The following is an actual question given on a University of Nairobi
chemistry mid-term.
The answer by one student was so "profound" that the professor shared it
with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have
the pleasure of enjoying it as well:
Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic
(absorbs heat)?
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law
(gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some
variant.
P1V1 = P2V2
One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we
need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate
at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a
soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.
As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different
religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state
that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell.
Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not
belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to
Hell.
With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of
souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of
change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order
for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of
Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls
enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase
until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in
Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes
over. So which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Julie during my Freshman year
that, "It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you," and take
into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two
must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already
frozen over.
The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it
follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore,
extinct......leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a
divine being which explains why, last night, Julie kept shouting Oh my
God."
THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A+"
Rachel Oduka
Friday, July 16, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
The Trouble With an Inadequate Education Policy and System
His huge hands held the Certificate of Attendance for the beginners MS Office course close to his massive chest, with a discernible look of shame. The certificate is issued when a course is completed without a passing grade. I am very intuitive. I could almost read the silent thought as rapidly as it ran across his creased brow, like a neon sign fleeting from one end of a billboard to the other: Honey, I am ashamed of myself for letting you down. “I just don’t get computers”, he mouthed. I winced for him. Little is more heartbreaking than a big man diminished by circumstance or having to admit to failure of some kind, before the very eyes of his lady love. I reached out to draw him close to me and whispered the words I knew he desperately needed to hear; you are more than this. It was true. My husband, like me, was strong, loving, capable and always handling responsibilities with a great sense of purpose.
I looked at his latest certificate, one more course he had tried his hand at and failed, and begun to seriously think about this befuddling phenomenon I had grappled with for ages. You didn’t need my Bachelors degree in Education to tell you that he was an intelligent man by all accounts. Yet his grades, from primary to high school, were less than stellar. He never made it to college. Evidently, he didn’t lack comprehension skills, but something happened whenever he sat in a formal classroom environment. Matters inexorably worsened when faced with an examination. It seemed he experienced some kind of internal anguish resulting in mental block. I had noticed an almost frightened glaze in his eyes whenever I tried to assist him with his homework. Here though was the paradox; he understood technical stuff like electrical wiring! Patrick handled our home maintenance himself. Whenever I asked how he had come to learn this or that, invariably, he would say he was taught by so and so.
For years, I never connected the dots. Now staring at his certificate, I suddenly got an epiphany that blew my mind. Patrick understands practical based one-on-one teaching. If you take him by the hand and guide his fingers through the process, he will be a genius at whatever skill. Heck! he may even turn out to be a brilliant surgeon while you are at it! But once you introduce notes, desks, a blackboard and all the rudiments of formal learning, well you simply lose him.
This was a revelation. Previously, the approach I used for his homework was of a classroom teacher; the only way I had been trained to teach formal subjects. I would take out this big text book and then proceed to demonstrate on the computer, using my teaching voice. He couldn’t grasp a thing. This certificate proved the computer course teacher didn’t get through to him either. It occurred to me now that the teaching voice and big book may have been impediments.
Using real documents that he needed; introduction letters and business agreements, I made him do all the typing himself. He labored through with single finger acumen which is all he could manage but finished all just the same. By the time we were done, he had created a folder, edited and saved the documents. More importantly, he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. He wanted more. And just like that, my Patrick became “computer literate”.
Inconsideration! That is it. That is the trouble with inadequate education policy for learners. Sadly, school children of course bear the brunt, many of them scarred and suffering for life. Like my Patrick. I often narrated this story time and again to anyone who would listen, lamenting on the derision that is my country’s education system; a one-size-fits-all that relies heavily on two annual comprehensive national examinations, as the sole instruments of measurement!
One examination is taken after completing eight years of primary education, for three whole days. Just think, three days in which to demonstrate eight years of learning! The other, lasts for two weeks and is supposed to prove one has acquired knowledge worth their four years of high school! The results are announced by no less than the minister of education. Needless to state, the intensity of the pressure, countrywide, cannot be gainsaid.
I would wax lyrical as I sought to evince to no one in particular just how useless the entire system was, for a large percentage of students who were not academically inclined yet, could perhaps, learn if only someone would find their ‘hook’. Whoever said everyone had to be taught and measured the exact the same way? I opined.
When I first discovered the course, Instructional Design, here in America, I quickly realized it was the answer I had long sought; to teach me how to come up with solutions that could assist “Patricks” everywhere to excel at learning, regardless.
Granted, when I joined college at 19, I wasn’t quite as focused even though I chose to study Education; a very noble profession that is more of a calling. I did not feel particularly “called” but loved the idea of standing before young people, imparting, presenting, guiding, helping, creating and motivating. Teaching seemed to be a natural choice. However, I admit I did not take things as seriously as I should have.
Nevertheless, I have since grown up a whole lot and was able to rise in my professional career to the level of Advertising and Marketing Manager, with the main responsibility being training and mentoring sales associates. Prior to that, I was a Consumer Health Educator charged with delivering the Johnson $ Johnson Reproductive Health Education program in schools throughout East Africa. Each group had to be approached with uniquely different strategies in order to deliver exactly the same content. I happen to be imbued with boundless creative juice. It just begins to churn when presented with a challenge. Naturally I loved and excelled at these jobs.
Today, even though I am distanced and bereft of family in America, my newly adopted country, I continue to harbor the desire, 13 years after graduation, to motivate others, but realize I wasn’t cut out for the drudgery and routine of ordinary classroom teaching. I am more at home with dynamism and innovation and I am a powerful presenter. I have also been told I write exceptionally well. My passionate aspiration remains to design, initiate, and facilitate positive outcomes in learning. More than anything else though, I want to do it now in honor of Patrick; a thoughtful, kind, considerate and most generous family man, who was head and shoulders above all men; but who, completely unapologetic and in utter defiance of the age old African macho male generic, forever positioned me,his wife, supremely above all else in his life.
I looked at his latest certificate, one more course he had tried his hand at and failed, and begun to seriously think about this befuddling phenomenon I had grappled with for ages. You didn’t need my Bachelors degree in Education to tell you that he was an intelligent man by all accounts. Yet his grades, from primary to high school, were less than stellar. He never made it to college. Evidently, he didn’t lack comprehension skills, but something happened whenever he sat in a formal classroom environment. Matters inexorably worsened when faced with an examination. It seemed he experienced some kind of internal anguish resulting in mental block. I had noticed an almost frightened glaze in his eyes whenever I tried to assist him with his homework. Here though was the paradox; he understood technical stuff like electrical wiring! Patrick handled our home maintenance himself. Whenever I asked how he had come to learn this or that, invariably, he would say he was taught by so and so.
For years, I never connected the dots. Now staring at his certificate, I suddenly got an epiphany that blew my mind. Patrick understands practical based one-on-one teaching. If you take him by the hand and guide his fingers through the process, he will be a genius at whatever skill. Heck! he may even turn out to be a brilliant surgeon while you are at it! But once you introduce notes, desks, a blackboard and all the rudiments of formal learning, well you simply lose him.
This was a revelation. Previously, the approach I used for his homework was of a classroom teacher; the only way I had been trained to teach formal subjects. I would take out this big text book and then proceed to demonstrate on the computer, using my teaching voice. He couldn’t grasp a thing. This certificate proved the computer course teacher didn’t get through to him either. It occurred to me now that the teaching voice and big book may have been impediments.
Using real documents that he needed; introduction letters and business agreements, I made him do all the typing himself. He labored through with single finger acumen which is all he could manage but finished all just the same. By the time we were done, he had created a folder, edited and saved the documents. More importantly, he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. He wanted more. And just like that, my Patrick became “computer literate”.
