The Memoirs

A new season begins. Find us here (www.kelliemurungi.com)

For reasons best known to God, I have very little (if any) memories of Little Kellie (10 years and below). The stories I tell are often a secondary account, having been told by either my parents or siblings.

However, this Saturday, I was part of a discussion that triggered what is possibly the earliest memory I’m going to have of me. My first business!

I must have been around 6 or 7 years (note to self:will ask Mom), and I needed cough syrup at the local dispensary, but couldn’t get because they hadn’t received their ration of glass bottles from their supplier who I assume was the Government of Kenya. As we walked home, my father suggested that this could be a solution to my money problems! Collect bottles, clean and sell to the dispensary.

Why did a 6 year old have money problems? Well, Mom had stopped giving us Sunday offering (Aid cut). She had this well founded theory that if she gave us money, she would be blessed and not us because well…God blesses the work of our hands, and in this case, it was her hands that did the work. So we had to earn our Sunday offering (and of course Patco money).

I’d tried many ventures. Selling guavas at the road side, polishing Dad’s shoes (I’d have to wait for end month for my wages. Way to cultivate patience Dad. Way!), this was going to be a winner. I had an external customer.

For the next “n” months, that’s all I did. Collecting glass bottles wherever I went, cleaning them in soap with a bottle cleaner Mom bought me, giving them a Dettol rinse, clean water rinse then packing them in a small box. Once a week, Dad and I would walk 3km  to sell my bottles to the dispensary nurse. She paid on delivery.

I don’t remember how much I made, or how the business ended, but I remember, that was my first business venture.

Years later (I was 17), Dad was again helping with my business, this time making doughnuts for sale at his school’s student canteen (he was a teacher). I would make the doughnuts the night before, pack them into papers and into a big bag, then he’d carry them to school, then come evening, he’d bring me previous day’s takings. For that, I paid him a 50 bob “commission”  daily 😀

Well, I could tell stories of my growing in business all day. Like this time Mom left me under the care of a random shopkeeper for 2 hours, only to come back and find that I’d gotten a job, as his assistant, and my specialty was counting change and selling cigarrettes. For that, I got a loaf of bread to take home.

Honestly thinking about it, I don’t know why I wanted to be a doctor. Business is and has been my destiny, and I thank God that He brought me here, kicking and screaming.

Happy sigh…

Will you still praise me?

The last two weeks, have been a tad difficult for me spiritually. They’ve been a bit revealing too. Why do I believe in God? Why do I trust Him, why do I spend so many hours a week on my knees?

Is it because of what He can do for me?

What if He clearly told me that He’ll not do those things for me, would I keep on believing?

If I could see tomorrow and it didn’t look as rosy as I imagined, would my faith falter, or would I press on, knowing God has the end game in mind? Would I grow discouraged and weary of the pain?

Daniel was an amazing man. He was facing a fiery furnace, and he believed:

1. That God would save them (mega faith)

2. That even if God didn’t save them, they would keep believing

Last evening I was reading my journal, and for the last month or so, the writing is consistent. There’s a situation I’m kinda invested in. Ok, scratch that. Heavily invested in. At least once a week,  there’s an entry on that situation, ending with “God I really want this” and as of last week, I added another statement; “but you know best”, which sort of deflated me.

I wasn’t very sure that I am sure God knows best. But He does.

When you’ve been through a hard phase in life, there’s a tendency to develop a sense of entitlement. Like you deserve only good things. But experience and maturity have taught me that’s not always the case and I am learning to say like Habbakuk:

Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior.

And it has changed my prayer to: God *insert sheepish smile*, I really want this, and feel it would make me happy, but you know tomorrow, so your will be done. Even if it doesn’t happen, it’s ok. I will keep believing in you and praying that I only desire that which is from you. Le sigh…

Take the yearnings and longings of my heart, and convert them into a desire to truly seek and know you God.

For once I’m not late to the party. So Qaddafi is dead. Yay! Or not. I’ll get to that in a minute.

Last night, I watched Obama’s address to the American people after Qaddafi’s death, and I noticed several obvious things:

1. He didn’t take credit for the chap’s death. He said the rebels did. Why? My theory: The whole world had seen a video of Qaddafi alive, and we all know the US doesn’t execute criminals (I hope you sense the sarcasm here).
2. The American people he said, were happy that the world is one dictator less (my words). Well, he failed to mention how much America was going to make off Libya. We all know the US is broke, “helping” an oil rich country get back on it’s feet is the easiest way to make money.
3. He said that the end of Qaddafi’s reign signaled the beginning of Libya’s journey to democracy. That’s the purpose of this post.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a fan of tyrants or terrorists, but I worry when I see us celebrate death. Sadam was executed, we celebrated, Osama died (depending on who you listen to), and Yay! The war on terror has been won. Every day I read reports of our soldiers killing Al Shabaab in Somalia and I note the glee and victory with which we take these news. Yesterday crowned it all.

