Its not enough to talk about PEACE

“It isn’t enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn’t enough to believe in it. One must work at it.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

 https://youtu.be/jR56z0i13T4

Today I draw my inspiration from a great woman who led to world in getting the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Eleanor Roosevelt was the wife of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and niece of Theodore Roosevelt, President of the United States of America. She was born on October 11, 1884, in New York City and died on November 7th, 1962. In her autobiography she wrote very modestly, “About the only value the story of my life may have is to Show that one can, even without any particular gifts, overcome obstacles that seem insurmountable if one is willing to face that fact that they must be overcome; that, in spite of timidity and fear, in spite of a lack of special talents, one can, find a way to live widely and fully. Life is meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life” (Roosevelt. xix).

Like her i refused to turn my back on life and my curiosity at times has led me to places where I never thought I will be as a person. It is not that I have no fear or I am not timid….I too have my fears but I am willing to give my all to overcome that fear and face the challenge ahead. So when I jumped into the crisis situation there is a feeling of being scared to the core.

We had lost 14 persons, so many displaced and schools closed and I waited and waited for our leaders to get together but there was no sign. I reached out to the Interfaith team on the ground and they expressed their frustration because the earlier agreement was not honoured. A friend in need is a friend in deed; through Wednesday evening I reached out to one friend after another sharing my crazy thoughts. Then by the morning of Thursday it was not enough just to talk about peace and not believe in it. So I took it upon myself to request for a breakfast meeting and here I met one great leader who gave me time to speak and he listened. Once I was done with the breakfast my crazy dream was not just a dream but there was a road-map.

The Initial Meeting of the leaders and Interfaith in Nairobi on 18th October 2018

Then lucky enough on another side of the city the Speaker of the County Assembly wanted to bring the elected and nominated MCAs together. We never talked but shared a similar dream and yes by morning nature had aligned itself to make the dream of peace a living reality. This was the beginning of an amazing journey which saw us all gather from 12 noon to 4pm at Laico Hotel. As the meeting progressed I was joined by Bishop Qampicha and Ven. Kargi Denge from the interfaith team joined in and before long the chairman Bishop Kihara. Without glossing over issues we made our voices heard and the bishops made their remarks. The leaders present also made their remarks on the best way forward. Amazingly the leaders all agreed on a ceasefire and there was a press statement to that effect.

The catholic hall meeting on 19th October 2018

This was just the first step and there was need to go beyond the comforts of boardrooms in Nairobi to the ground. It was Friday early morning drive to Marsabit and we were home ready for the meeting at 10 am. The Marsabit Interfaith Team on the ground already had a meeting to set the ground for the big meeting bringing together both communities in conflict. The meetings started way later at 5 pm and not at the agreed time by all but it was enough time to share the resolutions with the community representatives present.

All joined in as a sign of peace on the 19th October 2018.

All leaders held hands as a sign of peace. We also had a team from across the border joining the process to help in fast tracking the peace process. The next day was a celebration of Mashujaa Day in Laisamis and then we were back to Marsabit for the next meeting.

On this day I was just home waiting for the Bishop to finish with the church and give us direction. Then I got a call from Bishop that the meeting is already underway and I had to make my way there…….I we all sat and listened some of the elders spoke of fresh incidences……It was not the tone we had expected…….as they progressed….I was feeling pressure from within then the anger and frustration that I was feeling inside took over the better part of me! There was this little voice screaming inside of me just wanting to be heard and I felt chocked. May be whatever I was about to say did not make sense to anybody other than me but it had to be said for my own sanity. Then we all accepted ceasefire and raised our hand to accept peace over violence. A select team from both communities joined the interfaith team together with 2 MCAs of Torbi/Bubisa and Sagante wards.

The meeting in Moi Girls with elders showing a hand for peace on 21st October 2018

Each time you jump into a crisis you must be game-on everyday! You must be alert and give your best but you also need a thermometer to let you know when to stop and reflect and take care of yourself or you get completely burnout. It has been 7 days and 7 nights of not taking a break. Even happy smiling souls like myself get tired; even the men & women of the church and the mosque get tired. The levels of concentration and attentiveness combined with with the intensity of context creates conditions that are demanding and draining. Imagine getting home for lunch and literally collapsing on my bed for the 3 hours, when I got up I thought it was another day. I know its not enough but at least I feel my head is lighter having napped.

As the rains poured in my beautiful home of Marsabit so did my long lost sleep pour into my head!

I felt some calmness I haven’t felt since September 5th when the initial incidence occurred almost 50+ days ago. But my heart is still heavy we have just taken the first step and we need to build on the foundation of the peace we have laid………. I know I am not alone I celebrate all the people who took their time to go beyond their professional call of duty and do all they can to make peace a reality!

Peace is a process and not a one off event!

So let us not be people who talk about peace and end up with just the talk alone. We need to strongly believe in peace and I bet the team that we have now in the mediation process believes in peace and is working towards getting a lasting peace for our home county Marsabit! We cannot do this alone but together with our leaders and all the communities affected by the past and ongoing skirmishes. PEACE IS POSSIBLE!