Inconsideration! That is it. That is the trouble with inadequate education policy for learners. Sadly, school children of course bear the brunt, many of them scarred and suffering for life. Like my Patrick. I often narrated this story time and again to anyone who would listen, lamenting on the derision that is my country’s education system; a one-size-fits-all that relies heavily on two annual comprehensive national examinations, as the sole instruments of measurement!
One examination is taken after completing eight years of primary education, for three whole days. Just think, three days in which to demonstrate eight years of learning! The other, lasts for two weeks and is supposed to prove one has acquired knowledge worth their four years of high school! The results are announced by no less than the minister of education. Needless to state, the intensity of the pressure, countrywide, cannot be gainsaid.
I would wax lyrical as I sought to evince to no one in particular just how useless the entire system was, for a large percentage of students who were not academically inclined yet, could perhaps, learn if only someone would find their ‘hook’. Whoever said everyone had to be taught and measured the exact the same way? I opined.
When I first discovered the course, Instructional Design, here in America, I quickly realized it was the answer I had long sought; to teach me how to come up with solutions that could assist “Patricks” everywhere to excel at learning, regardless.
Granted, when I joined college at 19, I wasn’t quite as focused even though I chose to study Education; a very noble profession that is more of a calling. I did not feel particularly “called” but loved the idea of standing before young people, imparting, presenting, guiding, helping, creating and motivating. Teaching seemed to be a natural choice. However, I admit I did not take things as seriously as I should have.
Nevertheless, I have since grown up a whole lot and was able to rise in my professional career to the level of Advertising and Marketing Manager, with the main responsibility being training and mentoring sales associates. Prior to that, I was a Consumer Health Educator charged with delivering the Johnson $ Johnson Reproductive Health Education program in schools throughout East Africa. Each group had to be approached with uniquely different strategies in order to deliver exactly the same content. I happen to be imbued with boundless creative juice. It just begins to churn when presented with a challenge. Naturally I loved and excelled at these jobs.
Today, even though I am distanced and bereft of family in America, my newly adopted country, I continue to harbor the desire, 13 years after graduation, to motivate others, but realize I wasn’t cut out for the drudgery and routine of ordinary classroom teaching. I am more at home with dynamism and innovation and I am a powerful presenter. I have also been told I write exceptionally well. My passionate aspiration remains to design, initiate, and facilitate positive outcomes in learning. More than anything else though, I want to do it now in honor of Patrick; a thoughtful, kind, considerate and most generous family man, who was head and shoulders above all men; but who, completely unapologetic and in utter defiance of the age old African macho male generic, forever positioned me,his wife, supremely above all else in his life.
Hon. Bishop Margaret Wanjiru: A study in The Power of Unbridled Desire; Unfettered Passion; Unwavering Faith
Mark 11:24
“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours”.
If you have ever lived in Kenya for any length of time, especially in the last ten years or so, you are very likely familiar with a most beautiful and enigmatic, often controversial lady that we shall simply call Margaret Wanjiru or Bishop Wanjiru in reverence. I say simply, because if we were to refer to her in full as we should, this is what we would have to say each time: Hon. Bishop Dr. Margaret Wanjiru, MP for Starehe Constituency and Assistant Minister for Housing. I daresay quite a mouthful.
Margaret Wanjiru has perennially evoked conflicting emotions in almost everyone whose life she has touched. You either shun and taunt her visibility and grandeur or seek and bask in her magnificence and glory. You either hate her guts or admire her gumption. You either envy and deride her obvious success or laud and get inspiration from her life story. This story of Bishop Wanjiru is a masterpiece, a study in the power of desire and faith; one that any serious student of The Law of Attraction and The Secret cannot ignore. Briefly, Margaret Wanjiru rose from the most humble of beginnings. The circumstances she had to endure before achieving her fame and glory were, to say the least, devastating. For starters, she was lured into an early marriage at the behest of a violent, alcoholic and undiagnosed manic-depressive charcoal seller. His name was Kamangu.
With her education cut short in form three, and saddled with the baggage of motherhood at such a tender age, she went through hell, fire and brimstone right here on earth, before finally calling it quits. That story is replicated in thousands of women all over Kenya and Africa. Sadly though, for many of them, her ending is not.
It took tremendous willpower, unbridled desire coupled with unfettered passion and unwavering tenacity to break out; go on a limb; to rediscover, rebuild and extend to the highest heights of personal achievement. She is still on the go. Make no mistake, no matter what you think of her current numerous titles, this ravishing ageless beauty does not appear to be anywhere near her own achievement finish line yet!
For most Kenyans, her success sort of crept up on us. After all, we weren’t really there during her violence-ridden marriage, for instance. We were not even there when she first stepped into the ministry of Jesus. There is however, one particular happening that we watched unfold, at first with great skepticism and then with profound shock as it unraveled right before our eyes. This occurrence is a study in the power of a burning, ardent desire, the first step to acquiring wealth, riches, abundance and practically anything that you want in your life.
At its conclusion, many of us were left speechless, the significance of its potent message not lost on any of us. It couldn’t be, for it was clear as daylight.
This solitary incident in itself teaches the entire lesson that Napoleon Hill in his book Think and Grow Rich, laboriously expounded throughout the entire almost 300 pages of his book. Other greats such as Wallace D. Wattles in The Science of Getting Rich, James Allen, As A Man Thinketh; Robin Sharma, The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari; and David Swartz, The Magic of Thinking Big did the same, as did hundreds of authors and life coaches before and after them. Why, Rhonda Byrne made a movie titled The Secret just to immortalize the concept.
I personally have read more books on the subject than I can recall, and attended countless lectures and seminars, even seeking to be a certified life coach, an engagement that entails plenty of study on this kind of material. I can categorically tell you that nothing I have read tops the poignancy and relevance of this experience, which I, along with millions of Kenyans, witnessed first hand.
So what happened?
Well, about a year before she contested and won the Starehe Constituency parliamentary seat, Bishop Wanjiru was embroiled in a controversy that gripped a nation otherwise bored by an endless thoroughfare of political news. It was as fresh as it was juicy, as rich as it was scandalous. The media fed on it like ravenous hawks discovering an unattended carcass.
Briefly, she had announced her engagement and impending wedding to some obscure pastor said to hail from South Africa. At first someone tried to stir up a stink by sneaking in information involving him in some shady past deals in South Africa, just to muddy the waters. Yet that was not to be the juicy marrow of the tale. Before you could bat an eyelid… Who appears on the scene? Hold it…wait for it…none other than Kamangu, her vitriolic ex husband! Did I say scene? I meant live TV! Watched by millions on all channels, minor and major, Kamangu publicly contested the planned wedding and insisted Wanjiru was still his wife and mother of three or is it four (?) sons (memory fails me). The questions came fast and furious; in pubs, around office water coolers, inside office kitchens, during Women’s Group meetings, at Girls’ Night In/Out Sessions..., name it. Where had he been all these years then? Did he even know what they had been eating or if they went to school and how?
Well, never mind your many questions. The next day, Bishop Wanjiru turned up in as many media outlets as she could to publicly deny any knowledge of the man with “jigger infested hands and feet”. The demon had been awakened. You could tell the mighty queen of ministry was rankled to the core, positively galled and exceedingly disgusted beyond measure.
Not to be outdone, Kamangu made a comeback. This time he was flanked by an acerbic group of vengeful looking men who introduced themselves by the dubious title, Maendeleo Ya Wanaume (Men’s Development Group?). Whoever heard of such a thing? We were willing to bet it had hastily been hashed out and registered in the last 24 hours specifically for this Kamangu/Wanjiru saga! Hmmm... but wait…they were not done. Pretty soon, they even began to don Kamangu in different Armanis and Guccis daily. The man was reclaiming an internationally important Bishop as his wife for heaven’s sake! Gone were the charcoal and chang’aa (illicit alcoholic brew) smelling clothes and in came topflight designer regalia. Were they bought or borrowed from “exhibition stalls” vendors?
