When the innocent bleed

WHEN THE INNOCENT BLEED

By Sr. Amaka Stephanie, MSHR

 

Risen just like any other day

A bright morning in our supposition

It will be;

Unknown to us the enemies watch

Not from afar this time

But very close to us

Counting, watching and waiting

As the clock ticks

Their heart beat

Waiting for the precise time to hit

As the innocent moved around

The place of their untimely death

The enemies’ heart rejoice

For they see their imminent death

As the fresh breath covers the air;

They smell the air of blood

Of smoke, of dark night soon to come

The murderers, the killers of the innocent celebrate

They killed us

The shot the innocent

They splashed the blood of an unborn innocent one

They celebrated the helplessness

Of a vulnerable child

As they held the riffle of death toward them

Mothers wailed; they hurled bullets at them

Fathers confronted them;

They blasted their heads

Children ran helplessly

They trailed them with

Their merciless gunshots

Oh! Oh! Oh!

The innocent bleed!

The place of merriment and happiness

Turns red with sorrows

The blue sky

Turned to black skies

We saw, we cried

We were wounded

We were left with deep pains

Oh! The innocent bleed

A day black and bloody

When the thunderous sounds

Of the bullets rained the air

Where heads were bowed down in fear

Where the big, the small, the mighty

Were brought to the ground

When strangers, visitors and home people were massacred

When blood became a common sight

When our brothers, sisters, mothers,

Fathers, friends, colleagues

Whose voices we heard couple of minutes ago

Was silent for eternity

Where homes well made and left for some hours at least

Were left forever

And city morgues became their abode.

Oh! The innocent bleed

They died violently

Oh we saw, we rained heavens with supplications

We waited for news everyday

We cried, we died alive

Oh! Each hour an innocent one is slain

We watched helplessly, we prayed, we hoped.

 They went to come back soon

But it was never again

Like a dream or nightmare turned into reality,

We forced ourselves to wake from this night of horror

But alas, it was a broad daylight affair

Night and day had no difference

For even in brightness, we saw darkness

We saw death

We smelt blood

We touched wounds

We were helpless

Our friends became fallen heroes.

The unborn brutally denied

The light of a new day;

Destroyed in the comfort of a loving mother’s womb

Oh! Oh! Oh!

They killed us

They injured us

They fired at us

They hailed fire and heat on us

Oh blood of our dear ones

Oh our friends and heroes

Oh! A day never to be wished for;

Never to be thought of;

But ever to be remembered

When the innocent gave their blood

 and their beautiful life snatched away.

    Dedicated to the victims of the Westgate mall attack on the 21-9-13.

MOVE ON

By Tyler Perry

Here’s a thought (I DON'T WANT YOU TO DO THIS, JUST THINK ABOUT IT). Get into the front seat of your car, then turn your body around. Knees on the front seat with your back on the steering wheel, your face looking toward the trunk. Stay in that position and try to drive the car forward. It’s impossible, right? If by some miracle you do manage to go forward I guarantee you won't get very far. If the car represents our lives then the way we are sitting in the driver's seat represents the way we approach it. It’s really hard to move on when you’re looking the wrong way. There is nothing wrong with the car... what is wrong is the position some of us are sitting in, meaning there is nothing wrong with your life, and you’re just facing the wrong direction.

There are many things that can cause you to be out of alignment with life, but instead of focusing on the many, I’d like to talk about one thing in particular... And that is GUILT.

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday. He was telling me about all the guilt that he feels. Guilt that his marriage fell apart. Guilt that he doesn’t get to see his kids very often. Guilt that he’s not in a financial position to do more for them. Guilt over the mistakes he’s made in his past. Guilt over lots of money that he wasted doing the wrong things. So much guilt about everything.

I had to stop him and remind him of a few things. What I know about guilt is this: guilt is a tool that is used to destroy you. We all make mistakes. We all have fallen short. We have all disappointed someone, including ourselves at some point. Unfortunately, there is nothing you can do about it. It's done. Instead of beating yourself up about it, how about putting that same energy into making sure that it doesn’t happen again and healing anyone who may have been hurt by it?

