DARE TO IMAGINE: Sketches beyond the eyes.

Oh misty eyes of the mountain below, keep careful watch of my brother’s souls, and should the sky be filled with, fire and smoke, keep watching over Durin’s sons……

 

A beautiful rhythm and tune by Ed Sheeran to match the misty atmosphere hanging above. So heavy is it that even the very vision I would assume once was mine is nowhere as the ever glowing magical horizon is nowhere to be seen. Call it vision masked and lost to the elements.

 

In most cases as such do you begin questioning reality itself. If an atmospheric space and distance of a limited 438kms are enough to cause such a blur to the eyes and even heart, what would happen if the whole expanse of the universe was handed to us as it has been?

 

Yes my dear treader, tell me if you may, what is real and what is fake? What is perfect and what is vague? Do you sometimes if not always question your very reality? Do you even dare to dream beyond what meets or even fits your eyes? And what do you see when you set your mind and not eyes to task?

 

Yes, I know most times it takes both the eyes and mind to work together and break to dawn the hidden truths we dare not imagine or even think about. Worry not then my dear treader for if you tasked your mind with such wonders then what would be the purpose of PePa? Haha, I too wonder.

 

So then, come along the sketches of PePa, and together let us tread these paths that so buffet our vision.

 

As I close my eyes and breath in the freshness of the misty air, one that has kept most persons indoors and rid the atmosphere of all its pollutants, I can calmly enjoy its bite as it cuts through the thin membranes of my nostrils and thence filling me up with a nostalgic surge of my younger years.

 

Years when I would reluctantly rise up earlier than the sun and grazing cows, brush my teeth and briskly wash my eyes of night sleep, and sliding into my pair of beige shorts, checked brown shirt and dark brown cardigan, I would rush to school. Two slices of bread always did the tummy a huge favour those beautiful chilly mornings and when shoe polish was out of reach, I had discovered that milking jelly also gave those black shoes a certain unimaginable glow.

 

Flipside was that the glow disappeared as soon as the cold mist outside hit the surface of my shoes and their final state was worse than the initial, quite laughable huh? Nothing to laugh about though as such memories, especially of getting a whooping in school for not being neat enough was not a welcome joy at all. The same has led me to this day to be a lover of canvas shoes other than leather shoes. How I wish they had allowed me back then to wear these same shoes that I can dorn an entire week without worrying about how much dirt they will gather on repeat.

 

All the same, those were beautiful days as they now fill my heart with their nostalgic fits. How I ended up winning an award for being the cleanest student at the end of the day, I can only attribute to the Almighty and discipline of washing and drying school clothes overnight to wear again the coming morning; Oh and we had no electric iron box to press them down to crispness back then so you can but figure out the strain and resilience it all built. Or did we? Aha, how so when we didn’t have electricity in the first place, or could it have used rechargeable batteries and even solar? Haha, quite laughable if you ask me as Chinese technology and their rechargeable everything hadn’t yet hit our part of the sphere then.

 

Times have past and days turned into many years, many beautiful years with nothing to regret but everything to be grateful about even as I reflect upon what is real and what is not.

 

Not to lose you still, come along the sketches of PePa again and this time around let us stop with him at the intersection into the central business district. The traffic police has raised his hand for my section of traffic to stop and the intersecting road is all but clear. What amazes my gaze is this rugged man who crosses before me. He has shaggy dirty hair, tattered clothes, and a dirty sack hanging on his drooping shoulders.

 

Sometimes I know I overthink things but help me understand, why is he using the zebra crossing, unlike nature dictates? I mean he is crossing the road but why the zebra crossing? Maybe you still don’t catch my drift but hey, the thing is, with the intersection open and he not being sane at all, nature dictates that he should be walking right through the main road, or in between cars but see, he isn’t. He calmly crosses right at the zebra crossing and for a moment I question his insanity or my sanity for that matter.

 

I am dazed as I look on at him go over to the other side and with oncoming traffic at his end he waits for the cars to drive through before he proceeds to cross again. ”Is he really insane?” I wonder,” or did I miss the entire truth of the matter?”

 

Such is life as we may see it my dear treader but I have been forced to most times like this think beyond what I see. As he calmly walked over the zebra crossing, a glimpse of the motorist driving beside me, with his mask on went on to show the unease and frustration at the snarl in traffic we were in. The rush of life in him versus the calm and surity in the supposed insane man brought lots to question.

 

What if the ones we thought insane were the actual sane ones yet we who thought ourselves sane were the insane ones? Okay then if that makes no sense, tell me why this motorist would bump the rare end of the car I am driving and as if nothing happened, they calmly drive off leaving the car with a deep scratch? Well, we can excuse them for now, but tell me about this other one who as I enter the junction whilst all other cars are at a stall, revs up in front of me and almost hits the front of the car and as if that is not enough, he goes on to snarl at me and pointing to his head tells me to use mine, hahaha.

 

What if, just as a friend asked, when you thought you were using oxygen you rose up one day and realised oxygen was instead using you and once you were of no more use it got rid of you and your death was then imminent?

 

Do you ever ask yourself what if? Let us dare to imagine and think beyond what light of day presents to the eyes. Let us have vision beyond the eyes and see all that our minds and hearts need to see, let us not limit ourselves to the only possibilities we have grown to see and live with; let us blow reality and explore all there is in the world and beyond.