We will never know but the look was complete with Ray Ban shades and a gold Rolex, fake or otherwise. The metamorphosis was so absolute it was comical. Its message however, was unmistakable: Kamangu had arrived and the fight was on. It was not a cute one. Rather, it was more like the …no holds barred….take no prisoners…..I sting like a bee kind. Listening to Margaret Wanjiru, it was clear that Jesus had completely been flung through the window. This was no time for “turn the other cheek” or other similar soft tactics.
As Kenya watched the spectacle unfold, things went from scandalous to downright bizarre. At one point, the good Bishop paraded her two (I seem to recall now they were two!) sons and made them declare that they were not the scions of “that man”! The astonishing moment of that cataclysmic action instantly churned the stomachs of our collective African propriety, our sense of decorum. We froze in stunned disbelief, silently wondering as we watched the debacle unfurl; why were they bearing ill wind upon themselves? Didn’t they know it was a curse to deny one’s own father in public? Where would they get “manyasi” to drink, that would be strong enough to drown the destined ruin of the curse? Ironically, both young men and especially the elder son were spitting images of “that man”! Sometimes, God has a wicked sense of humor!
Meanwhile Maendeleo Ya Wanaume and Kamangu filed their case in court demanding amongst other thing, immediate restoration of all sexual rights and privileges! Are you coiling in revulsion yet? Elsewhere the country was divided right down the middle – for and against the two parties. By now it was clear that the Bishop’s wedding would naturally have to be put on hold. It was either that or the groom simply couldn’t face up to the national scandal-ridden heat and preferred to slink back into obscurity.
Not so with Bishop Wanjiru. Amidst all the controversy, she declared her support for the Orange Democratic Party and Raila Odinga for President and promptly announced her candidacy for the Starehe constituency parliamentary seat. She vowed to contest … and win.
She did. Decisively.
Bishop Wanjiru the Form Three Dropout went on to add yet another feather to her cap of titles when she further accepted the position of Assistant Minister for Housing. That is your first lesson in this study of the Power of Unbridled Desire, Unfettered Passion and Unwavering Faith:
“Thoughts Become Things”
Enough said.
Still, that is not the incident that gripped the nation and sent us into a spin, reeling in amazement. The story continues...
A few months later, Bishop Wanjiru bought prime airtime on KTN the popular Kenyan TV station and begun airing a motivational series of sermons. Every Monday night after the news, you could flip through all the channels as much as you liked and still come back to Bishop Wanjiru. She was the only interesting thing to watch on Monday night TV. So you sat up and listened. I remember the sequence of events clearly. For two consecutive Mondays, she spoke about seeking the anointing from God that breaks the yoke of bad luck, witchcraft, the evil designs of your fellow human beings for you, the wicked machinations of jealous colleagues and bosses etc.
She waxed evangelical about how God wants us to achieve the greatest pinnacle of success no matter what challenges we face, but He only satisfies our desires according to our faith. This means that if your faith is small, you will achieve little and vice versa. Her own life was a living testament of this certainty. If you are a student of The Secret and The Law of Attraction you know that this is true even without the biblical references. It is summed up in this principle of The Law of Attraction:
“Think Victory and Succeed
Think Failure and Fail”
Then came Monday the 6th of October 2008. On this night she would challenge us to start a journey with her and declare to God what we wanted to achieve. We were to write it down and collectively give God a period of seven days. In just seven days, everyone who had watched her that night and acted according to her instructions would have their desires translated into reality according to their faith. “Seven days!... seven days!”, she severally pounded on, fervently punctuating her message with great passion and zeal at every step. You could tell she really believed in this power and formula. Her voice resonated. Her point was clear. You have to want something really bad, think about it, pray about it, passionately desire it and want it with fire in your belly. Napoleon Hill suggests that you need to feel this desire at powerful levels akin to those of sexual desire and love. Then you need to believe with all your mind and with all your might that in Jesus’ name, you have received it; and you WILL.
I do not know if any of the millions of people listening carried out her instructions or wrote down anything. I do not even know if any of the viewers ever joined her, in her impassioned and spirit filled prayer at the end of the highly emotive TV sermon. What I can tell you for certain is that the very next day, on the night of October 7th 2008, the announcement blared all over the media; Kamangu had been pronounced dead at about 7pm, at the Kenyatta National Hospital (Ward 7?). He had had one glass too many of the illicit brew that he had imbibed all his life and in the end succumbed to its ravages on his now burnt out liver.
And as morbid as that sounds, beyond the horror of that single stroke of circumstance propelling the chilling announcement, even as the dubious Maendeleo Ya Wanaume group resolutely matched to the funeral and brazenly displayed their “sour grapes” attitude, wringing their hands like angry cartoons, yet refusing to capitulate on the inevitable outcome; even as they mouthed and hurled all manner of insults directed at the absent Bishop; even as they declared affirmations to the contrary; one fact stood tall, its significance impossible to ignore: Honorable Bishop Dr. Margaret Wanjiru, MP for Starehe and Assistant Minister for Housing, was officially and irrefutably…wait for it… single!…She was free!
Case closed.
“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours”.
If you have ever lived in Kenya for any length of time, especially in the last ten years or so, you are very likely familiar with a most beautiful and enigmatic, often controversial lady that we shall simply call Margaret Wanjiru or Bishop Wanjiru in reverence. I say simply, because if we were to refer to her in full as we should, this is what we would have to say each time: Hon. Bishop Dr. Margaret Wanjiru, MP for Starehe Constituency and Assistant Minister for Housing. I daresay quite a mouthful.
Margaret Wanjiru has perennially evoked conflicting emotions in almost everyone whose life she has touched. You either shun and taunt her visibility and grandeur or seek and bask in her magnificence and glory. You either hate her guts or admire her gumption. You either envy and deride her obvious success or laud and get inspiration from her life story. This story of Bishop Wanjiru is a masterpiece, a study in the power of desire and faith; one that any serious student of The Law of Attraction and The Secret cannot ignore. Briefly, Margaret Wanjiru rose from the most humble of beginnings. The circumstances she had to endure before achieving her fame and glory were, to say the least, devastating. For starters, she was lured into an early marriage at the behest of a violent, alcoholic and undiagnosed manic-depressive charcoal seller. His name was Kamangu.
With her education cut short in form three, and saddled with the baggage of motherhood at such a tender age, she went through hell, fire and brimstone right here on earth, before finally calling it quits. That story is replicated in thousands of women all over Kenya and Africa. Sadly though, for many of them, her ending is not.
It took tremendous willpower, unbridled desire coupled with unfettered passion and unwavering tenacity to break out; go on a limb; to rediscover, rebuild and extend to the highest heights of personal achievement. She is still on the go. Make no mistake, no matter what you think of her current numerous titles, this ravishing ageless beauty does not appear to be anywhere near her own achievement finish line yet!
For most Kenyans, her success sort of crept up on us. After all, we weren’t really there during her violence-ridden marriage, for instance. We were not even there when she first stepped into the ministry of Jesus. There is however, one particular happening that we watched unfold, at first with great skepticism and then with profound shock as it unraveled right before our eyes. This occurrence is a study in the power of a burning, ardent desire, the first step to acquiring wealth, riches, abundance and practically anything that you want in your life.
At its conclusion, many of us were left speechless, the significance of its potent message not lost on any of us. It couldn’t be, for it was clear as daylight.
