hypocrisy of the accused heavens

AC360 today was slammin. There's a story they ran that's one of those that causes your insides to turn. There was a woman, Pat, who 22 years ago carried on an affair with a catholic priest, Father Henry, some place in US that resulted in a beautiful bouncing baby boy, Nathan. As it happens, catholic priests are not allowed to have children, I guess because they're supposed to be celibate and all, so he should have been compelled to give up the priesthood, get a real job (hehe) and take care of his family. Apparently the affair had gone so far that this Patricia had actually left her husband for the priest. They had, you know, fallen in love with each other. Enter the child and everything went downhill from there. Rather than make him leave, the church saw it fit to stand up for one of it's own - no, not the congregant, the father. They assembled this high powered group of lawyers and negotiators, went and bombarded Pat with tonnes of legal speak and grand promises of them paying for everything to do with Nathan (this was a stay-at-home mum without means, mind you) and when she broke down that's when they presented her with the confidentiality agreement. In it, Father Henry admitted that he was the father, the Franciscan Church agreed that it would pay child support through Nathan's life and all Pat had to do was keep the affair secret. She couldn't tell a soul. Of course she took the deal - what else could she have done.

So fast forward 22 years to last month and the boy gets diagnosed with cancer in the brain, and it's too far gone to remove so he's gonna die. As Pat told it, the church abandoned her at her hour of need. It's important to remember that in this story "the church" literally means the church, it's not figurative, coz it was actually the church Father Henry worked for that was meant to be making the payments, not even Father Henry himself. Anyway, she called, wrote letters, pleaded, went down on her knees, and then the church sent her $1,000. This was like 2% of what she really needed to cover the hospital bills and all. Anyway, she somehow made do, and I think it's at that point that her story got picked up by the media, first the New York Times and then Anderson Cooper which is where I saw it. Of course the church was embarassed, came out all guns blazing saying how over 22 years Pat had received in excess of $223,000 from them. That translates to just over $11,000 a year, hardly enough to raise a child on for a person with no other source of income. But that notwithstanding, looking at this picture through the eyes of the insititution that is supposed to be the moral beacon to the masses, was that really the biggest thing wrong with the picture? That they hadn't been paying child support?? Why even sign the agreement to begin with? Why cajole the woman and leave her with no choice? Why allow Father Henry to continue serving as a priest, knowing what they knew about him? Apparently as far as the church was concerned they'd done nothing wrong.

And that's the thing that's most jarring about this story. That this was not just one errant person who could have been the sole bad apple or could have acted impulsively in a moment of weakness. This was the entire church administration. This was something premeditated. Something they sat down and thought about. This was something they did and did over and over again for 22 years and did not feel anything. If a troubled soul can't find reprieve from the church, where else? If this is how the church treats, not a stranger, but one of its own, how about the millions of other people who obviously mean significantly less to it? People to whom it's supposed to be preaching the gospel of love, morality, kindness, responsibility, truthfulness? Think about Nathan, even, how's he supposed to get saved, and believe in an all-loving and all-caring God? When his own father, God's image on earth, abandoned him. She sat there, Pat, and she said she was sure the church would actually rejoice when her baby died because then he wouldn't be a pain to them any more. Imagine - the church actually leading someone to think that way about them and not being bothered one bit by it. Instead of even coming out with an apologetic face seeking forgiveness they have their lawyers draft a letter to Pat saying they will cover 100% the funeral expenses of Nathan. It's like money is just supposed to make everything right. That's the mind of a catholic board. And even that letter comes after the story gets wide coverage in the media. If they hadn't picked it up who knows?

Then for me this story is coming on the heels of another one I'd heard some time back about (this time a local church) a pastor who refused to marry two people who've been going to his church for a while, who had made every arrangement and were just waiting for the wedding day, because he discovered the groom wasn't a believer. The hypocrisy of it all!! Isn't salvation supposed to be a deeply personal decision? One that you do not take lightly? Doesn't the Bible say to work on our salvation with fear and with trembling? What if this was to be the man's epiphany? How is he now supposed to know Jesus if the church that should be bringing him into the fold turns him away? How's he supposed to interpret the meaning of salvation if the pastor basically gives him an ultimatum - get saved or go get married somewhere else?

