Monthly Archives: October 2019

WHEN TEARS DON’T SUFFICE:Sketches of loss.

It is a beautiful day to write or so I may think.Maybe not but in my state of mind I don’t know what better to do with grey to dark hanging clouds,no sun in the heavens or a flicker in the horizons and drizzles to match.A pluviophile would help in such wet and muddy weather I suppose.

Maybe it is my love for nature and more so for wet and rainy seasons that most often gets the best of me.

For today though,I don’t know whether to call it beautiful or not,yes,to write it is such an exclusive one for thus but what delights one soul could be the variant death of another;call it a less glamorous or amorous one for yet a third.What to write about however becomes a nudging prick though as the little droplets pound ever softy on the front of my shop,subsequently building into puddles and a flow of sorts.

I envy how reporters do it,like go all out in search of a story.As for me however,this theory of ‘It is written,’as Maktub would have it allows me no such delights.I hence have to wait till the story comes to me and in all its rawness I can hence relay.

In retrospect however, I am lost back to the preacher’s words,oh wisdom could sure be the death of me or us,maybe or maybe not,huh?I don’t know if it is true that it is better the day of a man’s death or that of his birth,and yet better for those who are dead rather than those living.

On an open scale I would say these were more words of consolation than those of reality,a skit to which throws me off to what reality and perception really are,or if yet still both hold water to their own scopes in consequence?He,however adds that the reason to this conclusion under the sun is because the living know that their fate is the grave while the dead have already accepted their fate as it is.#

Speaking of fate,it is also written that the worst evil a man would ever bring upon himself is to fight and try thwart his fate,and yet still the greatest joy and winner of all is when a man knows and realises his fate and in so doing totally embraces it.

None of these are my words however so hold with me PePa treader as we try to decipher all these unrelenting truths and hence find the path to whose purpose we seek.

Back to whether this really is a beautiful day or not,whether it is only in my eyes or a mere perception,we go back to this chat I sent last night wondering whether she had stopped missing me or not.This went unanswered and having been absorbed in netflix and chill in union with an unprecedented worldwide blackout,’okay at least it was world wide in my little town strayed outside the skirts of the city’,I miss the wind or lurk of the response which on checking came in this cold morning.

Not an expected answer however as my darling friend Lisa is in a mourning mood;always kicks me off balance how today we are all okay and the next moment all is thrown to the wind,you could call it mood swings or female hormones but no,not today>>> today as it is is not the same as everyday,it is not an ordinary day.The cut is real and digs deep to an overflowing bleed not quite characterised by tears or screams but a weird if not serene sense of withdrawal.

What do you do when just the other day you were laughing and joyfully screaming obscenities at each other and yet today,today they are no more,they are a story left in lines of narration,a whisper of who they really was?I have lost a close loved one and teared in torrents when reading out their eulogy yes,it never hit me they were that close till I read out their name and at that very moment yes,it all dawned on my once strong and almost stable heart that they were gone;yes they couldn’t have been the best of persons as per my moral standing or judgement but no they din’t deserve to die,did they?

Deserve to die huh?Brings to mind lots of questions most often left unanswered or better still with half baked answers.So the preacher’s words play back again and I retort as contemplation takes form,yes,’there is a time for everything’,so he said,what a consolation to a human grieving heart or mind!And still when we grieve,it is our minds,pumping heart or unseen heart that aches.So the time to die is hence here and me who has lost a loved one before can’t honestly say I know how it feels like to lose a loved one,let alone one you are totally drawn into and are in love with,in love with to the point of planning a future together.

True,I know it really pains,even cuts to depths unstitchable,points that even the mention of God’s comfort to such an ailing soul sounds more like a blubber into the ears of a deaf man telling them you love em.Yes love em,returns me to the point of God in perspective who hence can only come into play at this point,not in words though strong but in truth of action,presence and utmost reliability and availability.A sure relay of faith with actions.

The question still lingers in the air as to who deserves to die and who doesn’t.And do we actually die or our souls just part with the body?A question most scientists still have no clue to yet forms the very hope of our existence,that this life has more to offer than just to live and die!