This solitary incident in itself teaches the entire lesson that Napoleon Hill in his book Think and Grow Rich, laboriously expounded throughout the entire almost 300 pages of his book. Other greats such as Wallace D. Wattles in The Science of Getting Rich, James Allen, As A Man Thinketh; Robin Sharma, The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari; and David Swartz, The Magic of Thinking Big did the same, as did hundreds of authors and life coaches before and after them. Why, Rhonda Byrne made a movie titled The Secret just to immortalize the concept.
I personally have read more books on the subject than I can recall, and attended countless lectures and seminars, even seeking to be a certified life coach, an engagement that entails plenty of study on this kind of material. I can categorically tell you that nothing I have read tops the poignancy and relevance of this experience, which I, along with millions of Kenyans, witnessed first hand.
So what happened?
Well, about a year before she contested and won the Starehe Constituency parliamentary seat, Bishop Wanjiru was embroiled in a controversy that gripped a nation otherwise bored by an endless thoroughfare of political news. It was as fresh as it was juicy, as rich as it was scandalous. The media fed on it like ravenous hawks discovering an unattended carcass.
Briefly, she had announced her engagement and impending wedding to some obscure pastor said to hail from South Africa. At first someone tried to stir up a stink by sneaking in information involving him in some shady past deals in South Africa, just to muddy the waters. Yet that was not to be the juicy marrow of the tale. Before you could bat an eyelid… Who appears on the scene? Hold it…wait for it…none other than Kamangu, her vitriolic ex husband! Did I say scene? I meant live TV! Watched by millions on all channels, minor and major, Kamangu publicly contested the planned wedding and insisted Wanjiru was still his wife and mother of three or is it four (?) sons (memory fails me). The questions came fast and furious; in pubs, around office water coolers, inside office kitchens, during Women’s Group meetings, at Girls’ Night In/Out Sessions..., name it. Where had he been all these years then? Did he even know what they had been eating or if they went to school and how?
Well, never mind your many questions. The next day, Bishop Wanjiru turned up in as many media outlets as she could to publicly deny any knowledge of the man with “jigger infested hands and feet”. The demon had been awakened. You could tell the mighty queen of ministry was rankled to the core, positively galled and exceedingly disgusted beyond measure.
Not to be outdone, Kamangu made a comeback. This time he was flanked by an acerbic group of vengeful looking men who introduced themselves by the dubious title, Maendeleo Ya Wanaume (Men’s Development Group?). Whoever heard of such a thing? We were willing to bet it had hastily been hashed out and registered in the last 24 hours specifically for this Kamangu/Wanjiru saga! Hmmm... but wait…they were not done. Pretty soon, they even began to don Kamangu in different Armanis and Guccis daily. The man was reclaiming an internationally important Bishop as his wife for heaven’s sake! Gone were the charcoal and chang’aa (illicit alcoholic brew) smelling clothes and in came topflight designer regalia. Were they bought or borrowed from “exhibition stalls” vendors?
We will never know but the look was complete with Ray Ban shades and a gold Rolex, fake or otherwise. The metamorphosis was so absolute it was comical. Its message however, was unmistakable: Kamangu had arrived and the fight was on. It was not a cute one. Rather, it was more like the …no holds barred….take no prisoners…..I sting like a bee kind. Listening to Margaret Wanjiru, it was clear that Jesus had completely been flung through the window. This was no time for “turn the other cheek” or other similar soft tactics.
As Kenya watched the spectacle unfold, things went from scandalous to downright bizarre. At one point, the good Bishop paraded her two (I seem to recall now they were two!) sons and made them declare that they were not the scions of “that man”! The astonishing moment of that cataclysmic action instantly churned the stomachs of our collective African propriety, our sense of decorum. We froze in stunned disbelief, silently wondering as we watched the debacle unfurl; why were they bearing ill wind upon themselves? Didn’t they know it was a curse to deny one’s own father in public? Where would they get “manyasi” to drink, that would be strong enough to drown the destined ruin of the curse? Ironically, both young men and especially the elder son were spitting images of “that man”! Sometimes, God has a wicked sense of humor!
Meanwhile Maendeleo Ya Wanaume and Kamangu filed their case in court demanding amongst other thing, immediate restoration of all sexual rights and privileges! Are you coiling in revulsion yet? Elsewhere the country was divided right down the middle – for and against the two parties. By now it was clear that the Bishop’s wedding would naturally have to be put on hold. It was either that or the groom simply couldn’t face up to the national scandal-ridden heat and preferred to slink back into obscurity.
Not so with Bishop Wanjiru. Amidst all the controversy, she declared her support for the Orange Democratic Party and Raila Odinga for President and promptly announced her candidacy for the Starehe constituency parliamentary seat. She vowed to contest … and win.
She did. Decisively.
Bishop Wanjiru the Form Three Dropout went on to add yet another feather to her cap of titles when she further accepted the position of Assistant Minister for Housing. That is your first lesson in this study of the Power of Unbridled Desire, Unfettered Passion and Unwavering Faith:
“Thoughts Become Things”
Enough said.
Still, that is not the incident that gripped the nation and sent us into a spin, reeling in amazement. The story continues...
A few months later, Bishop Wanjiru bought prime airtime on KTN the popular Kenyan TV station and begun airing a motivational series of sermons. Every Monday night after the news, you could flip through all the channels as much as you liked and still come back to Bishop Wanjiru. She was the only interesting thing to watch on Monday night TV. So you sat up and listened. I remember the sequence of events clearly. For two consecutive Mondays, she spoke about seeking the anointing from God that breaks the yoke of bad luck, witchcraft, the evil designs of your fellow human beings for you, the wicked machinations of jealous colleagues and bosses etc.
She waxed evangelical about how God wants us to achieve the greatest pinnacle of success no matter what challenges we face, but He only satisfies our desires according to our faith. This means that if your faith is small, you will achieve little and vice versa. Her own life was a living testament of this certainty. If you are a student of The Secret and The Law of Attraction you know that this is true even without the biblical references. It is summed up in this principle of The Law of Attraction:
“Think Victory and Succeed
Think Failure and Fail”
Then came Monday the 6th of October 2008. On this night she would challenge us to start a journey with her and declare to God what we wanted to achieve. We were to write it down and collectively give God a period of seven days. In just seven days, everyone who had watched her that night and acted according to her instructions would have their desires translated into reality according to their faith. “Seven days!... seven days!”, she severally pounded on, fervently punctuating her message with great passion and zeal at every step. You could tell she really believed in this power and formula. Her voice resonated. Her point was clear. You have to want something really bad, think about it, pray about it, passionately desire it and want it with fire in your belly. Napoleon Hill suggests that you need to feel this desire at powerful levels akin to those of sexual desire and love. Then you need to believe with all your mind and with all your might that in Jesus’ name, you have received it; and you WILL.
I do not know if any of the millions of people listening carried out her instructions or wrote down anything. I do not even know if any of the viewers ever joined her, in her impassioned and spirit filled prayer at the end of the highly emotive TV sermon. What I can tell you for certain is that the very next day, on the night of October 7th 2008, the announcement blared all over the media; Kamangu had been pronounced dead at about 7pm, at the Kenyatta National Hospital (Ward 7?). He had had one glass too many of the illicit brew that he had imbibed all his life and in the end succumbed to its ravages on his now burnt out liver.
And as morbid as that sounds, beyond the horror of that single stroke of circumstance propelling the chilling announcement, even as the dubious Maendeleo Ya Wanaume group resolutely matched to the funeral and brazenly displayed their “sour grapes” attitude, wringing their hands like angry cartoons, yet refusing to capitulate on the inevitable outcome; even as they mouthed and hurled all manner of insults directed at the absent Bishop; even as they declared affirmations to the contrary; one fact stood tall, its significance impossible to ignore: Honorable Bishop Dr. Margaret Wanjiru, MP for Starehe and Assistant Minister for Housing, was officially and irrefutably…wait for it… single!…She was free!