 

Don’t you know that the Great I am told us to ask of Him and see if He will not give us the nations as our inheritance and the ends of the earth as our possession? Shall we then possess what we can’t imagine?

 

What if?

 

Allow my chilly fingers to type away the cold and hold back the freeze with happy knuckles as I say adios. and stay blessed.

 

PePa: The Sketches Of Life.

YOU CAN’T GIVE UP: The Sketches Of Surrender.

If I could hear my own voice through the commotion and clatter that has made reign within my heart…If I could shut off all the noise and cries of depression without. If only for a moment it could all cease and right here with me would be a new dawn…..If only, I mean it is feasible, right?

And yet all I still hear is the troubled turmoil within my heart, the consternation that so creeps in and reminds me of how many times I have failed before. Reminding me that there is nothing to make this time around any different.

Still, I hear the voices of all these motivational speakers chyme over and over and over again. Telling me that I can’t afford to give up, but then I can’t afford anything else now, can I? Giving up is easy and free, so why not?

I try to listen on but all that keeps drumming through my ears is that they have no idea what it really means to be at the precipice of hope, right near that same dawn through which joy should come and yet opening my eyes still see utter destruction coming in. All that hope they have preached and shouted over their lungs seems to have been just that, noise.

Not that any of my worries are playing in bits to rectify any predicament I currently am in but the more I delve into it, the more I tend to lose all my initial bearing. I thus find myself a prisoner of my own predicament; gasping for air in a choke and entanglement within all the reeds underneath the wave of my wallow.

I gasp for air but the more I open up my mouth, the more the water becomes salty and even dries up the very sound from my throat. No one is nearby to aid my now drowning self. I feel as if I am caught up in a fiction movie that is all but now seeming all real, or more like in that inception dream that fits reality more than the broken dreams themselves. Di Caprio would best describe the feeling as he loses his wife within the dream.

So, my dear readers, at the bottom of the ocean am I just like Jonah was in the Old Testament scriptures, this time around, however, there is no huge fish to come save me or even Leonardo Di Caprio’s spin pin back to reality. I am lost to myself and there can only be one Saviour of me. Trust me that can’t be the Christ either as He already played His part upon the cross and with that His love always abides with me.

So, seeing that there is only one person left to save me and they seem not to be around, I am forced to search much deeper within. To for a moment give no reign nor recognition to all the turmoil beating all around me and focus on myself. A moment if selfishness must thus take center-stage and realizing I have been given all I ever needed, I must find me.

Withstanding the pain and letting it wash over all my senses, I must grow numb to the pain to find the peace that dwells much deeper. Here is the Usah moment of discovery by Will Smith in his Bad boys’ movie down in the 90s.

Or for those deep in scripture, this is the moment you remember that the Almighty already gave you the power of life and death and with the heavens and earth as your witnesses then it is only you left to play your part and exercising your faith believe and act upon it.

I hence realize and get to see that my dawn was never even here in the first place and that I had limited myself to the timespan and parameters of the human mind when in reality, my perseverance in spite of all odds surely wins me through.

Did I just use the word perseverance? The same words that saw me through a tough Maseno School regime in the name of a motto devoid of the harsh reality on the ground. A most well-articulated motto in the Luo tongue read as,” Kinda piny emanyalo gimoro.”A direct translation to this would mean,” The patience and endurance upon the earth are all that can win you something,”… An easier translation, however, reads as,” Perseverance shall win you through,”

So, truth be told, right from the heavens above, to the earth below and the wind without. Right through the ages past and oracles alongside scriptures revealed, I have nothing to fear for I realize that all odds aren’t actually tipped against me as I would imagine, but, sure rest in my favour with my volition brought to call.

Now this time round I listen more keenly to the hope giver and motivational speakers and looking beyond their words I can finally see, that the race is not for the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance, happens to them all. And the secret lay all along before my eyes, that my dawn is not gone as I thought but as promised, though troubles may last for a night, my joy is here and not past in this dawn.

Neither is your’s my dear treader, neither is your joy gone, so hold on, keep on and never stop for any action in the physical world sure has a reaction in the spiritual realm.

What then shall your action in the physical world be? Defeat and surrender or a fight to the last breath? Will you fight standing or will you die on your knees? And if the victory belongs to the Almighty then to who does the battle belong?

So I need not even hear my own voice for the entire universe is speaking for me and it keeps repeating, ”You can’t give up, keep on going, you are almost there…”

Ps. Catch more of my sketches on my YouTube channel here.

https://www.youtube.com/user/eyeot

 

PePa: The Sketches Of Life.

AUGUST: Sketches through the omens.

It is said in the walk of life that we should always look out for the omens that lead us in this journey. The scriptures say to always listen to the still small voice and not be blinded by the huge storms and hauling winds around.

 

I have always wondered why listen to the small still voice yet all the answers lay in the inscriptions glowing in the huge occurrences? Truth is that in the midst of the most visible things and actions we think we see the truth but right therein do we miss the entire picture and are even led astray as it lays riddled in the small details rather than projected in the masses.

