Praising Him in All Seasons

When we fall on hard times, often times, we ask, ‘Why me?’ When death calls or illness visits, sometimes we are moved to curse God. When we lose our prestigious jobs, worries crease our brows, as our lives are upended. But when we believe in His bounty, when we believe that we are just upon another season, that the sun rises tomorrow, then, we praise him:

Nitakusifu, nitakuinua
Nitakuchezea, nitakuimbia
Nitakutangaza, nitakutabiri
Ewe Jemedari, mmiliki wa yote.

(I will praise and exalt You
I will sing and dance in Your honour
I will proclaim and profess You
Oh Great General, Sovereign over all.)

2020. Covid-19. The year the world stood still. I had quit my job in mid-2018, intending to do business. And business I did, a start-up of sorts. Well, as statistics go, that a majority of business fails in their formative years, mine was no exception. Meaning I resorted to odd jobs here and there to survive. Well, come February 2020, I managed to finagle into a management job… A month later… Boom! The president initiated the country’s lockdown.

Fast forward to 2023… So many people have I lost… peers, colleagues, relatives, neighbours, acquaintances… The greatest lesson in all this? I have learnt to count my blessings: good health, the gift of life, God’s mysterious providence, time… I have also learnt to let go… of people, some dreams, love that was never meant to be… I have also learned to trust more in Him… to let Him direct my life, what I do, say, think… Finally, the tunnel has been obliterated and all around me is light.

Elohi tembea, tembea nami
Usiku wa kiza, tembea nami
Jua kucha-kutwa, tembea nami
Nikiwa nayo pumzi, tembea nami.

(Elohim walk with me
In the dark of night, walk with me
As the sun shines and sets, walk with me
As long as I have breath in me, walk with me).

Comments

My Once-Molly (Political versus Business Ethics),

Dear Molly. How are you? As always, I hope you are well. You know, there is something about you, something that made me inspire for better. Was it that rich smokers’ laughter of yours? The daring twinkle that flashed in your eyes when you were angry? The tight curl in your lips when you were about to lash out? Anyway, Molly, I continue with my business training. I am now thinking of business as warfare – the honourable kind of warfare; chivalry, observing the rules… not the Machiavellian 48-Laws-of-Power warfare where there is no honour, but only winning. Politics of deceit, our president calls it. Well, these past couple of days have been chilly… a precursor to June’s biting cold? Anyway, I am more often sad than happy during the cold months of June and July. I totally blame this on Sam Kahiga’s short story, ‘The Last Breath’ – if my memory serves me right. Off the ‘Encounters from Africa’ anthology. There is a way he made June and July sad. Pretty much like you wouldn’t tai...

My Once-Molly (The Job To Be Done),

My dear Molly, how are you? I hope you are good. I am well as well can be, with the flooding, the inflation, and all. Anyway, grapevine (or maybe, I am a stalker) has it that you are nowadays into the beauty business. Very soon, I too will be emulating you. We may be compatible at all, conquer the world together as business icons. My dear Molly, it may interest you to know that I am doing business training – my bank, UBA, and its founder, Tony Elumelu, is that special. Always seeking to empower African entrepreneurs. The excellent thing about the training is that it is very practical to today’s and the coming future business needs. As a matter of course, we also are directed to additional reading to widen our entrepreneurial minds. The Job To Be Done. Clayton M. Christensen. In the words of Johnny Nash, ‘I can see clearly now that the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles on my way…’ What a beauty this is! It is something you should look up, understand what is it you are selling to...

My-Once Molly (Praying for a Rainbow),

Dear Molly, I hope you are ok and are keeping safe in these floods. As for me, I am heartbroken. I am in pain. My mind, my body, my spirit aches. I am numb with grief. As is the nation of Kenya. The picture just won’t get out of our minds – the father, trudging stoically, his dead, muddy son slung over his shoulder. It’s a devastating image… the screams, elsewhere, as a boat capsizes, the swollen river swallows a lorry… Izrael has visited the land. Dear Molly, a while back, the nation faced drought. Then, images of dead livestock, emaciated men, women and children, parched, cracked earth, haunted our screens. Elsewhere where there was a glut in food production, the farmers cried for their fellow starving countrymen. They demanded for lorries to traverse the rutted roads and take the produce to their brethren… collectively, we prayed for rain. Dear Molly... will we ever catch a break as Kenya? The Covid-19 pandemic that paralysed lives and livelihoods in 2020 as we recovered from th...

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