IAMOGUTUDAUDI

sOME rANDOM fELLAS vIEW oF tHIS nOT vERY rANDOM pLACE wE cALL tHE wORLD.

[howdaudiseesit]

SEEING MY LIFE

June has been that month for me. Conversations, situations have had me evaluating things or as we millennial’s call it, ‘seeing my life.’

Growing up, we grew up in this little neighborhood in Jinja, on circular road. I still wonder why they called it that, there was nothing circular about that road. A straight road with a set of houses on either side, lush, short green fences with pathways cut out the adjoining side of the fence so we didn’t have to go all the way around to see our neighbors. I do not recall having a physical gate honestly. It was again another space in the side next to the road. If there was a gate, that memory is the dark corners of my mind next to the traumatic memories section. I love living like this. It was safe. One scream, and all the communities strong men were at your house investigating with sticks and stones. When you lacked, you walked across the hole in the fence knowing your friends across would help. When my brothers were going back to school, the neighbors kids would hop on to. It was beautiful. I grew up with aunties who are practically my sisters. I learnt to share a bed because the visitor that week had to take mine. My parents gave, even when we did not have much. And in our own times of hardship, we were given. That is the life I know, a life of community, where people come first. I know grow up in a world of high block fences and appointments. To see a relative or a friend, you must make an appointment to see if they have room, or a cup of tea for you. Now don’t get me wrong, impromptu visits piss me off too sometimes. And yes, people should call first. But it seems like now we have used our fences and our appointments as a ‘polite’ way to turn people away.

A good woman passed on this week. Julie Muffin was what most of us called her. I wasn’t terribly close to her but I cried like a baby when I heard the news. The loss of someone hadn’t broken me down this badly in such a long time. Julie was that childhood neighborhood personified. She had a moment for everyone. And the 140 character eulogies on Twitter said just that. For Julie, people came first. She reminded us what the real investment should be.

I once read commentary of a teacher talking about Mathew 6: 19 - 21.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

He talked about heaven in terms of eternity. What is that investment that will last forever? It most definitely is not money, cars, houses or fame. It is the kind of impact you have on people’s lives. Impact that will go to the 3rd and 4th generation. Impact that will make even people who never knew you, wish they had.

As I said, June has had me seeing my life. Asking me what kind of person I am. The kid that grew up on circular road or the man caught up behind wall fences and appointments. When it comes down to it, do I pick people over things? Do you?

[howdaudiseesit]

MEN ARE DOGS, THE REFIX...

Maybe it was God trying to teach me something or my warped mind making weird connections. Or maybe it was comedy night in the 4th heaven and God was on a roll, I am not really sure, but the phrase ‘all men are dogs’ just took on a whole new meaning for me.

What is meant for evil, the lord will turn around for good. Can I hear an Amen? Touch 1 or 2 people and say, good!

Yup! It definitely is my warped my making connections. Clearly I walked into the support group conversation for the voices in my head.

I digress.

I think this little meeting in my head decided to take back this age old expression. It took one of the most hurtful things you can say to a man, and saw it entirely differently. From now on, this is what I hear when you say “all mean are dogs.”

I read a story of a dog recently that refused to leave the grave of its owner after he passed. It just wouldn’t leave. It dedicated itself to this man in life and in death. Not many animals make this kind of eternal connection. Talk about loving and loving honestly and whole heartedly.

A dog puts your happiness ahead of its own. It selflessly and continually gives of its joy and spirit to ensure you are happy. It protects you even at the risk of its own life. You are the most important thing in its life and there are no lengths it won’t go to for you.

You have a bad day, maybe you shout at him. Call him stupid and all sorts of names. Maybe you forget to feed him. Maybe you loose it and kick him. Minutes later they are back by your side giving you the kind of TLC you know your self absorbed self does not deserve. Dogs forgive unconditionally. They love unconditionally, whether you deserve it or not.

Dogs see your dumb ish moments from a mile away. They will tense up, raise their ears and tails, and in with no judgement whatsoever join you in whatever dumb endeavor you have decided on this week despite their reservations. This is what it means to be a day 1. Ride or die,literally.

So yes, all men are dogs. We are all these things and then some. Of course not without our flaws. But like anything else, it’s becomes what is glorified. So what will you choose to glorify, his weaknesses or his strengths?

[howdaudiseesit]

THE TRUTH THAT IS #KOIKOIUG

“There is poverty, injustice and corruption. How do you keep pushing people tell positive stories about Uganda with #koikoiug? Aren’t you just burying your head in the sand? Be honest, you don’t like Uganda that much.”

Ever since #koikoiug started almost a year ago, I have been asked these questions so many times.

Yes, I see the injustice, and the poverty, and the corruption. But not loving Uganda because of these is making a permanent decision to a temporary problem. I am a Christian, and I subscribe to the theology of loving the sinner and hating the sin. People are the cause of our problems and people are all bound by time and fate. What will outlast us all is the things that make us Ugandan. And that’s why I soldier on telling Ugandan stories. Transcribing into the history books(read World Wide Web) stories that are eternal. Stories that are true.

