a Barnes and Noble store and as usual, books get the better of me. For over 2 hours I was engrossed in scanning through magazines, checking out the latest books, searching for kids literature - I didn’t notice time.

At 10:40am, I couldn’t ignore the next task, I had to find the metro train heading to Farragut West but first I had to buy a ticket. Now, if you know those ticket machines, then you might have inkling on how intimidating they can be. I have seen people stand there like they are watching a cryptic movie, not certain what to do, this day, I was one of them but not for long. As I was just about to start scratching my head, a lady walked up to me and asked if I wanted to buy a ticket. I said yes. She offered hers, saying she was not going to use it and it was valid for 4 more days. She had paid $47 for it and she was happy to sell it to me at $15. I was immediately suspicious, but okumanya I’m a villager, I gave her the benefit of the doubt because she was a muzungu, anti you know fe abbadugavu tuyina history (do I need to repent for that?).

I had only $13 and she was happy to take it. I couldn’t believe my luck, although a part of me was concerned that the card would be rejected. It wasn’t. Actually it was a very good investment because I was able to make several trips on the metro with it. Now because I had to change to the orange metro line, I was a little unsure of myself. As I stepped off the train, a gentleman was helping a guy find his way and as luck would have it, we were headed in the same direction. So I stood at a distance and listened and then walked slowly behind them. When they got onto the next train, I quickly hopped on and gave thanks in my heart.

I got to the IMF headquarters at 11am. As I walked through, I thought about Dominic Strauss Kahn and how he probably walked through these very doors. Wow, sophisticated and guarded from every imaginable angle! While waiting, I received a phone call. The lady asked if it was a good time to talk and I was tempted to say “Sorry, not right now. I’m at the IMF headquarters waiting to see some very important people” but my cordial spirit took over and I said “Sure, now is as good a time as any!”

I’m glad I did, it was a hiring firm inviting me for an interview - that will be conversation for another day.

Julius, it was fun catching up on the past, present and future.

Metaphorically speaking

3 years ago God gave me a song, but not the stage to sing it on.
It said “You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains” - I was slipping further into the valley.
It said “You raise me up to walk on stormy seas” - I was drowning.
It said “You raise me up to more than I can be” that’s when I asked, “But God, what do you mean?”

Silence!
I figured I had misheard Him. I tucked the song away but each time I heard it play, it drew me to a familiar place. He was God anyway and I had no business creating a stage or selling tickets for my show.

Has God given you specifics but the details of your life are easily comparable to catching a cloud or sand sifting through your grip? Well that’s not new, been there. I have learned that our God is too big to fathom, His ways are way, way, up there and you and me are down below. He knows the end from the beginning and everything in between.

Keep walking, keep praying, keep trusting and you will be amazed at what God is doing. May be not now, actually many times, not now, but in Time, it will be made beautiful. Blessed are those who are patient for they will develop Character and Discipline and Self control. In case you haven’t realized, your life is not about you – tough huh?! Well, that fact becomes more palatable when you get with the program.

Three years down the road, I’m beginning to see how the lyrics of that song are playing out in my life. I stand in awe. I confess too that I had gone off on a tangent, when I first got the song; I imagined how it was all going to play out. I could see the stage, the instrumentalists, the backup team, but oh how off the mark! I look at it now and it’s an orchestra and there is a crowd of witnesses. If and when I take centre stage, I will not need to convince any one listening; they have seen and heard my voice in rehearsal. He makes all things beautiful in His time.

Remain accountable and...

Wait upon the Lord!

Ps. If this message strikes a chord with you, Amen! I just felt compelled to write it. If you have questions I'm happy to answer them too.

Coming up to breath!

So, I have been under, trying to get my bearings. I figure if I don’t come up now, I will be out longer than I would like.
We got here in one piece and I can confidently say Amani is my daughter - a chip off the old block. 5 years ago I hopped on a 17 hour plane ride with my 2 year old son who literally run riot. I was this close to disowning the toddler. I kept asking myself, “who is this kid?, where did he come from?” - he couldn’t sit still and he yelled his lungs out, I reached my wits end and in the same breath concluded those were not my genes.