 

So hitting the 2nd day of August I am drawn back to this small post made by a follower on Instagram that said,” August, it’s like the Sunday of Summer.” Mmmh, I thought, August being like the Sunday of Summer is such a big proclamation indeed yet wrought in very simple words, huh?

 

I looked outside and noticed that after a long time without much brightness, the sun had finally come out to dance with the clouds and the blue of the sky projected all this joy in a symphony of an hour joy dance. It is the 2nd day of August as I write this post.

 

I honestly had to wait for a day’s length to see the true meaning of those words you see? Sitting here as I jot this I realise that those simple words proclaimed had every truth in them. All hid so openly you would easily miss it as you look at the dullness now around.

 

The sun came out on a single first day to proclaim the beauty of August. Looking at it today we may not even understand it all but opening the entire depth of the small still voice and the statement of reading the omens you realise that it has all been laid bare right before us yet we can but so easily miss it all.

 

So going back to our dark winter days, we must embrace the fact that the beauty of every season is never really displayed in the entirety of the season but rather in a moment missed within it. Note also that no matter how hard you are pressed at the moment, do not be too blinded by your predicament that you miss the entire bliss of the situation you are in.

 

Quite ironical you might retort but this lays as the truth of how often we miss the omens in our lives and give up. Thinking in the process that all our efforts have amounted to naught. In the process of this desperation do we miss the fact that every little effort has amounted to something and thus taken us through to the point we are at.

 

It is all pinned up and lined in the little efforts and steps we make. it doesn’t have to add up and be full-blown right at this time. When we reach the top of the mountain however, we will look back down and wonder how it is we made it all the way to the top with all the strain we had?

 

Do not be so taken by the pain and wonder why it all isn’t going away. Rather appreciate the process and be molded into perfection from the pain you face. It will become your testimony of a new day and rise to the top eventually. Whatever you do hence and whatever strain buffets your tread, keep at it and let it build patience in you to the perfection of undeniable fruits.

 

The clouds roll in to protect us from the scorching sun above as August grows into the promise of success and abundance. The omen is set to grow us and the stakes lay beautiful as it is.

 

May you have a most blessed and fruitful August ahead.

 

PePa: The Sketches Of Life.

WHAT HAVE WE DONE? Sketches of a Nairobi inhabitant pt4.

I can never get enough of all this beauty bursting right before my eyes. It always all seems like I was born specifically to enjoy all this amazing flow at a time such as this.

 

A time with no world wars one, two, and even the three that I all missed. A time with no cold wars or Spanish flu. A time with no Hitlers or Nazis with brutal force against the world and more against the Jews. A time in Africa when in a small country at the far East quaked colonialism and utter dehumanisation. When loyalties earned you hate rather than favour and love among your kinsfolk.

 

So here I am today and looking up above, I am lost in the beauty and drowned in utmost gratefulness at all that is at my disposal. And yes, it is almost but not impossible for me to get enough of the clouds that constantly gather above my head. The beauty in which they collect in waves in a thick grey is overwhelming as the wind almost always guides them to the same spot above my balcony.

 

See I cannot even bring myself to get enough or even miss this rhythmic sway of the bluegum trees as the wind swings them into a seductive dance of grace. Foul me if I yet miss the sweet cold breeze upon my cheek and tip of my almost round nose. Yes, that would be an oh so sorrowful error my dear treader.

 

The remission of the coastal beach breeze, hot and salty against my nostrils is brought to birth right here in this nostalgic fete that today’s elements play across my heart.

 

Yet in a moment as ecstatic as this; when the cars across the road flicker through in yellow, white and red light jingle, when the sun races fast down the Western horizon and the apartment lights flick on, my heart almost comes to a halt when this beautiful weakening flow takes me back to a moment in time so distasteful yet which must tap through my trails with PePa.

 

He is caught in the regular evening traffic, so ironical we have even deemed it regular and a part of us we must always race with it and even live with it. More like bedmates you may call it.

 

So my friend here from Dendi creations, in an attempt to let time not eat the best of him through traffic decides to engage his heart in the ruminations of the day. In the wake and drift of his mind, his eyes, unfortunately, tend not to miss the play that unfolds right before him.

 

Protruding muscles across his lean arms and a river of sweat across his brow were a thing of awe. The setting sun did much to radiate his glistening bare chest as he heaved his way in a race against time and through the heavy jammed traffic. His athletic legs draped in tattered shorts paced in a co-ordinated pace along the tarmac road as his heavy-lad cart had no option but to follow through in his pull.

 

A yellow-striped green commuter bus drives fast closeby as the tout swings dangerously through the open door. It is almost as if life has always been too boring for these touts that they chose to play flirt games with danger or even tempt death at how untouchable they are.

 

In most unpleasant reports, however, have such flirtations been met with an angered and famished death who so easily took their daring souls with her. I mean, how do you swing and even crouch low off a huge commuter bus moving at a death provoking speed along a narrow alley or busy highway and expect to get away with it unscathed let alone alive? `

 

So this death-flirting citizen swinging off the bus, on seeing the cart tracker, shouts abusively at the hard-working citizen trying to make a penny or two for his beautiful loving family waiting at home.” Hey there, get your poverty out of the way!” translated in Swahili as,” Wee bwana, toa umaskini kwa barabara”. Meanwhile, the commuter bus driver honks loudly at him to get off the road, whereto? both my friend and I have no idea of.

