What It Really Means to Rejoice in the Lord

What It Really Means to Rejoice in the Lord

I woke up early this morning. I stretched and yawned. As I staggered to the bathroom, (now some of you would think I was having a terrible hangover) a distance voice was saying Rejoice! Rejoice!. It was a strange feeling because I have always had difficult in understanding why should I rejoice? Really what is there to rejoice for? There are so many things and situations to worry about in my life than there are to rejoice. Have you ever felt like that? Perhaps you are currently feeling like that.  Then another inner voice said “stop worrying”. Well I stopped for a moment on the hall way and saw our son sleeping quietly, then a thought crossed my mind he is not worried. ‘Look’ I said to myself, “here is a child with a care free soul. He believes in his parents. He knows His dad is capable and her mom loves is never ending”. I remembered the many times I have told him, “son lets go”, he never questions me first with where are we going dad questions? He jumps to his feet with excitement and start looking for his shoes first and off we goes. I remembered many times I have woken him up against his wish, disturbed his sleep at my will so that I can take him to school, visit places, eat, take shower and the list goes on and on. Yet he rarely questions my authority. Why is that? I posed that question to myself for second and an instant answer hit me; because he believes you are god. You are god to him. I provide, I love him, I protect him and I play with him hide and seek yet am his god.

The same case I am Gods child. How many times have I failed to believe in God of exodus yet my little boy believes in me. Yet my little child boasts of me to other children like my dad did this, my dad is that even when sometimes I don’t measure up.  But the other day as I drove him to church he said, “Dad you know I am a genius, I will give you my brain to use because I am a genius”. My hands froze on the steering wheel. My wife looked at me and our eyes locked as I came to halt at red sign. The look in my wife’s eyes was such like I am happy am not the one talking, “go get em son”.  We were all silent for are moment, and then my wife and I busted in laughter. The couple in the next lane watched us with awe. Perhaps wondering why and how on earth are they laughing at. Why should they be happy? Here we are contemplating on our multiple challenges yet some people can afford to laugh so hard and disturb the peace of our problems. Can’t they see its no laughing matter. This thought crossed my mind as the lights opened.  As I hit highway 35 I remembered {Psalm 127: 3-5} Sons are a heritage from the LORD, children a reward from him.  Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one's youth.  Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate.

Now how many times have we failed to believe in our Mighty God as Christians? How often have we failed to trust in Lord Jesus and His grace? How many times God has woken us from our sleep, and we refused to wake up? How many times have God told us to go yet we defied him and stood still. How many times the good Lord of Calvary has told us to stop yet we broke loose and got hijacked in the highway of life. This is all because we have refused to be children. No wonder it is said in Matthew 18:3 “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you change and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.”  There was my son and seated at back seat and willingly borrowing me his brain yet he trusted me more than the GPS he was playing with in his tiny fingers. This is what God ask of us. To be childlike. How many times have we refused to be childlike? Or even better how many times we have refused to be at the backseat and let God take control of our lives. This because, we are no better, but stubborn like the children of Israel in the desert. God seeks a childlike submissiveness and meekness, a gleeful childlike heart … and a childlike faith. Faith builds character, and this process starts when you are a child. Without faith, we cannot please God. “And without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.” (Hebrews 11:6). I proceeded to the bathroom and the inner voice said “My child stop worrying and rejoice in the Lord always”. My stubbornness in faith insisted, but how can I rejoice in the Lord always? As I washed my face and rose to see my face projected in the mirror I realized if I only remove this mirror I will see not my image any more but see God and rejoice in Him. At that moment I hoped on my laptop and started keying this blog.

Nearly every Christian knows the verse that says, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say rejoice” (Philippians 4:4). I memorized that verse when I was 5 years in my Kenyan Sunday school.  The exhortation is to “rejoice,” the location is “in the Lord,” and the duration is “always.”  Phew! that’s challenging. Reality demonstrates that Philippians 4:4 is sometimes difficult to apply, however. How can a Christian truly, “rejoice in the Lord always?”  How can I rejoice when I have lost my job. How can we rejoice with multiple debts and mortgage to clear. How can we rejoice when we have not talked to our spouses for days yet we live in the same house? How can we rejoice when the world is in war turmoil? Suicide bombers willingly ready to kill us in the name of God and you tell me to rejoice in His Name? How can we rejoice when the very nature and climate change does not guarantee our future generation?  How can we rejoice when living in foreign land as beggars, refugees or illegally without papers? How can we rejoice when all ‘good’ women and men are taken? How can I rejoice when am not sure of the next meal, living in abject poverty, sick and tired.  Simply put rejoicing in the Lord is not a guarantee of lack problems. Its like as Psalmist records in Psalm 113:9, the Lord will make the barren woman abide in the house as a joyful mother of children praising the LORD! Even though she is barren she will rejoice in the Lord like a joyful mother. Now that’s complex yet practical.