Case closed.
BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMEN, a poem by Amiri Baraka (1969)
IS AMIRI BARAKA’S POEM, BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMEN ONLY RELEVANT TO THE BLACK CIVIL RIGHTS WAR OF THE ‘60S?
The answer is an emphatic No! Women everywhere, black or otherwise, have a stake in making the world a better place. We have a duty to do that which we must, to play our part in achieving peace for the entire world. The first and perhaps the only important step, is to make it a more beautiful and safer place for our children. As always, a great education and education policy is the key. Remember, children are the future and if we teach them well…
Labor pains know no race. They are a reality that is timeless and universal. A short study of cultures around the world reveals that traditionally, many roles that involved “getting up and going out to protect the homestead” were left to the man. Today, we cannot afford to do that. There are still many wars to be fought and we all know the pain. Exploitation and greed remain as much a reality today as they did yesterday, both here in
Against this backdrop, I will first attempt to analyze Amiri Baraka’s poem within the context of the early black civil rights movement era for which it was initially written. We can then be able to see just how relevant and universal his call is to women today, in relation to the plight of society in general and that of our children in particular. First, a quick look at his style. We notice that the poem is quite short. The compression only serves to further enhance the loudness of his cry. Indeed so terse is his message that he limits his poem to less than half a page. It is common knowledge that extreme emotion often only invites verbal brevity in expression.
Introduction
In the poem, Beautiful Black Women, Amiri Baraka is recognizing the strength that lies in the beauty of black women. Using poetry, he therefore sets out on the necessary mission of imploring black women to tap into this resource for the good of the entire community; stand up and help the men in the fight for black rights. He wants them to assume their rightful positions as beautiful, superior and strong beings that can help win the civil rights war and end the impunity of the perceived protagonists. “Beautiful Black women, it is still raining...we need you”.
Historical Context
The ‘60s represent a tumultuous time in American Black History. Great events, both sad and happy, are recorded to have occurred in this timeline. For instance, there are hundreds of reports on black riots sparked throughout the country, protesting voter registration rules, segregation and racial discrimination. The summer of 1967 was one such turbulent period. Racial confrontations between police and black men, mostly youth escalated into full scale urban riots in major cities around the country such as
However, several happy events pointed to a not so bleak future. Affirmative Action was instituted in this period. The government abolished racial discrimination in hiring processes for federally funded projects. The Civil Rights Act became law in 1964. In 1969, the year that Amiri Baraka wrote Beautiful Black Women, the Government ordered desegregation in
Clearly things were looking up, right? Not according to Amiri Baraka. Through Beautiful Black Women, he opines that the battle is far from won. “It is still raining in this terrible land”.
Ruby
Who is Ruby Dee? A famous actress who is credited with being the first black female actress to perform lead roles in the American Shakespeare Festival and even won an Obie award, the direct reference to her in the poem is by no means accidental. According to tv.com, “During the 1960s, Dee appeared in such politically charged films as Gone Are the Days and The Incident, which is recognized as helping pave the way for young African-American actors and filmmakers”. (http://www.tv.com/ruby-dee/person/5624/biography.html)
Surely it cannot have been easy as a black woman in that racist
If it is Amiri Baraka’s intention to demonstrate the gravity of the matter using mood, he succeeds in a profound way. As one reads the poem with the frequent mention of rain, imagery that the mood creates is one of being trapped inside “gray cold buildings” looking out the window at the heavy rain beating. One can almost see the lightning and hear the thunderstorms! But what exactly is ‘raining’? It can be said that the word means different things at different points in the poem. Rain is overflow, often in full force. Copious tears are said to ‘rain down’. Great torment befalling a community can be said to ‘rain trouble’ on them. He therefore uses ‘raining’ to demonstrate the magnitude and intensity of the events or actions taking place. He also uses it to perfect the mood of the poem for his purpose of meaning.
What then shall we say?
In conclusion, the poem, Beautiful Black Women is dedicated to beseeching black women to use the strength in their beauty as an asset to the war on racial discrimination. Yet it is more than that. The whole point of Ruby Dee being in the poem, is a call to action for all women regardless of their skin color; not just the erotic and sexy, the successful and business women, the actresses in Hollywood, the empowered elderly; neither the athletes or the models.
“We need you reigning, black queen”, he wails. To reign is to rule, control, and tower over; lead. Black women need to take up the mantle and lead in the fight. He points out their constant nagging to do better and their ability to snort at failure. “We fail them and their lips stick out perpetually at our weakness”.
Women, ladies, don’t just complain, don’t sit at your window and cry out your frustration; stand up and join the war. “Come to us; help us get back what was always ours. Help us women”
A friend loves to tell me of this Jewish saying that God knew He couldn’t be everywhere so he created mothers to help him. This is a call to all women black, white, brown, yellow, pink… stand up together; let us uplift the lot of our children. Our men are not able to do it on their own. The task to ensure they have the correct and adequate education is in our hands. The moment is now.
Amiri Baraka sums it up with a plaintive rallying cry; his pain can clearly be felt in the words, “Will you help us? Will you open your bodysouls, will you lift me up…”?
I almost feel like adding “mama” at the end of that plea.
(Will you...mama)?
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Here is Why You Should Embrace Challenging Times and Celebrate Misery
"He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" Malachi 3:3
The story below is self explanatory so I wont belabor the point. Read it, meditate upon it this week and above all, be richly blessed. Remember, it is God's utmost desire for His Children to enjoy Abundant life full of all the good things.
'He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.'
This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: 'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.' She asked the silversmith if it was true that He had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that He not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?' He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy,' 'When I see my image in it.' If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you."He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" Malachi 3:3 The story is self explanatory so I wont belabor the point. Read it, meditate upon it this week and above all, be richly blessed. I only ask that after reading, if you know of another person who is not yet a member but who might benefit from this teaching, feel free to invite them to the group and let the Word of God grow in all of us. Remember, it is God's utmost desire for His Children to enjoy Abundant life full of all the good things. Will you help him do that? Receive it today!Malachi 3:3 says: 'He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.' This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: 'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.' She asked the silversmith if it was true that He had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that He not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?' He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy,' 'When I see my image in it.' If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you."He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" Malachi 3:3 The story is self explanatory so I wont belabor the point. Read it, meditate upon it this week and above all, be richly blessed. I only ask that after reading, if you know of another person who is not yet a member but who might benefit from this teaching, feel free to invite them to the group and let the Word of God grow in all of us. Remember, it is God's utmost desire for His Children to enjoy Abundant life full of all the good things. Will you help him do that? Receive it today!Malachi 3:3 says: 'He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.' This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: 'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.' She asked the silversmith if it was true that He had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that He not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?' He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy,' 'When I see my image in it.' If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you."He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" Malachi 3:3 The story is self explanatory so I wont belabor the point. Read it, meditate upon it this week and above all, be richly blessed. I only ask that after reading, if you know of another person who is not yet a member but who might benefit from this teaching, feel free to invite them to the group and let the Word of God grow in all of us. Remember, it is God's utmost desire for His Children to enjoy Abundant life full of all the good things. Will you help him do that? Receive it today!Malachi 3:3 says: 'He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.' This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: 'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.' She asked the silversmith if it was true that He had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that He not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?' He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy,' 'When I see my image in it.' If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you.
The story below is self explanatory so I wont belabor the point. Read it, meditate upon it this week and above all, be richly blessed. Remember, it is God's utmost desire for His Children to enjoy Abundant life full of all the good things.
'He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.'
