Thank You, Thank You, Thank You

The Catholic zone B Youth festivals were done yesterday. And we emerged second in our narrative titled Wonderwhere Kamaru. Again! Behind Sacred Hearts Dagoretti. Again!  Josphat Kariuki and his team (Karis, as he was known at St Pauls University Chapel Theatre Group) beat us.  Again! 

Good news. The 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd narratives will be proceeding to the Archdiocese of Nairobi Youth Festivals at Mang’u on October 31^st.Well, am jovial if you are asking. Emerging 2^nd position was not a joke. Competition was stiff and you should have been there to see adrenaline on stage. Young people were exerting themselves beyond limit as they tried to battle it out for the best narrator. You should have seen the beautiful stories that were presented. The awesome creativity. You should have seen the wonderful productions that were brought before our eyes. You should have seen the energy, the synergy, the sweat....Indeed, nothing good comes on a silver platter.

Karis and his team from Sacred Hearts however, thrilled us the most. The air was filled with mirth as they held our attention captive. Whenever they went into a moving part of the story, they carried you with them. When they were surprised, you were surprised the more. When they laughed, we had to lift you from the ground as laughter tore you into bits. That was Karis! No wonder the nigger scooped the best narrator’s certificate in the festivals. Karis, what shall we do to beat you at the archdiocese level?

Of Festivals, Preparations, Winning and Losing

Last Saturday September 26^th, my team and I attended Catholic senior youth Nairobi West Deanery festivals at St. Michael’s Otiende Church, Langata. We were thoroughly beaten. Thoroughly beaten! My solo verse ranked the last. My narrative only managed a position two. Thanks God, even the runners up were to proceed to the zonal levels at St Johns Kangemi on 10^th October. Were it not for this runners up narrative, I would been roasted alive in that bus that we traveled back home in. Hard stares were fixed at me by my team. I had failed them.  I was like a Kenyan Harambee Stars football coach who even after training and coaching his team diligently was beaten by another team.  Would they impeach me, I wondered.

Festivals and their preparations are moments that I look forward to with anxiety especially if I have a team performing on stage. Anything can go wrong in that short time-frame that the actors are given to do a rendition of how they understood your item. One might sneeze where they were not to. Another might sweat or develop a fever at the most weird time. Even after rehearsing and perfecting the lines during the preparations, things might go awry at the last minute.

Final preparations before the festivals also taught me the value of improvisation. We were to have our backdrops designed by an artist. However, the team leader announced a week before the D-day that their budget could not cater for the artist’s fees. I became tongue-tied. Designs of what needed to be artistically drawn had been in my mind all along.... Here were the festivals quickly coming… Here was the team leader saying that we would have to make do with sketches… What do you get from that? Confusion.

Luckily, an elder theatre director came to our rescue. He had an artistic talent and volunteered to draw for us. All I needed to do was to tell him the designs that I wanted on the backdrops. He carefully sketched most of them and left us to do the paintwork. You should have seen me with a team of Mary Queen of Apostles youth members painting!  Never before had I held a paintbrush in my hand. But I did paint well anyway. At some point, our artist was so tired that he asked us to finish up the drawings. We had no alternative. Again, pencil in hand, I painstakingly drew. The experience taught me the essence of improvising as well as taking control when things go awry since they will always go.  

During the festivals day, I could not help but notice the essence of color. Most of the winning items apart from having great storylines employed color and beautiful productions. Their teams had to go out of their ways to get the best backdrops designs, best costume, good scripts and powerful actors. All these factors led to their success.  From my solo verse loss, I learnt the importance of following instructions to the letter.

Faint Setting of my Narrative Stage

I was surprised to note that most actors do not watch other stage performances once they done with theirs. I wondered how they would learn. They were haughty. How dare you be so content with your work that you never pay attention to what others have to offer? Do you think that they are less creative?

I hope and pray that our narrative will outsmart the others on 10^th October. We hope to win all the way till we showcase it to the Pope when he arrives in Kenya in November. [Hint: Our narrative is about how the disabled (walemavus), are hidden anytime a visiting head of state or dignitary is set to touch down in Nairobi, Kenya. You saw it when US President Obama visited us, didn’t you? I just pray they will not hide them when Pope comes] For those who will be able to attend the festivals, let’s meet there for the Zone B competitions. Pray for us too.

Packaging a Story

We are all storytellers. Whether you are a tailor, an accountant, a journalist, a home maker, a teacher, a priest , a HR manager, a writer, an actor, a director, a film maker, a waiter, an undertaker, a doctor or even a MP. At one time in our professions, we find ourselves telling a story, narrating an ordeal, making a presentation, convincing a mass of people orally, singing a song or even gossiping. All these tasks if we look at them from a creative angle are stories. An accountant analyzing a balance sheet with a group of managers will need to find the right styles to make themselves persuasive as they explain why the company is experiencing massive losses. A tailor might find themselves telling a client about how a fashion trend emerged and how it is sweeping the entire world with its finesse. A homemaker mother will at most times find themselves giving stories to her cronies. Stories live in us. What however differentiates good story tellers from unsuccessful ones is how we package the tales. That brings me to the theme of this blog post; story packaging.

What is the difference between a boring play from an interesting one? You got it right—packaging. What makes some actors shine better than others? Packaging. What makes a writer shine over others? Packaging.  Packaging separates wheat from the chaff. It gives the artist an inimitable edge that only belongs to them and makes their works easily identifiable. I can for example point out the writings of Wahome Mutahi (he of the Whispers Column fame). I can identify an actor as Mr. Bean even if I stumbled on 50 actors doing their thing on blindfold.