Adults have a tendency to become cynical with age, while a child has yet to be touched by the concerns of the world. It dawned on me of course, God wants us to come before Him as children, because children are innocent, and trust with a pure, uncorrupted heart.

The phrase, “rejoice in the Lord” is found several times in the book of Philippians. Perhaps an examination of these passages will aid our understanding as I share below the 4 explanations as presented through a sermon from Edgewood Church of Christ in Texas. I found it very encouraging yet thought provoking, challenging and more often than not very uncomfortable.

1. “Rejoicing… in Jesus Christ” (Phil. 1:26) — We are to rejoice in the Lord at the thought of reunion with our brethren. This is especially true when that reunion involves deliverance, as it would in Paul’s case (he wrote the book of Philippians from prison). So, rejoicing in the Lord is a matter of fellowship. Do our lives show that we intensely desire greater fellowship with other Christians? Do we earnestly pray that our brethren will be delivered from perilous places in their lives? It’s a matter of rejoicing in the Lord!

2. “Rejoice in the Lord” (Phil. 3:1, 3) — We are to rejoice in the Lord because of the humble and self-emptying examples of Jesus (Phil. 2:5-11), Paul (Phil. 2:17-18), Timothy (Phil. 2:19-24), and Epaphroditus (Phil. 2:25-30). Further, we are to walk in their footsteps by exhibiting a mind of humility ourselves (Phil. 3:1-11). Rejoicing in the Lord is a matter of self-renunciation. Do our lives demonstrate that we truly esteem the Christ-centered life as something most precious: “What things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ” (Phil. 3:8)?

3. “Rejoice in the Lord” (Phil. 4:4) — Christians are to rejoice in the Lord always, especially when it is difficult to get along with others (cf. Phil. 4:2-3). Rejoicing in the Lord, then, is a matter of reconciliation (Phil. 4:2-5), prayer (Phil. 4:6-7), proper meditation (Phil. 4:8), and imitation of what is right (Phil. 4:9). Unnecessary conflict with brethren keeps us from true rejoicing. Lack of prayer and the wrong kind of thinking will keep us from rejoicing in the Lord as we ought. Do our thoughts, prayers, and actions demonstrate that we place our utmost confidence in God’s power and goodness?

4. “Rejoice in the Lord” (Phil. 4:10) — We are to rejoice in the Lord because of the active, obedient faith of other Christians, regardless of the circumstances in which we find ourselves. Paul could rejoice in the Lord even though he was imprisoned, partly because his circumstances gave others the opportunity to exercise their faith (Phil. 4:10-17). Thus, we might say that rejoicing in the Lord is a matter of love and contentment. Do our lives show contentment by seeking to do all things, “without complaining and grumbling” (Phil. 2:14)?

From the passages above, it seems that rejoicing in the Lord is a matter of looking for God’s influence in every situation of life and pointing out that influence to others. Rejoicing in the Lord is, quite simply, a change in perspective and outlook. Do I really believe that God is working through me as I seek to do His will (Phil. 2:12-13)? Do I consistently look for reasons to praise God, even when my own circumstances are difficult to endure (Phil. 1:12; 4:10-17)? When I see God’s influence in the world, do I regularly mention it to others so that they may glorify God with me (Phil. 4:10)?

Remember also rejoicing in the Lord does not mean you sit back and do nothing. It means we have an obligation to align our thoughts with God’s will, because we are co-creators in the Kingdom of God. That Kingdom of God starts here on Earth not in Heaven. The reason we should not only say The Lords prayer that has been far removed from our midst but deeply meditate on it.  

By ~Njoroge wa Ngige~ 121915-1120. 

The Original Kenyan Christmas.

The Original Kenyan Christmas.

It was raining cats and dogs. The last time I checked in my nursery rhyme book C-for cat Meows and D- for dog barks Woo Woo. Why it was raining cats and dogs we might have to ask the fake “English” weather man in the black and white neighbors Television set. In the pitch of darkness I woke up. I had ironed my clothes the previous night but left the charcoal still burning. I had slept late thinking of the bus ride ahead. I thought I saw it pass by. In those days it was fun waiting for the bus. We will go to the bus stop early in the morning around 5am. My mom would have woken us early but not without splashing cold water on our eyes for us to be really awake. Waking up was not that easy especially during the school December holiday.  At the bus stop I loved the anxiety and sheer magical faces heading upcountry. Where I come from it is expected that one would make a maiden yearly pilgrimage to see the extended family. The upcountry buses were a maze, they came in different colours, catchy names and numerous honking sounds. The drivers would start honking a mile away before the busses came to a scratching stop full of funfair. The bus conductors would be hanging at the doors in style and when the bus charged to the next bus stop the conductor will run and jump  in to the moving bus, that was so cool to watch.  In those days we believed in the city but no one would call the concrete jungle home. The land lord was constantly hated. Played cat and mouse game with tenants, while I played hide and seek game with my peers. I was a free soul. I trusted in my parents to provide and shelter me from the cats and dogs rain of life. They did well to their ability. Now I have inherited all their worries. I wish I never grew up.