I relay her pain in writing however as she plays back to how he came over a week past,they made breakfast(I bet a case of breakfast in bed,huh?),played and laughed around,not to forget the toothbrush joke!But on this 18th day he is no more,the sickness that seemed to go away got the better of his ailing body and surely body and soul had to part ways,one to the durst and the other hopefully into paradise.So off into higher realms his soul rode,and she was left to ride into the horizon to rediscover her purpose for now she sees,her purpose may not have been entwined with his,at least not in this next part of her breathing life,hopefully through fate in the next.

Looking back she is so done,in her words of desperation as even tears,the only solace she could cling onto is nowhere in the horizon.In its place is a subjection to wonder and laughter,a laughter that should help abate the pain.To what end I have no idea but my plea to Lisa is to cry it out.In my mind I suppose the pain of the tears themselves will burn out the overwhelming pain of separation,untimely separation if you ask her…

I try to feel her pain but in truth I can’t manage because no two pains are equal even though on the same level,the magnitude of each is based on a number of factors that even research couldn’t complete in an entire lifespan,lifespan huh?Lifespan,so short or better still so unpredictable,it is here today and gone tomorrow,yet the pain lives on..Maybe if we looked at it as fate then it would make more sense,or better still if it came with a manual and timetable of how and when it would end then that would ease it all away,huh?

No amount of words can explain or express the pain she feels today,even the drizzles that sooth my mind to sleep at night face a tougher task in calming her sorrow,sorrow that as they say time will heal.So yes,maybe for now the preacher could win this day as he brings us with his words to a time of mourning,yes maybe for a moment until mirth sets in and we will forget that we hurt and pained prior.

My only consolation at this moment is that this same God whom we could be so angry at for the moment because of watching as Kari’s breath left him without holding it on,has placed eternity in our hearts that we may never find out what he has in store for us but still hope for it.

At this point the preacher parts Lisa on the shoulder telling her of all vanities under the sun and that in conclusion,it is better for a man to eat and drink and be merry and to make his soul enjoy good in his labour.Hence to rejoice as a young man in one’s youth and in all these things know that God will bring us all to judgement,therefore remove sorrow from your heart,and put away evil from your flesh,for childhood and youth all pass away…hence fear God and keep His commandments;for this is the whole duty of man.

What can PePa add to such deep wisdom,if even the wisest and richest of men acknowledges this,what can I,mere man wrap to this?

whether it is an I love you Kari to an RIP Kari,we give thanks in all and rejoice in every moment.Live today.



THE TICK THAT HOLDS ON:Sketches of depression revisited.

Seven minutes to midnight.I always loved seven.To others ten was almost the ish.A sure beginner of countdowns.Yes a pure blissful countdown would make much meaning from ten.But only to the common eye.

Yes deep calls unto deep so was it written and that which is written depicts the spoken.A call to which ancient origin would mean that same has to pass into completion rather than obliteration.

Never mind my mingle and swoosh of words.All leads to same end depicted from start.

So yes seven I gain and completion is eminent.Don’t lose sight on common perspective,rather,stay rooted in deeper depths.

The head pangs surely not from hunger but a grind of day so rough and gruesome.The body almost gives way as heart pours a wariness unsalvageable by mere tissue therapy.More like a disease of the mind.

The second hand ticks and so drags the minute,seven boils to six and hits a grace of five.Heart wanes in process as spirit roots for strength in drag of time.

If you aren’t keen then a call of desperation could mean the rescue of you.Rope to the neck in moments as such sounds calmly,even mildly acceptable as body and mind tells body it has no more breath left in it.That a wrap around the neck in a sling of death would be the saviour of life…..

But just as body and mind gives in to depression,seven counts down to midnight and the strike of zero is a sure show of hope.Hope in yet another day.A sign that all the stumbling blocks of the previous day have come crumbled.And here in its space form takes root into the beginning of hope.

Hope,embedded in a faith almost crushed to its knees but yet stands saved by a hand that never pulled back.The hand of the Almighty.

So yes,just as you saw the pain take effect and will get lost to the winds…Just as all seemed blown into the never ends,yet that little tick and tok was braided in the weaves of His love.That yes a little faith,that little urge to trust and hold even onto stupid hope was all you ever needed.

Do not let go even if it is the last breath you got.

