ICYS WALK 2012

   


wacha kuanze kunyeshaa!





the lazy waliamua kutumia gari! Sratch card wewe!!!!!!!!



hapo sasa! formar now a tent to shed from the rain.

 



taken fro flyover. bado kutammbea tu.




some crazy st paulians with crazy pauses before the walk starts.



pole boss. ni blessings kutoka kwa Mungu. seems Mungu aliamua to rebaptize you!!



rain coat ddnt help anything!!!!!!!!!

pausing with KWETU HOME OF PEACE children, Makadara.



collo hakubambika!!!!



aliamua kukunja trouser! twende kazi.



mass ni lazima!!!



St. Paul's Free Medcamp! A volunteer's story.

Sharing love, Healing by Faith.
The theme was well chosen to suit the day.
Participants driven by love,
And attendants healed by Faith.

No parting with a single cent!
Just make yourself present
And enjoy the moment
Because it is free treatment.

Both the young and the old,
Healthy and sick
Underweight, overweight,
Long, short and normal sighted,
All the way to St. Pauls,
For the free medcamp.

I find health check up expensive,
But love made it cheap for me
Nothing I can offer as a being,
May the good Lord reward you abundantly.

Assuming the busy schedule,
All were eady to perform the role.
In a place far a awy from home,
Which is not a crime.

Doctors! Present.
Nurses! Present.
Paeditricians! Young at heart.
Dentists! Smiling all through.
Oncologist! Already at work.
Volu teers! At you service.
Security! Afande!

Underweight, overweight or obese?
Get the BMI test.
Take a pause, relax
And have your blood pressure measured.
What is the result?

The diabetes test kits scared me!
Those pricks reminded of the painful injections.
I could see it on peoples' faces.

My blood sugar level is too high?
No! it is just that you have taken lunch.
Therefore the levels tend to get higher.
Thank Gpd.

What? The dentistry department did it!
Almost all my friends
Got their spoilt teeth into the bin.
One of them rushed to kitchen to confirm his fears.
Was  I going be the next one?
I passed their in the rush hour.

The lion and the eagle,
Ilove these wild animals!
very sharp and accurate in eye sight.
the lions club and eagles eye opticians
were never in sabotage,
X, E, D_ _ _my eyes were okay!

Senior and junior doctors
Carefully analysed patient complaints
In those long queues!
All had to be attended to.
Even if it meant foregoing some meals
No time wastage at all!
_ _ _ next patient please.

The red team upstairs
Busy all through.
Cervical, ovarian, prostrate_ _ _ cancer.
Cines were too loong too.
'You are too young for prostrate cancer!'
Iwas told.


Some questions were difficult to answer.
Where is the nutritionist?
ENT specialist?
Orthopaedic surgeaon?
Gastroenterologist?
Points of order for next time.

Volunteers! At you service.
Caterers gave out every slice,
Ushers maintained the pace,
Media kept the race,
MCs/DJs/PA left everyone informed and enterteind.
Registry ensured every record entry,
Cleaners revived the Wangari memory,
Infrastructure assumed any mockery
Cooperation was appeasing.

DEDICATIONS:

1). Medcamp volunterrs,
2). All health practioners present,
3). Medcamp organizers and
4).All the attendants.

The best gift i can ever give to mum during ma birthday today.

No Losing The Battle.: BIRTHDAY GIFT TO MUM.: By ABEDNEGO OSINDI Mamma, I can't ask you where and how I was born. The most important thing is that I came into this world alive....

BIRTHDAY GIFT TO MUM.

By ABEDNEGO OSINDI

Mamma, I can't ask you where and how I was born. The most important thing is that I came into this world alive. I know my first cry set you into tears of joy after enduring those trying periods. I endangered your life. You always felt sick, tired and perhaps confused because of the creature that was in your womb. All those cravings difficult to access because you were a mere peasant. The nine months were not an easy undertaking. I guess the only thing you could afford was that clay on the wall of your old rugged hut or soil from the walking paths for your calcium supplements. You would not afford the commercial ones.

I must count myself lucky No matter how difficult the moments were- chilly vomiting mornings, uncomfortable hot afternoons, sleepless nights because of my punching disturbances, never did it cross your mind to get rid of me. Other inconsiderate ones could look for ruthless and crooked means to get the 'thing' out. But for you, a real mum, had a big heart that things will be better tomorrow. Thank you mum for giving me the opportunity to live and explore the world.

Born weak, blind, naked and helpless. The great mum embraced me tight in her arms and dressed me up. I grew strong because of the nourishing liquid I suckled from you. Timely suckling even at your menial work places full of exhaustion. This you did to make sure the family food basket is full. Just like s fisherman knows the pain of an empty net, so did you on seeing the food basket empty. I know I wouldn’t have cried if you put me on the sack and go on with your work. No! You didn’t allow that. You were my natural vehicle that had no bumps, no exhausts, no dust, no noise. It felt like a first class aircraft seat with the khanga around me serving the best safety belt ever.

Any single cry from me could drive you mad. A sign of ill health. Maybe measles, whooping cough, polio, malaria. Up and down races through the rugged scenery to have money to see me to the clinic. Mostly 'chama' loans helped if my dad happened to be in a fix. Regardless of your little knowledge in nursing, you never gave your son an overdose neither did you forget the right time to administer the syrup. I grew, grew...I am still growing!