 

Okay, on hearing these words am taken aback as I, for once lose the meaning of poverty and miss the distinction between poverty and riches or wealth if it counts. But to take the meaning more literally again, between these two, the cart tracker and the swinging tout, I thought the cart tracker was richer than the tout, I mean if maths didn’t depart from my fingertips so long ago.

 

The truth, however, if you asked me is that non of these two are poor in whatsoever way if they are honest with their work and work for the best interests as supposed. My senses break at this point as right beofore my friend’s eyes plays the very act of why we fail as human beings for we have but lost the sense of being. We have brought distinctions among ourselves and lost all reason or sense of living.

 

Africa kills her sun, I guess is what plays right before his eyes. The death of a citizen by a citizen and for the citizen. Instead of uplifting and encouraging one another and deeply realising that we all need each other and are equals from the start, we have discriminated against one another. Yet we are the same people who will go up in riots through the streets when a fair-skinned human has a go at a dark-skinned human. I mean, didn’t we hand them the rifle in our discriminatory hearts and acts already? Why then do we riot when they bring out our initial inhibitions openly?

 

In this movie called Adu, this one policeman says that the problem with humans and Africans for that matter is that when they see the west erect a wall, all they see is that the west is selfish and wants to prevent them from crossing over. A worse bit is that they see the barricador as hiding treasure and better opportunities on the other end yet the truth is that, the barricador knows, that he has problems of his own he needs to solve within his walls and you too need to stay on your end of the wall and solve your own problems.

 

The question, however, is that how will the African solve his own problems when he already hates himself and his neighbour so much so that he deems him more inferior when the truth is that there is no distinction between them. We can’t preach water and drink wine I guess, not that wine is bad but if drank alone then what is the pleasure in that?

 

Returning to our tout loose tongue and cart tracker, the movie has not seen its end yet till the cart tracker now with bloodshot eyes and using his left hand to wipe away the flooding sweat across his face looks up; having been forced to squeeze himself to the end of the road and now with one cartwheel railing over the pedestrian walk, he is angered and staring threateningly at the commuter bus driver asks him a most humiliating question, ”Unapigia mama yako horn?”  to mean,” Are you hooting at your mother?”

 

Well, well, well. I won’t be the judge of no persons at this very point but the name mother has so been used variably as a mother still remains supreme despite all odds. The same name coming in handy as the most humiliating insult anyone could ever use on another. The same insult has been seen to bring down even the greatest rulers of all time. I think it prodes right at the core of the animal within us and leaves us all as baseless animals, right? Such were my friend’s sentiments and yet if asked, I am stuck at the derogative nature of the insult and lack of respect for mother’s supremacy.

 

Yet still, the same name, mother, is seen within us when we are at the end of our wits, huh? When we see darkness come upon our lives we will always call unto our mothers first. Take for example the most current happening in the US when a man was kneed down to death he could all but call for his mother for help.

 

My friend, however, with so much concern, still wonders what deeply motivated the cart tracker to think that the deepest language he could ever use to restore calm and re-assert himself as an equal road user needed to have a woman’s name in it?

 

Morals maybe? I for one will honestly not be able to get the correct answer to that sincere concern, what of you my dear treader?

 

Yet still, what have we done to our morals and self-esteem but flushed it down the drain quick? Why have we taken the words,” Love your neighbour as yourself,” and misinterpreted it for lack of love at all since we don’t even know who our neighbour is? The ball remains in your court I guess.

 

As narrated through the eyes of Dendi creations partner with the help of PePa through the sketches of life.

 

PePa: The Sketches Of Life.

 

SATURDAY CASCADES: Sketches Through My Day.

Amazing sky glazed day on the 18th of July. Note how fast time flies by, not determined by whether you began at the top or the bottom? The day still comes by and sure freezes your skin to a good 15 degrees Celcius.

 

Such is the day that graces my equatorial bearings of the hemisphere. In most cases such as this, I would recall a friend say that this is a bad looking day, but is it really? The little drizzles cascading my heavens assure me that despite all, the heavens aren’t yet closed and still will bring tranquil in the deepest of turmoils.

 

The public buses and minibusses compete to be first to get to town along the road and their blaring hoots and counter-hoots fill the roads and airs in unison. All in a rush to make the best of what little is available. The pregnant mother crossing the road ahead holding their three-year-old goes almost unnoticed as the heat of the rush rises. The yellow-lined green commuter bus misses her with a whisker as the bystanders are all but amused as they get back to their chores. Always more to rush for than stop and notice. Not to miss the fast speeding oncoming blue Subaru Impreza.

 

Over on the left side of the road stands one lady shouting tomato prices as the one seated quips in with potato prices. All sounds like a well-choreographed chorus only devoid of an orchestra. Their tempo however most certainly deludes you of what wares they actually are vending. Most times it fills up to noise within the soul as the wetting durst under their feet binds into a clumping mud.

 

As I was making the entry into the main road, I almost wondered if my apartment had shifted during the night as the sides of the main road lay in heaps of soil from earthmovers. Probably came in to work during the night amidst the 9pm curfew. Most of the roadside bandas too lay a waste and in their places stand table mats of groceries.