For this plane ride I was bracing myself, keeping my fingers crossed and stuff. Amani sung, clapped her hands and promptly fell asleep. There were a few moments of discomfort but on the whole she was great! In my haste to make it to the airport and all the other issues that were crowding my mind, I forgot to pack her milk and snacks. Which mother does such crazy things? I’m guilty. But you know, she made it through on the funny meals on the plane, Bless God!
At some point I got into a panic thinking, “oh my gosh! She is going to wake up and scream the plane to the ground, then what will I do?’ But no! she was curious about the clouds and the plane wings. After 17 hours we were still good!
She literally stole the hearts of all the guys that met her, they smiled, carried her and she busked in it, she even attempted to follow one of them. What’s with baby girls and grown men? Her Dad is melting butter around her, it’s amazing. Mich, now 7 years old, was a fantastic big brother, he made sure Amani was entertained, he sat still, put on his seat belt and was glued to the movie screen.

We arrived at Dulles (read dallas) airport in Washington D.C.
It felt special to join the queue of US citizens and permanent residents. Castilo was about to finish his shift and we were the last in line. I presented our sealed envelops and passports to him, he verified the information, took our finger prints and showed us which door to walk through to pick our luggage.
Coming from Africa, it was only natural that we were directed to the queue with those whose luggage needed to be checked (Indians, Mexicans, Asians - get the drift?)- just incase we had brought in grasshoppers or something just as weird.
The mexican lady before us was asked 4 times if she had carried  dried meat and 4 times she denied, her facial expressions implied that a) she had no idea what the officer was talking about and b) what ever it was, she didn't have it. Three officers surrounded her case and begun to ransack it and all they came up with was what looked like tamarind (sour berries/apedur)  - they let her go.
Knowing that I hadn't carried any weird stuff, I said I didn't have anything to declare except my spices - Royco, curry, bla bla. The machine spotted something in my suitcase and the officer was all over me.
'Mom, what do you have in this suit case?"
" urr clothes, shoes ...",
"Mom, I'm going to have to check this case", meanwhile I couldn't for the life of me recall putting in anything out of the ordinary. He finally finds the "things" and asked, what are these?  and I said "Paper bead necklaces"
Eh eh! life can be complicated!

The weather is great! I can’t imagine facing obscene summer temperatures with 2 kids who are adjusting to a new environment.

Mich is into his second week of school, yes, we hit the ground running, but so far so good. He is super excited to be here, he thinks Burger King and Mc Donald’s dropped from heaven (we’ve got to eat healthy my boy, remember we are back to the land of big words like calories and stuff).
I’m now a pro on “outside countries”! - everything seems mundane already, maybe because I spend my days applying for jobs. There is no maalo, although Mich cracked me up the other day when I found him staring at a huge furry cat sitting at a neighbors front door. He was clearly calculating which part would be safest to hold, so he could carry it away. To check the situation, I asked him what he was doing, he was so glad to see me,
he said “mummy please help me carry this cat home”,
I said “Mich, this cat probably belongs to these neighbors and I don’t think they would be pleased to find it gone”
he said “It’s a free cat, I asked all the people here if it belonged to them and they said no, so I can take it”.
I was tempted to burst out laughing but with the serious look on his face, it was clearly no laughing matter. We had a brief talk about animals and he seemed satisfied but only temporarily. The boy is into pets big time.
That’s about all for now, I’m still scatter brained at the moment, settling in a new country is major. There is a lot of information to read and keep abreast with but I will get going soon.

I'm all grown up now

There will always be prettier girls, with firmer abs, whiter teeth, longer hair, bigger busts and perfect body shapes. There will always be more intelligent human beings with out- of- this -world ideas. They will sing better, be more confident, be “the best friend” and do “the job” with excellence and that’s just fine.


But, NO ONE can be me better than me.

As I hug the shore of 35 I reflect on who I’ve become.

I look into the mirror and I see a woman, a grown woman, a wife, a mother, a mentor, a friend. I look again and the tell tale signs are everywhere - I have been around for some time. According to research everything goes downhill from here on; cells don’t replace as fast and I’m sorta slowing down. Can I deal with that and accept it gracefully?

A part of me goes into panic mode, alarms bells set off in my head, question marks circling my mind like eager children singing “a ring a ring of roses” .

What have I done with my life?

I look through lenses of this world, this culture, this society and quite frankly I don’t measure up. I haven’t hit that career mark. I don’t possess the fancy car or live in a house that I call my own. My son is not enrolled in “the school” neither does he possess toys of the latest cartoon character.

When I blink and look again with Jesus lens, my fears are calmed, I’m confident and secure because all I see is love, and then I feel like a little girl – “I’ll always be a little girl in Father's eyes”

In God’s hands I can BE, I can DO
In Him there are no time limits, Sarah; Abraham’s wife can tell you all about that.
In Him I’m bigger and better, so if I have 2 days, or 2 decades left, in Christ I’m maximized.
I know I won’t leave this world alive, so I want to make it count and it can only count in Christ.
My true satisfaction is in God, in being the best me that God intended.

