My 37-days Stint in Banking

What is it about the life of a Christian that makes it so unpredictable? Like the wind, one hears it but knows not where it goes or comes from?

That is the question that lingered in my mind as I reflected on the twists and turns in my life. As many of you are aware, I recently got a job in Family Bank. This, coming two years after graduation was truly most refreshing. Hence, it was expected that I would wear myself thin in ensuring that this one did not slip through my fingers. However, this was not the case. I resigned. The stated reason for doing so was going for full time post graduate studies at the University of Nairobi. However, there was an underlying reason. Those who know me well suspected it and they are right.  

As a Christian, there is that fundamental question that always begs an answer, “What is God’s will for my life?” During the fourth year of my undergraduate studies, I obtained the answer. There was this particular course that affected me greatly. All other courses, I learnt out of a sense of duty. This one, I learnt out of a sense of devotion. Food and Nutrition Security opened my eyes to a whole new world. To say that I came alive in that class is an understatement. It is in that class that a quite but strong conviction stubbornly settled in my heart. This was what I wanted to spend the waking hours of my life upon-ensuring food and nutrition security for the vulnerable populace whenever and wherever. This conviction took me to several places. All of which I volunteered: Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital (MTRH), National Cereals and Produce Board (NCPB), Academic Model Providing Access to Healthcare (AMPATH). Judging from this list, banking was nowhere in my mind. However, the anxieties of this life got to me and I finally gave in to that philosophy which I had strongly argued against in the past-getting any job that comes your way. Why? So I can have a meaningful answer to that question that many use to define others, “So, what do you do?”   

  

I enjoyed banking for a while. That was before that conviction that settled in my heart two years ago started gnawing and burning within. Every time I saw those 4x4 land cruisers with red number plates heading to Lodwar or some other arid land, my heart skipped a bit. Every time I held a newspaper and read of a looming crisis in the food security of a particular region, the more anxious I became. When I surveyed my humble library and saw titles such as “Food and the Poor”, “The Kenyan Maize sub sector performance”, “Community Nutrition”, “The Management of Severe Malnutrition”…my heart sunk. I continually became restless in my work and even though I worked hard at it, my heart was elsewhere. Every evening after work, adorned in dark sharp suits, I walked in the streets of Kitale, turning a head or two here and there. It was evident I was the envy of many. Family Bank having a good name among Kitale folk, my face had become familiar, and thus a nod here and a nod there had become the norm. To many, I was the young guy in the right place only waiting for my big break. However, inside, I was the young man lured by money and watching time fly by as a most crucial task remained unattended. 

It is this task that has led me to improve myself at the University of Nairobi through that field that has lured me from my first year in my undergraduate studies-Applied Human Nutrition. The good book states it is not good to have zeal without knowledge (Proverbs 19:2). I have the former in full measure. I lack the latter and hence my being in Kabete to pursue this noble course.

The years of my pilgrimage are few and tender. There are many things that I am yet to fully grasp. However, this much I know. God has called me to this peculiar task; that I spend myself on behalf of the hungry and I satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then my light shall will rise in the darkness and my night will become like the noon day (Isaiah 58:10). Let it be so.

7th Anniversary

The years gone by tell a lot of the years to come. Such is the conviction in mine heart after 7 years in salvation-10^th July is the date to be exact. As I look back over my shoulders, I see a God who is relentless in His pursuit of me. The times when my heart was prone to wander, He was there. The times when I wanted to throw in the towel, He was there. The times under that dark cloud of guilt and shame that I dared not venture into His presence, He was there. The times when I envied the wicked and their lavish ways, He was there. The times when the road ahead was marked with uncertainty that I felt like a blind man groping along in a dark alley, He was there. Seven years on and I have not quite figured Him all out but the little I know, He is here.

Maybe, trying to figure Him out is a futile pursuit. Maybe, He cannot be all figured out. Why then does He dare us to try and do so? Me thinks that therein lies the greatest of happiness. To borrow a worldly phrase “the thrill is in the chase”. Then when we almost give up in this chase, He reveals a lil’ tiny weeny bit o’ Himself. We become so enthralled by this slice of revelation that we want the whole loaf. We pick up our silly selves, plant our wandering feet in the narrow way, fix our gaze up yonder and continue in our pursuit of Him. 

 

Then there are those times when we are doing so well in this pursuit. We let down our guards and that monster that usually comes before a fall creeps in-Pride. We compare ourselves to the other wretched worms in this pursuit and deem ourselves superior. “I have been doing this for __ years”, we deceive ourselves. Soon we find ourselves mired and we cannot wiggle out of it. Then, He, the ever gracious and compassionate one, extends a hand. We grab it and find ourselves free. It is then that it dawns on us that He has been the one chasing us all along. The times when we think we are ahead of the game, He is miles and miles ahead. Then we are humbled.

Seven years on, I am in awe of Him who gave His all that I may be truly His.

