HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM

Hello Amigos, glad to see you guys here, again. I don’t know why you guys keep coming here but oh well, I’ll persevere. I mean the pressure, all those eyes, keenly looking to see what important thing Kalya has got to say today. The grammar Nazis with their magnifying glasses looking for typos in my work (Merceline, I see you). It’s good though, having you all expectant, waiting to hear from me. Makes me kind of feel like a pastor, at this rate I should have the ushers wait on you for your tithes and offering. For those of you who came not prepared, you only had your bus fair with you, fear not, the media team will have the M-Pesa numbers running at the bottom of your screen as I continue with the word. For those of you from the Lakeside, worry not for we have not forgotten you. We do know for safety purposes you do not operate with cash, except maybe the odd one thousand shilling note that you use to wipe your shoes with. You opt to operate with plastic money (say it with the Luo accent, sounds waaay cooler. At least it does in my head. If it doesn’t for you, then you are not doing it right, keep trying, don’t worry, I’ll wait). Kindly go to our website and fill in your credit card details and we shall handle it from there. The monies will be automatically directed to our account. We believe it is only fair that the deductions we take are five-digit figures and above, you know, so that we do not embarrass you. For my international audience who may be feeling left out, Luos are a group of people in this our great country particularly know for their flamboyance. Among their people they boast of prominent people such as US President Barack Obama (Kids take note, it’s Barack with one R), Oscar Award winning actress Lupita Nyong’o……the name dropping ends there unfortunately. Lol, that was a painfully short list. Let’s just say they ran short of names which is understandable because running, middle and long-distance running is the specialty of another community so cut them some slack if they only have two people they can talk of.

So today’s blog is special. This is kind of like a guest post, only that it isn’t because I’m still the one who’s writing the post but the content is going to be something not as my usual posts (not that I post often anyway). Today’s post is dedicated to someone special, no not Obama silly, I know he’s coming but he’s not my mom. Read the title before jumping into the story! And we wonder why we are still a third world country. Obama my foot (sorry Mr. President) pffft sooo annoying. You now want me to start having grass grown on the blog? In anticipation of the guest blog? Should we have all roads leading to this blog blocked as well for two days huh? Is that what you want? Ati Obama, what is wrong with some people? On a more serious and more concerning note, what is wrong with Microsoft Word? How can it not recognize the name Obama? Sure, I’m still using Microsoft Word 2007 but that’s no excuse! Don’t start with me, Satya Nadella you better sort this thing mess out otherwise you going to get in trouble with the Patriotic Act (I suppose) not to mention facing the wrath of the Luo nation. I mean, how dare you not recognize one of their two big names, leaving them with just one who shot into the limelight because of being a slave. That’s just wrong. Plain wrong! Although I have a feeling that Donald Trump must be smiling wherever he is because of this debacle. I won’t be surprised if he gives you a chunk of his $10 Billion just coz you’re team doesn’t have the decency to recognize POTUS. It’s really a shame though. Kenyan’s are pressuring grass to grow in 72 hours only to discover that Microsoft Word does not recognize the President of the United States! Oh well, even Makau Mutua apparently doesn’t recognize the President of the Republic of Kenya, though to be fair, Microsoft doesn’t recognize Makau Mutua either so doesn’t really matter. For those of you who are wondering who Satya Nadella is, he’s Microsoft’s CEO. No it’s not Bill Gates, man you are really testing my patience today. Well at least I have taught you something today. Let’s call that my contribution to mankind. Some people invented Apple (God the creater, of course, lol you did not see that coming did you?) others invented the car, and I have taught something new. Who says we can’t be the same?

Whoa! I got to rein myself in. The tangent at which I’m digressing is not good at all. Anyway, today, actually not today but rather yesterday, 22^nd July, 2015 was my mother’s birthday. However, since I have not slept, and it is still 22^nd July in many other parts of the world, I shall maintain that I am not too late in writing a post wishing her a Happy Happy birthday.