Nathan died, a week ago. And the church covered all funeral expenses as promised. This woman left her husband, gave up her life, for the church, and all she got was $11,000 a year and funeral expenses. Does that seem inhuman to anyone else? Father Henry finally got suspended by his new boss - but on the strength of new allegations that he once carried on an affair (at the same time as with Pat, btw) with an under-18 girl. See that second affair is actually illegal, and it's that offence that he gets suspended for, as explicitly stated by his boss. Imagine that... You'd think the church should at least have a higher standard than the bare minimum required by law, wouldn't you? As it turns out, you'd be surprised.

END

the sound of names dropping

Do you have one of those names that is just so easy to mistake? Like Collins vs. Colin? And is the other name, the one that's not yours, the better-known one? You ever told people yours is the one without the S so many times you finally just gave up and resigned to answering to both names? The story of my life. It was Shakespeare himself,  was it not, who penned the all-important question. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet," said Juliet to Romeo, as she went ahead to convince him that it mattered very little to her that his name was that abominable Montague and hers was Capulet. 

Well, I think there's a lot in a name. People grow up loving their names, so much so that it's become universally accepted that the easiest way to leave a legacy is to leave something behind that bears your name. For some, the children are enough - but that's a legacy that'll probably only be known amongst about six people unless you're Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and you happen to have a child called Benazir Bhutto. A different way is to start a company with your name on the letter head. Like Saks Fifth Avenue, as in Andrew Saks, or McDonald's, as in Dick and Mac McDonald, or if you're immensely powerful, Pennsylvania, as in William Penn. You ever imagined whether Hilton would be such a household name today if Conrad Hilton was instead called Quinane Bartholomew? Paris Bartholomew just doesn't have the same ring to it as Paris Hilton, does it? Or if JW Marriott was, in fact, not called Marriott? Or if Donatella Versace had gotten married to a Jordanian and adopted an islamic name? I tend to think that a little wind would have been taken out of the sails. Those names became so famous so easily because they were already imposing to begin with. You're called Christian Collinsworth and you send in an audition article to New York Times and just like that you've got the job. You know, names with grandeur around them.

Lord Lexington wasn't a particularly difficult moniker to name a town after, and later an avenue in Manhattan. Or Queen Victoria the Victorian Age. See those were stately names. So, I think, is one Denis Pritt, or Argwings-Kodhek, or Haile Selassie. Imagine if either Ludwig van Beethoven or Wolfgang Amadeus Morzart had had less statuesque names, like say Scott Joplin. Would one sound so educated and cultured saying they listen to them? Thomas Edison invented some things and also the all-important light bulb, Nikola Tesla invented six hundred thousand other things that were infinitely less significant, and in fact Tesla actually worked for Edison at one point, and yet it was Tesla that history chose to honor with a whole metric unit, the tesla. Why do you think it is that rap stars [other than designers and models, the single group of people who're the most concerned with appearance] don't use their birth names on stage? Why instead they opt for names like Master P and Chamillionaire? It's an image they're trynna project - we gangster, we loaded. No one's gonna listen to a rapper called Calvin Broadus, so he instead calls himself Snoop Dogg, and goes on to sell a million records. Doesn't change anything else, just his name.

And all this is before I even start to consider the cultural importances of the name - which among other things point to one's tribe which is a seemingly crucial issue over here. I frankly couldn't care less about the tribes if I tried, I think it's enough to just say we're all Kenyans, so I'm staying out of that one. But all these things start with the name. Just the name. "What's in a name?" asks the Bard, well I say quite a lot. History. Origins. First impressions. Influence. Legacy. So no, I don't think a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. I think if a rose was called a skunk we wouldn't even touch it with a ten-foot pole. And I really don't think my name can be interchanged with the other one! When Jesus came down and gave His life for us, God was so impressed with Him that what did He give Him - the NAME that is above all names. The guy gave his life, and got just a name in exchange. Seriously, do we still think names don't matter? Call someone by their name today, see how many points that earns you with them.