Hold on,your last is just your start.


BREW MY ICE:sketches of perception grow into a miracle.

He laughed and played with other kids,all excited and in a mirth unexplainable.Granny was around and just like for most of us back in our earlier years there was this kind of joy that you couldn’t deny any of us when granny was around,remember?Those moments when mama couldn’t get close to us cuz granny would come to our defence,when we could run outside and play in a pool of mud,come back yelling into granny’s arms when the other kids chased after us?When mama saw our dirty clothes and started screaming we would cower behind granny’s sweeping marinda for safety?

Then when the time for him to leave came, he even joked about it with the other kids and it all looked amazing.”Granny let us pray before we go to the hospital,”he said,and holding his tiny yet energetic hands she whispered a prayer of God’s grace.You could almost get swallowed up in his excitement as he said a big AMEN after the quick prayer and ran off into the car.Such a blessing this young lad was I actually envy him.Put me in his shoe at this moment and I would have run and hid myself behind the mulching tomato seedbed and the emerging banana plantations in the backyard,they would later send a search party for me,but not this bundle of joy called Luke;he was in his own space of energy.

They then left:papa,mama and little Luke and in no moment they was at the Aghakan hospital not so far away.Call it a stone’s throw away as my lower school English teacher would have me pen it.

Granny was on her way back to the countryside,the beautiful Laikipia plains.How breathtaking and expansive the view is is yet a tale for another day.But for a moment picture the sun going up the imposing Mt Kenya peaks and glowing the clouds yellow with a tint of gold as you drive down into the plain at around 6.30 am.Yes I have said this before but even a blind man would love that view……better still picture the glare off the ice capped tips with the dew of the morning and before you is a stretch of unending smooth flow of tarmac.Ask me and I will say that even my urban residence is nothing to match this overwhelming beauty….we have been duped in the city,please if city life is your dream i pray you have a change of perspective or come with an intention to better it and not reap from it.

A call came to granny just as she was about to leave and drive down those beautiful Likipia plains to catch her disappearing sunset.She was needed at the hospital and Louis,Luke’s dad had to go pick her from the house.

Here we now stood as Luke was ridden into this waiting paediatric room with a gas mask on and catheters all in place.He lay motionless and immobilized as per doctor’s prescription.The operation that was meant to be a simple one as I had earlier mentioned in the previous BREW MY ICE :Sketches of perception grow. had now gone “down south”.

The four to five hours we had been with Dave waiting hopefully for Luke to come out of theatre suddenly seemed futile at this moment.I am carefully picking my words at this point as the situation looks O so fragile.

Luke’s dad walks in behind the bed alongside his mum Helena.Her face seems teary and swollen,the plight of a beaten mum.She now holds her son’s life in her sleeves,Louis on the other hand doesn’t seem to be of any help as he looks ultimately trodden upon by this situation,totally heaped to the end of a dirty mole-hole filled with flashing water.

That strong smile he always holds and stubborn will always cuffed to his collar seems lost into the abyss of despair.I honestly don’t like the energy in this room at the moment.That cloud of desperation lurking in the room seems misplaced in my opinion yet totally hovering the room into a complete cover of darkness.

Helena held in her hand an inflated balloon tipped at the end of a pipe-stick.She stared at it as tears lingered on the edges of her eyes,on this balloon sat a rather beautiful sketch of a smiling human,sketched to perfection by the tender steady hands of Lucas himself at lunch.You could see his joy pierce through the sketch and even as Helena retold how jovial he had been just a few hours back brought his gay presence into the room.For a moment she forgot about his helpless form laying on the theatre bed just a two meters away.

I draw closer to her as at this moment everyone in this 57sqf room seems so distant from each other;you wouldn’t blame them as pain can sometimes take quite a toll on almost all of our senses you know?But still forgive my wandering mind,it is amazing how pain tears us apart within but totally draws us all together in a span of a single moment.It is in such moments that you get to feel true love not said in words but wrapped in a silent cord of unspoken truths.In this very tiny but seemingly huge room today I saw Luke’s two grannies,one from Meru,another from Laikipia plains,his uncle from Nairobi and aunt from Meru,a night’s travel as she joined the room early morning.On one end in a friend to his uncle’s and on the other is Jaduong,papa’s friend.Don’t forget I had joined in with Dave a few hour’s early.Do the math cuz am not so good with numbers but right here was enough love to pass round in this tiny room.