The Smell of the Rain

Its such a blessing in a small tiny village up north! You can almost smell the sweet fragrance of the soil as the 1st drops of the rain touch the ground. It has a unique smell that is literally in her systems or head in this instance! As the first big drops of the rain start falling from the sky to the very hot dry, dusty ground have you ever felt a very unique scent? I hope she is not the only one smelling the rain……asking herself if the rain other places has no sweet scent? May be the #NomadGirl is just dreaming and making up the scent today. 

The Smell of the Rain

Sometimes back the Nomad Girls remembers sharing this story with a friend in a far away land then in the University ..….a childhood friend from village up north……and it started raining and there was no sweet scent because the entire place was covered by pavements. No one was happy it had started raining. …..together they literally went out for a walk in the rain …..crazy as it may sound with nothing on their heads….busy smelling the ground but it had no smell ….The Nomad Girl wanted to carry the soil from the tiny village up north with her everywhere she went so that she can place it on the pavement and get the smell once the rain started dropping. Hey I don't think it is even even allowed through the airports security with all the rich micro organisms in the soil. Anyway that is a story for another day. So shelve your dream for another day Nomad Girl….

Now let us go back to the childhood memories of how the rain made her feel as a Nomad Girl. It was a true blessing; the family livestock will move closer home and milk will be in huge supply and any home you go to there will be a goat slaughtered for you…..such a generous gesture. It is the smell of abundance and huge blessings. It just started raining in tiny village up north. The 1st drops were at just before dawn break then it went on and on for the next almost 3 hours. The pounding rain continued to beat the cracked earth until the whole place was flooded. Every mother will rise to place the big drums under the gutters….it did not matter the time of the night. The dust of yesterday have already been washed away……..

The Nomad Girl sees today as a new day to wash away the blood that was just shed a few days ago and have a fresh start! It may just be a dream……….but this is the dream of a Nomad Girl!

The smell of the earth as the rain drops has a name….it has a Greek name……“Petrichor”!…I don't know what it is called in the language of the Nomad Girl! But she does not need a name all she wanted was to share was the feeling….She knows one person who is super exited with the fall of the rain and the sweet smell of the earth….he is a young boy who left a high level paying job to be a farmer at the prime of his career. You can see a day where the seeds he had planted a few weeks earlier will start rising in an amazing shots! Pushing so hard though fragile until they crack the earth open. He got down on his knees and got his hands dirty and from the earth now he makes a living. He is always searching for new technology on how to improve his organic farming. Repairing his water pan and ready to harvest the rainwater…..something which many have learnt from him and dug their own. He was employed for a few years before he made up his mind that he wants to be a farmer for life….his farm has a name and he loves it like a baby……you will hear him literally talk to the plants in the farm…..

The Fragile Plants

This is the reality of life one day we mourn the death of a brother, a father, the mother or sister and another day we celebrate the birth of a baby be it a boy or a girl. A new life a new beginning with a smile and a touch of the little hands yet so fragile. Just like the birth of a baby the rain brings so much hope and joy to the heart of the Nomad Girl. The changes that follow suit, from the stress of a long dry spell to the rain drops. The Nomad Girls now wants to be a kid again just to ran in the rain…..get all wet and come back home all socked up and grinding her teeth against each other……

She will be lucky if she did not fall in the mud as it gets too wet and you start sliding. If you lived in the tiny village up north you remember the memories of so many muddy feet stepping on the same place then the mud builds small tiny hills. It was common scene in many places and as you step on the top of the little tiny hills holding on to the wires of the fence. Remember it is still raining from the top and most a times you had no umbrella to cover your head but a piece of black polythene bag or a leso. You still have to look up and greet every arera (Aunt) you meet on the way; don't forget the akaku (grandpa) who sells meat on the left hand side and another abuya (uncle) who has a shop just at the edge of the small tiny hills. It did not matter the tribe in the tiny village up north they were all related by blood; marriage and celebrated the rain drops together. 

But it had fun moments too! many cannot balance on the small tiny hills especially those with big bellies and they will fall into the mud! Don’t laugh because you will be cursed by the elders…..imagine suppressing your little giggles inside and you almost burst with the laughter. This was the life of a Nomad Girl……..

The UBUNTU in her home in the tiny village up north was so strong that any parent can punish you for wrong doing, including picking up the cane and beating you up if you were caught on the wrong side of the village rules. 

Don’t forget to follow the Nomad Girl through her journey of life……..

The Little Girl from the Village

We shall set up the bonfire remember to carry your little wood to keep the fire burning!

The Little Girl from the Village

So once upon a time there was a young beautiful girl who lived in a small village; she was the only kid hanging around the village as all others went to school. She had started school only for a term in a school out in the desert before she was taken and moved to the town marking the end of her dream of getting an education.

In the morning she will rise and watch the sun rising..it gave her hope and reason to believe in herself. Then she prepares breakfast and serve the kids going to school despite being a kid herself. Then she will go out to fetch water which was an everyday routine. Carrying a metallic bucket (dont ask why not plastic because by then the plastic menace was not there everything was metallic including the karaya) on her head shaking as water literally trickled down from her little head budging below the weight not well built for the tough job. Then coming home to start the fire ….kwa kwa kwa you will hear the sound of the axe on the wood ……and the neighbours will know she is back to start preparing lunch while undertaking the household chores. Everyone will call her and send her around…..she was fast and listens to the elderly a virtue admired by many.