Wahome Mutahi of Whispers Column Fame

FEBRUARY MEMORIES

Last Valentine's day will indelibly be printed in my mind till I join my spiritual realm. Not because of the wonderful date I had (of course it was breath-taking as you would expect my dates to be).You too, I kno, had a fantastic one. Therefore, I won't bore you with tales of how she blushed when I fished out the wilting red rose and knelt at Kencom, in-front of her, despite the public attention we attracted.

 Memories of that Friday refuse to get erased because the day marked a new dawn in my writing.

Let me hit the nail on the head. I won a prize writing. Never have I ever thought that my writing could fetch me a monetary prize. I knew I could get as many facebook likes, friends and comments but money...Aah Aah.

 Here we go-- I won the third prize in an essay writing contest at the university. The essay was about Korean studies that are being introduced in May. I wrote the essay last year, sent and forgot it. You know how one momentarily forgets poverty when their hands land on the first salary? That's similar to what I did with the essay. I wrote it, edited it, hated it (yes, sometimes I hate what I write) and sent it; never to remember it.

On a Monday, I got a call from the department of literature inviting me for a prize giving to award essayists who participated in the contest.  I do not want to express how I felt when I received the call. Neither do I want to tell you how my heart leapt for joy when they called my name for scooping position three. I cannot put it in words. Maybe, one needs to see me so that I can show by facial expressions how.

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THE ST PAULS MEDICAL CAMP: THE MILLING MACHINE

Saturday, 14^th September 2013 is a day that will indelibly be printed in the minds of many who attended the FOSP medical camp. On this particular day, the St Paul’s premises were filled to capacity. People of all walks of life thronged in and out of the St Paul’s chapel gates like nuns in a convent. Their goal was one; good health.

If you doubted whether people value their health, then you should have been here to clear such doubts. Patients, volunteers, medics, news reporters, musicians from the band filled the chapel to the brim. In fact, the compound was so tightly packed that if you threw a pinch of salt in the air, it would not find its way back to the ground!

What amazed me most was how the entire medical camp crew worked. Everything went fast and furious; at full swing.  All was meticulously coordinated. Although there were registration officers, IT team, ushers, medics, reporters, musicians and other stakeholders, no two things went at loggerheads! Everything went seamlessly without any turbulence. Indeed, the entire event was like a milling machine. Though a milling machine has many cogs, innumerable wheels and several gears, all parts work miraculously perfectly with no two parts ever coming into conflict.

The digitalized registration

Fr. Hunja ignited the milling machine at about 9.00 am and everything went underway. Once a patient arrived, they would be cordially ushered into the camp by the University of Nairobi students. They would then be directed to the registration desk.

Digitalization, a term that is taking root in the technological world was applied in patient registration. Patient details were typed in Google virtual forms. This would ensure that a good database was maintained. The technological nitty gritty was done by the very able and techno-savvy IT team who were tastefully donned in Google tags. All this efficient digitalization was proudly sponsored by Google.

Basic tests

After registration, patients queued for basic tests such as BMI, BP, waist circumference, blood sugar and cholesterol levels. This was ably done by the Lea Toto Program and Resolution Insurance. The University of Nairobi health students were also not left behind. They applied what they learnt in class into the real world. They were also a source of knowledge and did not tire from explaining what each test was for. Did you for example know that your left hand is the one closest to your heart? I personally would not have known this until a student in the BP station told me. This is the reason why they take blood pressure readings from your left hand rather than your right.

It was also at the BP station that I met a man in total denial of his blood pressure readings. On being told that he had high BP, he refused to take this lying down. He took numerous tests from different medics but lo! The results were all the same. The man had high BP!

SI RAHISI

Si rahisi, si rahisi, si rahiiisi!
Kuamua niwaambieni, kumtumikia Mterehemezi,
Kwa moyo wako kumfuata, akili yako kumuwaza,
Ni jambo muhali niwaambieni, tunaloliona hivi sasa.
Vijana barobaro, kutoasi ukapera,
Kuwaacha wao mademu, wamsake wao Mungu,
 Wasifurahie hiyo ndoa, isiyo hata doa,
Ni jambo muhali niwaambieni, tunaloliona hivi sasa.

Wasichana pia nanyi, kutawazwa mchongoma,
Yahitaji kwingi kujitolea, kuamua liwe liwalo,
Utajitoa mhanga kweli, uumche wako Muumba,
Umtumikie kwa miaka, mikaka si haba,
Ni jambo muhali niwaambieni, tunaloliona hivi sasa.

THE GENESIS OF LOVE

In the beginning, with her he fell in love
 The dept kiss he gave her, gave her life
Everything about them had a love related meaning
Weak she was unless they were together
Taking peaceful blissful love walks in the woods



In the beginning, I thought they would last forever
But it was just that; a thought
It was just but lust I thought
When she started treating his love like forgiveness
 Easy to receive but hard to give
Yesterday’s guilt stole away love from today
Allergic to lovelessness
At her door he knocks but will she answer?
His arms are wide open, but will she respond to his hug?



 He is ready to do everything but everything that is lovely
 His efforts are worthwhile but not in her eyes
In the beginning, it was about him and her, so we thought
But we were too shortsighted to see