The Second Album - Initial stages

I am listening to some pleasant music, notably by Brandon Heath and Britt Nicole. If you don’t know them, you may want to give their music a try. What I like most about these guys is their depth of content. These guys seem to spend a lot of time on writing their songs and getting the instrumentation right. I wish so desperately to be able to focus as much on lyrics as they do without becoming a copycat. It would be great to write such insightful and long lasting music, music that deeply touches the soul and challenges the mind.

I hope that the first album I did was good enough to be on the same level with these guys in terms of song writing. I know I could do better with the instrumentation and vocals and this is the main area of focus as I think of my sophomore album. I already have a collection of songs; songs I like and am relatively sure will be liked by many. The tricky part is getting those songs to the quality I like listening to, because I am a harsh critic and mostly the harshest critic of my own music. I don’t like making excuses for poor quality so I must ensure that my own project is of a high standard. Music is my career of choice, and the world is my stage.

I am not content with my current situation but I am convinced it is a step in a long journey to my desired goal. I know that I will one day share the stage with the likes of Chris Tomlin, Israel Houghton and Matt Redman, but I must appreciate the stage of Bible reading and prayer that I find myself in. I know my songs must improve in quality of writing and instrumentation but I know that the greatest asset any song can have is to be Spirit- filled. Holy Spirit- filled. So I trust God to increase my understanding, to sharpen my writing and to inspire my composition so that I can no longer take credit for the music because He will have been its inspiration. That said; look out for Dadi na Mami, the second album from me. Please also pray that every stage of its recording shall be Spirit-led. God bless you.

The Pleasure of Discomfort

I find myself in an unpleasant situation at the moment. I am unwell. The source of my discomfort is best kept secret because it is otherwise embarrassing. You might have guessed by now, and if you haven’t then stop racking your brain over such mundane matters.

Being unwell has never been pleasant, but it also has its advantages too. For one, people treat you better, unless they are nurses with long-term experience in more horrific illnesses that make your ailment seem like a walk in the park.

I don’t envision being ill much longer, but since it has its benefits then I intend to enjoy the benefits until I have to fully re-join the world of the healthy. I can talk this way because my illness mostly has to do with discomfort and inconvenience and less to do with pain. I wouldn’t be talking this way if the headache I have at the moment was head splitting.

So now I retire to more movies and computer games to keep me company as I occasionally glance at the latest news from the internet. I won’t comment on football, too much has been said already. The one thing we must learn to do is to lose graciously and to win with humility.

Train Wreck

Our actions directly and indirectly have an effect on others. I knew this before but I hadn’t grasped the full measure of what our actions can lead to. Sometimes we make decisions based on what’s best for us, at the expense of others who may not have been involved in the decision making process. We are looking out for ourselves, and hurting those for whom no one looks out.

The lighter a car is, the lesser the impact it has when it hits something. When weight is increased on the car, momentum at speed is also increased and the impact of a collision is greater. When a heavy commercial vehicle is involved, or a train, the impact can be of immense proportion and the person steering the vehicle has to be in full control.

Our lives are like vehicles. We are always picking and dropping things. We are constantly in need of repair and refuelling. Anyone who goes through life without regular service runs the risk of not only injuring him or herself, but of also injuring others. The less emotional baggage we carry, the lighter our walk in life becomes. There are so many things we need to let go of, so ask yourself, ‘what am I carrying?’

Black

Black has always been associated with bad things, evil things. When something has the word BLACK attached to it, the idea expressed is usually one of something unpleasant or illegal e.g. black market, black-mail, black-out and so on. Being of dark complexion has also been something to be laughed at and even made fun of. Being of light-coloured skin is the measure of beauty whereas dark skinned people are usually loved for what they are good at rather than for what they look like.