I sprung from bed just in time to knock the hot charcoal iron box with my protruding jigger infested toe. Both houses were on fire. The jigger house toe hurt sweetly bad, my grandmother soon will weaver her itchy needle under my toe. My only Christmas shirt was on fire too. My mom burned down with range as she motherly charged towards me. Gave me a quick firm spanking on my naked butt saying “I have always told you to look where you are going”. Even today I have never seen where I am going I only know I keep on going. She sent me running with a nice pinching on my chubby chicks. She tossed the burning shirt through the window to the storming rain, and I was sure I heard the thunder roar for I had seen the lightning flash. 

Suddenly there was an incessant knock at the door. It was not friendly knock.  My dad opened the door. He was halfway shaved with one thick side burn still intact with snow like soap foam. I loved see my dad shave, he was meticulous and methodical. After he would tell me “I need my shoes shined-son”. I religiously sparklingly shined his shoes for the longest I cared every weekend.  In the afternoon he would take me to the horse race at Ngong Racecourses. My dad loved horses but he never owed a burn. He could bet the best horse to win. In this particularly bright Sunday he struck his luck and won a cow. He left me with an indelible mark always reminding me “For you to win you must objectively risk to play smart and hope to remain in the game”. We cashed the cow and headed home to celebrate.

The Land Lord under a heaving voice said “You haven’t paid my rent now you want to burn my house down”  “You almost hit me with a burning shirt and I almost broke my hip dodging it”. My dad laughed so heartily that the soap foam on his side burn melted away and started dripping on the soap dish.  My dad replied, “Where are you going this early Mr. Karongo? “ “I found you ….” Mr.  Karongo continued “I have been coming here the whole week every morning and Mama Watoto-tells me “He left early. Now I found you…” My dad smiled and quipped, Mr. Karongo you don’t have to wake the entire neighborhood or break your hip neither do you have to dodge burning shirts, I will see you today at Hakanyua”. That was my dad firm and collected. Hakanyua was the village pub the meeting point. It was a popular pub where teachers, city farmers and the village chiefs congregated to rescue their evenings after work.  At Hakanyua the same evening I came to learn later that Mr. Karongo was paid the outstanding rent arrears and served four bottles of beer. Mr Karongo returned hand with two beers, and gave my dad a ride home in his old Peugeot 404 that defied time as they talked politics. In those days that were the way issues were friendly solved. Today they will garnish your salary. Send you creditors to collect the money and before they declare you bankrupt skin you alive by literary throwing you to the rain.   

I dashed out to try salvaging my damaged shirt. The rain had done justice but the red hot charcoals left three large holes on my new shirt. I still nostalgically keep the charcoal iron box as a souvenir to pass down the generation. It is actually older than me by miles.  I changed to another rugged T-shirt and donned a warm sweater. We ate breakfast and everybody headed out to the bus stop. My father bid us good buy saying “I will join you in a weeks time, got to go to work, say hi to everyone.”  My Alarm went off. I pipped through the window. It was so cold. The earth was covered in winter snow and my body ached from previous night 16 hours double shift. It was time to go to work.  Surely it was just a dream. A real dream, in a foreign land.  I wish I never alighted from the original Christmas bus. 

By ~Njoroge wa Ngige~ 121615- 0900.

I am an Island

I am an Island 

Even an Island has to rub shoulders with rough sea. Sometimes its good to be an island. Why so often are we quickly reminded oh no man is an island. To be an island you have to rise above the average. Defy law of gravity, and grow your horns upwards. You must have considerable depth of roots and firm foundation to stand tall in  tumorous ocean activity. You must stand against tectonic forces and active volcanoes. Sometimes I am an island, where you will find deep herbal legumes. Sometimes I am a rough sea, remember if you rattle a snake adage even if you are not prepared I will bite you. Don't come close to this Island for I am shrewd too as positive quality to fight evil corruption, the book of life reminds me too to be as harmless as dove, so I will bite you while therapeutically am massaging you, and you will still offer me your over recycled advise, no man is an Island. I will smile back with wit because my shadow is longer than yours, I am the tallest mountain in the rough sea. Now go tell the world no man is Island.

~Njoroge wa Ngige ~ 121315- 1041

Sex Swap: A moral Suicide?

Sex Swap: A moral Suicide?

It’s almost the end 2015. We have 21 days to 2016, the year I want to change my Sex. Every day I want to change my sex not my thinking how convenient is that? This is not a New Year resolution or a promise.  Wait,   I meant weight.  Can I go back?  I want to change my sex!  Well, Transfiguration is not the same as transsexualism. In transgender you are consciously configuring yourself to the nearest whole number.  My nearest whole number while I “might” be of the opposite sex is my current dominant biological born sex status.  It is heart breaking people.  No let me re-phrase that; no let me re-face that. Perhaps I meant let me ‘change’ myself to something else.   Hearts are broken in the name of seeking worthless fame and overnight fake stale global headline stories. They are just that, yes! Empty stories that the world cannot afford to ignore because they are of “special importance” with a more secular political correctness status not ordained from God. But my African adage informs me promptly me that empty pots make loudest noise.