 

Man must live I guess and the quest for more money to feed the emptying tummies never ends. The disorganization however remains a menace to worry about. The commotion is at its heights as even the so required sanitization and desired hygiene levels stand wanting. Face masks rarely worn, at this point, looks more of an accessory than a necessity as what really matters is that extra coin to heavy the deep pockets and ease the pangs of hunger that so creeps the tummy.

 

Not one to point fingers yet at the same time I know not how to ignore the things that light creep into my eyes and with such course, seep into my conscience. These are the facets in our daily lives that stand untended yet must remain of utmost consideration as we all need a living despite the pandemic ripping through our nations.

 

There still lays a task force established to deal with local business enterprises I guess, right? And another to ensure safety and precautions during such a pandemic is uplifted and maintained too, huh? Yet despite all these being set in place, we too as citizens and individuals still stand accountable for our actions I presume?

 

We might have a government in place but yet we too remain as our own police task right here on the ground I suppose. Well then, my commute leads me right into the traffic packed CBD, quite strange for a Saturday morning but yet again, man must live. But with all these people packed within the CBD, why is business so slow with it?

 

If only I could have studied demographic flows versus business trends in tandem, such economic shifts would make more sense to me. Here we are though, a stringent Saturday morning and cold day with it yet my heart still flows with brimming joy. call it using lemons to make lemonade rather than having a choking bitter pill of the same.

 

Before my rumblings roll over, how are you my dear treader? Enjoying your Saturday from your end? Make the best of it and let every joy that comes by not sift through your fingers.

 

Stay blessed and stay safe.

 

PePa : The Sketches Of Life.

 

 

NOTHING TO LOSE: The sketches of choices.

Ten feet tall and bulletproof, I never thought that I had a thing to lose, but it looks like after all, am gonna have to choose…

 

Sometimes and in most cases have I found my back against the wall with little to no choices at all. But in all these moments has one thing stood out tall and that is; I have always had a choice however limited they have been. It is my vision of these choices and the dimension from which I view them that has always been limited and not the choices themselves as truth be told, limited choices still are choices, right?

 

Let us pick an example for instance of PePa who has a crushing workload ahead of his day. His alarm goes off at 6 in the morning and before he can even say grace and be thankful for his day, he remembers all the chores and targets he is supposed to meet ahead. Instead of this being a motivation for him to rise up, it instead becomes the very slump that crashes his heart to naught. He struggles to rise off his bed and all his nerves cry foul. Like someone struck them all down with a sledgehammer and from him are all wits departed.

 

Most of us if asked would say that PePa has no choices left as his day is already a slump to begin with. Still, you will go on to elaborate on how much bills he has to pay and difficult situations his day has ahead of him today and so he has no option but to stress about it. But tell me my dear Treaders, despite the kind of day he has ahead, is stressing over it going to pull him through and make it any better?

 

I hear another shout that he is not stressing but rather planning ahead for it is said that failing to plan is planning to fail. Oh my dear Treader, help me stop this rage that is building within as I know that with rage so fails my cognitive brain’s train response to proper thought.

 

So with utmost calm and composure filled with empathy allow me to ask,” How then is PePa able to soberly plan fro his day ahead and make it better if he is all but stress-eaten out?

 

Aha, now I picture you falling in line with my reasoning huh? Did you however notice that PePa had a choice all from the onset of his day and with the strike of his alarm? He had a choice to wake up and being grateful for his health and breath for that day look at the brighter side of life which was that he was alive. I mean, who among us loves not being alive? Life as they said is for the living, right? And our God and maker as we all know is not a God of the dead but a God of the living, right? Want me to quote that for you from scripture? Sorry I won’t as that would only make you to lazy to open your oracles.

 

Now that we are together, allow me to put a tag to what fails our choices as humans. I have no idea why the human mind in all its sanity picks with so much ease all negativity over every single strand of positivity. Maybe it is because there are a thousand possible ways for a human to die (Can you imagine they even came up with such a documentary?)… Why wouldn’t they come up with one practical way to live and explain it in detail, something like always be positive, right? But we already know that so why bother with the details, huh? Because the devil as they say lies in the details, but I never seen him so I wonder why we give him so much credit after all. truth is that there is never no devil in any details but deeper truths and power in whatever we give eminence in our hearts and minds.

 

There was a beautiful sunrise this morning right before the clouds took phase to cover the golden beauty. The same grey clouds have hang on for the most part of the day rendering a once-promising warm day to total cold and freeze. Despite this rather gloomy effect, my heart has not stopped beating and my skin seems to glow with beauty protected from the scorching sun’s rays by the same grey clouds. They say that PePa prefers to call a glass half full rather than half empty but just in case you never noticed…. A hand only has to be open and empty for it to be able to grasp or even receive more for that matter.

 

So you see my dear Treader all I have done so far is to take you through a tread of choices? And this is just but the glimpse into choices as many lay ahead with an ardent truth that it all begins with and from you.

 

So then, in an ocean full of troubled waters and darting alligators will you choose to see danger or to see food in the midst of a drought? The choice sure is yours. But in a world full of negativity and unending pain, why don’t you choose to be the joy, love, and kindness that the world so needs and bleeds for?

