Sunday Doodles: Kenya Shall Rise; It is Well

There is a hymn I like very much. The story behind the penning of the hymn is a humbling one indeed. The hymn, It is Well with My Soul, was penned by Horatio Spafford.
This hymn was writ¬ten af¬ter several trau¬matic events in Spaf¬ford’s life. The first was the death of his only son in 1871, shortly followed by the great Chi¬ca¬go Fire which ru¬ined him fi¬nan¬cial¬ly (he had been a successful lawyer). Then in 1873, he had planned to travel to Europe with his family on the S. S. Ville Du Havre, but sent the family ahead while he was delayed on business. While cross¬ing the At¬lan¬tic, the ship sank rapidly after a collision with an¬o¬ther ship, and all four of Spaf¬ford’s daugh¬ters died. Spaf¬ford’s wife, Anna, sur¬vived and sent him the now fa¬mous tel¬e¬gram, “Saved alone.” Shortly afterwards, as Spaf¬ford travelled to meet his grieving wife, he was inspired to write the hymn as his ship passed near where his daugh¬ters had died.

It is Well with My Soul
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
It is well, with my soul
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Just like Horatio, Kenyans have lost a lot and some are barely holding on. Some are holding to a thin, frayed thread to avoid sliding off the edge of the precipice into an abysmal abyss. And the thread is threatening to snap…

One thing I believe with all my heart is that Kenya will rise above this present situation (oh, but at what cost!); Kenyans will smile again; Kenyans will ‘live’ to see tomorrow. This has, and will always be, my prayer.

Every time I look into the eyes of the children in the camps, tears well up in my eyes and course down the entire breadth of my face. If only tears could help!

I call upon all of us to help in our own unique ways. Emotionally: hold, embrace, speak positive words to the affected etc; Socially: offer whatever you could offer to alleviate the suffering (food, clothing etc).

Let the Golden Rule ‘speak’ in our actions: Do unto others what you would like them to do unto you.

Have a blessed week.

(Drop me a line at: undaunted at yahoo dot com)

Political Settlement: Halfway House

On 27th of December last year, Kenyans went to the polls and spoke out loud about the people they wanted to see ascend the political ladder (and those they didn’t want to stay up there a second longer!). But the events that followed this “loud decision” clearly placed Kenya among the countries that do no not care two hoots about the welfare of its people.

Kenyans were (and have since remained) strangulated, asphyxiated and raped off their democratic right.

This led to the unleashing of the most potent ‘demon’ that resides in humans to take full course: hate, ‘violent’ suspicion, murder, ethnic ‘turbulence’, ‘incompatible’ co-existence and a host many other evils.

All of as sudden our very identities became a threat to our existence, to our freedom and to precious life. Our names became the determining factor. One mention of our names would determine the direction of the sharp machetes. Our identity cards spoke against us. “Wacha nione kipande yako” became a life-threatening question.

Millions of Kenyans have lost their lifelines, their jobs and hope of any possible respite coming their way. Hundreds of thousands have been displaced and their properties lost in the innocuous ‘conflagration’ (both literally and metaphorically speaking!).

The wounds and hurt in our hearts, as Kenyans, beggars description. I believe that not even the most perfect and prolific wordsmith in town can put it in words. Anyway, we don’t need words to explain the feeling.

Now there is talk of a political settlement between PNU and ODM. Well, this, to me, is like offering quack cures for old ills. A halfway house of sorts! We need more than our paunchy fellows at Serena are offering. How do they plan to deal with the frayed, threadbare fabric of society? On the ground, co-existence among different ethnic groups is stifled. “Gargantuan” amounts of mistrust rule the air among the different tribes. A very sorry state indeed!

Well, again, the very people who lost in the elections are the very guys who ‘want’ (want really? ) to give a piece of the action, a piece of the power, to the other group. Theatre of the absurd, methinks.