The good book also tells me, “…the truth will set you free.” I have a somewhat unhealthy beliefs (according to some people) of the power of a good story, a story true to the core and the potential it unleashes. A potential that cannot be quenched. My belief is that the more #Koikoiug stories are told, especially in Uganda, that mind sets will start to shift. We shall take our eyes off the things that are temporary and fix our eyes on the bigger picture. That these stories will inspire me and my children to work to contributing to this story instead of tearing it down. I believe we can inspire an entire generation to be free from the yolk of corruption, injustice and poverty because we have changed the focus from self to community, to country, to Uganda. I believe the truth about this country, who we are, why we are here and what we have to offer is what will set Uganda free. I choose to put no hope in political transitions and place everything in cultural transformation. Because if the decisions of our 10th parliament, opposition and ruling party a like, subscribing to a hand signal or color doesn’t make much difference. There needs to be change at the core of who the person is.

So am I burying my head in the sand. No. Where I see injustice, corruption and poverty, I will do everything in my power to help change that. But I choose to keep my gaze on what I believe we can become as a nation. Starting with what makes us beautiful today and building on that to create what will make us glorious tomorrow. I choose to keep telling the #koikoiug story. We all have to make a choice, and this is mine. What is yours?

[howdaudiseesit]

PART FREEDOM, PART YOLK.

I really had nothing to write today. Felt like I had exhausted all possible angles on ‘freedom of expression’ I could think of. Also if anyone knows my blogging history, getting three blogs in is a pretty good achievement for me. Absolute pride is what I feel right now. In fact, I have resolved to reward my self with Tamarai’s three and three this Friday just for making it that far. Because 3 glasses of wine and 3 dishes seems like the kind of indulgent fete someone like me would enjoy. But first, maybe one more blog.

I am creative. I work a radio job, a television job and work with a team at Kafunda Kreative doing absolutely cool things. My entire life revolves around telling stories, expressing so to speak.

I have for a while thought about the power and burden thereof that is in this expression, especially the artistic forms of expression. Every time that mic comes on, or the director says we are rolling, I wonder if the words of my mouth are building or breaking someone. Are they spreading happiness or casting a shadow of fear. Are they changing lives. Maybe I am the only one burdened by this. I hope not though.

Human beings were created with a weakness for artistic expressions. It has its own direct pathway straight to our hearts. Words beautiful strung together, melodies beautifully played, moments captured perfectly, these create connections that are hard to explain. So much so that our creator, God, used the melodies of the birds, the paintings in the sky, the detail in natural architecture to declare his glory to us, because he knew it would speak to us on a spiritual level. A level that influences perceptions and behavior. A holy level. So if you are like me, and have been blessed with the opportunity to convey the arts, do you ever think about the impact of your work, your words, your brushstrokes, your melodies. Are you ever burdened by the impact you have on four and five generations down the road. Or do you present your craft with disregard of the social shift that it creates. Expression transforms minds, it changes cultures, build relationship and sometimes starts wars. This freedom of expression is also the yolk around our necks. We are chained to the people who look up to us. We either send them to the grave or empower them to greatness. When I stand before my creator on that glorious day, I hope to have done the latter. I pray I hear, well done good and faithful servant.

[howdaudiseesit]

IF YOU DARE EXPRESS...

Many of us have become professionals in putting the ‘ex’ into expression. Ex boyfriends, ex wives, ex employees, ex partners, ex you name it. It seems like every time we open our mouths, someone leaves.

Now some of us will ‘see our lives’ and realize there is something wrong with our approach. Others will say all they did was communicate how they felt, if the other person was hurt or offended, it is entirely their problem. Many will just not express at all, out of fear. When you think of it, the freedom is largely based on how we express our selves and not on if we express ourselves. So how do we express ourselves?

Calmly. Take a breath, take a walk, take a knee, whatever you do just ensure that when you eventually open your mouth, it isn’t opening the gates of hell. Someone once told me of a couple that made up their minds not to make their home a place of quarrels and squabbles. This couple built a swing, under a tree. Every time they were having a fight, they took to the swing. You have to admit, it is hard to stay heated whilst swinging, as they very quickly found out. They also realized that this calming effect enabled them to deal with the problem and not the emotion of the situation. Find your 'swing under a tree.’

Know what you want out of this expression. If you are not clear on what you hope to achieve, 'tula wansi.’ Every expression is a negotiation. There are two sides to it, yours and theirs. At the end of it all you will always gain something and loose something. The scales are always set up that way. So it’s important to take a moment and think about, if you have the time write down, what you hope to gain and what sacrifices you are willing to make to get the desired result from your expression.

Be respectful. Do not say anything demeaning or derogatory. The rule here is simple, if you wouldn’t want someone else speaking to you that way, the don’t speak to them that way. Remember to engage out of love. In the words of Kimera, “ he/she is still the one who stole your heart.

” or he/she is still the one who employs you or the one you employ. There is going to have to be a relationship beyond this. Something momentary should don’t bring about permanent damage. If you intention is to hurt and bring pain to the other person, keep your expression to your self. And lastly stick to the plan. Some people are just nasty. For the purposes of the analogy, pigs. They are going to try and get you to roll in the mud with them. Don’t. You know better. Breathe some more. Remind yourself of the goal. Be respectful even if they are not. And do not cross that thin line between love and hate. Because I you dare express,real freedom of expression comes with this responsibility.

[howdaudiseesit]

CASE OF THE EXPRESS

“Use your words.” Parents love to throw this around when their little one breaks into a tantrum, screaming and rolling on the floor. This is, in this situation at least, a sign of maturity. An hugely acceptable system of measurement if you ask me. A system we have used on the toddlers in our lives time and time again.