My mother is the best mother a child can hope for. I know everyone says this about their mother, but I’m serious! She is the best and she at least deserves a blog post recognizing how awesome she is as a mother, that and the fact that she had to carry me for a whole nine months. All mothers carry their babies in the womb of course but I was and still am a healthy child. I was one of those heavy kids. Once of my uncles once said, “Wewe ulizaliwa kama ndama.” Which basically means I was born as heavy as a calf (you know I got to cater for my international audience omera) and as if that was not enough, my younger sister was even heavier than me! Our brother was not that heavy I suppose. I can’t really remember. All I remember about his birth was, one day we went to sleep as a family (each one in their room of course) the following morning my sister and I went to school only for dad to come for us at lunch time to take us to the hospital to show us our baby brother. I was in class four then and my sister was in class one. My mom was sedated at the time, it was magical. What made it more fun was the fact that my sister and I are the ones who actually decided where our baby brother would be born, not that we knew it would be a baby brother but I was hoping to have a brother, and convinced my sister to pray for a baby brother too. Feminists, don’t be on my case now. The blog isn’t about me, it’s about my mother. My sweet, blessed mommy. Actually, even when it came to deciding on the hospital where the baby would be born, I am the one who decided and my sister got on board. She used to look up to me so much. If I reveal some of the things she did so that she could be like her big brother I may never see the light of day again. I just wish things could have stayed the same, look at what you did puberty! Now I’m the brother who gets the grunts and screams and, “Get out of my room stop disturbing me!” manenos. Mahn I cri evritiem.

Anyway, back to mom, who had to bear through my naughty self and naughty childhood. I was a very energetic child, or so I like to think. One thing I know is that I used to have quite an appetite. The other day, on my graduation from university, my mom was recalling the days I was young. The stunts I used to pull so as to eat what I want. Apparently, one of the things I liked saying was, “Nimeshiba hii, lakini hii sijashiba.” I guess that pretty much applied to nyama and cabbage. I used to dislike cabbage a lot as a child. Githeri too, I remember being told of tales where I used to run to one of our neighbours’ place whenever mom cooked githeri at home. They  are called the Kiawa’s. Blessed and awesome family those guys are. The sons are like my two older brothers, Mwendwa and Mutisya. They used to leave one block away from where we used to live, we lived in block one, and they were in block three, upstairs. Should be house C3 if I’m not wrong. So whenever mom cooked githeri I’d run there and tell their mom, “Mommy amepika githeri na mimi sitaki!” and I’d chill there, till when mom comes to look for me. So what would happen is, if mom comes through the kitchen door, I’d get out through the sitting room door and run back home. If she gets through the sitting room door, the kitchen door would be my exit. Other times I’d hide under the bed and she’d think I was not there and she’d go back home. So one day, as I pulled the hiding under the bed stunt, she pretended she had not found me and she left, or so I thought. So after hearing the door get shut and waiting for a few minutes, I embarked on my exit plan. Opened the door with all the energy I could muster and ran down the stairs, taking two at a time, very proud of my cunning self. After all I had outwitted my mother, I take the turn on the stairs to keep going and lo and behold! There she was, waiting for me, on the stairs. Boy was I in trouble. Let’s just say that I never ran away from home whenever githeri was cooked again.

I think one of the most important things my mom has taught me, actually the most important thing is having a relationship with God. Both my parents have contributed here but moreso my mom because she was and still is a Sunday school teacher. She has been gifted with a talent for service to children. She just loves children. I sometimes think that if it was up to her she’d have like 11 kids a whole football team. She’d let dad coach us football and at half time we’d sing Sunday School songs. Head, shoulders, knees and toes would be our anthem I suppose. She has the patience to teach kids, the patience to calm kids down from running around to listen to the teacher. I think I’ll take credit for giving her the experience coz I tend to think I must have been a handful. Handling kids is not easy! I know this because at one point I contemplated joining my mom in the Sunday School ministry. I joined her one evening during Sunday School practice. It was during the end of the year and my home church usually has an evening Christmas concert after the kids have closed school before they go to their rural homes for Christmas. I was assigned various groups. I was to teach the boys group a song which was an uphill task. For some reason, boys never like to do anything in Sunday School. We just used to sit at the back and chill. No one would volunteer to read the Bible, no one answered the questions, we left all of that to the girls. When it came to singing, we’d just stand. I don’t know what is usually wrong with us guys at that age. We are just hooligans. I remember a time I was kicked out of Sunday School. Haha, yea I was kicked out of Sunday School, then the Sunday school teacher told on me to my mom who’s the overall head of Sunday school. I saw Mt. Sinai that day. That’s a story for another day. Anyway, so I have this group of boys who do not want to sing. I have to figure out how they will harmonize. So I told them to go home and memorize the words to the songs then we’d have a proper practice the following day.