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absence of purpose in the succession of events

I met a guy over the weekend, nice guy, called Ian. He's a preacher, preaches mostly in prison, but is part of a church that rents a hall some place in Ngara. This guy talked a good game about purpose, place in life, wealth and the importance of money (or lack thereof) and destiny. Of course, being a pastor, there were little bits thrown in there about God and being christian and walking by faith. He's a bit of a motivator so there was also a bit about role models and how they impact the people that follow them. See, Ian is a rich guy, by anyone's standards. If he's as good as his word, and I think he is, he owns the houses one of which he'd hired out to us (like nine in all) in an exclusive area, houses that made even me oooohh and aaaaahh. Lives in one and hires out the rest to people who want to stay here for short spans of time but don't want to do the hotel thing coz of that homely feel. Did the interior design all by himself ("You see I believe everyone is born with some art in him. You don't go to the interior designer with an empty space and tell him to decorate it, you tell him exactly what you want done and in the process of realizing it, he adds his own flair to make it better.") and it looks GOOD! Seems like he's always on the lookout for people whose lives he can change, as all good preachers should be ;)

Ian struck me as the kind of guy who's really big on purpose. Passion. "Everyone was created with a specific spot into which they were meant to fit. Find what it is you were meant to do, you won't have to compete with anyone there. No one can do your bidding better than you can." Told us about one of his tenants whom he knows runs a commodities trading website or shizznit like that, has only one customer, works only four hours a day, and still makes almost as much money as my employer (who has us work like 100 hours a week!). Told us this other story about himself, about how he loves organizing and planning for conferences, so much so that he can do it in his sleep, but his wife, who went to school for that and is a professional, would need a week, coz there's no passion there. He's a preacher, so he works just one day a week (Sunday, all you atheists! :), and still gets enough zest in that one day of work to keep him through the rest of the week. Used also the example of musicians. They do like two shows a month, and the rest of the time is spent preparing for the next outing. The thing they have in common: passion. It matters not how much, or little, time you spend at something. You don't even need to love what you do, apparently, you just need to have a passion for it.

On faith, he told us how he originally got those houses he owns. One day he drove down Gitanga Road, turned into Hatheru, stopped at the black gate, and there was a guy standing out there. Asked the guy if there were any houses available. The guy bent over (Ian was in a "small" car - as we found out later, a C200) and told him, "Inside here there's YOUR house." Guy walks him in, shows it to him and all he needed to see was the basement, and he told the guy to seal it and consider it bought. Ian's net worth at the time: KShs. 2,000. Faith. When you hear God talk to you through other people, do you heed? Do you follow through? Or do you start second-guessing and walk away, thinking when the deal is too good...(?) The things you study, the things you follow others into, those have nothing to do with what you're meant to end up doing. What did you maker create you for? Where does your maker intend that you go? Those are the important questions.

It really could just be me, but have you ever noticed that the only people who say money isn't important in life are people who already have money? I guarantee you, you'll be hard-pressed to find a clerical level government employee tell you how he values things like family, friendship, love, belief in Christ. In the end, it always comes down to the mortgage. Ian is one of those people. Thinks very little of money. Has massive disdain for the rat race, keeping up with the Joneses. See, he believes there's as many places to fit in in the world as there are people. Ian doesn't dissect projects and ventures to death. When he feels himself being steered left, he turns and goes left. Doesn't care how everyone else who went there has done, if it's his time, God's gonna see to it that he succeeds. Or, if he gets into a ditch, well, you live, you learn. Picks right back up and starts over. He oozes success, you know, the kind of person for whom it's worked out more often than it hasn't. Confidence.

All in all, the one thing you cannot fail to pick up on when you talk to this guy is purpose. And passion. Find out what it is you're meant to do, and pour your all into it. Don't necessarily follow the well-beaten path. When you find your ordained purpose, all these other things shall come. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God," says Ian, and also the Bible. Anyway, like I said, I've been noticing a lot that the only people who think like he does are people who already have money. Faith is a really easy thing to have in hindsight. It's when you're heading into the dark that your faith really gets tested. It could just be one of those unexplainable coincidences, but you've gotta agree with me; you tend to speak with a lot more conviction when you're saying, "I tried this and this is what came of it," than when you're saying, "I'm going to try this and this is what will come of it," right? Riiight...?