“Luke is gonna be okay,he is a strong lil son of a gun filled with God’s grace,”I tell Helena.She manages cracked smile through her swollen eyes and tells me she believes he will make it.”Can you imagine he was so happy and playing with his friends and then we come to hospital and this happens?” she adds.I tell her Luke is fine and all he needs is a little good positive energy from papa and mama and he will be alright.She smiles more and leaving her I go over to Louis standing against the reception counter as Dave picks an international call on Whatsapp,that must be Morena from the seas over.It is late and she hasn’t been wished a goodnight yet.Thank God for the advance of technology communication has been made so easy a new born could crack it.

Jaduong’ stands in contemplation near the hospital guard who is sharing the room ensuring everyone is comfortable.Louis is now leaning on the reception counter,one hand on his waist ,almost akimbo as the other rests withrawedly on his left chin.All that light skin on his face seems all but faded if not pale at this juncture.

“Sup buddy,why are you so downcast?I ask as if I had not been in this same room this past many hours waiting just like all of them,”I think we are giving Luke the wrong kind of energy and I don’t think it is good for him!”…did you know we could be here worried to death about him while he is having a bowl playing with his friends in dreamland,I mean,God could be holding his hands right now taking him for a ride of his life while here we are all here beaten down with sorrow and fear.”He smiles a little and tells me I could be right but then being human,a father and with your child in that kind of position it is almost impossible to think in those lines.

I actually understand his plight at this moment as is the plight of a parent on the verge of losing their only child,amazing bundle of joy for that matter.He goes quiet and my stubborn self can’t leave me at peace.I remind him that positive vybe is the only way to go.We are in a position where Helena feels like the world under her feet is caved in and the only anchor to Lucas is her,”You on the other hand must be strong for wifey you know?”He looks up and nods in acceptance,like a final surrender to the actual reality,a reality I had asked him earlier that what would he have preferred instead?Luke to be in that bed or himself and he had quickly said himself,quite a common rhetoric with any parent I believe huh?The realisation that he needs to be strong for both mama and Lucas brings new hope in the air.

Time lapses and we are on our way out.I look back at Louis and ask them just as the doctor had earlier suggested to go home and take a rest.Helena would take non of it however and insists that Louis goes and rests,that she will only leave this hospital with her son in her arms,total will and love of a mother,I believe this is the faith Jesus spoke about, the one that is able to move a mountain and dump it in the ocean.I am amazed at this will and abacked at the same width.

It dawns on the both of them that it wouldn’t be any better if another person’s son or daughter was in that bed instead of their son.They then realise it is a test of faith and strength to hold on being put at play in this room.To make the evening more beautiful is the unforgettable depiction of love from both grannies,into the end of the overlap of the night Helena’s mum plays a good capture of God’s love in our hearts,you can see the joy play in her still strong eyes as she recounts His grace and favour, a reminder to be strong in faith and not to be afraid.She reminded me of grandma’s fireside stories in the BIRTH OF THE SKETCHES Such beauty displayed through experience and resilience…..

I head home in a drive into the night feeling all hopeful and full of energy,a revival kicks within my heart as the next few days are filled with a constant prayer and plea to God,I can not afford to lose faith at this point.Every morning I rise up is a reminder that God’s grace for Luke is still at work,a nudge that he is nearing his victory,that the battle is not his and that God nearing His victory through this battle that was neither Luke’s nor our’s.

I call Louis every day after the next as I check up on Luke.It actually becomes a hopeful ritual.

it is day 2 and he is still on the gas mask,day 3 I believe and on calling am told he is breathing on his own and off the gas mask.Day 4 goes by under observation and day five is here with us,no 5 it was and this was a portion of grace in my heart.The burden was lifted as Luke gets discharged.

Who cares about the bill at this point?Life is more precious than any of this,imagine the consternation and distress,the sleepless nights and uncertainty all along,I mean,no amount of money was worth that kind of pain.The miracle is done and nothing can ever beat it at its best.The helpless lad is now back to his energy and all I can say is glory to God.