Isn’t it sad then, when you look closely, that we seem to have the expression ability of toddlers. We undress, we fight, we throw things, or just sit in the corner and sulk. Why do we expect from 5 year olds, the things we don’t expect from ourselves.

True, undressing, fighting and throwing things,all are forms of expression. The major reason we discourage toddlers from using them, other it being very annoying and sometimes embarrassing, is that many a time we miss the point and that’s in itself frustrating. Expression is for one use, communication. Of what use then is your expression if people miss the point entirely. Do we think about what we hope to say when we pick a means of expression? Or do we just think of likes and double taps at the end of our glorified stunts.

Yes, sometimes, stunts are required. Tantrums have their place. But in this click of a button generation, the express generation, they seem to have become first place. Someone once told me, life is always a trade of between 3 things; quality, time and cost. You can only pick 2 of the 3 at a time. If you want something of quality, done quickly, it will cost you much. If you want something cheap, done quickly, you will have to sacrifice the quality. So the trade off will always have to be between quality solutions, speed of resolutions, and the pound of flesh we are willing to pay. Toddlers are always looking for speedy resolutions at a low cost. The quality of the solution does not concern them very much. I think we can do better. Expression has very little to do with express.

[howdaudiseesit]

ANARCHY OF EXPRESSION

Medical Daily suggests women might have evolved to stay with partners who are cunning linguists.

FYI, this has absolutely nothing to do with diction or vocabulary.

Your proficient use of your ‘cunning linguist’ skills has also been said to increase the chances of you contracting throat cancer.

Get it now?

Anyhow, making the choice to improve the odds of the success of your relationship, accepting that if as a result you contracted something that could kill you, that is freedom of expression.Its being able to accept the liberties and the pleasure of every situation together with the consequences for the actions taken, good and bad, presumptive or not, stereotypical or not.

Sadly we live in a world so deprived of the concept of responsibility that freedom of expression has been reduced to juvenile irresponsible behavior. We expect this freedom to come unencumbered, unquestioned, unchecked. An unrealistic expectation. We expect to do as we feel, with zero regard of how it makes everyone else feel.

Freedom is not a singular gift. It’s a collective responsibility. Real freedom is considering the effects on your consequences on your neighbor. It’s restraint. It’s maturity. It is loving your neighbor as you love yourself. It’s sacrifice. It’s servant leadership. It’s bigger than any one persons needs and wants. Freedom outside the considerations of love is just anarchy.

So how about we out some ‘respek’ on ‘Freedom of Expression’ and stop using it in vain, for our selfish gain. And that's #howdaudiseesit.

[howdaudiseesit]

QUARTER LIFE CRISIS...

It’s my birthday this month. I start to go around the bend of what has now been officially termed as the quarter life crisis. I prefer to refer to it as the age of stupid. It is a period in ones life where they start to feel doubtful about their life. The realities of adulthood, or at least as society dictates them, begin to stress one out. You sit back and wonder what it is that you have done with your life. Some people go for bigger degrees. Some get married, many times to the wrong person due to pressure hence it being appropriately named ‘age of stupid.’ Some have babies. I decided to do stuff that scares the shit out of me.

I got together with a couple of friends and started a company. It really is a collective more than anything but those strict chaps at the registrar could really let us call it that. Kafunda Kreative, a dream to create a space where creatives can learn from each other, collaborate and grow together to produce kick ass brands, products and services, was born. This wasn’t my first rodeo in the start up sector. In the past however, I didn’t share it as openly as I do today. I was afraid that if this company became a statistic as one of the ones that doesn’t last 3 years after inception, the world would always look at me as a failure. They would laugh, point and whisper as I walked through the streets, I would imagine.

In a cafe, on a napkin, the KoiKoiUg dream was born. Collaborating in building brand Uganda would be the first thing we try our hand at, utilizing the power of social media to tell stories to change minds and break stereotypes.

One year later, we are back at it. 7 adventures set out, a hunger to tell the Ugandan story, and lots of questions. Question like; 1. Can telling compelling Ugandan stories get more Ugandans to visit Uganda? 2. Through the marketing of stock content, can we get the ever growing crop of creatives paid and employed for their amazing photos and stories? 3. What brand is going to come on and believe in this coffee shop dream because we damn well can’t do it on our own.

Number 3 was knocked off the list. This weekend, we got together with Vivo Uganda and their high performance fuel Shell V Power that defends your engine against gunk and corrosion, and journeyed to the far hills of Kapchorwa, the first of 7 expeditions. Because that's what good brand do, they care about the things their customers care about. And in supporting #KoikoiUg they have shown a commitment for Uganda, its stories and its people.

However, as we walked down from the viewing point, I contemplated whether abseiling down an 100m cliff, 10m away from one of the greatest forces of nature was really necessary to tell this coveted Ugandan story. It was the longest 5 minute walk i have ever had.

We finally got across the river and onto the top of the cliff. A nice gentleman called Rob started running us through the paces and safety guidelines.

“Your mind will play tricks on you. It will try to convince you that you are not safe, that is not the case. You are strapped into a climbing harness.” At about this point his words faded into the distance. I occasionally caught words like ‘pruzik and belay loop.’ He also said something about us being fastened into a boulder with bolts and pitons so it was 100 percent safe.

