Yeah! The Rains are Here!

It has been raining since last night and still dripping as I write. I love the rains! I decided to write a poem.

Yeah! The rains are here

Weather forecasters

Caution us to beware

Strong and unusual rains

April through May.

Showers throughout

The night  

Still drip-dropping

As I write

Sure, I like the rains

When the rains come,

The earth re-gain consciousness

When the rains come

The leaves display its lush greenery

When the rains come

The flowers beam and smile

When the rains come

Rivers and ponds quench their thirst

When the rains come

The atmosphere feels invigorated

When the rains come

Wipers dance to clear the mist.

Yeah! The rains are here!

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The Striking Question-Part 2

The striking question was sooner than later going to birth the dawning of a six – year old author.

As we headed through the main gate on our way home, I got reminded to stop by and say hello to the guard as I had promised myself.

We went over two speed ramps and pulled up in front of a grocery/stationery store to buy some eggs.

With a puppy dog face’ she asked ‘mum, can I have another note book so I can write in?’ This was immediately followed by another question, how is paper made?

I seized the moment as a teaching opportunity for her to nurture her curiosity, by way of encouraging her to value and record her wonderful questions.

I could make no better decision than buy her the note book. We decided the notebook would be split into a story category and a question category

Should have seen the excitement on her face.

What amazes me was how closely she has been observing and tracking the slices of my life stories. In fact, little did I know that she watches me slice whenever I came back from school and hears me talk about day 6, day 8 and so forth.

Once we reached home, the first thing she did was write down her first question in her wondering book-how is paper invented?

What surprised me was her first story. She titled it

‘Day 1’

Oh mine! My daughter is beginning to slice!

The Striking Question!

Late this afternoon, I picked up my daughter from school and it was one of the most defining moments of my life.

She starts the conversation with the striking question’ ‘mummy, can I use your laptop to write my flower story?’ I had no idea what she was up to, but I was thrilled by her sudden interest in writing- (she has been writing letters to her friends lately).

Our conversation was shortly interrupted at the sight of a pile of fresh coconut packed in an open truck for sale by the road side. I couldn’t help but felt the urge to stop to drink the coconut water and eat its soft fleshly pulp.

Just as I pulled up next to the truck, she intimated she wanted coconut.

We waited as the enthusiastic coconut seller picked a coconut, peeled the first layer off with his cutlass remaining the fiber. He then cut a small opening on top to enable us drink the water. I passed it on to my daughter. A second coconut followed which was passed on to my son who appeared uninterested initially. The striking question was sooner than later going to birth the dawn of a six – year old author.

My Conscience Awoken

I feel privileged living in a gated community of about 300 residents. With its three entry points only two are accessible and guarded by security personnel whose duty it is to ensure we the residents are safe and secured during the day and night. 

The main entrance which is opened 24/7 has at least 2 guards at any point in time who check the content of unfamiliar vehicles that enter and exit the community.

Besides, these guards are constantly at the gate to let in and out residents.

What an arduous task for these guards who I strongly believe deserve to be appreciated for their tireless job.

This evening as I approached the gate after work, one of the fine guards opened the gate to allow me in. It suddenly dawned on me how much we owe them for their tireless work in ensuring we are safe. I purposefully slowed down, raised my hand and greeted him. For the first in a long time I felt deeply touched and broken by their selfless commitment as I drove in. My conscience was suddenly awoken to the fact that these selfless guards deserve more than my indifference.

A Word for Mummy

Today after we came back from Church, my six-year- old daughter taught me to be mindful of her need for my attention.

She couldn’t have enough of me as she clasped onto me- stretching her arms for cuddles and hugs, thrusting out her hands for grips

All these done lavishly.

She excused me for a few minutes, and returned with a five – line writing titled ‘A Word for Mummy’

‘Mummy, in the morning, call me Nyameye (cultural name meaning God is good)

At don call me star

In the afternoon call me Mimi

In the evening call me Ajoa ( A name given to a female born on Monday)

At night, call me sister ‘

At the center of it all, I knew she needed my attention

A Thankful Husband

As a mom and wife in the home, it’s natural for me to be the first to wake up in the morning. This is very important to me and has more or less become part of my life.