We all have stories to tell, but very few stories to keep. Very few stories to last one sunset if any. Who said for our stories to be retold in the halls of fame and stored in the world museums of consciousness we must be so weird and psychologically twisted?  To rekindle our hopes it’s equal to zero or pure accidental. In our in-satiable desires, we want make headlines at all costs and for the obvious wrong reasons. Why do I say this? Because soon we are scared of the generational truth that does not change. Think of lies becoming truth and truth becoming lies overnight. Ever thought of that in real world? That is what they feed you. What they feed you, you become.  You cannot be entertained in dinner of arrowroots and sorghum herbs and yams and expect you to pass stool (Feces) of Macaroni and Cheese in your long call of nature.   If they don’t get what they want they will declare you bankrupt and misdiagnose you with a strange strain of incurable disease that is permanently immoral and contagious.

I do not understand how I can be a man of say 71 or 21 years and tomorrow morning I wake up thinking I should be a she. Why can’t the sun do the same to the moon? The stars decide one day to be a rainbow when there is no rain at all. And in our ignorant consciousness flood the market with umbrellas thinking it will rain cats and dogs. I am sorry there are no dogs any more. Even the cats are skinned alive.  The Chinese are on mission to make all our pets an extinct delicacy.  Hallo mankind? The writings are on the wall, but it’s all in Greek.  There is something terribly wrong with us people! What should say in this case? Let me begin from the beginning. I am a male to begin with, then a husband, a father and to the same effect a grandfather.  Then one morning I am a female. No I am not. It can’t be. Not unless I am growing young in backwardness then can I pull that shot with minimal sleep tranquility. We do not need genital reconstruction in my view. We need spiritual and psychological reconstruction before we start suffering from post-operation depression. The question is do we change the chromosomes? What about the genetic makeup? Why should we inject our self with fake hormonal imbalance? Some studies have shown and suggest that sex reassignment, although alleviating gender dysphoria may not suffice as treatment for transsexualism. The answer you are looking is simple but the actual operation is complex.  Once you cross over you have simply signed your suicide note with your own blood

Being a female in my opinion is not being a woman. Those are two different time zones like the actual menstrual periods and menopause stages are different and complex in all females.  If I change my sex physically I am consciously obligated to change my sex psychologically, emotionally and socially speaking. Tell me in in real world how I will stop to become a grandpa to a grandma, A father to a mother, a husband to a wife? A boy to girl or vice versa.   I must be watching a script straight from hell.  The same way I do not call a press conference to announce that I am actually straight. The same way I do not expect you to cause a political stampede simply because you want to be recognized and viewed as gay and “ass” such with special “ass” rights than an ass itself.  The more you keep quite the more you do not rattle as snake. Why in the world does looking so differently lost have been mistaken to be so fashionably cool? Just saying. Keep your own bedroom story to yourself. Join the conversation.

By Njoroge wa Ngige 121015-0203

Mistari {Lines} ( A Swahili Poem:) On Corruption

IMPOSSIBILITIES

Impossibilities

They told me being a blogger is wasting time. I smiled and silently whispered to my heart, Sustain me, my God, according to your promise, and I will live. They didn't know the difference between a blogger & writer (Writers are craftsmen, bloggers have craft). what bloggers don't tell you they also make money in their trade. It is a venture for the bold hearted and ruthless razor cutters. its like walking on mine field you don't know what might hit you until the dust settle down.  I just cashed another bloggers cheque.  I believe writing is dictated by strict form standard and style of presentation. Blogging collapses all that mantra to anything of bloggers creativity with no boundaries. I love the later because it allows virgin creativity with no formal baggage.   And  where do you get all this time to write? They continued..(They didn’t know time is created).. you've got to pay bills do a double and triple shift back and forth. Well, we all know majority of diaspora stories how they start and end ....doing what your friend told you, not what you always wanted. Doing what your host family dictated you to do under prevailing circumstances at that time. Being forced to make lifetime altering decisions under intense pressure. Now you realize the difference between surviving and living is like being half awake and alert at the same time. You will never know what hit you until you run a red light while yours shut and the only evidence on the crash scene is your bloody stained double triple pay stub. You will be lucky if you visit the next doctor’s appointment with a cracked skull holding your precious memory in your trembling palms. 