Did I mention that on the day Luke went into an induced coma was the eve of his mum’s birthday?A birthday he would never forget,borne in the love of her son.

And this is how my friend the miracle on the mountain comes right into our hearts as the perception grows into the love of God through the beating heart of little Luke.Can we baptize him to Lucas now????



Bursts of rain,in succession yet relentlessly interrupted by the same clouds that yield them forth.Amazing drizzles these are to weather my already beautiful day.In this not even the most hardworking husband would want to leave their beds,makes it even worse with an amazing wife in your arms.Oh see the death brought to play by cascading fantasies.

My sky rumbles yet again as if in labour and ready to deliver another twin of her downpours but what follows instead are soft drizzles…Oh drizzles how they torment my existence though with soft tributes of love.The simple reminders of what life offered before PePa yet a beautiful precursor to the amazing days yet lying ahead.

Ahead you may quip for me for there is nothing you would ever deny a human being,whether man,woman,or even little baby and leave them crippled apart from hope.Hope as it is remains the core drive to existence;the steam and engine of life and the reason we wake up everyday despite the shortfalls of yesterday.

So hope is all I got today for better days to come whether I will be in them or not,Whether they will be for me or for another still I hope and hold onto that faith like it is all I would ever have.

The cold bites through my knuckles and it don’t seem like am leaving this house today;for a cup of coffee maybe though even that ain’t much reason yet.I need more convincing to leave the comfort of this tiny four-walled aboard,something more real and tangible.Outside my open windows the drizzles feel almost caressing to my conscience and the sou d of hooting cars the juice to my flow…I want to remain in this instant for all eternity though that would beat the logic of all diversity.See why I don’t use curtains?I mean,how else would I take in all this beauty behind heavy curtains not to add the expense they would cost my freedom,pun intended….So for now,let them hoggle the bottom of my wardrobe and me,let me busk in this romance with nature……

Netflix and chill sounds more like a plan,hahaha ,,,always a plan for all antisocial behaviours you know?Not to crucify or discredit the service providers but what dyu do when you are done browsing through all social networks and today,I mean at this very moment your fingers don’t feel like getting dirty with pencil,rubber and paper?The next viable option then becomes Netflix and chill though for one not so used to sitting and staring at a screen for hours on end this also becomes a cascader into your ruminations.

Only one option is hence left at this juncture,to enjoy the one thing that keeps changing yet always remains amazing;the work of God in motion,and that can only be sweet darling nature.So on let us romance.

Closing my eyes I can visualise the beauty of His caress through it all,the handy works of His might…Am taking it all in just as Berlin would in the series premier Money Heist as he tells his younger brother the Professor,while closing his eyes and tilting his head upwards,”Relax little brother,you can only enjoy this moment like it is the last and stop worrying whether things will go wrong or not.”

Yes,for now hence,stop complaining about how bad the weather is and enjoy every bit of it like it is your last breath……


BREW MY ICE:the sketches of perception take form.

The sun sinks beautiful in its yellow gold decadence beyond the beautiful palm trees lining the highrise parklands skyline.It is such a beautiful exchange even a blind man would see.

Before I lose you here,let us pick these sketches from the previous Brew my ice at BREWMYICEHERE

It creates an aura of calm and if someone,woman,man,child or just anyone told you that this evening carried gloom with it you would deny it.Gloom,huh?Sometimes I wonder why we even have to be gloomy at all;most will say it is human nature,a rhetoric that for all heavens knows why has never enthused my understanding for whatsoever reason.Almost crawls me out of my skin I may add.Human nature …..such a nag and killer of all truth.Only solace I get are the beautiful wise sayings from non other than the bearer of all wisdom man has ever known,Solomon,yes,the great King Solomon.Most times I envy the guy.

I mean,imagine God asking you to choose anything you would want to have in the entire world and you go screaming wisdom?Who asks for wisdom with all the troubles in the world when you could ask for wealth,women,cars,houses,power….this last one am sure a great chunk of us would go for,right PePa treader?But not King Solomon,no…dude asks for wisdom and he must have been a lil sneaky one this Solomon huh?He knew that God had everything he could ever need and with wisdom would have opened a world of possibilities to him so yes,he asked for wisdom.