I have been black for as long as I can remember and this has presented me with the unpleasant situation of being made fun of for a great part of my life. Sure, I can laugh off some jokes made about me these days without feeling like a lesser human being. However, there are those times when I was growing up that some comments were thrown in my face and wounded me deeply. I wouldn’t have thought being dark would be something bad unless someone made a joke out of it and made me feel small.

My situation is limited to my colour and height, because I am short. There are those with other ‘physical setbacks’. There is absolutely nothing wrong with these people, but we make them feel uncomfortable around us because they aren’t sure we will carry out an entire conversation without some snide remark being carelessly tossed about. Some fat, pimple-faced, stammering kid will have a torrid time this holiday because of his ‘friends’ and the same kid will shudder when he thinks of school because he knows that more of the same awaits him when schools reopen.

Take some time to sieve through your words during your conversations this week. There is a lot of power in words and we would be well advised to handle that power well. If you knew that your command would put fear into demons and spur angels to action, what kind of command would you issue? We should handle this power carefully, using it for exhortation, encouragement and rebuke where necessary, but never for coarse jesting. Our speech should be seasoned with salt, and our words should be as the very words of God. Food for thought.

New Life

We all have moments of incredible joy in our lives, moments we wish would never end. We also have moments of abject despair, moments we wish would never reoccur. Sometimes, the good things are a result of something we did or were part of in a small or big way. Sometimes, the good moments are completely outside our areas of influence and can be simply summarized as favour or good luck. Sometimes, the bad moments are a result of our actions, or lack of action and regret is our portion for an extended period of time after the event has occurred.

I was listening to a sermon by Jon Courson on Ezekiel 8 and he made reference to Deuteronomy 7 from verse 7 onwards. The basic idea he was trying to communicate was that God just loves us. Love with reasons tends to make someone focus on the reason for the love we receive. If someone tells us why they love us, we will naturally want to do more of that action that makes that person love us, neglecting other areas of our lives. We will deliberately focus on that particular thing or action that makes us loved and this wears one out with time. If we are told that we are loved simply because we are loved, we are left with nothing to prove because this love does not depend on what we look like or what we do. It is entirely on the part of the person who loves us to continue showing us the love they have for us.

No matter what we have been through in life, or whatever we are going through at the moment, we should always remember that God is lovingly sorting out our circumstances for His glory and for our good. Our good may cause us to be led through unpleasant paths but we have to trust Him to seek out our best interests and a pleasant desired end. He who called us is faithful, so let us faithfully rest in Him. This is new life.

Waatu - The Conclusion

The shock of the horror that she was sure awaited her numbed her senses and she seemingly painlessly surrendered to the power that effortlessly dragged her deeper and deeper into the darkness. The last thing she remembered was the song her mother used to sing to her whenever she had a bad dream as a little girl, and the voice did what it always did, and soon she lost all consciousness. She woke up to nothing. There was no one, no sound, no light, nothing. It was the kind of darkness that the eyes could never get accustomed to, yet she felt no fear anymore. She was prepared for whatever fate awaited her.

Pachi was nowhere to be seen, there was no visibility anyway. Suddenly, the now familiar heavy footsteps could be heard approaching her. Pachi was a presence that could be felt without light; she was darkness within darkness, and such a thick darkness was she that the darkness around her seemed to be light. She began to make a loud and horrible noise, and took the stance of an animal about to pounce on its prey. Amba did what she never imagined she could do in such a situation. She prayed. A simple prayer learnt in Sunday school, one she would have been surprised to remember under more pleasant circumstances. ‘Jesus, I trust you for my life, it is yours, amen’. Pachi kept roaring, but the roar changed to a high pitched shriek as she started reaching for her head.

Amba closed her ears to shield her from the ear-splitting noise coming from the darkness. All of a sudden, there was a burst of light and Pachi’s awesome hideousness could be visible. Words could not describe the look of shock on Amba’s face as Pachi transformed under the blinding light into…..a mirror image of Amba herself. Pachi was Amba, or so it seemed. Amba saw in Pachi her own fears, hurts, bitterness, resentment and shame. It was then that she realized what had been staring her in the face all along, she was Pachi, and Pachi was her. Pachi was her own creation and that’s why she seemed so dark and undefeatable. The short prayer she made allowed her to see Pachi for who she really was, Amba without Jesus.