It is absolutely important that you pay attention to this guy as he gives this instructions when you go Abseiling. It puts you in an extremely dangerous situation that will be a measure to all the hot ladies you came along with how much of a man you are. Listening to instructions might just be the difference between starting your journey to that quarter life crisis decision, or being in the friend zone for all eternity.

Soon it was my turn. Strapped and all, I was being told to step over the clip onto a holding rail. It’s a pipe, fastened into the Rock, by strain ropes and bolts. It moved a little when I stepped on it. Was this the sign from up above that it was time to hit the gym? I wasn’t having it. It was time to quit. Why does anyone do this to themselves. My heart was literally beating out of my chest. Is this what a heart attack feels like? “Step onto the rock,” Rob screamed. “Don’t bend your knees,” Rob screamed some more. I cursed under my breath, and stepped off.

[howdaudiseesit]

QUESTIONS...

What is child labor? This is a question that runs through your mind as an 11 year child hauls your grown ass up the slopes of Kapchorwa. For some, asses more grown than others. The contemplation on labor laws is only momentary though. Almost immediately a dilemma presents itself. How does one marvel at the beauty and wonder of the Sipi valley without slipping and tumbling down? Perhaps they should have told us the climb up was the real challenge. One mis step and it’s a wrap. A true test of will and focus.

Kapchorwa is that kind of place. It tests you. Abseiling is a somewhat stupid, irresponsible and reckless undertaking. One everyone should try at least once in their life. Also there has never been a more appropriate use of the phrase ‘see your life,’ like this one. Just before the unforgiving 100m drop, you are led to a viewing point. A lush green carpet of trees tops leads the way to the star of the show, sitting comfortably over the perfectly chiseled throne in the rock. Sipi falls is a magnificent and sobering view. Only here do certain things dawn on you.

1. There definitely is a God who put all this together.

2. I am screwed.

3. There is an overdue thank you note to the guys of Vivo Energy Uganda and V Power. Ensuring that we get to Kapchorwa without having to subject some other 11 year old to pushing our car because of gunk and corrosion in our engine. I would like to buy you guys a drink sometime. When we are not driving of course.

Also, would God mind putting him next to screwed. I don’t think so though. That’s why he came, no? For people who are screwed, so to speak. But I digress.

The Sipi falls, birthed by the Sipi River, get their name from the ‘Sep’ plant, a medicinal plant that resembles a wild banana indigenous to the banks of that river. It is only right that something as life giving as Sipi, a source of water and livelihood for lots of people is named after this shrub used to treat measles and fever from time memorial. What happened to African medicine? What happened to the Sep? It worked for thousands of generations long before the white man ever crossed the ocean to bring us his version of a measles and fever cure. Look, Kapchorwa had got me questioning again, well more like contemplative stalling. Trying to distract myself from the fact that in a few minutes what would be standing in between me and meeting the creator of the beautiful Sipi would be a rope. Talk about hanging on by a thread, because it did feel like it.

In a Nigerian accent * to God be the glory. Watch out for part 2*

Daudi out…

Until i come back for ‘kisanja’ of course.

[howdaudiseesit]

YES BAIBE, RIGHT THERE.

Massages are absolutely relaxing. An oil rub here, a touch there and your mind is blank, floating in some vacuum, with no care in the world. Ordinary massages that is. There is a different class of massages. The ones that give you epiphanies, opening your mind up to unexplored ideas and thoughts. Every rub opening up pathways to the other mystical 90 percent of the brain people say we never use. I got one of those massages, and the contents of my 90 percent were beautiful.

I wondered how people ask for happy endings. Not how to ask literally. But rather how you choose such a baseline experience instead of letting yourself drift of and enjoy all the other orgasmic sensations that come when a professional masseuse touches you in all the right places. Professionally appropriate, places. If she was trained in some back room in katwe and keeps pounding you like dough, then maybe cheap thrills are a way getting value for money. But when someone who knows what they are doing does it, well, there is so much more.

I opted for a mixed package that contained therapeutic, aromatherapy and hot stone massage. If you know me, you will know I am not about that hot stone business. (Thank you Big Mommas House) To me a hot stone massage equaled living dangerously. But again, in the thrill of new year, I had made some resolutions to do some dumb ish, live a little, that sort of thing. A hot stone was a considerably safe place to start. To be more accurately though, a safe place to go back to. Some wild spirit of my ancestors possessed me to ziplining a few weekends a go. Thats a story for another day. When I eventually find my man card somewhere in the thick of the Mabira Forest.

I digress.

So, my limbs and muscles were stretched. If you like to stretch, you know the feeling when you are trying to ‘straighten out a kink.’ I was rubbed in some citrus and some lavender oil. Who wouldn’t love that? And then time for the hot stones came. I held my breath, clenched my butt cheeks, and, “oohhh!!! That feels nice.” The feeling of warm stones running across your back, magical. It was nothing like what I expected. Why had it taken me this long to get a hot stone massage? That wasn’t the only question running through my mind though. When it came to lining up the stones on my back like we see in the pictures, the lady first laid a cloth on me, and then the stones. “That’s not how it is in the pictures though,” I thought. But because It was an epiphany type massage, the reasoning quickly came to me. In the voice of my high school physics teacher, “ black absorbs heat, and white does the opposite.” And that was the end of that. Everything that man said was the gospel.