 

Until next time, allow me to peek out and see if any stars will twinkle back at me through the dark grey clouds.

 

PePa: The Sketches of Life.

HAVE I BEEN AWAY TOO LONG? sketches of appreciation.

Trying to leave the lights on when am gone, something I rely on to get home, when its cold at night you can look inside, you won’t feel so alone? Listening to this song at the moment from David Cook and the lyrics hit me deep.

I am now wondering if I have been gone away too long, and if I have neglected my genuine followers up here and with it left no light on when gone? Far be it from me to be so ungrateful.

I have always known that these posts might only reach a few, sometimes only one or even two persons but then, when I started writing I didn’t think even a single person would take their time to even read a single piece.

I was then very encouraged when my close friends started reading and even giving suggestions on what they think I should write about. This was a gesture for me that writing and expressing my deep thoughts was never really about me from the onset of the sketches of life.

I realised right then that the sketches were never really mine in the first place. That these sketches I was so passionate about spoke deeper truths of each and most of us and from hence, I got a deeper desire to reach more and more people.

One such sketch inspired thus was THE PARADOX WITHIN: Sketches at the airport suggested and inspired by Dave, my all-time friend, and confidant. With it came a mix of nostalgia and melancholy. You can check it out here in case you haven’t.

So sitting here and listening to David Cook chyme slowly with a song from 10 years back, it revives my love for soft rock within and fills my heart with appreciation for all of you guys who have genuinely followed and supported me through the sketches.

Another such friend is Morena, of course Dave’s espoused. She diligently read through my first pieces as if they were her own, even going to the extent of suggesting the vulnerability with which she thought I should write. Of course she got busier with time and could only read less and less.

I will be selfish to forget other genuine blogger followers and just to mention but one from the many is my big brother Richard who blogs in http://www.bigskybuckeye.com. I found his choice of blog name quite inspiring as it represents his huge American sky and he writes like the watcher of those beautiful skies above filled with inspiration and unrelenting love.

I will be rather selfish if I miss out on these young and talented poets from the East and especially India like

http://www.whenanintrovertspeaks.home.blog

who has very thoughtful poems.

To match her writing style are

http://www.nomadwriter.home.blog

http://www.fabwritings.wordpress.com

http://www.huguetta.wordpress.com

http://www.petescully.com :who inspires your inner artist with his live sketches. Another interesting blogger is this funny http://www.barbariangentleman.wordpress.com

Note irony in his blog name?

Sue W amazes me with her farm backyard stories.. While some of yus thought staying in the countryside was a streak of poverty, she will awe you with the little beauty that nature spruces behind her back… Now we know better. Check her out here

Home

Well, these are some of the few bloggers I don’t like missing. Others too are amazing and truth is I can’t list all of them in a single post as I would have way too many links in one go. Blurring to the eyes that would be, right?

Wondering why I am doing this post? Wonder no more because it was all about appreciation to both followers and fellow bloggers. Imagine living in a world where no one appreciated you even once in a blue moon, how sad could that be knowing that even blue moons don’t exist but is just a metaphor ? Sad, right?

This post is hence all about deep-seated gratitude and to inform you that I haven’t gone and forgotten but been half sick and half working on my YouTube blog at the same time. Some of you know much about pepasketches on YouTube but most am sure have no clue.

The point as always has been about reaching as many people as possible and some if not most of us being lazy readers, I thought a YouTube channel would work best for those who say seeing is believing.

Does that in turn make us a faithless generation? haha, I will not answer that as I know not what happened to the doubting Thomas till he had to see and touch the scars on Jesus’ palm. Not saying that you are a doubting Thomas but who doesn’t love visuals to quip the hoarseness of an African voice? Haha, before i get over myself right there, hit this link below and please subscribe and comment.

https://www.youtube.com/user/eyeot

You can also start by watching the latest post in this link I called a walk through the storm

You know what to do of course if you love what you see, right? Share share share and let everyone enjoy this pie that is the sketches of PePa.

Well, I might have become a bit rusty after three weeks without writing hence I think I should stop at this point as I may go on to add clutter as Dave and Morena would put it.

Since however am in a spirit of thanksgiving and appreciation, I would like to appreciate a friend called Christine who assisted with the design of the YouTube channel into something presentable. It might not look like much but its beauty lays in the kindness behind her gesture. Hit me up for her contacts in case you need such help, doesn’t matter which part of the world you are in as she helped me with it being miles off from where I was at.

Over and above all, God has been faithful in my life and has kept me all this time. Been ill twice and now I feel perfectly healthy. I thank God for His health giving kindness.. Oh and Dave and Morena feeding me through last weekend like a spoilt baby. Evah, you thought I forgot your generous lunch hamper, huh? You was and are a blessing. Lady in red you too have been amazing, taking such a big baby to hospital is no mean fete… Be blessed.

Just in case you thought the sketches were gone, nope, the sketches are a part of us so we will sketch on through life.

In case you feel like I should touch on any personal narrations, be free to hit my email pepasketches@gmail.com or if you got my personal cell, just buzz me up. Together let us live each moment life presents us.

