NIGHTS I CAN’T SLEEP

NIGHTS I CAN’T SLEEP

When the sun goes down, the moon takes his place. The stars take their place somewhere behind the haze of black clouds. Off the window there is a lingering light from a distance. It is all silent with a few snores in here and a few crickets chirping out there. And this is where it all starts.

Characters walk into my head. I pull covers over my head to stop them. Their approaching footsteps keep growing louder in my head. I try to assume them, that is when the beautiful girl shows up strutting all over. Sigh… I curse under my breath (Speak of the devil!)

A man approaches and offers to buy her a drink. I can’t avoid to laugh at his sweet nothings and before I know it, they fall in love. Maybe they will break up, I pray and wait, boy it never happens! She walks down the aisle and they have this emotional, meaningful and above all a joyful wedding.

Honey moon is here, they make love and beautiful babies. Beautiful babies start to cry weirdly all over. Without a care in the world they shit and fart in my head. Their parents start to argue and threaten each other. They file a divorce and I can hear the judge banging a gavel in the tables of my head calling for order.

Beautiful babies grow up to be thugs. One is shot dead and buried. The other meets Jesus and his life changes. He becomes a Bishop. Bishop goes rogue and feasts on a sister. Sister is blessed with a baby boy. The bishop dies. The baby boy goes for a DNA test to prove the bishop is the father, just to inherit that sadaka bought range rover….and then

And then this endless tale never ends in my head. There nights I can’t sleep, not because am in love but because am haunted. Am haunted by these characters, am haunted by their stories. Thats why am here, to silence these demons by writing them down and enjoy peaceful nights like everybody else. 

Maximum respect to all crazy creatives. I salute you all. These things are beautiful but demanding. They isolate us from reality and they create a make-believe world! Let’s keep creating….

Thank you for reading my stories at www.danmuniu.wordpress.com Welcome to www.thedan.co.ke we are painting the walls.

The Dan welcomes you to leave a comment
Men Of Cloth

Men Of Cloth

 

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“The dog will be buried!” barked out Pastor John escorting the old man out of his office. Pastor John was the senior pastor of Methodist Church in Florida back in 1986. The old man’s dear dog had given up the ghost.

He was so attached to that dog that he went to his pastor and asked if he could conduct a funeral ceremony for the dog. Pastor John was shocked beyond words and trying not to be rude he said “We only conduct funerals for humans, not animals. However there is a new congregation two blocks down the street from here. You go there and ask if they will bless your dog.”

The man thanked Pastor John and said “Do you suppose they would also accept my donation of $1000 (Ksh100,000) for burying my dog?”  Pastor John’s face brightened at once and said “Hold it…. Come back. You didn’t tell me the dog was Christian.” Two days later Pastor John conducted a funeral service for the dog explaining how the dog was a faithful Christian until the time of its demiseI.

In 2045, when I will be narrating this story to my grandchildren, the location of this story will have changed from Florida to Kenya. The old man will be a certain government retired corrupt wealthy man living in Karen. Pastor John will be a certain charismatic superstar preacher of Nairobi with a lofty title, maybe ‘prophet-doctor’ since two titles are better than one.

When I am old and withered, which is not too long from now given the haste with which my body parts are falling apart. I will tell my grandchildren about the Church of Kenya.

With the modern advancement in technology and the availability of bundles mwitu, I may opt to narrate the story to them online ‘maybe on twiraa’ or I will blog it. Since I need to save time in future for spitting anyhowly around my village, let me just blog that story and save the link for them.

Since it is in Kenya we make any kind of prayer I pray that God will close your eyes from my poor grammar so that you may read the message that is of greater value. Take a sit and read this.

HISTORY
Ciana cia Ciana cikwa Children of my children” with a croaky voice “Daniel Muniu Kabui who is the man I am named after was a priest in a Kenyan Church. My uncle describes him as a man who preached so plain that a child could understand. My grandpa preached about God’s wrath and judgement day. He also preached how hell will be so hot that you could feel the heat while listening to his sermon. He also taught people about the importance of prayers.

Grandpa was a humble man preaching around Kiambu county independent churches. He attended church meetings for weeks and ministered on Sundays. He was a small scale farmer with 2 cows, a small tea plantation and grew crops which were only sold when our consumption rate was lower than the produce.