Well back to original story. Blogging it is certainly not a waste of time. It is only viewed with pedestrian look and less formal. Perhaps a sign to the extent of how our formal schools distort our thinking.  When over 12,000 followers in the shadows of life  yearn for more and push you beyond limit then you realize God has positioned you as bridge of inspiration where multitudes can look in the mirror and smile of what they read and see. Words are powerful medium. They mean life or death. They create or destroy. They provoke and inspire. They heal at the same time they hurt. The world is hungry of information, the right information. I package words, I spew Ideas. I ship original ideas.  I like when people say it is impossible, I like dealing with impossibles,  we are all children of impossibilities at some point in our lives. The possible was at one point in time the Impossible. The world is impossible because is full of impossible nay Sayers. You must separate yourself from their narrow toxic absentmindedness. Do not think out of the box. Instead tell them there is no box anyway, there has never been, it is just a figment of lame imagination. Lazy -mind-syndrome perhaps. Don't quote me I made that up! Truth be told I write when most people are a sleep, at the dead of the night and that time I see God walking inspecting His projects. He tapped my shoulder and whispered something these in this wee hours of cold night..."Keep doing what you are doing son I am not yet done with you". Then I remembered psalm 119 the longest chapter in the Bible” May your unfailing love come to me, Lord, your salvation, according to your promise; then I can answer anyone who taunts me, for I trust in your word.

Our lives are dotted lines you must connect your dots. Remember Astronomy is the study of birth, life and death of Stars.  Moon, Sun, Comets, and Galaxies are all a phenomena that originates outside the Earth’s atmosphere. I am a phenomenon, wonderful and fearfully made. That sounds impossible, right?  Stars can only shine in darkness. You must find your star. Let us not study you or know you in eulogies of death, let us know you in life more than in your mortal being. Its Thanks Giving people, giving not receiving, for there is more joy in giving than receiving.  Happy Thanks giving. 

By Njoroge wa Ngige 112215-0739

Paris Terror Attacks: Hopeful is not the same as Helpful

Paris Attacks: Hopeful is not the same as Helpful

Are human beings united in death more than in life, in pain more than laughter, in groaning more than ululations, in mourning more than celebrating life. Is mankind eternally  inclined toward evil and destruction?
Does the only thing that seems to make headlines is, hate, Sex, drugs, violence (terrorism), corruption, abortion and death. Indeed evil has entered world proper. It’s the final touch down.  After the terrorist (Axis of evil) have unleashed their theater of violence and indiscriminate cold brutal killings of innocent in the streets of Paris Bataclan theater , the floodgates of blood have just been flung open. I believe France as world power will swiftly and decisively respond with smart bombs and air power until you can hear a pin drop in the deserts of Armageddon. The things we watch in the movies in the comfort of our homes have literally come to haunt us.  

You do not kill in the Name of God. Not unless “You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father's desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies” { John 8:44}. They will put you out of the synagogues. Indeed, the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think he is offering service to God-{John 16:2}. With the rivers of innocent blood in Paris and elsewhere the above two chapters in the Bible are practically here with us.

We of civilized world must know we are fighting an ideological war. We are facing a faceless idiot that is ready to die. Until they strike we don’t know who they are. Their script is the same from Kenya, to New York, Nigeria to Beirut, Egypt to Paris. The only difference is the way the world reacts and offers selective unity among the fallen. Talk of racism even in death.  Talk of blood of the innocence being uniformly red. Before Paris terrorist attacks, the mujaheddin were still killing in Libya, Nigeria, Somalia, Syria, Iraq and elsewhere. The world was silent and instead issued travel advisories to the hotbeds of terror. The super powers of the world and the people entrusted with instruments of power have been negotiating with terrorists on which terrorist to strike and which terrorists to spare. Syria is a good example. Corporations of double standards and greed for the resources. We are therefore paying a big price with our lives. You do not gamble with people souls.   

What is our ideological response? Do we have any? Or we only unleash ‘smart terror’ on the terrorists?  Let us be honest, the world was relatively peaceful before invasion of Iraq. It was relatively peaceful before invasion of Afghanistan. It was even more relatively peaceful before the so called Arab revolution (Spring) that the western world so aided. We clapped when dictators fell and smoked from spider holes in the thick of deserts heat. We said we are exporting democracy but instead we invited demons from hell.  All of these countries were ‘functional’ under the brutal force of fearless dictators. Some cultures and religions must be left that way for the greater peace of the rest of the world.

My condolences and prayers to the families of the loved ones who have been killed and continue to be killed by the evil terrorists globally.  To the wounded speedy recovery and may your heroic stories inspire us to love one another. 

By NJoroge wa Ngige- 111615-0336

Legalize Corruption

Legalize Corruption

We are under siege ‘good’ people. Politicians are in the house as an uninvited guest. They are nothing more than our inconvenient companions. They operate in selective revolution of amnesia. The marrons’ are raping our plagued economic dragon from all cavities pretending to be Amicus curie for only five years. They found their way in thorough the cracks in our hearts and our scattered mind.  I think and propose that we should make corruption a legal venture. I am the mover of this motion and will pay the bill to pass it law. If you don’t participate in thieving that should be punishable under our penal code and as such a felony. School curriculum must include corruption courses 101.  It has become fashionable to steal. Young people want be millionaires before sunrise. Corruption is our culture, runs deep in our blood, our secrete DNA.  That’s what majority of us propagate, and our religious outfits offer unsolicited prayers for the highest bidder. It just depends on how your pockets run dip. Why have we allowed politicians on the pulpit? We have defiled the alter of God with their bloody loot. We clap awesomely as they take the stage, clap when they steal and worship them in courts of malicious justice for higher.