As the stones warmed me from my spine to the rest of my body, a second dose of that aromatherapy and therapeutic goodness started. She made her way down to the most unlikely of places, and that’s when it happened. I almost went like, “YES BAIBE, RIGHT THERE!!!” In all the massages I had been to, no one had ever straightened out the kinks in my toes the way she did. I didn’t even know my toes had those many muscles. Why aren’t these rooms sound proofed? Pleasure screams are the only appropriate responses to such TLC.

And they weren’t even done yet. They masked me in some scrubs that had died at sea, topped it up with something that contained almond. Took me to a steam. Got me to shower with some milk and lavender, and put me in a rob that felt like a woman’s bosom.

And still they were not done. They rubbed me in some exotic lotion made out of some things I don’t remember plus some coco butter. THEY LOTIONED ME PEOPLE. Professionally of course. And that’s when the gentle whisper came through, “we are done.” I opened my eyes slowly. For some reason I was afraid I had been dreaming. I mean, the lotion part seemed like a dream. I have had massages and they didn’t feel like this. This ‘Positive Emotions’ place must be all in my head. I was disappointed. It was all real. Almost immediately I started re-evaluating my monthly expenditure. I debated on how many rolls of toilet paper I really needed every month. If some days I couldn’t just turn off the lights and pretend it was earth hour. I needed to experience this again. I need to experience this again. What massage opens up the other 90 percent of your mind, so you can think deep things about massages, whilst thinking that this massage might be a dream when it really isn’t but still feels like it. The inception of massages, and day later, my spinning top is still turning.

On that note, I am an environmentalist.

[howdaudiseesit]

A GENDERLESS WORLD

“I do not identify as a man, neither do I identify as a woman.” The frequency at which such statements are beginning to become common place is worrying. You should be worried. When the world ‘top minds’ are encouraging parents to raise their children without gender, you should be beyond worried, you should be mortified. An impending disaster awaits us, akin to the effects of global warming, but on society, the very fabric of humanity. Before there was language, cultural bias, and all manner of things wrong with our society, there was gender, a pure balance, a chai. An ecosystem for humanities survival that goes beyond just procreation. It breaths life into our psychological and emotional wellbeing. It is the heartbeat.

Our ‘learned friends,’ will say being defined by gender is backward and oppressive. I am tempted to agree with them, in part. Our selfish definition of gender where we want to be the strongest, fastest and brightest by stepping on the other gender is backward and oppressive, but that is a broken and twisted definition that should not be used as a measuring stick for the importance of something as beautiful and as spiritual as being created as man and woman.

Man was created to lead. Now generations of bad leadership have led us to view this word in a negative light. Leadership equals service. So in actual definition, man was created to serve. It’s is important however that our understanding of service is one of respect and not manipulation for this to work. Another definition that needs the same respect is helper. A wise man once told me the proper biblical definition of this term that was lost in translation was a kin to a hedge, of fire. Fiercely and ferociously engulfing,protecting what is inside. He compared it to the fires of making love. If you are doing it right, gentlemen, you will be engulfed, not just with insatiable passion and burning desire, but with physical might and strength until you surrender to service. (If you don’t get this, you are too young to be reading this, do go finish your homework).

Anyone who knows anything about servant leadership, and yes this is a side bar, will know that kind of leadership bears fruit, the kind that legacies are made of, the kind that lasts long after cars and houses are rotten and broken down.

Fruit will be planted, grow, and come to term. Nurtured, protected and sustained by both the hedge of the mother and the servant leadership of a father.

This basic, primal, ideal situation of making and raising a child is the perfect picture of the intention on gender and gender roles in all of life. Servant leadership and helper.

No, women should not be reduced to incubators for babies. Men too should not be reduced to sperm donors. No, I am not saying women cannot be leaders. We all lead, we can be everything, we just do it differently, and that is okay. Equality is not similarity.

I fear however, that by equality being confused for similarity, and baby gender getting thrown out with the bath water, we are setting ourselves up for a disaster of catastrophic proportions. A disaster that will end us long before the melting ice caps do.

[howdaudiseesit]

BURN DOWN THE CHURCHES

Christians, i think, have missed the point entirely. Churches have turned into corporations where the presentation of our cool graphics, branded t-shirts and ambiguous intro videos are more important than the image of Jesus. Where 'Men of God' are rock stars and have the flock sitting at their feet instead of the feet of Jesus. Where we really don't care about people, they are just a number in our pews and a filler of our coffers. We give praise to corrupt officials and sell them the prime real estate on our front pews just because of their contributions to the building project while we hide the orphans and the widows in the back, only bringing them out at their worst, as actors in highly manipulative poverty porn so we can raise money for the pastor to buy a car and go and check on them once in a while. We claim to have deep revelation, throwing words like logos, koinonia for the selfish human ambition of seeming to the rest of the world like we have understanding, missing the point entirely.

Jesus died and rose for one thing, and one thing only, LOVE. He died and rose so that we might love God and love man. All deep revelation, miracles and prophecy are so that the world might see the power of God, summed up in 4 letters, LOVE. Every other thing, even salvation, is simply a by product of love. Love is the reason for everything. If we can't treat our fellow men with respect and compassion, If we can't reach out to the world with out stretched arms, then our miracles and prophecy are just a spectacle, one which I am sure, God takes no pride in. 