This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: 'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.' She asked the silversmith if it was true that He had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that He not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?' He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy,' 'When I see my image in it.' If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you."He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" Malachi 3:3 The story is self explanatory so I wont belabor the point. Read it, meditate upon it this week and above all, be richly blessed. I only ask that after reading, if you know of another person who is not yet a member but who might benefit from this teaching, feel free to invite them to the group and let the Word of God grow in all of us. Remember, it is God's utmost desire for His Children to enjoy Abundant life full of all the good things. Will you help him do that? Receive it today!Malachi 3:3 says: 'He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.' This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: 'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.' She asked the silversmith if it was true that He had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that He not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?' He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy,' 'When I see my image in it.' If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you."He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" Malachi 3:3 The story is self explanatory so I wont belabor the point. Read it, meditate upon it this week and above all, be richly blessed. I only ask that after reading, if you know of another person who is not yet a member but who might benefit from this teaching, feel free to invite them to the group and let the Word of God grow in all of us. Remember, it is God's utmost desire for His Children to enjoy Abundant life full of all the good things. Will you help him do that? Receive it today!Malachi 3:3 says: 'He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.' This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: 'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.' She asked the silversmith if it was true that He had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that He not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?' He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy,' 'When I see my image in it.' If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you."He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver" Malachi 3:3 The story is self explanatory so I wont belabor the point. Read it, meditate upon it this week and above all, be richly blessed. I only ask that after reading, if you know of another person who is not yet a member but who might benefit from this teaching, feel free to invite them to the group and let the Word of God grow in all of us. Remember, it is God's utmost desire for His Children to enjoy Abundant life full of all the good things. Will you help him do that? Receive it today!Malachi 3:3 says: 'He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.' This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest so as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: 'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.' She asked the silversmith if it was true that He had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that He not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?' He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy,' 'When I see my image in it.' If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you.
Are You Related to Barack Obama The World Citizen?
“It was six men of Hindustan,
To Learning Much Inclined…”
The words of John Godfrey Saxe’s poem resonated deeply in my mind as I mused over what was happening. Senator Obama had just been declared President-elect in the most historic election in the world! I sat quietly watching the big screen at Heathrow Airport, waiting for my connection. Inside I couldn’t help but feel what I believed many people were feeling at the time – a deep inexpressible sense of elation and gratitude at just being alive to witness this day. A son of my tribe, indeed a Luo man had made it to the White House! Somehow it made up for the election they stole from us when they rigged out another Luo son, Raila Amolo Odinga now Prime Minister, in the Kenyan elections held in December last year. Tears streamed freely down my cheeks. An abrupt movement to my left caused me to pause and look. Two white men had come in hopping and panting madly, seemingly wishing to fly if only the space allowed. “ What has happened? Have they announced? Has he won? Is he our President? ”; Rapid fire of urgent questioning to no one in particular. They had just jetted in from a plane and could hardly contain their anxiety. “Obama has won”, I volunteered helpfully, hoping that was the answer they sought.
The ululation that followed would have broken what may have remained of Hillary’s ceiling. Screams of “ Chicago! Yeah! Obama! Obama! Chicago! Yeaaaaaaaaah!” amid clapping, dancing, and shuffling of their feet in that delightful way that only white boys seem to be able to do so well followed, echoing the joy of everyone around. But something else besides the delightful dance struck me. I was transfixed. Chicago? I had to ask. As soon as they sat down, I did. “Well”, they said, “he comes from Chicago! He is ours! Our man is President…. how cool is that”! ; Then more dancing and clapping.
Just then, the news on the big screen turned to events unfolding in my beloved motherland, Kenya. President Kibaki had declared a two-day national holiday in honor of our newly crowned son. In effect, it would actually be a four-day holiday since, after the two days, a weekend would follow. Kenyans generally have a holiday every weekend of the year as most corporate offices shut down on Friday at 5.00pm. Pictures of bulls and chickens being chased for slaughter as droves of people thronged the streets singing songs in praise of Obama followed on the screen. Few watching would understand what they were saying. Stephen Colbert would later refer to it as “praise in metric”. But all would know their meaning just by looking at their faces and the excited rhythmic movements of their bodies. “Our son is President of the United States”!
“Meanwhile in Japan, a town now famous for its name since the US primaries begun this year, a town called Obama was up in flames of excitement and joy untold…” The BBC anchor went on, displaying scenes from all around the world of people who believed they had had a stake in the US election and their stake had won.
“And so these men of Hindustan disputed loud and long
Each in his own opinion exceeding stiff and strong.
Though each was partly in the right and all were in the wrong.”
How true for Elephant Obama, I thought. Thus begun my own analysis of why virtually everyone would believe Obama was more his or hers than any other peoples’. Lets see...
He was born in Hawaii. No doubt the Hawaiians believe their son is well and truly in White House. They have good reason. After all, behind every baby birth there is an umbilical cord and afterbirth buried at the place of that birth. For baby Obama, that place is, indisputably…Hawaii! Officials there would willingly dig them out for anyone challenging the authenticity of his birth certificate, I would imagine. For good measure, his maternal grandfather who served in World War II is buried there!
Now to Japan: for starters, Obama is their name. They even have a town sharing this name with him. It would seem they honored the future advent of a World King and Hope long before Americans even knew they would produce him! It is rumored that during the primaries, whenever Obama won over Hillary, a public holiday was declared the next day in the town. If this is true, they actually had five public holidays in February alone? Wow! Nonetheless, true or not true, Obama is theirs.
When Obama was about five or six years old, his mother moved with him to Indonesia to live with her new husband Lolo Soetoro. At one point the Internet was abuzz with speculation that he may have been classified as an Indonesian citizen for a few years during his childhood. (http://www.worldnetdaily.com/index.php?pageId=72656). Indeed as a kid in school, he was registered as Barry Soetoro, after his Indonesian stepfather adopted him. Make what you can out of this. Just don’t try telling the Indonesians that he is not their son!
His wife, Michelle Obama, is thought to have descended from slaves brought into the South from West Africa. The Nigerians even started an Obama Nigeria Initiatives (http://www.obamanigeria.org/) to celebrate “the black man and democracy”. Enough said.
Oh! And did you hear the one about his Chinese In-laws? Apparently he has sisters or, (is it one?) married in China. They were definitely bowled over by his win there too. Could this rumor have something to do with it? While you are at it, don't forget Canada; to be precise, his Canadian brother-in-law!
What about England? FactCheck maintains that for a short while after he was born, Obama was a British citizen by the virtue of his father being a citizen of UKC – United Kingdom Colony (http://www.factcheck.org/askfactcheck/does_barack_obama_have_kenyan_citizenship.html).
Still others will argue that Obama’s mother, Ann Dunham, was of primarily English and Irish descent, with a bit of Cherokee thrown in. I recently read that someone had traced Obama’s white roots to medieval England and Scotland (their kings no less!) and found his mother was an ancestor of the Duchess of Windsor! (http://www.eurweb.com/story/eur41393.cfm). I will not be surprised to find there are people in England taking this connection very seriously. As for the French, royal England has always been tainted with French blood so one way or another, if he is English then he is very much French…I think.
But the Europeans, traditionally conservative by nature, are not fighting loudly enough to claim their winded ownership. The fact that they gave him record wall-bursting audiences wherever he appeared during his tour a few months ago replete with weeping, nay almost worshipping masses in their hundreds of thousands, (remember the Berlin rally?) quite says enough about their stand. At the time, he was still fighting for the democratic nomination and it would be long before he would win that and go on to become America’s president-elect. They had already recognized and acknowledged him as the world leader. He is definitely their son.
So lets get back to the people with more robustly outlined linkage.