Thank God for Solomon’s lack of selfishness because as I slowly follow this traffic to Aghakan hospital I am saved by Solomon’s inspiring words from Ecclesiastes chapter three:”To everything there is a season,and a time to every purpose under the heaven,” and today hence is a time to be sad as I come to find Dave on the ICU wing of the Aghakan hospital.All the while as the car is checked for security and I yet again lack parking space (though available at the departed/reserved doctor’s sections),my mind is taken on a journey of thoughts of which rarely get answers in gest.You can call this a trance in moment as I find a downcast and gloomy Dave waiting, the omens though had already showed me this.

The same same omens gave me a kind of comfort uncommon to man,the peace like that Jesus promised before leaving the disciples as recorded in John 14:27 ,”Peace I leave with you,my peace I give unto you:not as the world giveth give I unto you.Let not your heart be troubled,neither let it be afraid.” So with the same confidence and comfort(For now it dawns on me that God knew we would need this comfort at a time as this.)I look at Dave and ask him How Luke is doing.He tells me he also hasn’t seen him though still he has been in theatre for sometime.

We settle down assisted by a most amazing security guy,God bless his soul.This gaurd had no bitterness common with most security persons I have met in this city or without.He was calm and composed and most of all concerned about our comfort as we waited for Louis and Helen,Luke’s parents to come out of ICU.I mean truth is,the guard din’t look like he earned much financially but the calm in him showed you that this was someone happy and proud of his work.He was filled in my opinion with the same peace Jesus spoke of.And no amount of money or riches guaranteed his happiness or joy for that matter because he had it all within him.He was content as a hospital security guard and did his work with a passion.He saw wealthy persons walk in and out of ICU over his time in this hospital wing and knew that no amount of money could buy health or the joy he had.

This in essence threw us back into contemplation and for a moment we all forgot that our hearts were even heavy.We saw life through the eyes of gratitude and joy through the hands of love.Through a hospital guard. Such moments sure make me look at the heavens in awe and the maker of them all speechless and totally impressed.I whispered a prayer of glory to God at that moment.

An hour passes by as we wait and yet another rides upon it and by now 10 pm is at hand.Not so good for our tummies which rumble in pangs of emptiness.We hence find our way into the hospital restaurant,lovely I must admit as it is one of those high end restaurants in town.Still,despite of all this sereness in the restaurant,a sad wind plays in the air.The waiters have to keep smiley faces to ensure all these persons waiting on their loved sick ones have to be attended to and feel happier.

It is not hard to miss an aged man get the best attention from his help,another younger man in this case.He is careful and concerned about him,treating him just like you would a toddler,with love and tenderness and his also aged wife watches and ensures all goes well.He reminds me of the hospital guard and I can sure feel real unconditional love play in the air,beats the sad air that was once floating around.To add to this magnificence is the fact that his wife almost catching up with him in age is here right by his side,oooooh the beauty of true love and growing old together….

We get back to the hospital wing and Dave hands the guard who had taken his time to show us where the restaurant was a piece of Samosa we had gotten for him.Must have been a chicken Samosa,chunky and filling.He smiled broadly as he directed us to the cool waiting room again and assured us that everything would be okay.If we ever wanted a genuine smile and appreciation then we needed not look any further,this guard had it all.

We chat a little and soon Luke is bed-ridden swiftly into this section of the hospital that had been made ready for him.Behind him are Louis and Helen looking like the whole storm had dawned on them.In their faces lay both the burden of seeing your child lying helplessly and you healthy but in no position to help in whatsoever way,whatsoever way though could still be a perception.

He was unconscious and on a gas mask hence life support as it was reported,there was an inflow of fluid into his lungs during a simple surgery that was meant to clear his windpipe.Did you ever know that things don’t always happen as we plan for here we was,looking at Luke “fighting for his life” according to human perception,but was he really fighting for his life?was there a way by any chance that he could win this battle with fate?could the doctors save his life?

Many questions that can only get realer in the next sketches of Brew my ice:the sketches of perception.


A BATTLE OF THE TITANS:Sketches of God’s might pt2.

This is my beautiful city by night.