You ask who am I to judge, well the questions is who will judge the judge of the judged? We need a firing squad to permanently server the fingers in the cookie jar. They don’t drive on our roads; Misplaced priorities buying helicopters instead of fixing the roads. They don’t even walk its waste of time to the next nearest scandal. They fly! And we marvel as they spectacularly land from skies to address us. They Loot we provide the audience.

My question is if we steal from public 24/7 when do we have time to 'enjoy' our loot? No wonder we impotently choke with the loot and doctor’s diagnosis is fake because he is surgically wired to count bodies in the morgue while shouting NEXT....He dis-sappers to the thick of the night and reappears high barking orders. Behold the mysterious cabinet of confusion! They say the sweetest thing while giggling.  It’s against the rule to reveal the rules to non-magicians. How fashionable it is to step aside after thieving. The lawyers are waiting in the edges of the forest to be hired as nanny diapers.  Who would have thought? The loot has reached the crescendo of diarrhea and both the opposition and ruling Spenserian have run a mock naked. The opposition is happy when the government is flooded with graft because they know they have a convincing mantra to join the loot in the next government. It’s inconceivable to think of a person who laughs in a burning house simply because he did not start the fire. When two people argue psychology informs us they more often than not hobour irresistible strong feelings for one another affectionate delight. Sounds familiar? I should not have the liberty of explaining the process of romance without groaning. If the evidence is not forthcoming that doesn't mean there is no graft. It means politicians and their shenanigans have crafted ways to cover their heinous activities. I hear the Chinese write very interesting stories, but with all my training that allows me to read Gikuyu, Swahili, English, French and Russian, if I got hold of a Chinese novel I won’t do better than simply admire all those boxes, crooked lines and butterflies in their writing. But it will be stark intellectual bankruptcy and an affront to basic scientific logic to conclude that Chinese novels are all about boxes, crooked lines and butterflies, simply because that is how far I can see!!  Remember “shamba la wanyama’ nowdays ‘ni plot za wanyama mashamba zimeisha’.

We have allowed divisive politics and 24/7 we have become addicted to their malignant theatrics. I stopped watching Kenyan news long time ago. Not issue based. All politics of oligarchy personalities. The media fuel such behavior to an extent of permanently airing nonsensical stale reports, like when some politicians sneezes. Who cares?

My tribe is truth and I pay no homage to your otherwise legalized corruption escapades full of secret tunnels and turmoil’s. We should build them monuments of shame and plunder.  We must count every grain if we must before we pay for a package that we ordered not. We have a duty to be careful as people. We have a civil duty to act, for our hard questions are unanswered. Corruption It’s a social-economic political generational conveyor belt, cannot be eradicated, because it’s a vice of values we choose but can be reduced by the values we choose.   I will go mad if I was lying that I will build you a castle on the hill while we are in hopeless desert with oasis of corruption……think of something else….I smell dry desert full skeleton bones. …….I wonder how many rocks are in this mountain for we are not alone down here. The good fortune is all mine. That is corruption too. Incorruptible message, even though I forgot my fishing rod.  samngige.blogspot.com

~By Njoroge wa Ngige~ 11/08/15-1156

7 Differences Between Wealth, Riches & Fame.

5 Lessons I Learnt from Royals Winning 2015 World Series

5 Lessons I learnt from Royals Winning World Series.

Kansas City Royals are 2015 World Series Champions: A champion’s parade is lined up tomorrow in Kansas city. A crowd exceeding over 200 hundred thousand fans is excepted to welcome the Royals at Union station and later at Kauffman Stadium.  I watched the entire game. Watching this game tonight felt like walking on sharp needles or chewing a hot coal. I drew up a few fundamental lessons from the champions themselves. Take a look at the following.

1. If you want to be a winner you must get ‘dirty’: No kid gloves. Ain’t kidding.  You must do the donkey’s job of cracking your brain and diving in to the split moments that make a difference in life more than in death.  The credit does not go to the spectator shouting on top of his voice or booing you when you make the slightest mistake in the crucial game of life. Everything you need to know is wrapped in the dusty rough arena.  The credit goes to the person stuck in the mud and marred with dust. Remember ‘if you do not work do not eat’. If you are not prepared to pay the ultimate price before taking the prize; then go back to the drawing board.“I don’t know how we could be any happier,” Said Kansas city Mayor Sly James. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: If you can’t love Kansas City today, you never will. “New York is New York. It’s a city that never sleeps. Kansas City is Kansas City. It’s a city that never quits.”