Firstly the Americans as a whole hold that he is American and that’s that. Then you go to Chicago and he is their Senator so they gave him to you first. However, the primarily all-white state of Iowa is credited with being the first to show America the way when it launched his “once unlikely bid” for the White House. Obama himself has publicly praised the state saying, “On the day of the Iowa caucus, my faith in the American people was vindicated and what you started here in Iowa has swept the nation,” (http://firstread.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2008/10/31/1623184.aspx). After that follows all the states that primarily voted for him both in the primaries and the election. To all these, he remains their man. However, Kansas where his mother was born and where he was later raised by his recently deceased maternal grandmother, maintains it is his home! He is a son of their soil. In the same vein, the African American population firmly maintain he is theirs. It seems the rest of the world agrees with them on this score. He is constantly referred to as the “first African American president of the United States”.
But the cake would have to be taken by Kenya.
First of all, parts of the country, primarily Kogelo village where his father is a descendant of, and Kisumu the capital of the Luo tribe decided to hold mock US presidential elections in tandem with Uncle Sam’s citizens! (http://english.ntdtv.com/?c=154&a=5784). The argument was that since Obama was a Luo man running for president of the US, that effectively made Kenya a part of the US and so it must carry on with elections like any other state in the US! It was hilarious. There were two large boxes clearly labeled John Mccain and Barack Obama respectively. Any would-be Mccain supporters were cheekily urged not to be afraid since this one would be freely and fairly counted by someone other than the distrusted Kivuitu. Samuel Kivuitu is the controversial boss of the Electoral Commission of Kenya to whom literally everyone blames for the 2007 elections fiasco.
A polling booth was set up at the burnt Ukwala supermarket and voters trooped in as early as 6.30am to cast their ballot. A record voter turnout that would have been the envy of a real election was registered. Voters were promptly issued with slips torn that had been off school exercise books. The instructions were simple. One had to clearly write in the names of their preferred candidate before placing into the box of their choice. It was serious business. One guy got clever. He devised a way of voting twice for John Mccain. Someone noticed. Poor man! He shouldn’t have. An angry mob surged toward him. The trauma from the injustices of last year’s election was still too fresh for anyone to try out something like this. They cracked every bone in his body and walloped his skin right through. It took the intervention of the Kenya Police, using teargas no less, to rescue him from the murderous crowd! At precisely 6pm voting closed and everyone gathered round a TV screen for a nightlong vigil of waiting for both ‘their’ results and those from the “other American states”. Victory screams rent the air when the “Kenyan” results were announced with a not unexpected overwhelming Obama majority, as did they each time a state in America was called for Obama.
But voting aside, Kenya itself, much like the United States as explained above, has its own divisions over where he truly belongs. Specifically, the Luo tribe to which he unarguably belongs is divided almost right down the middle with two villages from opposite sides of Lake victoria pitted against each other. While the people of Kogelo rightly maintain he is a son of Alego Kogelo, Luos from Kanyadhiang’ Kendu Bay say his paternal great grandfather, Obama, moved to their shores from Alego and settled in Kendu Bay.
The area he settled in was renamed Kendu Bay Kogelo reminiscent of Alego Kogelo. Indeed they recently cemented his grave there. (Cementing of a grave is a significant function in the luo community, usually reserved for a person of perceived importance within the context of their family or even the larger community and is usually accompanied by elaborate ceremony during which numerous bulls, goats and chicken are slaughtered in a merrymaking feast).
Moreover, they maintain, both his great grandfather and his grandfather, along with their extended relatives (brothers and cousins) are on record as having married women from various parts of Kendu Bay but especially from the Kanyadhiang area. Therefore he has more than a good measure in quarts of Kendu Bay blood coursing through his veins. Try beating that!
John Stewart summed it up most aptly when he said, “It was as if the whole world had won the Super Bowl!”
Nations aside, on an individual level, claims of Obama linkages abound. Generally everyone here agrees he is a Kenyan from Luoland so we (Kenyans) all naturally feel a part of him – hence the two public holidays by presidential decree. As a matter of fact, nearly all luos will document direct ancestral linkage of their lineage to Obama no matter how distant or convoluted the relationship may sound to the listener. Raila Amolo Odinga himself has claimed a sort of relation based on his mother coming from a village next to Obama’s ancestral home in Alego Kogelo. Obama himself has publicly referred to Raila Odinga as his Uncle. Others though have not been so lucky as to have him acknowledge the authenticity of their claims. Still, it hasn’t stopped any of us.
At last my flight was called. I picked my heavy hand luggage and rushed out. It would be a long way to Terminal 3 from Terminal 1 but nothing would make me late for my flight to America where he, Barack Obama, who is my second cousin third removed (Don’t ask!) through a relation of his grandfather’s (Onyango Hussein Obama) brother by marriage to my Great Aunt, the late Apiyo Osuru from Kanyadhiang, Kendu Bay, and whose late father my brother Barry Marsden Obama is named after, was now President-elect of the United States of America!
To Learning Much Inclined…”
The words of John Godfrey Saxe’s poem resonated deeply in my mind as I mused over what was happening. Senator Obama had just been declared President-elect in the most historic election in the world! I sat quietly watching the big screen at Heathrow Airport, waiting for my connection. Inside I couldn’t help but feel what I believed many people were feeling at the time – a deep inexpressible sense of elation and gratitude at just being alive to witness this day. A son of my tribe, indeed a Luo man had made it to the White House! Somehow it made up for the election they stole from us when they rigged out another Luo son, Raila Amolo Odinga now Prime Minister, in the Kenyan elections held in December last year. Tears streamed freely down my cheeks. An abrupt movement to my left caused me to pause and look. Two white men had come in hopping and panting madly, seemingly wishing to fly if only the space allowed. “ What has happened? Have they announced? Has he won? Is he our President? ”; Rapid fire of urgent questioning to no one in particular. They had just jetted in from a plane and could hardly contain their anxiety. “Obama has won”, I volunteered helpfully, hoping that was the answer they sought.
The ululation that followed would have broken what may have remained of Hillary’s ceiling. Screams of “ Chicago! Yeah! Obama! Obama! Chicago! Yeaaaaaaaaah!” amid clapping, dancing, and shuffling of their feet in that delightful way that only white boys seem to be able to do so well followed, echoing the joy of everyone around. But something else besides the delightful dance struck me. I was transfixed. Chicago? I had to ask. As soon as they sat down, I did. “Well”, they said, “he comes from Chicago! He is ours! Our man is President…. how cool is that”! ; Then more dancing and clapping.
Just then, the news on the big screen turned to events unfolding in my beloved motherland, Kenya. President Kibaki had declared a two-day national holiday in honor of our newly crowned son. In effect, it would actually be a four-day holiday since, after the two days, a weekend would follow. Kenyans generally have a holiday every weekend of the year as most corporate offices shut down on Friday at 5.00pm. Pictures of bulls and chickens being chased for slaughter as droves of people thronged the streets singing songs in praise of Obama followed on the screen. Few watching would understand what they were saying. Stephen Colbert would later refer to it as “praise in metric”. But all would know their meaning just by looking at their faces and the excited rhythmic movements of their bodies. “Our son is President of the United States”!
“Meanwhile in Japan, a town now famous for its name since the US primaries begun this year, a town called Obama was up in flames of excitement and joy untold…” The BBC anchor went on, displaying scenes from all around the world of people who believed they had had a stake in the US election and their stake had won.
“And so these men of Hindustan disputed loud and long
Each in his own opinion exceeding stiff and strong.
Though each was partly in the right and all were in the wrong.”
How true for Elephant Obama, I thought. Thus begun my own analysis of why virtually everyone would believe Obama was more his or hers than any other peoples’. Lets see...