Good morals are a virtue. You must admit that you have a virtue mum. No denial. I can remember respect and discipline were your pillars: greetings, ask before you take, fetch water, collect fire wood, no fights, come home early. A stroke of that networked cane could transport me to the right place of natural calls- latrines were misplaced those days. The same stroke could remind me where I had left the porridge cup, the hand woven socks and that stripped jacket. The banging shout made the naked boy dress up.

A prayerful family always stays together. The evening prayers were just awesome. Reading the bible, the 'tumshangilie' songs still fresh in my mind. I have never missed to say a sign of the cross before I sleep. Something we always did. You introduced me to the catechism classes. I can remember us singing the prayers instead of reciting. The Apostles Creed, Our Father, Glory...Amen. I miss the locally celebrated masses.

Nursery school. Mum, why did you distant yourself from me? For the first time you left me in the hands of foreigners. I saw you disappear past the school gate. That day seemed too long for me. Outside the brick constructed classroom I stood leaning against the wall. I was i a uniform for the first time: green shirt, khaki short red socks colour clashing with the brand new black plastic shoes- 'sandak'. The hand woven bag with one book and a white pencil inside hang on my neck down the tummy. I was carrying my red porridge container on the right hand waiting for the teacher to open the class. Thank God the day was over, weeks, months and years gone by now.

You remember that day you beat me up when I was in class two? I claimed to have experienced an 'headache' for three consecutive days- Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The panadols never worked. I was lying. I had no interest for school anymore and I did not have a reason at all. I could sneak from bed for the three days for personal explorations. You realized this and your cane just did just it because after the beating I experienced the genuine headache. In case I didn't tell you then, the fourth lot of panadols on Thursday did me good. Since then a big concrete boundary built between my academics and the big fool. I later came to learn that you wanted your son to know what is life, to explore the world and get you out of the pool of poverty.

I promise you mum, I will try my best to fulfill your dreams. I will get the tatters off you, clean the sweat on your forehead, wipe the tears on your eyes, transfer you from that rugged old hurt. I will make you happy. My siblings will get through school and dad will be proud of his son.

Mamma, no word can replace the word MUM for you. I can walk the whole world or through space but I will never find anyone like you. You are my life, my inspiration, my everything. Believe me when I say I LOVE YOU!

DEDICATIONS: My mum, all those who forget parents when they stabilize in life and anybody who feels moved with this piece.

All rights reserved! @Aosindi 2012.

No Losing The Battle.: I DON'T WANT TO BE FAMOUS!

No Losing The Battle.: I DON'T WANT TO BE FAMOUS!: I don't want to be famous because am LEARNED; I want to be famous because I can TRANSFORM the knowledge into something useful. I don't ...

I DON'T WANT TO BE FAMOUS!

I don't want to be famous because am LEARNED;

I want to be famous because I can TRANSFORM the knowledge into something useful.

I don't want to be famous because am RICH;
I want to famous because I use my wealth to INVEST in people!

I don't want to be famous because am ABROAD;
I want to be famous because I REMEMBER my family and my country!

I don't want to be famous because am a STRONG:
I want to be famous because I can use my energy CONSTRUCTIVELY!

I don't want to be famous because am a PREACHER;
I want to be famous because my ministry ACCOMMODATES all sorts of people!

I don't to be famous because am SAVED;
I want to be famous because people can see a SECOND CHRIST in me!

I don't want to be famous because am a LEADER;
I want to be famous because am able to BRING UP another leader!

I don't want to be famous because am an ORATOR;
I want to be famous because my speeches are VIABLE!

I don't want to be famous because am a CRITIQUE;
I want to be famous because I NEVER CEASE to criticize!

I don't want to be famous because am INFLUENTIAL;
I want to be famous because I have POSITIVE influences!

I don't to be famous because I have a TALENT;
I want to be famous because I can use my talent to IDENTIFY talents in other people.

I don't want to be famous because am FAMOUS;
I want to be famous because I know the MEANING of being famous!

All rights reserved! @Aosindi 2012.

THE SON OF THE SOIL

I used to see him

Off to school every morning.

Bare foot,

Emaciated body

In patched uniforms.

Trying moments

All the way to achievement.

The son of the soil.

I have this big issue.

The humble respectful boy I knew

Is no more.

What is a miss? I am to learn.

Friendly hands stretching at every person,

Tilling the shamba,

Washing dishes,

Feeding goats

Now a whip.

He slapped me yesterday instead of a greeting!

Talented legs

In running, football

Walking all the way to grandmothers'

Across the hill and back

Now a dangerous weapon.

The mother is crying.

He kicked her yesterday!

Great words from his mouth long gone history.

Public abuse system a better replacement.

Hate speeches encouraging ethnicity

A constant in his gattherings.

No more wisdom in the head.

Former intellect

Now a fool.

Comparison to an industrial atomic bomb.

Destroying anything, anybody, anytime it is disturbed!

Looming estates

Neighboring our old rugged hurts

A product of embezzlements from

Development funds,

Land grabs,

Donation kitties

And grants.

 His former school almost going down.

Same structures

Since his study period.

Can't forget to direct one lorry of cement

Or two of sand

Of the ten that serve his projects!

Perhaps classrooms will get repaired.

Living on borrowed time every minute.

No spending with impoverished villagers.

Better a broad for

Esteemed,

Deserved,

Classy

Holidays.

That is

The son of the soil!