The biggest world population right now are millennials. As churches have adapted their music, lighting, graphics and even pastors dress code to attract this demographic, it attendance of church is currently is the lowest it has ever been. About 29% of young adults are agnostic, believing in the existence of a higher power but not affiliating to any particular name or religion. Why? Because we stopped leading with love. instead we have become greedy, detached, holier than though, religious tyrants, using the scriptures to coerce giving and submission, using God a source of Power we hold on to, so we can feel elevated and important. The millennials know there is a God, they feel it in the core of their being, they hunger for love, for justice, equality and fairness, all the things that Gods heart beats for, all the things not currently in our churches. If we must, let us close down the churches, pull out the pews and turn the buildings into hospitals. The Lord will still visit in home fellowships the same way he visits in the 30,000 sitter cathedral. If we must, let us sell off our expensive, state of the art equipment and feed the poor. Love is a verb, a doing word. it doesn’t reside in our nicely played songs, it doesn’t reside in our light sequences and powerfully worded sermons. If we are not doing, then we are not loving and we shall have missed the point entirely.

[howdaudiseesit]

THOUGHTS FROM THE KAFUNDA CAFE

Seated in what I call a Kafunda Cafe, in the sense that’s it’s not like the Java’s of this world and neither is it like my January favorite, mama Naka’s, just beautifully in between. It has waitresses who think the world revolves around them but without the standards to match. The food is tasty but the presentation has no artistic value. It’s basically like this blog, somewhere in between struggling for better prose and in the recesses of my mind making that Einstein kinda sense. 

 Someone asked me what my writing style was. Yes, like most of you I didn’t know there were styles. Pen to paper or in the millennial sense, fingers to the keyboard I thought to myself, but in my elevated sense of self, I figured that wouldn’t be a satisfactory answer,so I picked the next best thing my mind could come up with, "I just write," after all that absence of concern somewhat makes me come off as an intellectual who cannot be limited by the boundaries of mere mortality. Rules are there to be broken right? 

 Well, I have recently been privileged to work alongside some very bright minds over the last month or so, the most memorable so far being a primary school teacher called Katherine Tucker. She is the Head of Education at Clark Junior School, and one of those very accomplished educational consultant, having worked across the world, setting up curricula and all that jazz. Yes there is a lot of jazz. The point though is that she is opening a school alongside Ian Clark, which if I had a child, that would be my school of choice, and i would recommend if you have a child, give her a listen. The point behind this point however is that she has managed to give me a new view on learning and knowledge. It took a primary school teacher explaining certain things to me like a 10 year old before some of these things made sense. To cut it short, it really is the issue of skills, and transference of those skills. So you learnt about the periodic table, didn’t like it, but still found a way to memorize and pass the exam. You probably had a method or system that helped you get that knowledge into your head. There was that annoying kid who had picture perfect memory and laughed at your method, but she however could not argue with the results when the results in bold read at the top of your exam paper. Katherine encourages her students to stop saying they can’t do it, but to say they can’t do it YET. A friend might have missed out on a job because they almost admitted they couldn’t do certain things. Richard Branson said, or at least the Internet said he did, “if someone offers you an opportunity and you are not sure you can do it, say yes and then learn how to do it later.” This is something I am adding to my ‘a little more arrogance’ mantra for 2015. 

 So what has this got to do with my writing, well, it simple really. I might not know my writing style, but that won’t stop me from writing. And no, the person didn’t say it to stop me from writing, it actually was constructive criticism, but with us humans constructive many a time easily turns into destructive. So, I don’t have a writing style YET and that’s okay because there are and entire 300 something days for me to find it, and then many more days after that to try again in case i don’t, until the day I die. Maybe i will be a celebrated author one day and tell the story of this blog to thunderous applause and awe. What i am trying to say though is that It’s okay to be lost as long as you are not comfortable in the wilderness. Don’t pitch a tent and figure out how to grow a back like a camels so you can store water instead of trying to find an oasis. Thats #howdaudiseesit

[howdaudiseesit]

A LITTLE MORE ARROGANCE

The New Year is always awkward. Somewhat like a first time. The pressure to do it right is overwhelming. The fear of crashing and burning ever present. Every one of us is searching for that something, that tactic that will ensure our resolutions are not let loose prematurely. Arrogance is one of those words. It never comes before or follows anything good. Well, depending on what side of success you fall on, because on the side where it has been watered, we refer to is as brilliance. Arrogance is defined as having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one’s own importance or abilities.

In an almost unrelated conversation, I was talking to a friend about manliness. About how the things a man does, which sometimes are referred to by the other species as savage, barbaric, childish, are one and the same with his sense of manliness. Take those things away, and 9 times out of 10, you take away his manliness.

Almost unrelated, as mentioned earlier, get Steve Jobs, Kanye West, or even Mother Theresa, take away that exaggerated sense of importance or ability, and they wouldn’t have achieved what they did. Each of these people believe(d) they owed it to the human race to achieve. To them, their lives are a calling, a duty and that my friends requires an exaggerated sense of self. “Some people say, ‘Give the customers what they want.’ But that’s not my approach. Our job is to figure out what they’re going to want before they do. I think Henry Ford once said, ‘if I’d asked customers what they wanted, they would have told me, ‘A faster horse!’’ People don’t know what they want until you show it to them. That’s why I never rely on market research. Our task is to read things that are not yet on the page.” – Steve Jobs

Without this kind of attitude, we probably would have never had the ipod and other mac developments which in themselves are considered revolutions in computer technologies .Look at anyone who has done anything worth doing, and soon you will realise that the world requires us to have some arrogance, because without looking at ourselves and our abilities that way we shall always be timid in our actions and never really achieve our full potential.