After the boys left, I went and helped with the little kids. Now these were a proper handful. They were to sing and dance and for the dance they were to go round in circles. I can never forget that experience. I look back at it and laugh to this day. For starters, the kids cannot sing and dance at the same time, if they sing, they won’t dance and when they dance, they don’t sing. The whole going round in circles presented a whole new challenge in itself. The children turned the whole thing into a game of “chako.” For those who don’t know, chako is the Kiswahili or Kenyan version of, “Tag, you’re it” so you are busy trying to teach the children a song and everyone is busy saying, “Chako” even I, the teacher, was chakoed. And everyone is giggling and laughing. It was a happy time in all honesty. After that week though my Sunday School teaching career was over. Mom is still going strong. Almost every child who has grown up in my community/neighbourhood calls my mom “Aunty Gladys” even guys waaaay older than me. People in their late twenties and early thirties would meet my mom and go, “Auuunty Glaaadys.” Such is the impact she has had. Whenever I’m home and I take her car for a drive, kids see the car approaching and they run to the road and wave. They are like, “Hiiii Aunty Glaaaadys.” Then they look and see it’s me driving and they are like, “Oh it’s you!” and everyone turns back and goes to whatever it is they were doing before they were rudely interrupted.

So my mom has brought not only me but many others to the knowledge and fear of the Lord. That is one thing that is in her heart. She is so serious about things to do with God. I remember one time after Sunday School, my friend Kim and I decided not to go to church after Sunday School. Instead, we chose to go to Kim’s place to play Mario Kart. He had a Nintendo 64 and we were neighbours. So we go and we have mad fun until Kim’s parents come back home and that’s my cue to head home coz it means church is over. So I go home and my folks are already there. I say hi happily to them and immediately my mom is like, “I did not see you in church. Where were you?” and as I had rehearsed with Kim I was like, “I was seated at the back of the church today then I decided to walk home today.” Something that had neeever happened. I always waited for the ride home. Then she asked, “If you were in church, who preached.” This is the point where my sister’s head popped from the kitchen door. She really wanted to see this and she knew I was in trouble. I knew I was in trouble but I was fairly confident of my answer. See what we had done with Kim is, we had done an analysis of all the pastors in the community who had preached like for the past three months or so. We did all kinds of analysis Goldman Sachs analysts would have been proud. Trend analysis, probabilities, name them we did it and with some degree of confidence we arrived at the most likely Pastor to have preached. “Pastor Kiuta!” was my answer and boy did my sister laugh out loud. That is when I knew I was doomed. She was like pointing at my face and stuff and my mom let her do the honors of telling me who preached. “Pastor Kitur!” Mentally I was like, “Why didn’t we think of Pastor Kitur???” “You are an idiot Kalya.” Well, we forgot pastor Kitur because he rarely preached in our church. He had a church in town where he used to go. The day I miss church is the day he preaches! Talk of God calling you back to the fold. As always, mom referred me to dad for disciplinary action. Dad was the one who always disciplined me. My parents are firm believers of “Spare the road and spoil the child” and they did not want to take any chances, besides, they were still young and energetic. Nakwaambia, nilipelekwa kwenye chemba! Story for another day.

I can go on and on with stories of my mother. We will never finish but she is one strong woman. A blessed woman, well I’m her child soooo, on a serious note though she is blessed. A woman of wisdom. A prayer warrior. I remember on my birthday earlier this year she had gone with my aunt to a prayer mountain near home to pray. On mother’s day I usually go see her and surprise her because there is a women’s conference in Nairobi that Sunday that she attends. This year, however, I was unable to do so because I was going to minister I cant remember where exactly with Mabalozi. Those are the awesome peeps who I sing acappella with. Awesome brothers right there. So I texted her that I wouldn’t be able to make it this year and I’m sorry and her reply was, “It is well. I get more blessed by you being in church than in a mat coming to say happy mother’s day.” I have read it from my phone exactly as she replied. Man I was touched. Those are the kind of responses that make you say an extra special prayer for her. She stills complains that she should get her mother’s day chocolate however belated it is. Her love for chocolate made me realize that they never grow out of loving chocolate. Guys, if you think your lady is going to grow out of love with chocolate, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’ve presented exhibit A.

To my loving, caring, prayerful, kind, beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent, faithful, extra-ordinary, wise, joyful, patient, peaceful, funny mother, the woman-of-faith. The lady whose standards I shall expect my wife to reach to (I know my girlfriend is reading this. Hi honey). The mother of Peace, Joy and Righteousness (those are what our names mean, Kalya, Jebaibai and Imanda)

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday too you

Happy biiiirthday deeear moooommmyy

Haaaapy birthday to you.

May the good Lord Bleeess you

May he also guiiide you

Happy biiiirthday deeear mooommyy

Happy biiirthday too you

I know today’s post will get me branded a Mama’s boy, but you know what? I don’t care!