Until next time my dear Treader, adios from PePa and be blessed.

Remember to love others if you love God for what is love for God whom we don’t see if we don’t love our friend, brother, neighbour or stranger whom we see?

Be real.

PePa The Sketches Of Life.

FRIDAY RUMINATIONS: Sketches through my evening.

I can’t find it, no I can’t find it, I can’t find the key to your heart, oh help me find it, help me find the key to your heart….

 

Oh the romance and thrill of love and falling into its grasp. Even the most unrealistic statements start to come alive and all unbelief is made reality right before our eyes. If only such miracles could be made viable in our current times…… These, however, remain illusions best played along the strings and symphonies of blues playing in the background of a dark lit room, where the lights fade off into the verandah to come in union with the strings of a cowboy-hatted guitarist strumming on his guitar while seated upon the wooden rails. With face lowered lovingly upon his masterpiece of an instrument.

 

Such soothing music to the mind and heart can only work in labels to ease the mind of the uncertainties of the moment…. I always try to find my flower of hope among tulips of poison. How else is a man to live sane and sound in a world full of guns, swords, and a threat of missiles all around not to mention the threat of a scourge not seeming to go away? He lives in the moment my dear treader…and I suppose that is why you aren’t scared of accompanying PePa along his murky treads, right? They could be murky but ooh so full of every moment to live for.

 

Not even that noisy heavy cycle rev renting the air with pollution from lowgrade gasoline can steal this moment from me right now.

 

Haven’t you ever wanted to escape everything even if for an impulse moment? And for that impulse, though in a crowd of insanity, to find your escape among misfits? At that moment do you become immortal in your sphere and all sense of imminent death rings no ounce of fear within let alone all around, right?

 

But why do we as mortal men and women fear death so much? Even the mention of it cascades chills down our once excited spines and in that moment of mention, all once jolly faces grim with sorrow and an aura of sadness to fill the ridges of wrinkles caressing the sides of our noses and top of our brows?

 

Isn’t it amazing that even the vilest and tipsiest of drunkards, once standing at the edge of a cliff and threatening to jump over, shudders with fear when told that a  lion is creeping up behind them? Well, someone once told me that fear is human nature and that life is too good to die, haha, I laughed and will so laugh today as truth be told these to PePa are subscriptions to a warrant of collapse right from the onset of their mention.

 

So yes, it is better getting lost in the whiles and strums of soft piano chimes and rhythmic pull of strings upon the guitar to pass away this Friday evening, with an imagination of dim-lit verandahs if only even for a moment impulse rather than shuddering with fears of what may become of me tomorrow, if I will be around or not…. For PePa, I guess the present is more sumptuous and worth savoring than the uncertain tomorrow. For in the present he can make that long-overdue call and say halo. He still can appreciate small unnoticed gestures from both friends and strangers…he can stretch a helping hand at the moment and give a smile where non really was but tomorrow, that sure lays uncertain…..

 

Today as the clouds take reign upon the once sunny day, he can still peek to the heavens and trusting his Almighty Father is looking down upon him, be grateful for the breath that so plays between his lungs and beating heart. All these lay in the present to him and he loves the taste of the droplets of rain upon his lips and their drench against his back that all signify an overflow of abundance….. for non of these is taken for granted, not even that crow cawing in the distance as it welcomes the night.

 

Nothing beats the calm of treading through these sketches on a quiet Friday evening with no disco noises and resounding familiar club music through the air….

 

Even chaos can be total bliss you know?

 

PePa: The sketches of life.

MID-JUNE: Sketches of welcome.

The movements increased rapidly and the stairway seemed to have found a life of there own. First, it was a show house, and soon after a number of voices could be heard from across the door, this meant that that lonely house had found the warmth of new tenants.

Walking up the stairs from an eventful though tiring walk I am met with this blur of music. Tunes strange to my ears yet that would not really be a problem because lyrics to me have always been a matter of taking in or letting it out from the other side. The main thing is that it seems the warmth received by this once empty house came at a cost, a cost of losing my quiet evenings on the balcony listening to Chinese Zeng relaxation melodies.

Well, two choices do I have at this point; either knock on their door and ask the new neighbours to tone it down a little or suffer the agony of blaring music all through. I am not one to dally with my comfort so the second option came in as no option at all. For a moment’s pause, I would have let it slide and assume the new place was too good to go unwelcome with a loud blast for music. But it was only the blair and no sounds of persons so I guess it was one of those people who just love it loud.

Just in case you are wondering, my knock on the door was very fruitful albeit, with very few words exchanged in sign language. Nope, they are not deaf as you already know they were listening to music on full blast, wait a moment, could they have been? Haha, I doubt, I just was already too worn out to even utter a word of Karibu(welcome), as already they had done the honors of not letting me like their habits.

Away from the music they looked understanding as soon, my walls relaxed from the loud thuds and vibrations. If they could speak then these walls would have vehemently thanked me and let me know how much of a favor I had rendered their way. I sure sound like the worst neighbor right now huh? I am grateful they are in and appreciate the fact that in these hard times and being mid-month, they must have really looked around a lot to find something favorable for them. So before I go on to taint their oncoming good neighborship let me first welcome them warmly.