Regular visitors in our home were Men of God who came to seek his advice. I loved this Men of God not because they were ministers of good news but because each time they visited my grandma would buy bread and sugar ‘which was so rare by then’. I would stick around as they were being served and I would gladly partake Chai-Mkate with the servants of God. Am I not blessed, for eating on the same table with anointed men?

MEN OF GOD
My grandfather is a good illustration of the old day’s pastors. They were not rich and had a simple life. They worked to eat and trusted in God fully. The latter-day men of the cloth only preach prosperity gospel. They preach; God is the sole provider while they rob the penniless flock with dubious means like the 310 and some Form 2 Chemistry.

Ironically, they preach; God is the creator yet they pretend to manufacture babies magically with their anointed seeds. They preach about purity and against adultery yet they feast on that choir sister and if we dare point it out they ooze with ‘let he who has not sinned cast the first stone’ and will all keep quiet before they shut us up with their anointing.

They preach about the kingdom of God belonging to the poor yet the work of poor people in those churches is to wash the church, sing loudly, dance and collapse on the floor when the pastor declares “fire!”.

Heads turn when this men of God walk around the streets of Nairobi. The scenario is always a mighty man of God walking among us mere mortals. Sorry, they actually don’t walk, they drive state-of-the art cars with more than four chase cars, full of bodyguards to protect a man who preaches about Jehovah-Roi ‘God our Fortress and protector’.

Why lie, this guys are in their own class. Their clothes are bought brand new from shops abroad since they have no time for iron-resistant mitumba. I have been in church for a long time and I have a thing for fashion and brands so I am at a good position of giving an honest assessment of their outfits.
These preachers have a sense of fashion, their clothes are brand new designer wear, yet they choose uncommon colours like red, green, indigo e.tc. Their shoes are the latest make and their colognes are the loudest in town. If you have ever hugged a prosperity preacher, you must be feeling what am saying.

The Bible to them is a source of fame and fortune never a guidebook. They have a way with their words and they are very poetic. They will definitely give a trained journalist a run for his money until you invite them to the studio and they will kill English and conduct a funeral for it. When they start preaching, especially women are electrified *touched. While thumping the Bible they will proclaim a lot of blessings on your life, cast out demons and send them to journalists and bloggers since we don’t spare them.

Let me also draw daggers at Catholic priests about the polio vaccine. This guys were opposing the ongoing polio vaccine administration yet they do not have biological children and do not stand a chance to experience the challenge of raising a disabled child. Was that logical really?

FLOCK
Speaking about flocks in Kenyan churches you can’t miss to notice that some are literally sheep and they can do anything the pastor says. Due to this somebody needs to move to court soon and demand at the end of each sermon an announcement is made that ‘do what the pastor says at your own risk’. These followers believe in the pastor more than the bible such that the pastor says jump they ask how high. They will jump to the height demanded and sell all their property and give the pastor all the cash.

It is only in Kenya we had an opportunity of hosting the self-proclaimed god -Jehovah Wanyonyi. This funny god had 70 wives and 95 children, that is not even close to the holy trinity yet the ‘Lost Israelites’ who were actually very lost, followed him. Si hiyo ni umbuzi nduguzanguni? Some funny doctrines I see in this country leave me wondering whether to close my eyes and cry or open my mouth and cry.

FACTS
My dear friends, there are more than 4000 registered churches in this country belonging to a variety of religious denominations. They range from mega churches with more than 1000members to evangelical offshoots with a membership ranging from 5-50 in numbers.

According to 2009 census, 75% of the Kenyan citizens are Christians.  That around 31Million Christians.  The protestant population was 18million while Catholic population was 9million as other Christian denominations was 4million.

Churches in Kenya are united under one umbrella body known as NCCK (National Council of Churches of Kenya) with the mission of facilitatong unity of the Christian church in Kenya. The current chairperson is Rev. Canon Rosemary Mbogo.

DO WE HAVE A VOICE
No! We don’t have a voice, although the NCCK holds a lot of press-conferences than the government. They like commenting about everything in Kenya yet the government pays no attention to them. This week I was expecting them to comment on the Eurobond Issue but its looks it is so complex for them to comprehend.

