I am thinking about the Me of Today and the things that I inherited from the Me of Yesterday.

What if the Me of Yesterday had not washed the dishes from last night’s meal? Then the Me of Today would have woken up to an unsightly sink filled with dirty dishes.

What if the Me of Yesterday had taken too much whisky last evening? Then the Me of Today would have woken up with a hangover that would probably have ruined the whole day.

What if the Me of Yesterday had overlooked to resolve issues that arose during the day by the time he went to sleep? Then the Me of Today would have woken up to a moody morning that would have followed a restless night.

As I go through my day I ask, “What will the Me of Tomorrow inherit from the Me of Today?”

When I think about the process of communication, it reminds me of how many parents constantly want to know about how their grown up children are and what they are up to and how their relationships are going and what their plans for the future are and so on. In a way, a parent feels that he or she is entitled to know how their child is. And so they ask without regard for the discomfort that they cause their children. They sometimes ask the most personal questions and feel slighted when information is not disclosed. They do not think twice about complaining that they are being kept out of their childrens’ lives. Of course that piques the guilt in the child and that results in even more discomfort. Eventually the child finds interaction with the parent to be very vexing and might start avoiding the parent. Of course the parent picks it up and complains even more, and the relationship steeps even further.

And yet there are people that have excellent communication with their parents. They can talk to them about anything that a person would talk to a close friend about. That is very enviable. However, it is not something that just happens. Such a parent does not wake up one day as if from a stupor and realize that the child is now grown up and say, ‘tell me about yourself’. Neither does the parent demand from their mature child in the same manner that you would from a 5 year old that has been up to some mischief while they were away. Such parents carefully cultivate their communication channels with their children from the time they are young and maintain them into their grown up years. In most cases, such parents treat their children as equals even when they are young and so the child does not feel talked down to. Rather, at that early age the child feels respected and valued and hence they develop an amazing dose of confidence in themselves in their formative years and a remarkable sense of responsibly as they grow up. When you interact with people with such backgrounds, they stand out in a natural grace when dealing with people of all ages and they seem to find it easy to fit at any level of society. They effortlessly slip into any position of leadership and fill it with a perfect fit.

I would say that healthy communication is like a string that is pulled between two people and it is irrespective of age, gender and other social factors. At one time one person is pulling the string in a certain direction and the other can follow. At another time, the other person is pulling and the one that was leading now follows. At other times, the string rests between them. The important point is that the string exists and that none of the two will let it go. For when it is let go, one talks and the other does not seem to hear them or one expects to be told and no sound comes forth.

If you recognize the kind of communication breakdown that I am talking about with your own parents, then try and think about how you can do better with your children.

Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn’t seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy takes out his phone and calls the emergency services.

He gasps: “My friend is dead! What can I do?” The operator says: “Calm down, I can help. First, let’s make sure he’s dead.” There is a silence, then a gunshot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says: “OK, now what?”

It is early in the morning and from where I am seated, I can hear the sounds of Nairobi as it comes alive for another day of busyness. I can feel the energy of the herds of people as they furiously stampede into the Central Business District in an endless stream of vehicles that sounds like the roar of a mighty river, punctuated by varying pitches of ‘peep’ sounds of car horns, and just a while ago, a loud siren of an emergency vehicle.

Sometimes when I hear that siren, I think about the anxiety that someone else might be feeling since in most cases, one who is close to them is in danger. And when I look at myself and know that I am fine and that to the best of my knowledge everyone that I know is fine, I thank God for his grace. For, what is grace? It is favor that we get despite the fact that we didn’t do anything to deserve it. I know that I didn’t do anything to deserve good health and all the benefits that come with it, or both my parent that I can see any day that I want, or the intelligence that enables me to do my work each day, or even love and peace and other states on mind that matter to me.

It is easy for anyone to see the grace of God, especially when they look for it. If you do, I suppose there is good reason for you and I to say a huge “Thank You” to God.

My friend and I were looking at the meaning of the word ‘gullible’. Apparently, gullibility is a failure of social intelligence in which a person is easily tricked or manipulated into an ill-advised course of action. When I look at the definition I cannot help but think that we are usually so guarded so as not to be taken advantage of by other people, that we often overlook the one place where we are likely to be tricked. I considered what ‘gullibility’ means, and asked myself if it applies to me. And as I thought about it, I realized that on many occasions, I have watched my mind do to me exactly what the phrase said “easily tricked or manipulated into an ill-advised course of action”.

Now, the mind is something else…it will convince you into doing something that you already know is not good for you. It lurks, waiting for your weak moments and will advance its clever arguments into making you believe that you will only feel better after you give in. If you are adamant, it will assure you that despite what might have happened in the past that this time it will be different…that you really need this…that if there is anyone who deserves to feel good, it is you. It is one of those ‘try it and you will thank me’ cons. But as soon as you do it, the mind turns against you with condemnation and accusations. And with such a negatively strong wrath that it frightens you into a corner when you have no voice of your own. Not only does it judge you for this one wrong, but it also drags out all the other wrongs from the past and that are not even related to this one, and even goes a step further to assure you that you are condemned to mess again in the future. And you want to hide your face, not so much for the embarrassment of what you did, but for the shame of being made to feel so bad about yourself by someone that you trust…that you fell for the same trick all over again. When will it stop?

