The fault in my chapatis

All my life, I have dated men from church. Men who speak of the realms of the blessed. Men who sing, and sing good. Men who love to call upon the higher Man. You can not blame me. It is partly my mama’s doing. She, like any other African parent, instilled it in me that good men are only found in church. To date, I still admonish myself silent every time I catch myself ogling a gentleman who is not feeding on the goodness of the Lord.

Si you guys remember me cautioning ladies that the Ankara shirt never lies? Well, I am not as immune to those African shirts myself. Let’s put it this way. I’m easily floored by tall men. Men whose feet the Lord God has planted on higher ground. Both literally and figuratively. Men whose subjects and verbs agree. One after the other. Men who wear their money well, little or much. Men who listen and nod in amusement while I explain how I’m in love with the Range Rover Velar. This car is sinfully perfect that it has the covetous person in me bribing the gods.

Men who walk with a spring in their steps, the way each of us does when going to withdraw windfall money from M-PESA or the ATM. Men who maintain eye-contact. Speaking of eye-contact, have you any of those friends who look you in the eye till you squirm in your seat? Their gaze peers into your soul, peeling layer after layer till you find yourself blurting foreign things. Things like, ‘Yes it is I who hired the thugs who lynched Wangu wa Makeri years ago?’ When I meet a man such as that, and he happens to be in a proper Ankara shirt. One that spreads across his wide shoulders like the Aberdare ranges, fitting in all the right places. There, I make sure to cling to my guardian angel lest I fall into a box without further a thought and the whole world bursts out chorusing ‘Melodious has fallen.’ ( What am I typing, really?)πŸ˜‚

So much for trying not to digress. There once was a man. It was years ago. He was from the lake. A swimmer, albeit a horrible one. He was pretty big-headed and with an ego the size of a rhino. I always wondered how he actually fit through the doors. So stubborn was he that it used to tickle the Kisii in me. Forgive my next choice of words but I think that when God was distributing talents among men, the poor chap must have been accorded melanin in a yellow gorogoro. Because boy, was that man tinted! And before you all Kenyans lynch me or brand me a pathetic tribal girl, I’d like to announce that I am far from light-skinned myself.

Truthfully speaking, Jaduong was not exactly the brightest bulb in the chandelier. However, he did have his strong points. Which were oh-so-strong. That son of an African woman had bewitching vocal cords. Every time he sang, I am persuaded that the heavens listened in absolute awe. When he quoted verses, he did so with eloquence unheard of. When he condemned something, he did it in the strongest terms possible. He was those guys whose existence (I always felt) would have been more relevant during ancient biblical times.

Somewhat, Jaduong found, or rather, sang his way into my heart. Since we are all suckers for stories with a happy ending, I should tell you that this isn’t one of those. You see, Jaduong Malaysia-d on me a few months later. With a lame, rather too lame, excuse. He could not serve God and have a girlfriend at the same time. Msijali. Hata mimi sikuelewa alikua anamaanishaje. Simply stating, multitasking was not Jaduong’s forte.

Jaduong was not the only black spot in my chapat. A few others left too, after him. I so much wish to state that there were no hard feelings on both sides in any of those Exodus-es but that would sound like Uhunye saying maize took one day getting shipped from Mexico. Some left with interesting reasons and some with no reason at all, it was even funny sometimes.

One particular guy did not like how I sing. Look, I am not one of those chics who can sing their way out of Satan’s trap if there was one. I do not posses a voice like those accorded to kina Ligala, Agit, Merah, Kessy, Autonomous, Verah, Kasuku (you should hear this girl singing). I sing just loud enough for the heavens to register my presence and mark the register that I, Melo was in church and was feeling blessed with 152 others.

Some felt my skirts were not long enough for their preference. They said my hair was okay, just not too okay. Not their ideal length or style. And that is alright. Si we are all a bunch of liberal mortals who like to chorus the phrase ‘To each their own’? And so they left-ed. Well, of course, not without giving a few recommendations on what they felt I should change. (Talk of sprinkling icing on an already ruined cake.)

Eventually, it got to a point my emotional muscles were crying for relief. I was mentally strung out. My heart was begging to return to its maiden role. Pumping blood. And boy, was I willing to comply!

If I ever told us that it was all so easy, I beg to take back my words. Because it wasn’t. I’d spend my whole week trying to figure out which church to attend the coming Saturday. Thing is, I just felt like avoiding my school church or whichever church carried any history of me. I desired to attend bible study like old times, but man, was the flesh weak! The very departmental meetings I once loved, and with all my heart ( ilikua department ya kupika maumbile ), I found abhorrent. And for no particular reason.

The flesh was weak. Too weak. My spiritual body was numb. And it felt wrong. Tuseme, I had trusted the vessels more than the creator of them. And so when the vessels failed, I found myself losing faith in the creator too.

I couldn’t call mama and tell her that she was wrong about ‘these men’. No. She would just scold me for my poor choice of men and encourage me to pray harder and feast on the joy of the Lord. Till kingdom come.