MY TAKE
In my opinion the Kenyan church has turned into a theatre with lifelong contenders for the absurd Oscar nominations. We hit the headlines with church fights and divisions. We electrocute church doors and gates to keep our church enemies away. We have also made the blood of Jesus a commodity that we sell to the sick, orphans and the poor.

We have forgotten there was only one Jesus and we have allowed charismatic preachers to occupy the space of Jesus in our lives. They have brain washed us and replaced the word of God with their opinions and philosophies. They have blinded us that we can’t even notice when the bible is misinterpreted.

Remember the government watches all this drama and even comes to settle conflicts in our churches. Why then do we assume they can consult or listen to us?

We are so many Christians in this Kenya not to have a voice. Corruption will not end because it all starts from the pastors robbing us.

My friends, it’s high time you internalised this truth: Pastors’ blessings are not a cure to our problems.  The cure is linked in our brains. It flows from our faith in Jesus Christ. It’s hinged on our admission that we are sinners and deserve the grace of God. This cure is grounded in our capacity to live in unity as brothers and sisters while loving one another as Christ commands.

Remember Jesus washed our sins away not our brains. If we want to have a voice we need to use brains and make an Impact in our country thus changing the world.

God bless Kenya! #OneNationOnePeople! #Tribe254

what is your take?

Uji ya Mama Shiku

Uji ya Mama Shiku

It is on Friday,  29th July 2016, 1800hrs. Time Zone, GMT +03:00, Limuru Time

He grabs a porridge filled old metallic cup, probably made in China. He closes his eyes and takes a sip. A glug echoes in the dark corner as he swallows. With his eyes closed he feels the hot porridge meandering through his oesophagus. And lands with a thud in his stomach causing a borborygmus. Belching, he slowly opens his eyes in the dark corner of Mama Shiko’s Hotel.

He sits here all alone. There is something about this hotel-something that makes it look deserted. Something that makes him settle for it. Something lonely. Something calming. The hotel is located 50metres from the gate of his grandmother’s home. Mama Shiko’s Hotel neighbours Kimutu forest. 10kilometres from Limuru town and 12 Kilometers from Githunguri town. It is part of the withered Karichu shopping centre which is alone from the main Gitiha shopping centre. Don’t Google search it, won’t find a thing but it exists.

A wicked wind from the forest blows through the window and sips into him. It curdles his blood eliciting a hiss. It massages his muscles and leaves him rejuvenated. He looks at his phone with a lot of expectations. Expectations that a certain Human Resource Manager will just call in and say “You have landed a job/internship with us, please report on Monday”. Ooooh boy the phone doesn’t ring. Sad. Mad. Angry.

A ball forms in his throat. Tears hang in his eyes. They are about to flow. He bites his lip and pushes them back. With bitterness, he takes another gulp closing his eyes. He doesn’t open them otherwise it will rain tears. His mind turns into a movie of a sorts. He watches; a girl preparing to attend a Friday night party, a pastor preparing a sermon for a Kesha, a father driving home to catch up with his family during the weekend. It dawns on him life is moving on despite his woes. He opens his eyes, unlocks his phone, dials 1-0-0 and calls Safaricom customer care and asks them how they are doing. Ok, I’m kidding, he does not call them.

He hates staying idle, so to kill time he religiously drinks uji ya Mama Shiko at 6p.m. Mama Shiko is another hardworking woman in this village. She is among the few special species of village women, who are entrepreneurial and never get scared at been judged. Mama Shiko is a peace loving woman but turns nuts if any man (or boy for that matter) tries her daughter- Shiku. Rumours have it, she awarded a guy several hard slaps for preying on her daughter. Next week Shiko will be home for August vacation, if they don’t burn their school over the weekend.  That’s an if.

He takes the third sip as he contemplates on where to go next week. Shiko is coming home, thus he has to keep away to avoid drama.

Looking at the hotel walls like he wants to cause them to dissapear he gets to deep thoughts “This women don’t trust me with their girls….. They think all campus guys are womanizers and Casanovas…. What if I tell them am saved? …. well I would just be wasting my precious saliva…” mimicking their voices in head and the drama rolls:

Mama Kamau: (Wagging a finger) Muniu and Jesus or Jesus and Muniu…. Or whoever comes first….What would those two really talk about?