What darkness is holding you captive?

PS: Pachi is dholuo for your mind

Waatu - Pachi

Sobbing noises could be heard from the space the hand was pulling her to and they grew louder and louder as the hand tugged her effortlessly along. She offered little resistance, how could she fight such strength anyway? Even if she wanted to, her last ounce of energy had already been sapped by the effort used in breaking her fall. The hand didn’t let go until they reached what seemed to be the destination. A small light shone through although she couldn’t see the source, it was painful to look at such light in the contrast of darkness that was the canvas for the gory painting of the story she was now living.

The sobs were suddenly halted by a whacking sound, and a growling command to shut up. Amazingly, the voice that accompanied the hand was feminine. How a feminine entity could possess such strength was beyond her comprehension. ‘Pachi, that’s her name’, offered the voice that had previously been sobbing. Amba offered silence in response to the unsolicited information and continued to seek out a face from her prison-mate. ‘She will be back, and she will start work on you too, ’ continued the other woman. ‘She will give you the most horrific pain you have ever imagined, and then she will give you more pain than you can imagine possible’. After that, silence.

The sound of footsteps approaching from one end of the darkness could be heard. The echo of an eerie whistling soon accompanied the footsteps. Amba’s heart synchronized its rhythm with the pace of the footsteps. With every step, her heart beat faster and faster. Pachi finally got to Amba’s side and with one sweeping swing of her huge hand hit her straight on the pate, a searing pain rushed through her head and she fell onto her back and stared up as the silhouetted figure of the now familiar hand reached for her.....

Waatu - A Short Story (perhaps)

Ambaaaaa!!!!!! She could hear the screaming voice of her friend Mali shouting her name growing increasingly faint as she sped down the steep slope into the waiting darkness. She was in shock but could still feel the trees and bushes eating away at her bruised body as gravity continued its pull on her. She instinctively reached out for something, anything that would at least slow her descent into the unknown bottom, if the darkness had an end.

A dampened thud signalled the end of her descent and she blacked out instantaneously. The end had come, or so she hoped, she had never longed for death more than she did on this day. After what seemed like an eternity of blissful oblivion, she regained consciousness and was immediately aware of the searing pain in her left leg. The rest of her body was also wounded and bloody especially a hideous gash on her right cheek, but the pain in her leg far overshadowed any other sensation she felt at that moment.

She took some time to adjust to the thick darkness that enveloped her and slowly started to notice shapes…and that’s when she noticed a familiar shape….the shape of a human hand reaching out to her, to her head. The hand reached out and caught her by the hair, and started dragging her deeper and deeper into the darkness as she screamed wildly and hopelessly fought against the strength of a seemingly undefeatable foe. She recognized the hand very well, for it was the hand of the creature she herself had created, the hand of her greatest enemy….

Waiting for You

How I stumble, how I fall

How I crawl, wounded on the ground

Down on my knees, crying out for help

You so far away, this must be hell

   Though the battle seems lost

   I’m with You, I’ve counted the cost

I will never give up, never give in

I’m holding on to You, holding on to You

I trust in Your Word, that You will return

I am waiting for you, I am waiting

Oh my High Priest, you know my pain

You identify with my joy and shame

Tempted in every way, yet without sin

All my ways are open to You

   Though the battle seems lost

   I’m with You, I’ve counted the cost

I will never give up, never give in

I’m holding on to You, holding on to You

I trust in Your Word, that You will return

I am waiting for you, I am waiting

 Standing here waiting looking up to heaven

Faith in Your mercy, trust in Your grace

My hope, my life, my rescue………

I am waiting…..