A friend of mine had a t-shirt that said ‘ God’s gift to mankind.’ He wore it to fellowship one day and he got rebuked sternly by brothers and sisters, and even got a side eye from me, as was the religious thing to do. I think an ‘ambiguous’ prayer for humility as we closed fellowship was made that day too. A couple of years later, in retrospect I wonder, aren’t we all God’s gift to mankind? We buy gifts for various reasons, to appreciate, to make happy, to fulfill a purpose and in most cases, us imperfect humans manage to get gifts that make those people feel appreciated, happy and fulfill those purposes. How much more us who are given by a perfect God, full of purpose, predestined before time to make someone happy, or appreciated and fulfill a certain purpose. What the world calls an exaggerated sense of self and abilities, isn’t that what we were created to be? Is that what God wants us to be? For fear of being ‘arrogant’ haven’t we looked at ourselves as less than we are? I think the world needs more ‘arrogant’ people. Maybe this is made science. Probably even broken theology in our ever ending somewhat misguided sense of false humility and meekness, but you cant argue with the results of arrogant men and women, those whose sense of self drove them to steer the world into new eras, those who knew if they didn’t do it, no one else would. They clearly have something we don’t. So my mantra for 2016 is ‘ a little more arrogance,’ and hopefully I will end up on the side of history where it is referred to as brilliance. And that’s #howdaudiseesit.

[howdaudiseesit]

#UGBlogWeek: Walayi, I don’t have a title.

I haven’t blogged in what I think is over a year. I might be wrong. I might have penned a few thoughts that have been banished to the dark recesses of my mind.

I have been on a soul searching experience. It was not as intentional and well thought out as that sounds, but again, what kind of soul searching would it be if it came with a calendar, weather reports and checklists. Not a fun one I can tell you for sure.

I was really comfortable with my existence. I had a job that got me by, with flexible work hours that made everyone jealous because I had time sleep in and do series marathons without burning out. Sounds pretty exciting right? No. It was that, existence. And you know us humans; we have a problem with existence. And please don’t be misguided; the other end of that existence spectrum isn’t greatness, simply a sense of purpose. So after slightly more than 100 words, I get to something I could have said it what could be less than a tweet, but word count won’t grow itself. And besides, I might want to be a politician one day, so the art of taking the longer route is one I need to master. Chalk this up to practise will you? So yes, I was looking for a sense of purpose. I have been for a while.

This search started at a place called Destiny Consult with a thing called a life plan that required me to think about my life. Yes, that meh expression you have on now is exactly what I had then. I mean life plan? It’s never that serious. But anyhow, I went along, with as much composure as I could master. Weeks of classes went down, things began to make more sense, and eventually I got down to writing that life plan. And I promptly put in away and forgot about it.

A few months later, amongst the dusty collection of books I am yet to read, was that partially written life plan, calling my name. Maybe it was because of the classes at Destiny, maybe it as something that had always been a part of me, but I one of the things I wrote in that plan was to love my country, with a dramatically underlined side note that ‘love is a doing word.’ This scribble grew legs, walked into a coffee shop, bounced around some great minds, and later became Koikoi.

My mother was right. She always told about a certain magic that happened when you wrote things down. They tend to work on themselves and come back to you on the other end. Of course you have to leave your scribbles lying around so people with more maturity (read Collin) and insight (read advanced in years) to make sense of them. And so now that my first #UgBlogWeek post is up, someone please come and stare at this and hope the other posts for the rest of the week will work on themselves, because those new series marathons wont watch themselves. And that’s how daudi sees it, or more like dreams it.

[howdaudiseesit]

SELFIE-ISH

I will just get into it without some lengthy excuse for why I haven’t blogged in a long time. I don’t think you would care much for that anyway. Besides, it is not a very interesting story. In fact, there is no story at all, just lots and lots of laxity, couch surfing, television binging and somewhere in the middle of this doing a radio show that in my head is the most kick ass show in the world, with a real big wig, on a station I had dreamed of working at since I was about 10 years old. Speaking of, where are these coke chaps, there is a real #IAmAReason story right here, yes? Now that I have caught you up on my life since the last time I blogged, shall we?

One of these fine evenings, I got caught up in an internet black hole. I was looking for furniture ideas for my flat and somehow ended up for hours on end  watching cats playing piano, cats playing more piano, and cats playing some more piano. You know how it goes. Somewhere in the middle of my shame, realizing that I had spent about an hour watching videos of cats playing piano, I landed on, wait for it, another video of a cat playing piano. Yes, I know it’s sad, but don’t judge me, just because you vegetate differently from me. I promise however, that was the last cat video I watched, that day, because I chanced on a funny vine, where a guy, in order to break up fights with his girlfriend and have some momentary peace, just raised his phone to selfie position, and just like most of you, everything would stop, so all energy could be focused on the perfect duck face, if there is even such a thing.

This got me thinking, how selfie’s are just like money. Not in the sense that they will buy you anything but in the sense that they have found a way of amplifying our bad habits and insecurities and also that they might be the root of all evil, but I will have to get back to you on that last part.

Because of selfie’s we now know that the fellowship mama is not as humble as she lets on because let’s face it, the underlying tone in selfie’s is having or showing an excessively high opinion of one's appearance, abilities, or worth, which is the true definition of vanity. Yes, it really is. I googled it, and then copied and pasted. Selfie’s literally looked humility in face, peeking deep into the eyes of her sole and said,

“Do me favor maen! Do me a favor please. Gerrarahere… Gerrarahere maen!!!”

