Our dear Heavenly Father
Thank you for this new day
Thank you for the food that is before us
We pray that you provide for those that were not as fortunate …
Please protect us through out this day
In Jesus name
AMEN.
(Everyone settles down, some for prime rib, others chapatti with nyaki, others ugali-sukumawiki, or plain githeri)
Meanwhile …
Kibera Slums…
Grandmother sits on her stool, casting a forlorn look and surrounded by twelve children in a one-roomed mud house. Her back is broken. She has no more tears left. She wants to curse God, she wants to curse the world. And die. And leave this hell of a life. Heck, hell might be better for her, she thinks.
But she can’t go. Not just yet. The children need her. Their parents are long dead. Victims of HIV/AIDS. She curses out the children's fathers – her own sons. She knows it was them. She knows they brought the disease to her daughters-in-laws she knows they brought her her present misery. She curses them. Then stops. Then starts blaming herself. Did I not raise them right? She begs God to forgive her,but her prayer is interrupted by the squabbling children. They need food. God can wait she decides.
Meanwhile …
In town
A group of well-fed young adults is arguing. A healthy, intellectual argument, in fact a wee bit too healthy.
“Fix me another screwdriver.”
“Hook me up with another Amstelizi.”
The night whiles away--great laughs, flirting, hook-ups, erections and ejaculations--pure pleasure.
“Oooh man, last night was GREAAT.”
A morning glory materializes.
Back in the slums …
Drunken men. Poor men. Staggering past fly infested children. Stepping on shit. They can’t go home. They have no money. No food for their wives and children. So they also fuck whores. They fuck and fuck. They fuck raw. They fuck here today, there tomorrow, raw. Then they take the virus home to their wives and orphan their children in the process.
Poor grandma. Who cares for her? Who?
Another news conference.
Kimunya with his statistics. The economy is up by 5.8%. It is higher than it has ever been. Inequality is down. Kibaki is working. Raila has a Hummer. And grandma still toils.
Nobody is working – not Kibaki, not Raila, not you, not me. Until grandma finds solace, until she finds peace.
Another healthy, hairy debate. This time, a self-conscious chick. She wants an afro. She wants kinky and nappy hair.
”Fuck the white man,” she says. 'I will be free. The white man brought oppression. I will rebel. I will be free.' Then she sips a top shelf vodka-martini and grandma still toils, still suffers. What independence movement? Until grandma finds peace, until she finds solace.
'And Mwangi keeps yapping. Can’t he shut his mouth? Does he want to save the world? Ha! Ha! Ha! What a dumb ass he is!! We’ve seen many like him before. They come today, tomorrow they are gone.'
Well, I will speak my mind. Insulate yourself if you want. Lock yourself in your fancy house, count your money, smile, sip champagne. Let life go on. But if you read this, if you make the mistake of reading this, you had better know this: YOU are guilty. We all are. If God is just, the fire of hell awaits us. A good heart is not enough. We don't need sympathy we need empathy. We need grandma peaceful, she needs to rest forever with a smile. She has little time.
No more hairy debates.
You want to gripe about the West? Let me give you something REAL to rebel about. Let me tell you how they really messed up Africa. A concept.
DOMINION!
It is the scourge of mankind. We have lost our African way. With every generation, a small piece of our heart goes. Our sense of commonality, our togetherness, our love for one another, our hospitality gone with the wind.
No more dominion. Now it’s all about competition. Every man for himself, God for us all. Money today, money tomorrow, more money, more money. What for? For things! For material ones. Better ones, better houses, better cars, more material things.
Dominion dictates that we work hard to be richer than the next person.It permeates all facets of our existence. Brother competes with brother, neighbour against neighbour, nation against nation imposing on each other their ideology-- power, money, greed, narcissism.
And Grandma breathes her last--a cold, tearful, miserable last breath.
But who sees? Only her grandchildren. They cry. They are alone, really alone this time. Who can they tell? Me? I don’t ever go there. You? We are out socializing, me and you. We don't have time for them. The media? Please, they don’t give a crap either. The government? GDP, budget, roads, tourism, all bullshit. We have insulated ourselves against this little world. It touches our hearts when we occasionally see images. Some of us cry, but we don't have the guts to do much else. We can’t be encumbered by all that misery. So we go out, feast, drink, and next day we have forgotten, life goes on for all of us.
We all don't care. Not the preachers. Not the farmers. Not the teachers nor the doctors. None of us. Guilty. All of us.
CONSCIENCE
This is what we have suppressed. This what we need to regain. Pursue your success. Pursue your money. Be happy. Raise a family. But don’t ignore your conscience. Don’t ignore grandma. Don’t let her dying wish be in vain … “Does anyone care?” she pondered with her last breath …
Do you care? Do you?
Our dear heavenly father
Thank you for this new day
Thank you for the food that is before us
We pray that you provide for those that were not as fortunate …
Please protect us through out this day
In Jesus name
AMEN.
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Tim cares. I have a number of pictures in my flickr page. From the slums of Kenya. I did not take them because I found them representative of Kenya, or because I think of Kenyans as a poor helpless people. I have had to explain this very many times to my friends, who think I am focusing on the wrong side of their country.
They want me to take photos of their palatial homes, with gardeners and green grass and sprinklers and dogs called Tim. This is the other side of Kenya, the one I have found Kenyans are deeply ashamed of and unwilling to acknowledge, even those Kenyans screaming about eradicating poverty.
I genuinely love Kenya, and kenyaimagine too.