END

which to bury, us or the hatchet

So that ICC prosecutor shows up and all of a sudden all of the wounds of two years ago come rushing back to the forefront. Yesterday on News they showed a man who during the now infamous PEV hid in a bush as bandits burned his house down - his family inside it. He listened helplessly first as they desperately screamed, then as their screams slowly started to fade, turned into chokes, until there was deathly silence. You never forget that kind of thing. You never get over the day you hear your loved ones burn to death. You never forgive yourself for being unable to do anything about it. You never get over the fact that they (or you) had done nothing to deserve it, except try to eke out a peaceful living, and that whoever perpetrated the crime rises and sleeps in the knowledge that such a thing will probably never happen to them. One day you'll just be walking, going about your business, and then you'll hear that song play that your baby used to like singing or you'll smell your wife's scent on a random person in the street, or maybe just the smell of smoke, and  it's gonna hit you like a tidal wave. Forgiveness sounds like a very noble concept in theory, but you never forgive these people, because the pain never really goes away.

The depth of the human soul is an interesting thing. Impressions that take seconds to form can take a lifetime to wipe out. Remember that time you were a kid and your neighbour came with lollipops and gave everyone else and skipped you? because earlier in the day you'd refused to share your juice with them? That's how early the vengeful spirit is implanted in us. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. From then as we get older the stakes only get  higher, so the feeling only grows deeper. We define justice as nothing short of revenge. And people like St. Augustine [who was actually a Christian theologian btw] don't help any - he's the guy who says an unjust law is no law at all. We read and we find out that revenge is actually a legal principle (the law of retaliation under retributive justice - reciprocity should be equal to the crime: "life for life, wound for wound, stripe for stripe").  It's seemingly in the constitution, so how can it possibly be wrong? 

But even then, the supremacy of the individual being posited by such scholars as Henry David Thoreau - "Any man more right than his neighbours constitutes a majority of one." - a concept whose most horrific representation became Adolf Hitler, tends to vindicate us when we harbor such [for want of a more extreme term] ill feelings towards others. It's not as if we need anyone else to validate our dark desires, after all, they haven't been through what we have, have they? No one can understand our loss, so what qualifies them to pass judgement? But as if to add fuel to a fire that's already burning, here comes the law telling you you're actually right in demanding for that head on a plate. How can you not?

Louis Moreno-Ocampo is just one man. The quest for justice runs deeper than can be imagined by any of us. It's probably gonna take more than just him, and more than just one investigation cycle, to set matters right. But, that said, seeing to it that those guilty are made to face up to their crimes seems as good a first step as any. I haven't lost anything/one worth dying over, so I can't speak intelligently on the subject, but the guy on TV was saying if he can't get his family back, then at least he'd like to be able to see the people who took them away be brought to book. He will not be content with the matter just resting like that. All he wants is to know that yes he's suffering, but so are the people who ruined his life. And that's why this ICC prosecutor's coming is so monumental. Ocampo is just one man, but he represents a larger, more deep-seated principle. Revenge. Retribution. Justice. Where does one end and the other begin?

END

remember me as a time of day

I'm sitting in the car, on the passenger side. We're talking, the driver and I and the guy sitting on the back seat. We get off the highway into a side road, and this driver does not see that his lights are red, so he does not see the oncoming pickup truck, also partly because it's oncoming from my side (him he's turned right so he's looking ahead not to the left - which apparently they do teach at driving school. I see it, too  late. I hold my hand up to the window, almost as though I can myself prevent the crash. "Oh. My. God!" Time stops. The car starts honking, from afar, getting closer and closer, now accompanied by screeching tires as he tries to brake. My guy now turns to his left, sees it also, tries to swerve, but does not help. He screams. A loud pop. Escalates into a crash. A sharp searing pain from my shoulder to my head. Broken glass. Crumbling metal. I'm thrown to the right. The pain is now in my lower ribcage - which I later gather was me hitting the gear lever. I lose all feeling. My elbow knocks the steering wheel, followed rapidly by the rest of me. Then I fee myself pushed back by the driver's airbag. My head now on the driver's window. Needless to say, the car I'm in was not a Volvo, does not have side impact bars, or passenger airbags. The pickup comes to a screeching halt, stopped cold by the force of the collision. I start to see white, my head whirls round and round. A warm stream starts to flow steadily down my forehead, my hands, my neck. It's all happened in five seconds, but at slow motion they feel like two hours. And then it starts to get dark...