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A silent afternoon,heavy clouds hang low in the sun-forgotten skies.Not to ignore fully the evident presence of heat in the air.The sun,always silent in oft cases but present harshly on the fringes of our skins.Silently biting into the spikes of cold hair along the seductive tingles of skin.I almost feel seduced by nature at this variant point;seduction in which case always goes either way….

my head lightens and guard offsets in balance,almost losing myself to the elements.It feels like am lost deep in the desert and almost sand-beaten,with sprays of hot sand caressing my paling skin.The only hope of survival is the mirage on the desert cascade,looking so near yet so far in the horizon.

I hear the voices in my head,they are calling unto me;to what end I have no idea but then here I stand,transfixed ,wondering whether to heed to the calls beset in my conscience or to stick to the reality that is my present.

Present reality?Questions and meanings most times I loose.Question is what is present and what is reality?Most times it makes no sense as we get mixed up in both the two,hahahahaah;we laugh at ourselves when nothing seems to make sense.A trick most apply and I think even down to the animal kingdom,right?But we are all animals with basic instincts I might say; flip-side to this however is that a heated argument could hence soon ensue as most persons if not all have different opinions I believe?

I would love to return to my present and relay what is happening though the obscenities beset me and I have no idea where to return to.Lingering in my newly acquired reality, it is so easy to take in things with the facade they portray but loose the actual truth hidden within.

The sun strains to get past the clouds and battle seems to be won by the pregnant clouds.Pregnant?you will think they will bring a new age but what seems presently however,seems like nothing but a heavy weight sumo fight.Sumo fight;we all know that in a sumo fight,the heavy weight suffer little to no pain.Say a broken nose here,a bruised thigh on the next and maybe a break in the ring.

Now,break in the ring,this is where it all boils down to.This my dear PePa reader, oooh I forgot PePa treader,is the juice of the meal.

In a far far away country,over the hills and down the treacherous valleys,going beyond the pyramids and across the red sea(I believe it’s the land of King Solomon;remember the one that beautiful Sheba had to come visit with a caravan from the south full of unseen before spices?)He said that,when two bulls fight,it is the grass that suffers,or maybe it’s not him who said that cuz a similar african rhetoric goes something like,when two grasshoppers are in tango it is the crows that rejoice.In this case I see that the crows rejoiced as the hoppers hoped right through each other’s lives.

Perspective again I say is a key determinant in many a scenario you know?The sun boils up in an anger unrivalled beating down cruelly through the clouds which in turn holds back the rays.Mistake is rays still fire through in a heat unsummoned leading to a burst of energy beyond containment by the enthusiastic clouds.

The winds onlooking in anxiety rises up to the rescue of the clouds.This is a power play in display and with noone in the heavens relenting,one unwanted effect becomes hence the natural outcome.

With the rage of the wind in a constant build up as she advances and retreats,the trees and all elements on the ground have no option but to sway to this music.A music not so pleasant as still at the corner lies the law of physics.Tension builds up on skyscraper buildings and without more tensile strength to hold is a snap upon same.Still the wind caught up in a rage high above between the heavens holds to the ground for anchorage and this I must admit becomes the blander of all times.


I almost forget the heat upon my skin as I watch this unpleasant play without a referrie. To run and hide behind walls seems the best option at the moment yet even the same walls have no pleasure or intent to ensure my safety as they too have no safety in they-selves.

The rage continues and the soil under coils up in the moment,rises up and picks along branches of broken trees and polythene bags awash city ravines(The excrement of a broken society).Twigs and shrubs have no will to hold back as helter skelter the people run.Street vendors get into a rampage as they pick up whatever little wares are left to save and watch the rest rise into the air nonchalantly. You can literally tell the pain through their hard swallowing but nature has woken up today and we all have to spectate.

The onslaught goes on and before we all realise it this is an actual windstorm,the brown of the durst boils up and the once brights streets fills with a grey of dark.I could almost say I love how the power lines snap in retrospect but the fear built within our hearts is a bomb waiting to explode.A moment to recap and take back all my prior perceptions as panic strikes home and to our heels we take.Truth is,this is God in action through the elements that only He made and obey Him they must.


Welcome to the first windstorm in Nairobi as a battle of the titans ensues.