Read more here: http://www.kansascity.com/news/local/article42202245.html#storylink=cpy

2. Do not tell the world:  nothing until you identify you team- in other words do not be too excited to inform the world what you are about to do, just do it. In any case the world is full of enemies that you confuse to be your team mates. Biblical King David asked God to show him his friends because he knew his enemies. It’s about time you get to know your friends for you have more enemies every day.   You must move with positive energy. Haters are waiting patiently for you in the next stop sign. If you have genuine team mates they will always pick you up. You will always have a shoulder to cry on. Only share your dream with people who matters. Do not be swayed, your dream will not make sense to ordinary critics. Neither will it excite the multitude. Instead majority or all of the people will think you are out of your mind or you have run out of your prescription. Kansas City Royals waited for over 20 years to lift the vision engraved in their hearts. Your vision must be en grained in your heart not your mind. Your mind executes skills and applied knowledge. Your heart executes passion of visionary dreams.  The kind of “Yes we can” slogan from President Obama Campaign of 2008.  By and large do not conform to the ordinary story line or narrative, become a revolutionist of some sort, of substance. You must be a ‘rebel’, as self-proclaimed sage or  you cry  dry tears during your funeral procession before your ‘death’ of victory. Do not make a deal with the world. You will be disappointed. Make a deal with your own passion and intuition.  That way you can taste the freshness of difference away from conformity. The Kansas City Royals created a family team before winning the World Series. As a family the Royals never allowed drowning in the nay Sayers of their opponents’ MET supporters. Instead they had all their royalty pay off in a nail biting final.

3. Never show you weakness-Just acknowledge it (them) and move on to improve on it (them). Kansas City Royals team while going to the final game in the World Series in New York, one formidable player had just jetted in from funeral of his father overseas. Another was expecting the birth of his child. Any moment and every pitch in between the game would possibly have had the potential of labour onset. These players never flinched. Instead they showed resilience and kept focus to the big picture, winning the World Series. You will not stop the world from ticking to start complaining. You will always have an excuse for your failures to rise to the occasion anyway.  Many great leaders have failed but failure never held them down. Every time they bumped their head they dusted themselves and soldiered on. Stay put until you see the light in the end of the tunnel. If there is no light use your artificial flash light, just to illuminate the path albeit for a while before dawn.  There was a lot of work that went into motivating the Kansas City Royal Baseball team before they lifted the 2015 cup in Citi stadium New York, Mets home ground. You must align your mind with your heart. That is the winning formula. Love at 360 degrees.

4. Preparation: All the team members of Royals team did not wake up today and became the World Series champions over night!. They already won the series in the preparation stage alone. What they displayed tonight in the actual game was their preparedness and willingness to fight. All of the players had a history of over 10 years playing baseball. You must have your history which comes with character, not how many likes you have received in the Halloween Instagram. No shortcut to fame otherwise it is short-lived and at the end you might commit suicide without leaving a suicide note. If you spend much time preparing well, there will be little effort employed in execution of the grand plan. Kansas City Royals prepared for 30 years before striking in true colours to win the World  Series 2015.

5. Never give up! Hard work pays off- in the final 9th inning of the 5^th game New York MET team was leading the game 2 to nil. Everybody knew MET were now posed to win the big game and move on to the 6^th game.  In the last pitching Royals turned the tables and bounced back to the game in style. In other words they never gave up even in the verge of crushing out. They just kept winning in to the 12th inning to close the game with 7 to 2 and that sealed their opponent’s fate in their home turf. Don’t stop believing. You will get more than you imagined. Winning sometimes is one time activity in a life time. You do not win World Series every year. There will be dry spells after this Royalistic accomplishment. Once you win and you are on the top of the world it’s good to be spectacularly realistic before the clouds start to gather. The hardest thing is not finding your ground sometimes its finding your royal ground. The point is not who is driving the car the car has to move from point B to point A and sometimes to point Z for mechanical checkup anyway. You are still in the game until to the last whistle. When the Royals won the World Series I checked my clock. It was  past midnight. It occurred to me either the clock was wrong or I was mistaken. That does not matter. Kansas City Royals had won. When you win time stands still, literary.  go go Kansas City Royals......You made us proud therapeutically speaking. Congratulations.   

Original thoughts by Njoroge wa Ngige -110215-1051

Earth is a Prison!

Earth is a Prison!

You are trapped.  You are in a cage. You are not free because you think you are free. Many before you have thought that way. I am not telling you stop, no you will be abnormal and insane if at any moment in time you will think you are not free. If you are free don’t let us know. Just be free! Am I asking so much for your craved unclaimed freedom? You don’t know you are free because you think you are free. You know you are free because you experience freedom whenever you want in whatever way.   You know you are not free because you are in prison. A self-exiled thought prison. A house arrest of some sought.  You are your own inmate, you probe yourself, you process the warrant of arrest and you actually arrest yourself. You pulled chain your self idiot.  The moment you realize you live in life closets of dry skeleton bones you will then begin breathing life.