The Gift of Adversity

Among the many privileges of being alive, is that peculiar human ability to look into the past and study the lives of great men and women who have gone before us; to cry over their flaws, admire their strength, laugh at their naivety, rejoice in their victories and yes, identify with their losses. It is a privilege that all who desire to better their lives should engage in from time to time. In my doing so, I have observed a common thread that weaves through the tapestry that is their lives-adversity.

Defined as a difficult and unpleasant situation, adversity is not one those things that we look forward to (like a hot cuppa tea on a rainy day). Yet, it is the one thing, more often than not, that gives the impetus to want to succeed. It is not a pre-requisite for success. It is a necessary ingredient.

I am a first born. Unlike my siblings, I have seen my parents at their worst moments; the times when putting food on the table was more important than what kind was laid, when the roof over their heads was porous to the elements of nature, when their choice of clothing was wanting, when bills drew sighs and when they struggled to give their children the best of education in spite of their meagre earnings. Through these trying periods, never at any one time did my siblings and I get the impression that we had reached a dead end. My parents kept on moving. Sometimes they ran, sometimes they walked briskly. Sometimes they plodded. All in all, they kept surging forth.  In retrospect, I realise that those moments of adversity made them who they are today. They were patient through them. They did not nag and if they did, we never caught them in the act. They embraced adversity and lived to tell the tale.

I compare myself with my parents’ kind, and I find myself wanting. I realise that my attitude along with that of my generation towards adversity is appalling. We nag at the slightest bump on our road to success. We want in a day the things that took our parents a decade to attain. We deem most jobs being below us. We view adversity as a preserve for the less privileged-an experience confined to the slums, Jua kali and wherever it is that people living on less than a dollar a day are to be found.

It is no wonder that the character of those who have “made it” easy, especially in the current crop of the Y generation, is wanting. I have found most to be haughty, condescending, peevish, and whatever other ill adjective the Queen’s language avails. 

I have chosen to take the path less trodden. I will embrace adversity. I will learn from it. I will look at it in the eye and tell it, “You will not win over me. You may seem like you are but you will not. I will prevail. By God’s grace I must prevail” Then I will gloat when I see it turn its back, tail in between its legs and walk away, waiting for another opportune time to visit. And should Providence have before me two gifts of adversity and pleasantry. I will choose the former, for then I shall grow wiser and consequently avoid the trappings of pleasantry that so many of my peers have fallen into.

I am Grateful

Gratitude is a discipline that is seldom practised. In the few occasions that we do, gratitude is usually prompted by near death experiences that jolt us into appreciating life; from the lofty out-of-this-world experiences right down to the mundane routine tasks. However, it has come to my realisation that we are a blessed lot. Hereby, “we” refer to “God’s Children, born not out of human will but God’s”. I am not ignorant of the fact that the sufferings that plague humanity do not pass by us. In fact, it is the dearest of God’s children who seem to go through the most suffering. To the ignorant world, it may seem that the God they love has forsaken them. Yet, it is at such times of suffering that they feel His presence ever near. It is at such times that classic stories such as “foot prints in the sand” are called to memory. It is at such times that scriptures read casually of Emmanuel, “God with Us” come alive. It is at such momentous times in their lives that they exhibit such deep peace that stupefies the world and confounds the wise. At that precise point in time, these children become instruments of immense proportions. They may not know it. Understandably, suffering may cloud their judgment yet their faith remains steadfast. God enables it so. In a paradoxical manner, their sonorous and angelic voices become as soothing as ever, trees of life that bring healing whenever and wherever they sound. Their demeanour attracts the scum of the earth such that these dregs of the society are at home with God’s children yet are pointed to a higher home-one whose architect and builder is God. Their eyes gaze lovingly into those whose laughter betrays an aching heart; eyes glistened with emotion, they offer a shoulder to lean on and a soul that groped in the dark suddenly comes to light. Yes, these heavenly tasks are carried out in utmost humility and in the most self-effacing manner. And yes, these dear suffering souls are the most grateful to their God.

I cannot claim to have suffered. Nay, considering the kind of sufferings other people have gone through, I have no inkling what suffering is all about. However, I can claim I have a lot to be grateful about. That claim is delightfully true...

                               

     I am grateful that I once was blind but now I see,

    I am grateful that I once was lost but now am found,

    I am grateful that one day my saviour I will see,

   And to Him  I will be blissfully and eternally bound

   

  I am grateful that one step before me lies,                            

                         I am grateful that it is all I need to see,                             

   

                         I am grateful that in Him, sorrow away flies,                            

                        

                         And my soul rests as the serene sea.                            

                          

                         I am grateful that He keeps my tummy full,                            

                          

                         I am grateful that to this end, He never fails,                            

                         

                         I am grateful that I am grateful,                            

              

                        And when I am not, His grace gently prevails.