You can’t let guilt win or consume you. You can’t let it take over your thoughts because if you do, you will start a downward spiral. It’s like this... guilt is the trick that makes you feel that you’re unworthy, and if you feel that you’re unworthy then you will feel that you don’t deserve any good thing to happen to you. And so, as a man thinks so is he. If you think you don’t deserve good things you will never have good things. And when things are falling apart you will feel guilty that they are falling apart. Do you see the cycle? There is no winning here. In order to be free and be lifted you must let go of the guilt or it will keep you bound.

How do you do that? Well, it’s a process, but you start by asking forgiveness of whomever you hurt, ask forgiveness of God, and most of all ask forgiveness of yourself. Although God forgives us most easily, we sometimes can't forgive ourselves. You can’t get to great things ahead if you're always looking behind you. It’s like trying to drive your car in that awkward position.

“Life is full of boomerangs; our thoughts, deeds and actions return to us sooner or later with an astounding accuracy”

Another true story that captired my ear when i heard it from the horses mouth...

This goes out to especially the ladies....

 

She boarded a Matatu in Town heading towards Nairobi West at about 6 PM on Sunday. She chose the front seat next to the Driver. There were other people in the Matatu, so she did not think danger awaited her! Somewhere along the route, when the Matatu stopped to pick up passengers, the person sitting on her left side showed her a Knife and the Matatu Driver produced a Syringe! The Manamba had now moved forward to block the View of other Passenger and pressed her down as the Driver Injected her with a Sedative! She woke about an Hour and Half later in Langata Cemetery! Samaritans offered to take her Home....thoroughly shocked, confused and traumatized!. They rushed her to hospital first and commenced Preventative Treatment immediately. POOR THING HAD BEEN REPEATEDLY RAPED!!!

Lessons learned:
1. Ladies should Avoid the Front Seat ... Hospital Authorities told them this happens a lot!
2. If you Pass out on the Front seat, other Passengers will assume that you are a friend of the Driver!
3. All the Injections are administered by the Driver or an Accomplice.
4. Avoid Plain white Nissans. Use the known Matatus with Multi Colours. Poor girl couldn't remember anything about the Matatu.
5. Board Matatus at designated points ... here you can find a schedule of Departures. Be careful people its a scary world. 

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East African Poverty

http://rhymeschemeric.blogspot.com/

Children stare in disbelief,

Praying for it never to repeat,

Day by day, it happens again,

All seeming to have no end.

Parents struggle day and night,

Drenched in sweat, to gain a shilling,

A single coin that has no meaning

But meant to keep the children alright.

Parents sacrifice themselves for their children,

Not eating for weeks, not curing their diseases,

Giving out their living licence

Hoping that in heaven, they do reconcile.

Poverty, so hard to defeat

Leads to tonnes of death

And considerable distress

All over East Africa.

By Eric Mburu
http://rhymeschemeric.blogspot.com/

"Daddy, please tell me a story!"

TRUE STORY

Beautiful story.... makes you understand that things happen for a reason.


The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned
to their first ministry, to reopen a church
in suburban Brooklyn , arrived in early October
excited about their opportunities. When they saw
their church, it was very run  down and needed
much work. They set a goal to have everything
done in time to have their first service
on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls,
painting, etc, and on December 18
were ahead of  schedule and just about finished.

On December 19 a terrible tempest - a driving
rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days.

On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church.
His heart sank when he saw that the roof had
leaked, causing a large area of plaster about
20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall
of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit,
beginning about head  high.
The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor,
and not knowing what else to do but postpone
the Christmas Eve service, headed home.
On the way he noticed that a local business was
having a flea market type sale for charity, so he
stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful,
handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth
with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross
embroidered right in the center. It was just
the right size to cover the hole in the front
wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older
woman running from  the opposite direction was
trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor
invited her to wait in the warm church for
the next bus 45 minutes later.

She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor
while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put
up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor
could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and
it covered up the entire problem area.
Then he noticed the woman walking down the  center
aisle. Her face was like a sheet. "Pastor,"
she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?"
The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check
the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into
it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had
made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria ..
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor
told how he had just gotten "The Tablecloth". The
woman explained that before the war she and
her husband were well-to-do people in Austria ..

When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave.
Her husband was going to follow her the next week.
He was captured, sent to prison and never saw her
husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth;
but she made the pastor keep it for the church..
The pastor  insisted on driving her home. That
was the least he could do. She lived on the other
side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn
for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas
Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the
spirit were great. At the end of the service, the
pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door
and many said that they would return.