But I suppose even to the man who wrestles the legendary bull by its horns in a public arena, in the privacy of his mind is where the real battle rages and therefore the only place where real triumph can be experienced. In the mind, unprecedented turbulence often means that one has reached a key conundrum and that might require time and patience to resolve. Sometimes, it feels like we do not have the resources to handle the funk, and an early exit must be the only way, but as is often quoted, God does not present to us challenges we cannot overcome. If we were to take God for his word, we might then find it prudent to ask him to provide us with the strength required to win the battles. After all, prayer is one of our resources. We might even as be so bold as to say that God is one of our resources and truthfully proclaim, “If God is for us, who can be against us!”?

Life is a gift. Like any other gift that someone might give you, you are the one responsible for adding value to life.

So how do we add value to the gifts that we receive? Take the example of a vase. What if someone was to give you such a gift? You might opt to put flowers in it and showcase it an a prominent space in your house where you and others will see it often. As a result, each time you see the beautiful flowers, you will also see the vase which contains those flowers and hence appreciate it for the purpose that it serves. On the other hand, one might decide to accept the vase and just let it be. They probably will leave it in a private corner in the house to prevent it from being accidentally broken.

These two vases have the same intrinsic value; art pieces made from clay. We can even assume that they cost the same amount of money at the gift shop. However, the first vase has added value by virtue of the purpose that is serves. The person that received it as a gift is the one that gave it that value.

Throughout your life, you have received many gifts; such as your inborn talents and skills that you acquired from school. Do you know what those gifts I am talking about are? Are they lying somewhere in a safe corner to avoid damage, or are they meaningfully showcased in all their glory for the world to see?

Utilization of gifts leads us in a direction that will make us have an idea of what our purpose in life is. However, other than knowing what the gifts are, it is important for one to know what the gifts can be used for. For example, a vase is useful in showcasing flowers and will break if we try to use it as a hammer for nails. So, learn also where to apply your gifts most effectively.

Right opposite the building from where my office is, there is a small gap between two buildings that has some sheds that contain stalls where you can see second hand shoes and clothes on sale. If you venture inside the sheds, about a quarter way in, the clothes and shoes give was to eating houses where cuisine with uncommon names such as “chapo mandondo” is served. When I think about this food place, I remember a similar location that used to be right next to the Serena Hotel. We used to call it “The Serena B”. Now, considering the location of the food place near my office relative to Serena Hotel, and taking into account all the other factor that would enable you to rank any eating facility, this would have to be “The Serena X”. That is where I had my breakfast.

Inside Serena X, there are many tiny restaurants that all look the same although none of them has a name. The only way to identify one from the other is to call it by it’s owners name. In there somewhere, I know that one of them is owned by Steve, but I didn’t bother asking for it since it might have turned out to be much further in, and I didn’t want to delve so deeply this morning. Steve is an acquittance and when we met recently, he invited me to eat at Serena X.

You would have to experience the atmosphere inside Serena X in order to understand what it is like. But if I explain it here, I can talk about wood smoke and hard benches on each side of several informal looking tables on which several men sit. The customers seem to know each other, and some are talking while two are reading the day’s newspaper. The newspaper belongs to the restaurant and might as well have a huge stamp proclaiming ‘Customers Only’ at the front page. The two mean have split the newspaper pages between them.

Serena X is for early risers. All the customers that I saw seemed to be matatu transport industry crew about to start their day. You can tell that from their uniform clothes. Believe it when I say that Serena X is for early risers, for at the hour between 5am and 6am, even a few house flies were busily buzzing around.

Each of the people that walk into the restaurant seem to know exactly what they want and the food arrives even before the order has finished leaving their mouth. All the waiters wear white lab coats that will never be white again. Like well calibrated machines, they zoom to and from the tables to the kitchen counter, either with full plates or empty dishes depending on which direction they are walking. And they are very efficient. How efficient? Let’s just say that you can feel the wind in the wake of the off-white lab coat as it sweeps the air each time it breathlessly tries to keep up with its wearer.

When I took my seat, I was a little lost for what to have for breakfast and so I chose to eat what seemed like a novel meal sitting in my neighbor’s plate…beans and a chapati…and tea. The tea arrived already sugared. In fact, the only indulgence on the table is a salt shaker. As I ate, I continued to look around and noticed the menu on the wall. Here, the most expensive meal costs 80 shillings! There was also a sticker on the wall that gives you an idea of exactly how much the Serena X management appreciates good manners; “Usiteme mate hapa! Si una handbag?” In simple English it means that if you would like to spit, to please do it in your handbag.

There are no bills or receipts of any kind in Serena X. When you are done eating, you walk to the door and pay to a hawkish looking guy, who I assumed was the owner. His eyes see all, but he will still ask you what you have eaten before he accepts your money. In addition to good manners from their customers, I suspect that the management expects honesty as well.