Mama Njeri: By the way he has problems with our pastor… ati hataki kupakwa anointing oil…

Mama Mercy: (acting shocked) Why now? Nini mbaya na huyo mtoto?

Mama Njeri: Naskia akisema if the blood of Jesus didn’t deliver you completely, Anointing oil can’t. Blame it on the university…

(Impromptu silence… He passes by )

Mama Shiru: (pointing with her mouth) By the way kwanini hajapata kazi na alikuwa university?

(Silence…. Dead silence)

Mama Kamau: (veins popping out of her neck like somebody avoiding to fart loudly, as she tries not to be loud) nilisikia anatafuta na hapati…. He is now cutting firewood and selling milk, who knows? Maybe Jesus atamsaidia…

Laughter follows

Hahahhahaha, Atta Boy! Thii Ukiumaga!

Back at the Hotel: He is busting out, nothing can stop him from drowning his nose in the porridge. He laughs until Mama Shiko thinks this guy is nuts. Mama Shiko is tempted to laugh but chooses not to.

“What wrong with you. Why are you laughing alone?” Mama Shiko asks smiling

“Because you have a very big head” he feels like starting a fight but he stops after realising he is not a match for this woman. She can beat you up and serve you for dinner.

“Nothing at all Mama Shiko” He takes the sixth sip. His eyes escort Mama Shiko who is walking out and realises this woman is beautiful compared to some women around here.*No adultery. ‘Like mother like daughter’ He tosses around that familiar phrase in his mind.  What if somebody asked me to describe Shiko- he thinks and starts:

Shiko is the type of a girl you see and your heart skips a beat, knees get weak, and you feel like instantly falling in love, marrying and living with her forever. She is the most beautiful thing in this neighbourhood. She got this figure that naughty boys with big appetites escort with their big eyes. Her smile can make you divorce your girl and start chasing her. Her smile is not forged but natural and innocent. She is so hot that she can cause Limuru cold go away…..

Did I just hear Cephas whisper “arggggggh si umuoe basi”

Did I just hear Mike shout “Aki nipe number yake” while biting his finger.

Did I just break my girlfriend’s heart and she is like “Nitakuacha”

Did Mash just react “Bro, Kwani uliachana na Yesu?”

Did I just hear my pastor confirm his theory “Si nilisema ni kama amebackslide, angalia hasara ya kutopakwa mafuta”

Did I just hear Shiko react “awwwwwwh….. I surrender!” while chewing gum furiously.

Ooook, okkk, ok guys I promise to stop

To avoid all this drama happening at once, he tries to stop his mind from thinking about that innocent girl. He thinks “But my lady is still the most beautiful, breath-taking and the most fantastic woman in the world”

Do you now see where this story is headed?  Guys am sorry, this story is leading us nowhere. There is no lesson here… It is one of this guy swallowing porridge creative writing.

He recently opened a WhatsApp group where he is the only member and admin.
How now? He opened a group. Added his EX. Then removed her.
Why now?  To send a message home. You did not left, I removed you.
What is this group for? One, to overcome the writers block which Microsoft word makes a nightmare. And two, to obey the writers greatest commandment “Thou shall create and freeze thee moments into thee words” That how idle this boy is. He writes very well in groups. Anytime, anywhere in this group he types anything that comes in his mind. If you are reading this in a blog, just know I leaked it……

He takes the final sip. Between him and poverty is Ksh20 only. He had to contemplate whether to feed his body or his data bundles guzzler phone. He settled for a Bamba 10 and decided to swallow the rest 10 bob as a hot cup of Uji. It is getting dark, time to go….

He is Mr Lucy and his new lifestyle… just a vanity!

If you come around just grab uji ya Mama Shiko. It is the sweetest thing around.

Our Modern ‘Fathers’

Our Modern ‘Fathers’

Yesterday I watched in shock a distant uncle of mine urinating outside my house. For the footnotes: he was doing it in front of children. To clear the air: actually I did not watch, I just saw because it is disgusting to look at such humiliating scenario. He was extremely drunk and he had no idea how he happened at our place. His ‘habitat’ is about 3kms from our place but he had travelled all the way to a pub neighboring our home for a drink. After some inquiry from my grandmother later, I came to find out just like the prices of makeup, he has increased his level of consumption of late.