Social Sundays no longer appealed to me and neither did the relationship weeks of prayer. At the time, I did not want anybody telling me how there is love at home. How now? All I wanted to hear was those powerful messages about His Second Coming. About the way He who is above will open the windows of heaven upon those who give. ( Agit, denarii is life!πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚)

All I wanted to hear about was the way silver and gold belong to God. About Jesus and Him crucified. I wanted to hear anything other than love. Whether it be about Balaam speaking to a donkey without batting an eye… anything else. Not love. When reminiscing, I still find my then shallowness extremely cringe-worthy. You see, everything about Christ zeroes in to love. How daft was I not to decipher that?

For months, I stayed bitter. Pepper-mixed-with-bile kind of bitter. On the brighter side though, single-hood was proving thoroughly blissful. There were no texts that I felt obliged to reply to. Calls that had to be returned lest an argument ensued. Life was awesome. Like that ka-feeling of chewing the last piece of cane real slow, eyes closed, as in a trance.

Any man who tried his luck was met by impenetrable Jericho-high walls. Walls that I thought would keep me safe. Walls I was not about to let anyone climb over. Or break down for that matter. I looked at them: the sons of Adam, good intentions and sincerity plastered all over their beings but no nerve in me throbbed. Why did I feel my own skin shrinking by a size or two when anyone asked me out? Why is it that those admirable virtues no longer tugged at my heart? Was my heart suffering numbness for lack of motion after such a long period? Or was it because that was an all too familiar road that I was not ready to tread again? The rawness just hadn’t thawed out yet.

When fourth year came, and grass was not growing, friends started asking that question we all dread. β€˜Uko na mtu?’ β€˜Ama you are an independent candidate?’ ‘Maneno ya multi-party haikuletei shangwe kwani?’ They, like good friends, would go ahead to remind me gently that school is ending. That it will be very difficult to find someone good out there.

Well, the story could go on and on, but that will be too much word for nothing. This article is for the girl who was made to feel like she was not good enough and for any other person who loves to read. For the damsel who jumped, but just not high enough for the mister. The girl who is trying so hard, but doesn’t feel strong enough to let go of the bitterness. The girl who feels there are no longer any truly good men in church.

My people, not all the oranges in the sack are spoiled just yet. The sun will rise tomorrow. It always does. The sons of Adam, in their quest for God, may seem a little over the top, but good men are still there. Safely tucked among-st them. Just dance with God and he will bring the right man along into the music. ( Philip, hapa sijaongelea choir trainers please. I am talking about proverbial music, aye!)

Most importantly, do not give up on this God. He hasn’t given up on you just yet. It is not worth it to stake his service just because some guy toyed with your heart. Neither is it worth it to skive bible study just because Jaduong’ or sijui who might be there. Instead, go there because Jesus will be there. There is balm in Gilead. There.still.are.good.men.in.church.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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41 Comments

  1. Moses Odhiambo Owuor
    June 4, 2017 / 5:11 am

    If I could wish for one thing, is to put a smile on such a desperate ‘independent candidate’. Love is a tough task. And betrayal is cruel as death.

  2. binsarie
    June 4, 2017 / 9:52 am

    Awesome piece…… Simply amazing

  3. Listone Ka'Sam
    June 4, 2017 / 10:42 am

    Your articles occasionally leave me all laughing till I burst into tears **literally **πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

  4. Kerich jonah
    June 4, 2017 / 12:44 pm

    Melo haki wewe. You mean you always have all these tales. I am impressed. Keep going lollipop 🍭

  5. Teryl
    June 4, 2017 / 2:19 pm

    “There is balm in Gilead.”Exactly what I needed to hear on a Sunday like this.Nuggets of wisdom.How you manage to pass such strong messages amidst such funny statements still leaves me in awe.Melodious is gifted aye.
    Anyway ,pia Mimi nimechoka na watu kuniambia eti nikimaliza shule,kupata wanaume huko nje ni ngumu.Next time they tell me that crap, I will confidently tell them to go to hell heheheheh,Melodious ashasema bado kuna hope.
    Keep writing sweetheart.

  6. June 4, 2017 / 3:03 pm

    Are you an independent candidate?
    Hahaha

  7. Doreen Sarah John
    June 4, 2017 / 3:46 pm

    Cudnt believe it,u hit and touched my heart sweet gal,thanks so much ,it was a gud and inspiring article,

  8. Diana cheroh
    June 4, 2017 / 5:36 pm

    Awesome piece melo,I love it

  9. Adem
    June 4, 2017 / 6:46 pm

    Kumbe siko solo! Nafwatilia tu chini ya maji….avid follower of this blog!

  10. Benny
    June 4, 2017 / 7:32 pm

    I must admit that God is just awesome. None of his faithful ones shall lack their mate. Love the message therein .

  11. Odhiambo Fredrick
    June 4, 2017 / 8:00 pm

    wow!! this is just.. I mean… I don’t know 😘

  12. Janet
    June 4, 2017 / 10:57 pm

    I loved it..very interesting

  13. Eunny
    June 5, 2017 / 8:22 am

    Yea, there is balm in Gilead… Nice piece girl.