I didn’t know how much I was supposed to pay and so I dug into my pocket and came up with all the loose money that I had. It all amounted to 80 shillings. The only other money I had was in 1000 notes and I was apprehensive about answering the early morning question that is inevitable each time you pay with a thousand, “Hauna pesa ndogo?” (Don’t you have a smaller note?). In my estimate, I expected to be charged 100 shillings, but then when I asked the cashier/owner how much I owed, he said 50 shillings. 50 shillings! For a plate of beans and a chapati and a cup of pre-sugared tea?! I have to say for the good feeling that I have in my stomach right now, this must be the Christmas bargain they keep talking about on radio.

My apartment is on the second floor and when I opened the door to the balcony after I got out of bed, I was greeted by a sunny morning spiced up with the fragrance of the fresh of a green earth after a week of heavy rain. While moving my head in order to harvest a great lungful of crisp air from all around the space on which I was standing, my eyes glanced on the wall and I say a slug. The slug had a shiny cream color and was extended full length as if it was about to make a huge lunge forward, making me think of a steeplechase runner in full stride whose pose has been frozen when the viewer pressed the pause button on the remote control. And as I waited for the slug to make a contraction to facilitate forward movement, I once again wondered about the journey of the slug.

I wondered how much time it had taken the slug to move from the ground and climb the wall – all the way to the second floor. Given the slow speed at which a slug moves, and considering a slug’s life expectancy, I suppose that it must have invested a considerable chunk of its lifetime to accomplish this one task of climbing the wall. One might even conclude that climbing this particular wall is probably this slug’s lifetime achievement. Which then brings us to the next obvious question, “for what purpose?”

I suppose this question brings us to our own predicament as human beings. When we do not understand the meaning of our lives, we feel like this slug, climbing a mundane wall all its life. And at that time, for all the work that we have engaged in, we look back and see the lack of color in our accomplishments and ask “for what purpose?”

When I look at the slug, I cannot understand why it chose to climb this wall or why it had to leave the lush world of food and the companionship of other slugs down below. But then when I look a second time, I realize that this particular slug has touched my life: It caught my attention and has engaged my imagination for quite a considerable amount of time. In that time, it has enabled me to examine my own life and given me the words with which to write a story to share with you. Considering that this writing will affect you in some way, you can already see the chain reaction that the slug has set off?

We can say in jest that this slug has accomplish in 30 minutes what my school English teacher tried to accomplish for years every day that she walked into my class. But in all seriousness it probably helps us to remember that it is indeed true that all God’s creatures – You and I included – have a reason to be.

We Matter. Despite, all of our good intentions that seem too small to us and inconsequential to the universe, all the menial tasks that only seem to serve as placeholders for the existence that we hold, all the tumultuous experiences that do not seem to make any sense at all, all the places that we find ourselves so deeply buried in and that we can never seem to be able to retrace our steps from. We Matter.

I heard someone talk about love over the weekend. He equated love to a seed that is planted in a garden. And he equated the work that goes into sustaining love into the labor that goes into nurturing a garden. For after the seed is put into the ground, it then has to be watered frequently, weeds have to be removed, it has to be pruned and taken care for in all other ways; until it flourishes and later blooms and produces seeds that can then produce more fruit of the same. What does that mean? That you can identify an act of love, but can never predict in the fullness of time, how powerful that single act will eventually be. Or in other words, you can count the number of seeds in an apple, but you can never count the number of apples in a seed.

If you grew up in a village in Kenya, you probably remember the many games that you played with other children. You probably also remember that shoes used to be a Sunday affair, and so most of the time you were bare feet. And at the end of the day the feet would be dirty from trotting around all day – especially on rainy days. And the children would gather around their mother at the fireplace and start dozing on their tiny seats immediately after supper. However, it was a requirement that everyone had to wash their feet before going to bed. And the mother would warm the water and pour it in a plastic basin for each of her children to wash their feet. After each feet washing, the filthy water in the basin would be thrown out and the mother would pour more warm water for the next child to wash their feet.

For anyone who would not wash their feet before going to bed, it was just a matter of time before they were attacked by jiggers. If they still didn’t clean up, the jiggers would multiply, so much so that the pain in the feet would make it impossible for a child to play with others.

Now that we are grown up, we spend the whole day in our places of work, and when we go back home in the evening, our minds are muddied from all the negativity that we pick up and accumulate in the course of the day. After we eat our dinner and we start to feel drowsy, do we take a few moments to rid ourselves of all that negativity? A prayer will do, and so will some meditation. Journaling will do and so will some reading. Conversing with a loved one will do and so will listening to some soothing music.

When the mind is not cleansed of negativity often, one is bound to develop conditions that prevent them from doing the things that they would otherwise enjoy to do. And just as that child who did not wash his feet will look at others longingly as they play and tell himself, “I cannot play with them, I don’t want to get hurt”, the grown up who did not rid themselves of negativity will say to themselves, “I cannot do that again, I don’t want to get hurt!”

Any pain – physical or psychological – directs us to the parts of our selves that we have neglected – or that we should pay more care for. Like the feet of the little boy that played all day in the mud need to be washed every evening, this is the part of us that needs to be looked after often.