“He works the whole day and later drinks to the last coin” my grandmother indicated. Today in the frenzy of father’s day wishes my mind recalled this guy is father to two beautiful girls. And I am right now wondering who is there for those kids as a dad?  How do they feel when they see their dad drunk? What type of ladies will they grow up to be? Will they even admire to be married? I can only pray they will not grow up thinking all men are the same.

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On Happy Mother’s day, I posted a poem to appreciate our mothers. Today been Father’s Day I cannot even get a letter to write in a poem for the modern day fathers. Right from my own father who run away from his responsibilities. That the greatest form cowardice, but anyway, anybody fertile can be a father and but it takes a man of character to be a dad.

The man I grew up around as a father figure was my grandfather. I admired how he solved issues without creating drama. He worjed hard to make sure we never slept hungry despite having no formal job. He was a small scale farmer and a pastor, by then prosperity gospel was not the order of the day. The message of tithing was not loud enough and I clearly recall my mum offering Ksh.10 (add and highlight the word ONLY). As if that not enough, the source of the 10bob happened to be his father who was the pastor. Now that what real fathers do; they provide offering to their kids.

Later he passed on while I was in class four. And he left a gap that only the man called Jesus was able to fill as  https://danmuniu.wordpress.com/2016/04/07/the-single-mums-son/
narrates. But am grateful he taught me how to pray and ignited passion in me to serve God fully in my life.

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As I am writing this my fingers are shaking because am totally worried about the future fathers. In 5 to 10 years’ time, people of my age will be fathers.  We future fathers have grown up in a society where our modern fathers are not dads anymore. It is our modern Fathers leading us in IEBC demos. It is our modern fathers inciting us against each other in the political arena. It is our fathers giving and receiving bribes. It is our very modern fathers who are our running mates in hunting women. Basic morals and values escaped their souls long ago and right now they are sponsoring our beautiful girlfriends who should be their daughters. It is our modern fathers who…..  (add the list)

Statistics from a study carried out by Mr. Lucy show the number of modern fathers in church has decreased. The study shows their number has drastically increased in pubs and brothels. The study indicated that some are working for long hours and rarely have time for their families. Shockingly, the research findings reveals that some modern fathers have turned into village veterinaries, impregnating every girl they come across.

“They are always in clubs drinking with us and watching football with us” a concerned respondent revealed.

Mr. Lucy’s research findings formulated a hypotheses for my own research proposal. My research questions include: Who will nature the boy child to be a man? Is it our mothers? In my literature review, different scholars have studied the effects of absent fathers. Professor Muniu (2015, pg. 32) observes there men who physically look like women in our society. They behave like women, walk like women and talk like women. They use white towels, white bedsheets and use make up. In his book “Power of Prayer”, Pastor Daniel writes that this type of men pray they don’t grow beards and their voice never deepens. Dr. Diana (2014) attributes this to absent fathers.

With this studies we can come to a bitter conclusion without collecting any data that our modern fathers have neglected their duties. We can also conclude that you can never take people where you have never been and so our mothers cannot be able to raise boys to men alone. Allow me to make recommendations since we already have conclusions from the literature review.

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Recommendations
Recommendations to Modern Fathers
1. Go to church and let our Father in Heaven teach you to be a good father.
2. Have moments with your sons, teach them to walk and talk like men.
3. Teach them how to handle women but avoid lustful thoughts for young ladies.
4. Be a man enough and take up your responsibilities! Provide for your family and have a good time with them.

Recommendations to future Fathers
1. Let us learn from our moderns fathers, copy and paste their good habits but delete their bad habits.
2. If you impregnate a girl in what you call an accident. Please accept you are the one who caused the accident and take care of the victims. Kids are blessings. He maybe the next President.
3. Choose to honor, love, respect, adore and be faithful to one woman. Acha Ufisi!

Today I am making a blog call if not an altar to all Fathers to be dads. And to my fellow young men let us grow up to be great dads to our kids. Let us keep to heart that real men are not defined by how fast they run away from problems but by how well they can face them. Let future dads stand and be counted!

Finally to the few remnants who are dads… I wish you Happy Father’s Day. Keep up and mentor our generation to change the future.

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