  14. Joyce
    June 5, 2017 / 8:54 am

    How u manage to pass such encouuraging info in yhe midst of comedy is just amazing. U are gifted girl.#Inspired.

  15. melvy
    June 5, 2017 / 2:22 pm

    nice read

  16. Naomy Kwamboka
    June 5, 2017 / 8:06 pm

    I’ve never finished reading such long texts. But you got me right Melodious.. you’re gifted gal. Continue inspiring many. I’ll always be an active follower..

  17. Rasugu Okado
    June 6, 2017 / 5:19 am

    It is true that there are good men in church. In a similar measure, there are also good men out of church. I hold the same sentiment for ladies too. If we don’t rush with ‘love-life,’ we will be able to find that one person that has almost similar qualities to what you admire. The thing is ‘true love is patient.’ As much as many believe that those who are in church are good, there also serious evildoers in church. This should be a caution to many.

  18. Ericah Kessy Okeyo
    June 6, 2017 / 6:10 am

    Hi Melodius..amidst the commedy the message is home, am sure you have spoken to the hearts of Many.. We should meet really soon girl..

    I loved this Article

  19. Faith
    June 6, 2017 / 9:13 am

    Amazing ! This is worth a read.
    And Point Taken

  20. June 6, 2017 / 11:24 am

    An impressive blend of humour and gravity whilst capturing the subject matter,
    Had me spell bound the entire time.

    Yet I believe the message is home my sisters.

    Just passing through. Keep doing what you are doing.

  21. Amos Limo
    June 6, 2017 / 1:36 pm

    Awesome Melodious….I never knee you are that guru in this art of work. “Maumbile” that term we used to called “Chapo” by then in our singing group. Congratulations, I’m your silent reader.

  22. Askah
    June 6, 2017 / 5:03 pm

    Yawah girl this is crazily awesome.Amazing piece.

  23. Chieftain
    June 7, 2017 / 7:34 am

    Portent read I must say.

  24. Phan
    June 7, 2017 / 8:27 am

    Great read …. explicitly done. impressive!

  25. June 7, 2017 / 8:57 pm

    IMPRESSIVE!
    Meat in due season!
    Waiting for the boy child’s blog now…

    • June 7, 2017 / 9:25 pm

      Edd Njagi… Na hii soon yako imekua prolonged sana aje?

      • June 9, 2017 / 7:04 am

        I want someone to speak my mind out. As Melodious says, Do something about the boy child

        • Melodious
          Author
          June 9, 2017 / 12:40 pm

          Thanks Edd this young lad, Clinton will listen to you. I’ve been telling him that ever since. Na the way yeye ndio chief campaigner wa the boy child

    • Melodious
      Author
      June 8, 2017 / 7:55 pm

      hey edd, πŸ˜‚ about the boy child blog, Clint’n will have to help me out aki.
      And let the soon hastenπŸ˜„πŸ˜Š

  26. Gideon Collins Ngeno
    June 9, 2017 / 5:04 am

    Beautiful…you’re one great writer. I need to view more of this..how can I?? Point hammered in perfectly well blended with a nice tinge of humour…I’m just wowed…Don’t stop this girl, trust me you doing just amazing

    • Melodious
      Author
      June 9, 2017 / 12:41 pm

      hehe. Collins, your words warm my heart. Thank you. check:thekenyanblogger.com
      all my articles are there

  27. Stephen
    June 9, 2017 / 7:54 am

    Well put. Totally loved it.

  28. Eric
    June 9, 2017 / 8:18 am

    Girl, long since a read a good story. You have such excellent choice of word and also in any man there is a good person inside

  29. Robert Ouma
    June 12, 2017 / 4:52 am

    It all started like a very hopeless story… But I’ve really loved the conclusion. I concur that its true there’s a Balm in Gilead. God heals the broken hearts and puts the pieces together. Actually the one definition of God I know is that God is LOVE. So usichoke kupenda

  30. Agit, Denarii girl
    June 14, 2017 / 3:22 am

    Agit had to come last after reading wonderful comments from kina Jaduong Edd Njagi and Rasugu… Mel, when will our book be out, you know the hell we have gone through dear.. But God is setting A man..sion, just wait and see that indeed the Lord heals the broken hearted

    • Melodious
      Author
      December 8, 2017 / 8:46 am

      Amina.
      Amina.
      Hata nimekosa words.

  31. Melodious
    Author
    December 8, 2017 / 8:42 am

    πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚Oh lord. I vowed not to mention names

  32. Melodious
    Author
    December 8, 2017 / 8:43 am

    Haha thank you achoki

  33. Hellen
    April 23, 2018 / 7:24 pm

    Melo, I feel I’m late. Though I’m catching up with your articles.
    This nice piece. A great message.

    Thanks beauty.

  34. Juven O. Owano
    July 11, 2018 / 4:20 am

    Such a good read… Reality therapy

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