So we ran a red light some time last week in town, and that accident almost did happen, but the pick up stopped in time in the real-world(TM) version. I've been having this nightmare on and off since, and every time I wake up just as the crowd starts converging. It's almost as though I have one of those out-of-body experiences, where it's me in the action, but it's also me looking at it from above. Like the way on TV when people are having flashbacks they can see themselves as though from a third-person point of view. As I have learned, now and from past experience, death is like a thief in the night. It happens in an instant. There really won't be time to repent and all that stuff we tell ourselves we'll do just before we die. But like they say, you tend to survive if it wasn't your appointed time.

So anyway, here's my question: what age are you when you're in heaven? The age you were just before you died? The time you remember as being the happiest in your life? Or do we, like, get application forms filled where we pick? What if you were in the army and you died in combat - do you hobble around heaven sans the foot you lost to a land mine? What if you die by hanging - will you forever walk around all gross and blue with your tongue sticking out? And what if we can choose, and you die at 15, and you pick 35, how will anyone ever be able to find you then? Mark Shultz is playing (by design more than coincidence... :) "...Coz I believe that He never lets you go/I believe that He's wanting you to know/I believe that He'll lead you till/You're back in His arms again..."

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unpatriotic itchin' needs a patriotic scratch

"For love, for honor, for mankind." When they released Armageddon in 1998 that was the tagline, ostensibly meant to explain why akina Bruce Willis sacrificed their lives to go blow up the meteor that was coming to destroy the world (of course starting with America, as always :) The first two I get (yes I get love!), but that last one, for mankind, I have never understood. I've never seen the sense behind us having a predilection to identify with the rest of mankind just because we're similar, or with people my tribe just because we speak the same language, or people who come from my town just because we come from the same place, even people my race - just because we share ancestors. As irrational as I find love in general, this particular one I don't even bother rating - it's too out there.

When I was in uni I was in a club called SIFE, that's Students in Free Enterprise. Essentially it's a movement that aims to empower disenfranchised members of society with the economic wherewithal to empower themselves. So each uni carries out projects where they teach members of society how to make the money, then at the end of the competition cycle we all meet and present our projects and it's left to a panel to decide who's the winner based on who had the most financial and sustainable impact. My team was just the one - it was full of superstars! So two years running we go do these killer presentations, and two years running we win and get to go represent the country and our uni on the world stage [that's how I made it to NYC, btw], and the school administration used to be so proud of us that do you know how much help they accorded us? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Even just a letter to say these are our people could you please help them any way you can we had to ask till we were hoarse, so lemme not even go into financial assistance. The first time maybe you could argue we were a small club, relatively unknown, but the second time around, we were already reigning national champs and we'd just done it again [we actually used to go present the trophy to the admin as a courtesy]. I swear there was even this time we thought seriously about going as independents, rather than emissaries of that uni!

I'm thinking about these things coz in the just-concluded Project Fame, I saw on Twitter some time that Kenyans showed Patricia madha ati coz she had voted out Debarl (or one of the others - don't watch broadcast TV so I wouldn't know), and I was thinking dude! she doesn't like the guy she doesn't like the guy. Me I wasn't even one of the people who were up in arms when a while back Kaz voted out Didge in SA I think. I totally got it. If she thought he should go then she shouldn't have had to keep him just because "we're kinsmen." Or that time that runner Keter agreed to be bought by Denmark, so that he even changed nationalities - good for him. If he thought they were a better deal he shouldn't have been villified for accepting it just because "he's a son of the soil." Lord knows this country hadn't done much for him!