He was born in Hawaii. No doubt the Hawaiians believe their son is well and truly in White House. They have good reason. After all, behind every baby birth there is an umbilical cord and afterbirth buried at the place of that birth. For baby Obama, that place is, indisputably…Hawaii! Officials there would willingly dig them out for anyone challenging the authenticity of his birth certificate, I would imagine. For good measure, his maternal grandfather who served in World War II is buried there!
Now to Japan: for starters, Obama is their name. They even have a town sharing this name with him. It would seem they honored the future advent of a World King and Hope long before Americans even knew they would produce him! It is rumored that during the primaries, whenever Obama won over Hillary, a public holiday was declared the next day in the town. If this is true, they actually had five public holidays in February alone? Wow! Nonetheless, true or not true, Obama is theirs.
When Obama was about five or six years old, his mother moved with him to Indonesia to live with her new husband Lolo Soetoro. At one point the Internet was abuzz with speculation that he may have been classified as an Indonesian citizen for a few years during his childhood. (http://www.worldnetdaily.com/index.php?pageId=72656). Indeed as a kid in school, he was registered as Barry Soetoro, after his Indonesian stepfather adopted him. Make what you can out of this. Just don’t try telling the Indonesians that he is not their son!
His wife, Michelle Obama, is thought to have descended from slaves brought into the South from West Africa. The Nigerians even started an Obama Nigeria Initiatives (http://www.obamanigeria.org/) to celebrate “the black man and democracy”. Enough said.
Oh! And did you hear the one about his Chinese In-laws? Apparently he has sisters or, (is it one?) married in China. They were definitely bowled over by his win there too. Could this rumor have something to do with it? While you are at it, don't forget Canada; to be precise, his Canadian brother-in-law!
What about England? FactCheck maintains that for a short while after he was born, Obama was a British citizen by the virtue of his father being a citizen of UKC – United Kingdom Colony (http://www.factcheck.org/askfactcheck/does_barack_obama_have_kenyan_citizenship.html).
Still others will argue that Obama’s mother, Ann Dunham, was of primarily English and Irish descent, with a bit of Cherokee thrown in. I recently read that someone had traced Obama’s white roots to medieval England and Scotland (their kings no less!) and found his mother was an ancestor of the Duchess of Windsor! (http://www.eurweb.com/story/eur41393.cfm). I will not be surprised to find there are people in England taking this connection very seriously. As for the French, royal England has always been tainted with French blood so one way or another, if he is English then he is very much French…I think.
But the Europeans, traditionally conservative by nature, are not fighting loudly enough to claim their winded ownership. The fact that they gave him record wall-bursting audiences wherever he appeared during his tour a few months ago replete with weeping, nay almost worshipping masses in their hundreds of thousands, (remember the Berlin rally?) quite says enough about their stand. At the time, he was still fighting for the democratic nomination and it would be long before he would win that and go on to become America’s president-elect. They had already recognized and acknowledged him as the world leader. He is definitely their son.
So lets get back to the people with more robustly outlined linkage.
Firstly the Americans as a whole hold that he is American and that’s that. Then you go to Chicago and he is their Senator so they gave him to you first. However, the primarily all-white state of Iowa is credited with being the first to show America the way when it launched his “once unlikely bid” for the White House. Obama himself has publicly praised the state saying, “On the day of the Iowa caucus, my faith in the American people was vindicated and what you started here in Iowa has swept the nation,” (http://firstread.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2008/10/31/1623184.aspx). After that follows all the states that primarily voted for him both in the primaries and the election. To all these, he remains their man. However, Kansas where his mother was born and where he was later raised by his recently deceased maternal grandmother, maintains it is his home! He is a son of their soil. In the same vein, the African American population firmly maintain he is theirs. It seems the rest of the world agrees with them on this score. He is constantly referred to as the “first African American president of the United States”.
But the cake would have to be taken by Kenya.
First of all, parts of the country, primarily Kogelo village where his father is a descendant of, and Kisumu the capital of the Luo tribe decided to hold mock US presidential elections in tandem with Uncle Sam’s citizens! (http://english.ntdtv.com/?c=154&a=5784). The argument was that since Obama was a Luo man running for president of the US, that effectively made Kenya a part of the US and so it must carry on with elections like any other state in the US! It was hilarious. There were two large boxes clearly labeled John Mccain and Barack Obama respectively. Any would-be Mccain supporters were cheekily urged not to be afraid since this one would be freely and fairly counted by someone other than the distrusted Kivuitu. Samuel Kivuitu is the controversial boss of the Electoral Commission of Kenya to whom literally everyone blames for the 2007 elections fiasco.
A polling booth was set up at the burnt Ukwala supermarket and voters trooped in as early as 6.30am to cast their ballot. A record voter turnout that would have been the envy of a real election was registered. Voters were promptly issued with slips torn that had been off school exercise books. The instructions were simple. One had to clearly write in the names of their preferred candidate before placing into the box of their choice. It was serious business. One guy got clever. He devised a way of voting twice for John Mccain. Someone noticed. Poor man! He shouldn’t have. An angry mob surged toward him. The trauma from the injustices of last year’s election was still too fresh for anyone to try out something like this. They cracked every bone in his body and walloped his skin right through. It took the intervention of the Kenya Police, using teargas no less, to rescue him from the murderous crowd! At precisely 6pm voting closed and everyone gathered round a TV screen for a nightlong vigil of waiting for both ‘their’ results and those from the “other American states”. Victory screams rent the air when the “Kenyan” results were announced with a not unexpected overwhelming Obama majority, as did they each time a state in America was called for Obama.
But voting aside, Kenya itself, much like the United States as explained above, has its own divisions over where he truly belongs. Specifically, the Luo tribe to which he unarguably belongs is divided almost right down the middle with two villages from opposite sides of Lake victoria pitted against each other. While the people of Kogelo rightly maintain he is a son of Alego Kogelo, Luos from Kanyadhiang’ Kendu Bay say his paternal great grandfather, Obama, moved to their shores from Alego and settled in Kendu Bay.
The area he settled in was renamed Kendu Bay Kogelo reminiscent of Alego Kogelo. Indeed they recently cemented his grave there. (Cementing of a grave is a significant function in the luo community, usually reserved for a person of perceived importance within the context of their family or even the larger community and is usually accompanied by elaborate ceremony during which numerous bulls, goats and chicken are slaughtered in a merrymaking feast).
Moreover, they maintain, both his great grandfather and his grandfather, along with their extended relatives (brothers and cousins) are on record as having married women from various parts of Kendu Bay but especially from the Kanyadhiang area. Therefore he has more than a good measure in quarts of Kendu Bay blood coursing through his veins. Try beating that!
John Stewart summed it up most aptly when he said, “It was as if the whole world had won the Super Bowl!”
Nations aside, on an individual level, claims of Obama linkages abound. Generally everyone here agrees he is a Kenyan from Luoland so we (Kenyans) all naturally feel a part of him – hence the two public holidays by presidential decree. As a matter of fact, nearly all luos will document direct ancestral linkage of their lineage to Obama no matter how distant or convoluted the relationship may sound to the listener. Raila Amolo Odinga himself has claimed a sort of relation based on his mother coming from a village next to Obama’s ancestral home in Alego Kogelo. Obama himself has publicly referred to Raila Odinga as his Uncle. Others though have not been so lucky as to have him acknowledge the authenticity of their claims. Still, it hasn’t stopped any of us.
At last my flight was called. I picked my heavy hand luggage and rushed out. It would be a long way to Terminal 3 from Terminal 1 but nothing would make me late for my flight to America where he, Barack Obama, who is my second cousin third removed (Don’t ask!) through a relation of his grandfather’s (Onyango Hussein Obama) brother by marriage to my Great Aunt, the late Apiyo Osuru from Kanyadhiang, Kendu Bay, and whose late father my brother Barry Marsden Obama is named after, was now President-elect of the United States of America!
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