You try to be perfect, who asked you to be perfect? The world needs honest people, not perfect. For the world is full of imperfection. Perfect people are not honest. Honest people are not perfect.  What you portray outward does not necessarily say who you are. You have been pretending all this years to be who you are not. I mean who are you? You think am insulting you? no; I am intentionally provoking you, now tell me who the hell are you trying so hard not to be? This is because I know who you are trying not to be. The more you try not to be the more you are.  You have tried all the short cuts to mean who you are not. All these shortcuts have led you to hell.  But you don’t want to admit this, mhh because you know you are full of bullshit crap about your rights that you never earned, neither do you deserve them.  

You live in a dog house of the ‘my right’ world. It’s like living on the nose bridge while in actual sense you are being chewed and roasted like cow cud in the middle of the night when Mr. Perfect is in dream world of imperfection ecstatic orgasm of your own freedom while raising his middle finger. 

In essence you are this narcissistic fantastic perfect imperfect person. You do not live in the cosmos of time. You can travel in thought any time that you wish to do so.  The problem is that you take so long to come back once you travel.  Please come back to reality of the mother earth prison where you belong .You have never earned your freedom, it was ‘given’ in the morning and taken away at sunset.  Now you must fight for it at sunrise. The true freedom is not free. It’s still trapped, in earth’s prison that is in you. One thing you must keep in mind no one breaks the prison alone. "What surprises me, as a human, is not what dogs bark at; It's what they don't bark at" .Have a freedom day. wont you? 

By  Njoroge wa Ngige 102315-0134

A Case of Mistaken Identity

A  Case of Mistaken Identity

The first place to go when I visit your place is bathroom and then Kitchen. I am like an armed bank robber; you are expected to pay shipping cost even if you made no orders, when I show up. I will run my middle finger on the kitchen dais; point it up to detect dust while my sun glances are still on.  Don’t mind my sun glances at night there are invisible drones gathering information with no warrants of arrests.

I am like a secret agent on a special mission to recover evidence of an old cold case file.  I will stick my teeth and glean at the toilet bowl to see whether I can have a glimpse of my Doncolion fugitive face reflected on the secret camera above.  Any hairs or slippery soaps littered on the sink can and will develop some serious conditions that can develop to dizziness and virtual dents without your insurance cover blown up, absolutely with no obligation.  You will be surprised and cornered by my mannerism of articulate intelligence.  Somehow you would think I pulled at your crowded drive way only a neighbor to alert you that he has nowhere to park his borrowed car for his mortgaged house is on fire.

I will then crush your hired cell phone with my enterprise boot. After all you have all this time labored to live in a cell phone, a self-exiled solitudeness like a psychopath. You have been living on borrowed times in unfamiliar territories of pay check to check. They have hired extortionists to always follow you with undetectable pay day loans agents. They will always be there to strike with no warning and no blood on the dancing floor.  You will die 20 minutes later and no suspect in the scene, for you have been all this long been picked by forensic as a person of interest without your knowledge.  There will be no crime scene for you have never been a victim but just a depository bank that’s depleted before the next pay period.  Now you can talk all you want as you drown in your local pub of sorrows.  A  case of mistaken identity. with circumstantial evidence.   A procedural error which is completely reversible. 

~Njoroge wa Ngige~  101915-2326

The Bloodied Knuckles

The Bloodied Knuckles

Sometimes we hear voices,

Distinct, chaotic or faint whispers,

Sometimes lots of voices or no voices at all,

Why are you calling while I am here?

Why are you calling while I can hear?

Why are you calling while I can’t hear?

You why? Oh! Why You?

 

I am a little upset!

I am not thinking now, leave me alone,

To have quiet time,

A Tranquility of confusion,

How often or very often do you feel that?

The reason why cows chew cud at night,

I lost memory when I made decision

To lose my feelings because I was guilty,

Lost concentration when I was labelled,

A rebel with no course, an ungrateful outcast

A psychotic with no known diagnosis

But a pathology of over the counter medication,

My great pain is your self-pleasure,

I have no plans to commit suicide,

Neither do I have vision to live

Nor vision to leave,

Please do not ask me to come to normal

For this is my normal,

When I crash on the cold floor,

Wondering and traumatically pacing around,

Head batting my soul in the life cage;

Just another number, minding my business,

Trying to control what I can’t,

We will not have problems,

If you understand how wonderful I am

Until you stop barking and packing

Do not pull away, for I never threatened you,

I just pulled the trigger and the neighbor’s gun fired noises,

Push me compassionately,

For I am fragile handle with care’

Please like me like a misbehaved victim,

A situational process, a work in progress

It’s not that I am Impulsive but more calculative,

I am in disorder but not discriminative

I am just a humble determinant that we are all in denial.

Of the delusional reality,

Only God of Exodus Knows.

Original Thoughts By ~ Njoroge wa Ngige~101915-2001 hours.