I love my family. I love my schools - high school and primary, (obviously not uni). And I love the two towns I grew up in. And since I moved here, gotta say, me I love Nairobi regardless (pun pun). You see those are places and people that changed my life. But I can't say I love the countryside where all luhyas are supposed to be from coz I've never been there. I can't say I love ugali just because "it's your people's favorite meal." Obviously don't even get me started on the small transistor radio thing. I gotta have more than that "sentimental value" to go on. There was a time in I think '04 when Natalie Maines [one of the Dixie Chicks - she's actually the Dixie Chick who sings] went on national TV and proclaimed that she was ashamed of Bush as president coz of the Iraq war. Now, you need to understand that when you sing Country you don't speak out against a president who hails from Texas - which is Country's biggest market - so naturally there was massive fallout, their concerts and air play suffered, she got death threats, so she apologized publicly; but later she changed her mind and reinstated her earlier sentiments. And went and wrote a song to that effect [which the Texans boycotted but went on to win the Grammy for Song of The Year and Record of The Year and the album it was from, Taking The Long Way, Album of The Year anyway]. At the time, Natalie commented, "The entire country may disagree with me, but I don't understand the necessity for patriotism. Why do you have to be a patriot? About what? This land is our land? Why? You can like where you live and like your life, but as for loving the whole country ... I don't see why people care so much about patriotism." She said that despite being a citizen in the Holy Grail of patriotic citizens, and just like that [at the risk of sounding, well, unpatriotic], she became my hero.

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losing my religion

The words to a song I wouldn't be caught dead listening to are running through my mind
Radio is playing, turn it up higher,
Gospel music's bumpin' and the place is on fire...
It's struck me because not too long ago, my friends and I were having an argument: does this so called "christian music" exist? And if there is, christian music, does the song need to contain an explicit reference to God/Jesus/the Holy Spirit for it to make the cut? Isn't it just enough that the person singing the song be christian?

I don't know if it's just me, but I've always been of the opinion that there's no such thing as christian music. See music to me has always been just a vessel; it's the reactions the song elicits that determines whether it's a song I love or not. The message behind the song, who the song is directed at, what the writer had in mind when they were writing it, the forums in which it is marketed, the personality of the singer, these are some of the things that cause to me to believe in some songs and not in others. I guess for me it's never really come up whether or not a song fits into this mould society has branded "christian music." If I listen to a song and I hear it speak to me I like it and I collect it. There's one of us who was saying his understanding of Christianity is belief in Christ. You have faith, you love Him, and then everything else follows from there. If you think of being christian that way, [disclaimer: simplistic argument coming up - not my view in any way] then a song can't really be christian coz, well, songs can't believe right? :) The other people seemed to follow the more conventional path - if a song can comfortably be sung in church then it's christian. If it can't, it's not. 

Take a song like Everything I Do, by Bryan Adams. Traditionally, he's been known as the guy that sings love songs, so even that just went into that category. But if you listen to it you'll notice it has none of the honey, babe, darling, beau or sweetie that characterizes every other love song out there. Because it's Bryan Adams we just automatically assumed he was singing it to a girl. And that is the ONLY reason we assume that. Now imagine it had been, say, Michael W. Smith, and you sang the exact same words with Jesus being the "you",  eh, does that sound like worship or what? Same song, different artist. What stops Alan Jackson's Where Were You (When The World Stopped Turning)? from being considered a christian song? That he's not religious? That it's about 9/11? Seriously, look at the lyrics:

I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith, hope and love are some good things he gave us
And the greatest is love

Word for word out of the Bible! And there's very many artists that fall in this ostensibly grey area, as in their songs don't explicitly say "Jesus is Lord!" so they wouldn't pass for Sunday morning worship, but you can definitely see christian principles being advocated for somewhere in there. Creed, Switchfoot, P.O.D, Paradise Lost, Enigma, Relient K, Six Pence None The Richer, Matt Kearney, even Skillet and Sanctus Real and Group 1 Crew - I have no idea why those are considered gospel bands. It's not as clear cut as it would be for, say, Hillsong, and you see those ones literally sing their music in church and record it there. So to me there's no such thing as christian music. There's just good music, and everything else [and clearly, if you ask me Chevelle Franklin above falls under everything else].