 I need the early mornings to organize my thoughts for the day. Besides, I literally enter each room, tap and call out each family member to get ready for either school or work.

This has been going on for over 18 years.  There are days I hear comments like –‘do you ever sleep at all?

Well, this particular morning was quite unusual by all standards. I woke up in total darkness, as the midnight showers had caused a power outage. No power supply to iron my clothes, I got sorted out on that one though. After I had gone around calling and tapping, I made my way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Suddenly “I heard the trap door into the living room creaked, thinking it was my daughter. It was my husband saying to my 17 year old,  ‘you have to thank your mother for waking you up every morning.’ The next thing I knew, my husband was at the kitchen door and saying to me-‘we appreciate you, mama for waking us up every morning’ .

Educate Rather than Criticize

This particular morning’s rush hour witnessed a procession of vehicles queued in a ‘go slow.’  My mental energy almost drained by the intense traffic and the fear of arriving late to school. In any case, I brought my anxiety under control with a short verse my daughter had earlier on shared with me. (still working to keep my inner peace)

I drove passed a number of people on foot to their places of work. One of such pedestrians immediately caught my attention. He marched briskly along the edge of the road with his backpack strapped on his back, squeezing and squirting the last content of the sachet water into his mouth.

The last thing I saw was the empty plastic sachet waving in the air.

My heart literally caved in as the crumpled sachet flew helplessly in the air and landed itself in the company of other scattered plastic. I could feel the earth resisting the trashing of yet another plastic dumped on her.

I thought to myself, this poor guy might not be aware of his actions? He probably needs to be informed rather than criticized.

Grin like a Cheshire Cat

In the coolness of the morning

Beaming with enthusiasm

She clutched onto the book

Won’t let go

Nosedived in the book

Nothing could stop her

My heart warmed within

Resisting the edge not to see

How far she’s come

May not be at grade level reading

But progress she shows

Made me grin like a Cheshire cat

In an unwavering manner

Read most words

With accuracy but one word

Not as choppy

 As used to sound

For the first time

In a long time

I could not but

Acknowledge the growth

But Mom, I’m Curious

Draping himself into the sofa to unwind from the hustle and bustle of the day, my husband held the bottle in his left hand, uncorked and tipped it towards his mouth.

Mmm!  Immediately, he noticed the content in the bottle looked weird. ‘What happened to my peanuts?’ He wondered.

Gazing at my daughter in suspicion, he asked, who did this?

With excitement in her voice, she replied, ‘it’s me, daddy, I was doing an experiment to see if the peanuts will float or sink in water’. My husband and I were speechless but grateful for her curiosity though.

At that point, I remembered her own words – ‘But mummy, I’m curious,’ after she got queried for sending a message on my phone to a colleague without my knowledge.

There’s a Reason for Who I Am

Often times we question a lot of things about who we are and even wish for changes if possible. Some individuals will go as far as spending huge sums of money to change our physical appearances. What if we celebrated and appreciated who we are. Who knows? This might be the source of our success.

I happened to read about Amy Carmichael today, who was born in Northern Island in 1867. The oldest of seven children, she loved colors and the sounds of the ocean close to her home. Amy loved the color blue. Interestingly, her mother had the bluest of blue eyes, and Amy wished she had blue eyes too. But her eyes were brown.

Amy at age three prayed one night begging God to change her brown eyes into blue. In fact, it is recorded that she never doubted a minute that God would give her what she had asked for.

She sprang out of bed early the following morning to find a mirror so she could stare at her eyes.

Would she see blue eyes? No! Her brown eyes stayed the same. How disappointed she might have felt then. I can imagine her dashed hope making her heart sick.

Years later Amy was glad her eyes did not change to blue.

I may not have control over the way I look or appear, but there’s a reason for who I Am!