 Selfie’s have also made lying an acceptable art form. Ladies, #Iwokeuplikethis, really? Your hair wasn’t in place, your boobs weren’t propped up by that push up bra, and you probably woke up with skid marks from drooling a little in the night. Ati, I woke up like this, gerrarahere maen!!! The problems with cultures like this, is the longer they go on, the more people start to believe them. Very soon, men will expect you to wake up looking like that, I know, unrealistic right? Well, that’s what they said about porn, but lots of house wives expected to be the porn stars now and how many men are expected to be a certain size. How did we get here I wonder? Not unrealistic any more is it.

 Now that we are talking about sex, I might as well talk about the need to please. Because of the need for someone to double tap, like or RT and the inevitable loss in self-worth that comes with their absence of that manner of approval, people have gone in search for the perfect selfie. The perfect light to shade ratio, perfect smile, no random photo bomber in the background and without knowing it, because of the need of approval, 3 to 5 minutes are spent snapping away just to find the perfect shot, not factoring in the time it took to touch up your lips and eyebrows just for that. 3 to 5 minutes that could honestly have invested in you, but are spent looking for double taps and likes. I won’t even get into the constant checking to see how many nodes of approval you have gotten. How many minutes shall we get up to then? The need for this approval has gotten so bad that people have actually lost their lives looking for the perfect selfie, hanging off buildings and in moving trains all for social acceptability, and sadly not even the kind that counts. All this while wasting valuable tax payers money because legislators, like they have in some countries, have to spend time instituting laws on selfie’s.

For a species that is supposed to be at the top of the intellectual chain, selfie’s have turned us into a bunch of pubescent lumpens. They really are the epitome of the human race’s insatiable capacity to be idiots, and the duck face is the least of it. And that’s #howdaudiseesit, but first, let me take a selfie.

[howdaudiseesit]

THE ABC's OF SEX

I haven’t blogged in quite a while. Writers block would be the professionally correct thing to blame, and maybe it was for a while but then it morphed into laziness and excuses, and then comfort in my puddle of laziness and excuses and it kept getting worse, until a friend caused ripples in the twitter sphere with her hash tag #artofsex; a steamy, do not read in public, should have had an advisory, collection of tweets that I probably should not have been reading, YET. I believe an elaborate well intended lecture on Biology would be a total waste on a toddler with has no grasp of their ABC’s . They wouldn’t know what the letters B-I-O-L-O-G-Y spells, let alone what it means. Same goes for sex, especially sex, and that right there is the first of a few ABC’s. If you have not understood sex and it's physical, spiritual, and social implications, you have no business having it. But look at me getting ahead if myself.

The next few hundred words are based on eye witness reports, relevant literature and other things I cannot mention without getting a side eye.

Sex is not for children and yet most of the people today are, as it’s is commonly referred to, ‘playing’ sex. It is a game driven by ego and the selfish need for personal gratification. We spend our days reading generic rumblings of sexually frustrated columnist obsessing on size, width and technique and really forgetting the most important thing about sex, the person you are sleeping with. If those things carried as much weight as we give them, I have no doubt that the inventor of sex would have left clear account of that, but all accounts of sex in the bible (yes they are accounts of sex in the bible, quite detailed too) focus on validating the other person, making them feel beautiful and valued, because if the romance is real, you won’t be looking for very elusive spots to hit, but what do I know, I am just a guy who reads the bible.

You know that stupid notion of “if you love someone, sleep with them?” It’s not all false. When a man touches a woman’s heart, she gives it up, and however said the way to man’s heart was through the stomach was few inches too high. Sex is that sweet meeting spot where two individuals who couldn’t be further from each other, connect, become one. Such vulnerable union requires eternal commitment, trust and more importantly exclusivity. There is no bigger cause for bad sex than absence of exclusivity. You can have all the technique and the 10 steps you want, if you are doing it with more than one person, you are never going to do it right. I don’t think that there is something as this person knows how to do it, and this one doesn’t. It is just people not taking time to understand one another and bringing their previous sexual experiences into the picture. Everyone is unique and therefore should be handled differently; sex is not a one size fits all. One word, faithfulness. I will just leave that there.

Do you ever ask yourself why God wanted sex only in the context of marriage? Gods context of marriage was eternal, man cleaved, there was no divorce. Man loved his wife like Christ loved the church and the woman submitted to her husband, it was pure un adulterated scenario of the other before self. You started out both inexperienced ,awkward and  focused more on figuring out each other than flipping straight to Kama sutra page 101. Sex wasn’t an act measured by performance, or a game measure by points, it was a surrender to one another, a position of complete vulnerability, a consummation of one another. Now I don’t know about you but that’s the kind of sex I would like to have when the time comes.

 Don’t get me wrong, I have a huge appreciation for the arts. No words can explain the ethereal experience when paint and brush connect with canvas in the perfect way. But Picasso and Mozart are great because they understood the ABC’s. So before you go soaking in the #artofsex, ask yourself if you understand the root of sex, the ABC’s, the source of code. Ask yourself if you understand why God created it. Only then, will you start using the tools and not the tools using you. And I don’t need to spell out that a man in control of his tools is very effective. And that’s #howdaudiseesit.