Is this what we call democracy? Or does democracy only apply within a country’s borders?

I sort of get the “they killed so they deserve to die” argument, but I also wonder, at what point does personal conscience matter? If today I met the guy who intended to kill us in December, would I kill him? I don’t have the balls to do that. Heck. I’d not even break his leg. I’d probably just walk away.

Let’s talk democratic process. He’s caught, taken to the ICC and executed for crimes against humanity. Still doesn’t feel right to me.

When people queue up to vote during elections, is this what they vote for?

I don’t vote. And before you attack this stance, note that this isn’t me justifying why I don’t vote (I don’t need to), and neither am I trying to convince you not to vote. We do what we believe in, and I refuse to believe that what we have is a democracy, or that democracy works at all. So what works? I don’t know. And I’m allowed not to have answers to everything.

Does my vote count? Absolutely not.

Am I responsible for the leaders we have in power? Absolutely not. Mathematically, they’re in power because of the votes that were cast FOR them. Not the votes that were not cast at all.

Do I complain about our leaders? I’m not a complainer by nature, especially about things that are outside my circle of influence. I don’t rant about KPLC, Airtel, and when I watch the news, I’m more amused my the antics of our leaders. Do I criticize them? Yes. I also just criticized Obama up there and I didn’t vote for him *shrug*.

I’m doing my bit to make this country a better place, and maybe it won’t happen in 5 years, but 100 years from now, a people passionate about making a difference in this world will get a chance to do so because of the little I’m doing now. Maybe  they will do so through ‘democracy’ but I pray to God they don’t choose that route. And with that, my conscience is clear.

That said, I need someone to answer my question. Is this the definition of democracy?

*blows dust off the shelves* Cough cough!

I believe there are two kinds of faith:

The first is the “I’m probably going to bleed to death before I get to hospital but I need you to save my life” kind of faith.  Pardon me, that’s the most dramatic thing that every happened to me, I’ll talk about it till the kingdom come. Anyway, yeah. There’s that faith where you know for sure, only God can get you out of the situation you’re in.

The second kind of faith is “I probably can hack this but I’ll trust you God”.  In reality, you can’t do anything without God, but you know what I mean.

That second kind of faith is what pleases God I think.

I was reading a post on men being emotionally unavailable, and the article implied that a woman cannot be unavailable for a relationship. Well, I don’t think we’re always looking for a man to latch ourselves onto. There has been times in my life (this period as an example), when I just haven’t been available to date or get into a serious relationship. For various reasons but mostly because a relationship takes energy, and my energy is focused on other things. Really, women can be unavailable.

Speaking on unavailability, I’ll be away from on here for sometime. I don’t know how long. This blog is supposed to be about what’s in my heart, but at the moment, what’s in my heart is too unprocessed. I’m not going through a crisis (far from that), I’m just at that point where I need to withdraw, work on a few dreams, grow a bit etc.

brb.

A few months ago I was having a conversation with one of my colleagues about trusting God, that showed me just how little I trust Him. I think it’s accurate to say, I trust God to the extent to which I’m able to do something about the situation I’m trusting Him on (forgive the roundabout way I just said that). That basically means, I don’t trust God at all!

My colleague has never set an alarm all his adult life. God wakes him up. Sounds ridiculous right?

Walk with me for a second.

At what particular moment do you fall asleep? No one knows really. Only God. We prepare for bed, but we can’t really pinpoint the particular moment we sleep. God shuts our eyes so to speak. My colleague reckoned that God is able to wake him from the death that sleep is if he asks.

And God wakes him. At different times depending on his schedule. Does the chap oversleep? At times yes, but he told me that on those days, it’s usually as a result of going back to sleep after his wake up call.

My colleague challenged me to trust God with my sleeping pattern. To work for a week without an alarm clock and trust that God will remember to wake me up. Of course I first argued with him logically. I have critical early meetings I don’t want to miss, there’s a reason God created alarm clocks etc. And he asked me one question that challenged me so:

“If you can’t trust God with your sleep, can you really trust him with anything?”

Ahem! See why I said I don’t trust God with anything?

So starting Sunday I switched off my alarm. Its forced me into a habit of praying every evening before I go to bed to brief Him on the next day’s activities. The control freak in me fights hard not to tell Him when to wake me. But guess what?

He wakes me!

On Tuesday I had keys to our main office and needed to drop them there before 7am. Told God as much. He woke me at 6:40am, I was at the main office at 7:01, and was back home in time to get ready for work. Well, some days I wake up at 6am, others at 7am, an occasional 2am followed by a 3 hour sleep session, but the most wonderful thing is this week I’m getting the best sleep ever!