But how warm can you be in this age where everyone locks themselves behind closed doors and blasts out their music? Where a simple halo drains the very little ounce of strength once left after a long day’s walk, all because you aren’t sure whether it will be received with the same warmth you gave it out with… Oh, hear me grumble over no cause yet my heart tells me it is alright to go on. I have always known the heart not to be trusted especially as he urges us on in perversions. He is a deviser of many evils and so for a moment let me pause and be grateful.

The evening birds can be heard singing joyfully over the trees as they celebrate the end of a day of abundance. As I look up to the skies, I am awed by the pairs of crows flying back to their nests for the night. They look like a beautiful worker couple up in the skies… if only man could be the same as these but noo, man has become as independent as this rooftop stork who prefers his own company. I think when one is diligent on their own they achieve much, only forgetting in the process that two are better than one and that when one walks alone they make long strides but then when in pairs, their labor is of much reward.

The chilly of the even sets in upon my feet, an attack that has so recently seemed more like a premeditated onslaught. I heard nature too speaks so don’t find it strange if I say that I think the whole of nature must have conspired and all elements called upon and set against my warmth.

The windows shut close as drapes are drawn back. The doors too, wooden or otherwise do the same honors with the rising dark all around. All complaints at bay I see a beautiful day come to a close, with the warmth of new neighbors and maybe with it may come a lot of mandazi and food, who knows? Mgeni aje, mwenyeji apone (When visitors come, the residents find relief) or so they said, right?

It is mid-June and with it prospects of beautiful things ahead. Have a blessed one wherever you are and as PePa would love, stay warm, and find beauty in all situations.

PePa: the sketches of life.

ENTER JUNE: the sketches we miss.

It is like they were all dead before prior to this season. Their noises always seemed like a total disturbance to the nerves. This evening, however, it all seems as if only their noises in the air help bring warmth to a most freezing draw of dusk.

Far above the disappearing intersection between the sky and earth a mist seems to form ahead of the greying clouds. The blue of the day’s sky gives way ever so earnestly to the heavy freeze-filled clouds. An amazing interchange as dusk fast approaches and planet earth sets into the dark side of space. No more light to bring its much-needed warmth and soon the wool spinner’s blankets and cotton yarns for duvets get work of their much-needed wares. The cold season is here and June sure puts up a welcome.

So for this evening, save for burning embers of heath or tight curls under sheets and blankets, nothing else seems to bring much-needed warmth to such an atmosphere save for these beautiful noises of children playing in the walkways and verandah yards. We are in the city and much-needed heath or fireplace embers is almost out of the question as these are but the luxuries we rarely take note of in the countryside.

City life they call it. If only we all knew the beauties and pleasantries we miss from our beloved countryside. These kids out here playing this dusking evening know not what they are missing being caught up in this city rat race. Thanks to corona for if not then they would all be indoors doing their homework( crafts of a designed neo-colonial and slavery system) and missing on the very core of child’s play which included much clamour and songs alongside loud noises. These plays prepared us and distinguished us for the very persons we were meant to grow up into but here we are, always playing it by the book and have hence been caught up in a system designed to achieve exactly that, modern-day slavery.

Well, before they shout all obscenities and strangle my interpretations of truth into words of incitement, allow me to breath in this June cold breeze as I stare out into the storeys huggling to scrape the skies in the name of modern-day apartment blocks. I am sure the breeze would have been more perfect cutting right through into my nostrils was it not blocked by all these trees of houses, right? But man must live I suppose, huh? and yet in his quest to live does he squeeze his own life out of himself by laying the foundations for the very barricades that build the stumbling blocks of his existence thus caging him in.

The curfew period having been extended, the cars along the road seem to have also increased their honking pitch. Their noises now resonates in bouts of echoes to rhyme with the frequent screeches. You would think that even noises were in lockdown there before. Guess this is the pollution that so clouds the mind dimming its mere strain for peace hence loss of peace of mind.

Taking in all these events that drive my day to a close, I am led to reflect on my purpose and poise of life. To take a moment in my rush through life and start appreciating the very little things I once so easily overlooked.

Watching Nat Geo the other day I am drawn to this wanderer who takes time to travel to different cultures and learn to live as they do. The most amazing bit is that he has to learn to do the things they do so as to fit and live through their days. In his travels, he is in Kenyan Samburu and has to live among the warriors as they herd their cattle and protect them. Strangely they are comfortable in their sphere and living out in little mud houses is no strange phenomenon, not until you introduce the concept of brick houses and warm clothing do they feel backward. But till this concept comes in, these people are actually quite comfortable and advanced in their survival techniques out in the harsh semi-arid locations which even the wanderer himself finds quite intriguing.

Looking up once again, dusk has taken over the day and all left to see are the flickering headlights in the distance. I have contemplated enough for the day and even the freeze eating through my toes is threatening to take over the entire body. My fingers don’t relent on their tap against my keyboard but they too are appreciating the cold that hits the knuckles with the onset of June.

Despite all these elements, I can finally clearly see that with every event that knocks along the corner of our journey is there a lesson to carry along this tread of life we take. Don’t therefore miss the very victuals that life brings along your walk as these are the sketches that may determine who you really are and should be.

Have an amazing June ahead.

PePa:the sketches of life.