Just before he died, Jeff Buckley released an album. It was called Grace, and the biggest song out of it was a song called Hallelujah. It was so good it ultimately made it into Rolling Stones' 500 Greatest Albums of All Time at #303. You'd think it was a christian album, wouldn't you, and that Jeff Buckley was a gospel artist, right? Ya, you'd be surprised. And if anyone still has doubts, you only need look at the market. The best selling gospel album of all time is the Preacher's Wife soundtrack, by, wait for it, Whitney Houston. I'm willing to bet it sold that much because it was Whitney - drugs and fights with Bobbi Brown notwithstanding. Does that sound like double standards? Again, for me there's just good music [=rock], and everything else.

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it's the only one you've got

This is one of those times when the song just says everything I want to say, so I won't even try to change. It's a really old song I came across yesterday when I was being adventurous with my library by 3 Doors Down. I don't even know how I'd never noticed it before, but I haven't been able to stop playing it since.

How do you know where you're going
When you don't know where you've been
You hide the shame that you're not showing
And you won't let anyone in
A crowded street can be a quiet place
When you're walking alone
And now you think that you're the only
One who doesn't

[Chorus:]
Have to try
And you won't have to fail
If you're afraid to fly
Then I guess you never will
You hide behind your walls
Of maybe nevers
Forgetting that there's something more
Than just knowing better
Your mistakes do not define you now
They tell you who you're not
You've got to live this life you're given
Like it's the only one you've got

Memories have left you broken
And the scars have never healed
The emptiness in you is growing
But so little left to fill
You're scared to look back on the days before
You're too tired to move on
And now you think that you're the only 
One who doesn't

[Chorus]

What would it take
To get you to say that I'll try
And what would you say if
This was the last day of your life

You hide behind your walls
Of maybe nevers
Forgetting that there's something more
Than just knowing better
Your mistakes do not define you now
They tell you who you're not
You've got to live this life you're given
Like it's the only one you've got

I suppose this one's about living. Bringing down the walls. Immersing yourself in the moment. If you're afraid to fly, then I guess you never will. Cut yourself a break - no one's ever perfect. We all make mistakes, we just shouldn't let them define us. Pick yourself up and get right back on that horse. If this is as good as it's gonna get you don't want to be the guy who'll be wishing he'd lived a little when he could. You don't have any other life, this is the one you've been given. Live it, and make it rock! If you think about it, you really don't have any other choice - coz what's the worst that could happen, you could die? Well, that's gonna happen anyway so...


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through the eyes of a child

When I was nine years old, my parents almost split up. Actually I think they did, but for a week or a week and a half, coz she actually moved out and went to live with a certain neighbour of ours. Those days I was still the oldest, and I didn't really understand what was going on, so I really doubt akina my brother and sister even noticed any such thing. We used to go visit her at the neighbour's in the evenings after school, and then go back home to our father's. Can't remember exactly what they used to tell us when we asked why she was no longer staying with us, but I can remember the pastor and a certain delegation coming over every evening with her [our church at the time my dad was sort of one of the founding members back in '88 - he was good with guitars and stuff so he launched the very first choir when the church was coming up - and it wasn't yet that big, so there as that extra personal touch people got from the leadership], and then they'd lock themselves up in the sitting room and discuss lots of adult stuff laced with prayer, then when it was over she'd go back to the neighbour's till next session next day. Us guys were just glad we were being allowed to play outside after dark - that whole "forbidden fruit" thing. I believe that was my very first experience with counselling, the only one so far.