And for the first time this year, coming to work on time isn’t a battle.

How about adding to that list of things I trust God on? He knows stuff.

I’ve been trying to do this post for the last one week without success, it’s time to designate a definite blogging time on my schedule, seeing as my other blog also lies in neglect.

Someone once said that nothing’s as bad as getting to the top, only to realise your ladder was leaning against the wrong wall. Well, I came in before that with the question of whether I’m scaling the right ladder in the first place.

Scaling a ladder I guess can be equated to what we do day to day. Our tasks as you were. The question then would be, are your daily efforts building up to what you consider your dreams? Then I take it a step further and ask, are you living the dream (or at least a small segment of it) today, or are you hoping to wake up one day and find yourself there?

We all have dreams, we want to be great, world changers etc. The very modest want to at least change a portion of the world. One thing we don’t realise though is we change the world with every step we take.

The way we live our lives has the be a reflection of that goal / dream. Unfortunately, we rarely live focused lives. We live for the moment, and still cling onto dreams that of course remain only that.

This came out for me so clearly.

Dream: I want to get an Ivy League MBA

Sub Dream: I want to score over 750 in the GMAT, which will increase my chances of getting an admission

Target: I must have done my GMAT by mid September to beat the November application deadlines

Kellie’s Life: Wake up at 8am, work till 7pm, go home too exhausted to read, look at my GMAT books with longing, think of the dream, sleep and the cycle repeats itself the following day.

This is the case with most of us and in different areas of our lives. We all have bad habits we want to eventually quit, levels of physical fitness we want to attain, spiritual targets, we want better relationships, but we continue living in our old patterns and hope something magical will happen and we’ll find ourselves there.

Let’s not get too busy scaling up a random ladder, only to realise mid-way, we’re on the wrong one.

Disclaimer: I appreciate each and every guest that came to see me in hospital, this guide is in no way meant to belittle their compassion and care. Whenever I say something I didn’t quite like, it’s taken to mean I don’t appreciate them, I do.

I experienced so many funny and not so funny moments when I was hospitalised that friends asked me to write things to do/not to do while visiting someone in hospital. To start with, please note that while I’ve written most of these things with a light touch, I do mean them. Really I do.

Let’s start with the reasons behind a visit. What’s your reason for visiting the person?

1. She is a loved one and I want to be there for her.
2. I’m terrified she might die and I want to be on her side.
3. Hospitals suck and I want to make it easier for her
4. I need to satisfy my curiosity
5. I want her to see I visited (for whatever reason)

That was easy and painless right? Moving right along. Unless you’re a close friend or family, please don’t do any of these things. Always remember, it’s not about you. It’s about the patient.

Don’t hug a sick person. You could catch what they have, you could give them what you’re carrying and it tires them out, to hug everyone.

Don’t stay longer than 5 minutes. Why? Because unless you’re close to the patient, your being there is putting them under pressure to entertain you. It’s like having people you’re not close to come to your house to find you unwell, barely bathed etc. They’re not close enough to help you bathe or cook you food, so you’re forced to entertain them. A hospital situation is the same. Unless the patient specifically asks you to stay, take as little time as possible to satisfy your reason above.

Don’t ask a patient details of their illness / reports. Why? Because this is private information. It’s also tiring for them to repeat procedures etc to everyone. If you must know, be discreet and ask a family member or close friend if they’re present.

Don’t stay around if a patient is undergoing a procedure. There are obvious ones like taking a jab etc where the nurse kicks you out, but if your patient is for example getting a blood transfusion, they can see visitors. That doesn’t mean you can stay around. It’s a crazy procedure, which could mean the patient may not be comfortable having you around.

Don’t ask awkward questions. If a patient is on bed rest, don’t ask them how they showered.

Don’t stand beside the patient’s bed and start saying “Oh my God!” hehehe! Really. Don’t. As horrifying as it might be to you, mask your reactions.

Don’t call a patient. One of the things that pain causes is sleep loss. You don’t want to call in the middle of the 1 hour of sleep your patient has been able to catch all that day. Text.

Don’t tell them stories about your past or relatives who have been in  similar situation. Not now. Maybe later. For now, acknowledge their pain, because believe me, we experience things differently. The most you can do is reassure them. Launching into a narrative about a relative who died after chemotherapy when visiting a cancer patient is crazy. I kid you not, people do this.

Don’t  get into a tussle with the nurses. Why? First, they’re trained to take care of your patient, they know things you don’t. Secondly, if they get angry at you, they could mistreat your patient. That’s human. Same way you shouldn’t quarrel the waiter before he/she serves your food unless you like sputum in your stew.

Don’t force feed the patient. Unless you’re their mother, it will just annoy them.