Of Beard, Leadership and Integrity

Leadership development has had its fair share of airplay recently. This of course has to do with the fact that most, if not all, of the ills that plague our beloved country can be traced back to poor leadership or total absence of it. It was thus a breath of fresh air when Leadership and Integrity was captured in the new constitution. However, as much as I am a firm believer that this is the way to go, I also believe that too much ambition would inevitably result in ambiguity. I am not a privileged member of the circle that is the learned friends but as a self-declared patriot, I have a say in this matter. And I say rule out any weak spots that are ambiguous. We are already paying the price seeing that none is certain of when the next general elections shall be held. Anyway, here is my bone of contention. I cannot quote it like our learned friends do. So I beg the indulgence of the reader to look up its exact location in the leadership and integrity bill.

(2) A state officer shall possess the following leadership qualities –

(p) Maintenance of personal hygiene and modesty and objectivity in dressing, speaking and writing in public and private life.

13. (1) A State officer shall—

(f) Maintain an appropriate standard of dress and personal hygiene;

There now. Do you see it? How does one go about measuring personal hygiene-objectively measuring personal hygiene? What is the standard of a leader’s personal hygiene? Who determines the appropriateness of a leader’s personal hygiene? Considering that the feminist movement’s ball is garnering immense masses, I feel for my kind; the kind that adorns steely wires on their chins commonly referred to as beard. I have been on the receiving end because of this adornment that I love. “Shave it please” I have often been told. This voice has been lifted higher by the older folks among my kind. I have no idea where or when this idea came forth but it is there among the old folks-and it persists in a most nagging manner to beard lovers such as I. That a leader has to be clean-shaven in order to be considered one. I humour myself atimes and Imagine an aspiring candidate barred from holding office due to “excessive amounts of beard that exhibit ill maintenance of personal hygiene”. A bit far-fetched one might say. However, there are those among us notorious for cheap publicity stunts. Sooner or later they will see this platform and use every ounce of their energy to dance upon it. Consider this…

(5)Any person or the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission may apply to the High Court for the nullification of any selection or election or appointment which does not meet the requirements of this section

Those two words-any person-is an invitation to that lass or lad seeking attention. The Kenyan populace being hungry for such ludicrous shows, he or she will get that unmerited attention. And this is all because of beard. An advance warning to such is that it has nothing to do with leadership. There are clean shaven men out there who have no inkling about leadership and integrity. On the other hand, there are full grown bearded men out there who are oozing with leadership and integrity. Let us not lose such because of ambiguities in our law. I rest my case!

Unfinished Business

I thought I would be writing this article from my space. This is because I had decided to move out i.e. leave my parents’ home. Well, it did not happen. This was my second attempt at doing so. The first ended in a conversation with the Old man that I can only describe politely as condescending. Any attempt to try and explain why I am moving out was met with the harshest of stares. Perhaps some elaboration is in order. I am the first born. I believe I have mentioned this before; there is this unwritten rule among the Kalenjins that the first born son is the father’s right hand man. He is the one who runs errands at the father’s whims. Do not mind that the young man has a mind of his own and ambitions to pursue. This is momentarily shelved when carrying out orders from father. Needless to say, that first attempt at securing my niche in this beautiful planet was peremptorily shattered. I did not harbour any hard feelings. I did not have a job and the thought of coming back to my parents asking them too bail me out repulsed me. Furthermore, the Old man had built a two-bedroom house for the boys- complete with a spacious bathroom and kitchen. I am sure he envisaged my wanting to try my wings out there after graduation. He was also in the process of expanding his farming enterprises. After thinking hard and long, he tied me down by building quarters nearby. “Why go out to rent when he has a two-bedroom house all to himself?” he must have mused. I held my horses. At my second attempt, I still did not have a job. However, I had enough money to sustain me for three months comfortably or four if lived in frugality. I figured this period would be enough to seek and find some sustainable employment. There was lots of tension at home. I still wanted to move out but not without the blessings of my parents. I held my horses. It was later on that it dawned on me why all my efforts have been hitting a brick wall. Some time back, I had confided in a friend about my plans for the aforementioned quarters. I wanted to it to be a harbour for the weary traveller, weary at heart and body. I had read of Dr. Francis Schaeffer, the director of L’Abri fellowship in Huemoz, Switzerland. His story moved me. Many nights were spent at his home engaging in discourse on spiritual truths. His guests were from different faiths, endowments, races and nationalities. This seeking of spiritual truth combined with the clean air of mountainous Switzerland, contributed immensely to the sound health-spiritually and physically-of L’Abri visitors. I thought of the ideal location of Eldoret, how convenient it would be to hold those nights of discussion with truth seekers as Dr. Francis held at L’Abri. Now I figure the reason why I wanted to move out was to be at par with my peers. Most of them are out there leaving a mark in their workplaces. I can brood over my situation, play the blame game, and risk developing ulcers over circumstances external to me...or I can pose for a moment, figure out what is it that holds me back, and upon realising that I have an unfulfilled promise to my heavenly Father, go ahead and deliver. I choose the latter; it is what any prudent child of God would do.