I will dance the funky chicken, watch cartoons, laugh with abandon, give tighter hugs, love my body and look after it better, turn the music loud, get in touch with the madness within. For in doing this I will be praising my creator. Life is not about me, it’s about Him and I’m only here for Him and His purposes. So if my plans for me are not fulfilled its fine, what counts is His plans for me being accomplished.

Life is a gift.
I want to give it through a smile, a touch, a prayer; to live in the moment, to celebrate friendships, to use all my gifts and talents.

I like the confidence that I’ve adorned with the years, I’m no longer naïve, and I know my strengths and weaknesses. I know what I can do and choose to focus on that, for my shortcomings, well, I pray for grace to accept them and wisdom to know the difference.

Hello world, here I come.

Now let’s do this!!!

My two cents on this Tenth Anniversary

Time flies when you’re having fun!


1997-1999. 2 awesome years of waiting on the mail man, secretly praying that when I checked the mail book at the KPC reception I would see my name or that the Maria would say “Hi Mary, you’ve got mail”.

1999-2000. A brilliant mind invented Internet and my troubles matured to Eudora, inventing a yahoo email address and typing a message finger by slow finger like I was bursting bubbles with each key; Finding an internet café or tracking down Koma at the MUK computer lab and then queuing for the one PC that everyone wanted to use. Oh! How my heart would sink when I saw “No unread messages”.

So the virtual relationship lasted 3 years. In the 4th year we wed. I said my vows eagerly – I was marrying my best friend. We enjoyed 2 years of blissful companion ship before Mich showed up, then life changed. There was a lot more on my plate – a baby who depended on me, a husband who felt threatened by this little bundle of “selfishness”; church ministry took a back sit, keeping friendships and a career became immense hard work . A whole new world!

My waist line got erased and kilos crept on with relatives and friends. With all the exhaustion and frustration came misunderstandings, arguments and stress. Do we still love each other? Are we growing apart? Was this love thing for real? The commitment to talking things through, facing the nasty things about one’s self, owning up for mistakes, understanding that we are both not perfect and struggling to keep Jesus in the picture helps us through the rough patches.

7 years later Amani made her grand entry.
Family comes first; working after hours is not encouraged. Ask questions, read between the lines. Spend time together, you’ll argue more, rub each other the wrong way more but in the process you’ll understand each other better.

Never underestimate backgrounds, childhood experiences and family traditions. For a while I thought Sam came from the craziest family ever and he thought my family had lost it. It was as though we were the only two sane survivors from either side but we didn’t totally escape. Just like a person who passes through smoke comes away with a whiff, we each had our family scents. One quick example; My dad always bought groceries, he came home with chicken, bread, sugar, snacks, bananas e.t.c No, he was not given a shopping list and no, it was not expected of him, but each time we were all pleasantly surprised. On the other hand Sam’s mom did all the shopping without any exceptions. So you can imagine my chaos and speechlessnessssssss when he would come home empty handed after passing a supermarket. Expectations, assumptions, very key. The more time I spent with his family the more I understood the “whys” and the “where for’s” and he likewise, but I advise that you spend the time in small doses, an over doze in a short period can be fatal.

Our roles have been defined along the way. He is disciplined with money, so he handles the family finances. I love to eat so the kitchen is my territory.

We celebrate each other’s victories; Job promotions, recognitions, opportunities, successes. We have had the opportunity to suffer loss too. When Sam lost his job a few years ago it was a crisis. He needed encouragement, reassurance and space. I never saw him more vulnerable and partly I didn’t understand it, so at times I wasn’t sure how to handle him, so I took him to The Cross and prayed that some guy would reach out to him so they could speak the same language. A year or two before that I lost two handsome little boys and devastated can hardly describe my state at the time. Sam couldn’t quite fill the void or soothe the hurt so I run to The Cross. Along the way we have realized that he can’t be everything to me and neither can I to him. Jesus has continued to be our corner stone and then out of the blue a friend calls and they are a breath of fresh air, a just-in-time blessing because they understand the situation so well and can finish our sentences.

Do we get attracted to other people? Of course! It’s what you do with it that makes all the difference. Intimacy? It can be a trick especially after kids – exhaustion, too many demands from every corner, monotony, life!!! But like the marriage, you work at it.

10 years on, the love continues to marinate.

Because He lives we can handle tomorrow.