The little girl from the village was destined to be great with or without formal education. She went to a school of life a school where she learnt life was tough. To survive you have to work extra harder especially if you were given up to a relative and you had no formal education.

Just for once imagine if you were given up at an early age of 2 years? It was not easy on her but she carried on with a smile always walked away when someone was screaming at her. She learnt to bottle up her anger and instead will smile making the one screaming question if she was normal. That little girl met her prince charming almost by accident; one day as the prince visited the village one elderly lady asked him when he is getting married?

Isi gurba….atin amm ya gudate….yommm wo futt?

(You are now old enough to have a wife and start a family, when are you getting married?)

But Prince charming also had fair share of his troubles. Lost his mum at a very young age lucky for him he was taken to a boarding school in the far land very close to the border. A boarding school from class 1 sounds like torture but in this case it was a blessing in disguise. All his siblings were taken by his aunties who lived on another side of the border and were married by a completely different community. It’s struggle not to have a place to call home as the father remarried and the prince charming lost all hope of ever settling.

Love, marriage and family had no meaning to him.

He was such a bright kid with the best handwriting winning in an East African Regional Hand Writing competition only when he was 9 years old in class 3. When sick he will walk to the hospital by himself and look for neighbours where he could rest before going back to school. There was no holiday as he had no place to call home remember and a friend he met at school become his brother.

So many years passed by and it was time to go to high school and after questioning himself for long he decided to take the ride of his life. He literally brought himself to high school and here he met some volunteer teachers who encouraged him to believe in himself again. This is where he met the elderly lady whose home he visited when they were given an outing to visit relatives.

He led his class severally but he also a fair share of fun! The sound of a guitar from the far villages drove him crazy he will drop everything and literally sneak out just to sing and dance to the great melodies of legendary songs. He later became a composer and one of the greatest musicians of our time but that is a story for another day. The search for education brought the young man to a very cold chilly place; getting the hot porridge was a blessing in the morning and the Mandazi from the school dining was a delicacy many will risk being sent home for stealing.

As he visited the village now done with school and was just employed he noticed the young girl coming home all soaked up and her teeth grinding against each other! Wondered why she was not in school as the little girl sung her heart something that she does routinely. But today she looked a little bigger and taller; the elderly lady ……who the prince charming was visiting had ideas for marriage. This was repeated over and over again.

(Baadhi malaika Rabbi tann laal, intal dansa akan tak ingare bekh) whispering into prince charming ears look at that little angel! She is so well behaved and would make a great wife she narrated.

Unknown to little girl in the village that was the beginning of a new era and a new life…..the prince did not respond to the elderly lady this time but he took a second look and liked what he saw a hardworking young girl who had all the qualities of a great wife.

Barely a month down the line a plan was hatched to trick the little girl in the village to go and collect a sack sent on a truck. As she ran outside 2 motorbikes awaited (The only bikes in town) two strong women grabbed her and one tied her on herself jumping on the back of the bike as the little girl screamed for her life. She was sandwiched between the rider and the strong lady, her mouth covered with the hand so no screams will be heard.

As fate would have it no one was in the village on this day. Those days it was compulsory for everyone to attend national celebrations so all were in the open space (Kuwanja) listening to speeches and the songs whose composer was not even conducting the choir he asked a friend to do it for him while he was on a mission. Instead he was committing a crime….should I call it that or following his heart as he found a new love…what was happening is a real life kidnapping. It was love from one side…the little girl from the village had nothing to do with it.

The songs were so long on purpose as it kept everyone busy long enough to execute his plan. Many cried their hearts out as it touched on social issues and the heroes of their time. He managed to kidnap the little girl from the village and calming her down with a promise to take her to her mother. When she realised this was a lie she attempted to run away twice but she was not fast enough for the strong lady who was accompanying her! The second attempt was worse the two bikes were racing her down and literally that was the end of her dream of ever going back to the village. A few months passed by then a wedding happened and she become a proud owner of a sofa set and a home to call her own. And for a little girl who had never sat on one this was a big deal…it was a leather sofa and only two homes had them in the entire village.

One year passed by as the marriage blossomed the little girl from the village was blessed with a bouncing baby girl. A tale of a little nomad girl born literally in an period of transition as the country faced a dilemma of who is going to be next leader. The country was mourning, a great leaders just passed on but in far away land in the village there was a Jill to celebrate the birth of a baby girl against cultural norms.

The prince charming now a husband asked the little girl from the village to name her little baby going against tradition she was named after her maternal grandmother.

They both celebrated the nomads girl birth even giving her a special name. Every time she cried they sung a special song to her a famous song in the village. As she grows up the little girl will be great like the american dollar…….I am not sure why not the local currency…..

We should be careful as parents the names we give to our children and the songs we sing to them as they grow up! I am not sure if the baby #NomadGirl lived to the expectations of The Little Girl from The Village and Prince Charming and the praise song they sung to her back them!

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