Despite the fact that I didn't get everything that was going on, I can actually remember the straw that broke the camel's back. See there was these two girls at the time that came to live with us, and they ended up becoming like my parents' adopted children (which was another thing I didn't get), so over time they grew up and became young women, and at some point there must have been some appearance of impropriety, coz the reason my mum left was she gave him an ultimatum ("They go or I go") and he must have refused to kick them out coz ati where were they supposed to go now (errrr, back to their parents' houses - who were still alive, btw) so she figured she wasn't gonna live like that. Anyway, the counselling must have worked, or love for the children must have won out, coz she did come back after that rocky period and the girls didn't even have to move out. Sorta opened my eyes up to the sacrifices parents make for their children. Like I said, I was nine, but I really think no child should have to grow up with two homes, or picking who's their favorite parent (btw, I chose my mother - coz to me it appeared like he hurt her somehow, and he got the house so it only seemed fair that she should get me. that's the mind of a nine year old - chuckle chuckle...)

The thing people never seem to realize is that children see things. Yes they're young, and they may not be able to understand certain concepts, but they see them. And they remember. In that single act, moving out not even knowing where she was going, more than even with the things she says, my mother taught me that you don't have to live with it just because that's the way it goes. You never don't have an option. Those people who say children learn what they live, they're really not kidding. Children see things, and they remember. Of course us people don't talk about it coz it was a long time ago and, well, we're a black family :), but at certain times I dread what if. And then I'm eternally grateful to the Lord it turned out the way it did. There is a certain bliss associated with being a child: the speed with which things slide; the wonder with which we see little things; the comfort we feel when holding a parent's hand; the way we can be sure just like that that it's all going to be ok tomorrow. I mean, here were my parents almost in the middle of getting a divorce, and there we were, playing bows and arrows without a single care. Sometimes I agree, there's not a thing sadder in the world than to wake up Christmas morning and not be a child.

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crash course in polite conversation

Ya, I know, I'm a little behind on the news, but WHAT! Apparently President Obama called Kanye West a jackass on TV!! Wow! I'd say the evolution of the office has now officially come full circle. Of course being a public office and all apologies from the network were immediately dispatched and the PR clean-up machine went into overdrive saying how it was off-the-record. And then Kelly Clarkson went and wrote the guy (Kanye) an open letter about did he have a lot of emotional problems as a kid? was his mum not kind enough to him? has he led a depraved life?... and I'm thinking, Dude, clearly there's a dis-interface of values here. The guy's as black as they come: doesn't know the meaning of decorum; thinks Fidy[50 Cent, y'all]'s cool for gett'n shot nine times, "He a gangster!"; puts on jeans thrice his actual size, or suits and those Airforce(TM) sneakers; plays Grand Theft Auto and Kingpin: Life of Crime during his free time; plus which, this ain't his first time crashing the awards. And you're gonna what, recommend a hug, or counselling? Ask him to bare his soul? Tell him it's OK to cry, to let it all out? Attribute his un-simpatico disposition to deep-seated emotional problems? Duude! {{{incredulous look on face}}}

But I gotta say, big-ups to the Pres for being real. Helps when you see from people in positions with power of some note show you that we're all just human in the end. And that it's OK to express your shock as you see fit. I just wonder if that "expression of feeling" would be so welcome if it went the other way, say me [a nobody] speaking out against the Vice President [THE somebody]. It might not be applauded, I'm guessing. If I had something less-than-polite to express about the vice president, I'd have to find a respectful way to say it, wouldn't I? Like I can't just up and call him a moron for speaking in a manner likely to infringe on the speaker's independence, right? See people like him should know that because of their office or otherwise (and in his case I'm pretty sure it's exclusively because of the office; I'm doubting if he didn't have that power backing him up people would pay him nearly as much mind) anything they say no matter how insignificant can have far-reaching consequences. When you're the vice president it's not just your personal opinion any more. And so they should sit down and think before they speak, or say anything in public. But he's lucky he did a thing like that in a country like this, where it begins and ends with what tribe you are. Where such misdemeanours simply get let slide as mere "political rhetoric." Where no one's gonna remember anything you do five days later, so it's a good thing the elections come once every five years coz by then, definitely it won't even come up. Totally figures, especially when you consider the fact that it took us 24 years to get so fed up that we overturned an oppressive regime in 2002. Who knows, maybe in another 24....

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