One older man, whom the  pastor recognized
from the neighborhood continued to sit in one of the
pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he
wasn't leaving.
The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on
the front wall because it was identical to one
that his wife had made years ago when
they lived in Austria before the war and how
could there be two tablecloths so much alike?
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he
forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was
supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and
put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home
again all the 35 years between.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to
take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten
Islandand to the same house where the pastor
had taken the woman three days earlier.
He helped the man climb  the three flights of
stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on
the door and he saw the greatest Christmas
reunion he could ever imagine.
True Story - submitted by Pastor Rob Reid
who says God does work in mysterious ways.
I asked the Lord to bless you as I prayed for
you today, to guide you and protect you as you go
along your way. His love is always with you.. His
promises are true, and when we give Him all our
cares we know He will see us through.
So when the road you're traveling seems
difficult at best, just remember I'm here
praying and God will do the rest
When there is nothing left but God, that is when
you find out that God is all you need.

WHEN TO USE YOUR GUT!!!!

In  a mail sent to the Tangaza fraternity by the principal on how to avoid being scammed. 

I found it very interesting and captivating. 

Scam  artists will use any tactic to get into your pockets any means necessary even though it may look genuine and gentle. 

Check his way out of it!!

Dear everyone,

Recently I narrowly avoided being scammed. Since a similar scam attempt was made on Fr. Eamonn some time ago, I thought it might be helpful to alert the Tangaza community, in case Tangaza members are being targeted.

Basically, it worked like this: When I returned from the USA there was a special delivery envelope waiting, with an authentic-looking check for $5,800 made out to me, allegedly from a “Sr. Jennifer Bragg, GNSH.” The accompanying letter said that she knew me from my time in Washington, DC. She requested that I cash the check and give the money to a friend of hers, Mr. Isaac Lilungu whose wife desperately needed surgery. (The reason she gave for not doing this herself was that she was in southern Sudan with little access to banks, email, etc.)

Because I had received some check donations for the Kenyan Carmelites while I was in the USA, I wasn’t overly suspicious at first, and I gave the check to our bank for processing. They said it would take until August 27 to clear. Meanwhile, “Mr. Isaac” began calling to ask if I could give him an advance until the check was cleared, because the situation with his wife was so serious.

On a hunch, however, I contacted the Grey Nuns of the Sacred Heart (GNSH), and they responded that they have no member named “Jennifer Bragg” and no one working in Sudan. Then other details of the story also began falling apart.

To make a long story short, of course the check did not clear and it turned out the checking account in the name of “Jennifer Bragg” was closed. Luckily, I hadn’t advanced any money to “Mr. Isaac.”

Probably all of you would have realised it was a scam sooner than I did. But I just wanted to warn you of this “confidence scheme,” in case you get a similar check allegedly from a religious, with the request that it be cashed and the money given to someone needy. (The way it works, I presume, is that the scam artists hope the victim will give them the cash amount written on the check – because of what they claim is an urgent need -- before the victim discovers that it is a bad check; then the scam artists disappear and the victim won’t be able to recover the money.)

Fraternally,

Fr. Steven Payne, OCD

Principal, Tangaza College

P.S. I gave all of the contact information to the bank, which is trying to track down the scam artist.

After a long wait for many a Tangaza student, the college bus eventually came on Wednesday, November 11, 2010. Its arrival was greeted with glee and excitement by our students.

The 37 seater, Isuzu NQR-MAX model is the new beauty baby in the college adorned in the college colours; gold, red and off-white.

The College Principal Fr. Patrick Roe led the college in a prayer to bless the new vessel. The principal thanked the students for being patient and welcomed them to enjoy the new ride.

The Deputy Principal, Mr. George Kinyanjui was equally ecstatic and could not forget how the student body led by the 2009/2010 TANSA team under the leadership of Tesha Cleopas campaigned for the buying of a college busy. He jokingly commented that the busy should be christened ‘Tesha’. 

Mr. Kinyanjui also thanked the College Board for agreeing to the purchase of the bus. With great excitement, students took the first ride on the bus along Langata road and came back to join the rest for a cup of tea and some bitings.

Long live Tangaza, long live ‘Tesha’.

By Stephen Mbobu