Huge Speck.

This has been a heavy week, and most likely next week too. We can say the weather forecast over my life will be overcast with dark grey clouds followed by random intermittent showers (teary ones). But Soon after the sun will shine again. I have a long dark sadness that I can’t describe. It’s like I’m slowly being eaten on the inside and can’t control it. Monday the 25th was my dad’s birthday. He would have been 74. I miss that man. Life has been awkward since he departed but I will share more about that next week.

Filling into my father’s shoes has been strange. Indeed, we don’t realize the role one was playing until they have gone. My dad loved peace. To make and maintain it. He even had a master’s degree in peace studies which he undertook in his late sixties. Dad would concede in an argument just to maintain the peace and seek a less adversarial approach to resolve an issue. I’m like that to an extent and I don’t like it.

As I grow older I’m beginning to see that as a negative trait. Because we easily miscommunicate that we are agreeable to an issue yet we are not. We are then left feeling shortchanged and our spirit accuses us of betrayal. I want to learn to speak up more (and succinctly) especially when it matters. Dad, if there was anything I did or say that offended you but you didn’t speak up for the love of your son, I’m deeply sorry. Please forgive me. As a public servant he made peace and got stuff moving everywhere he was engaged. Maybe that’s where my desire for public service stems from.

Dad came from a large family and as they grew up everyone went their way. Then about ten years ago He and two of his brothers felt that they needed to reconnect as a family. They chose to do that by planting trees in shags, where they grew up. That way people will be forced to meet up and also contribute to the environment positively. In 2014 they planted about 3000 trees in Nyeri and since then dad had been visiting the project with his siblings. One of my regrets is that I never got to accompany him on one of those trips.

The trees are now mature and ready for harvest so my uncles asked me to get a buyer since it’s what my mzee would have done. I’ve been to their forest thrice and every time I go I miss my father. I imagine walking with him under the canopies in gumboots as he explains how the journey has been. He was keen on the success of this project because it brought his family close and soon they would cash out on the project.

I recently found a buyer and needed to introduce him to my uncles and aunt. We met in Nyeri town last week and discussed prices then moved on to the shamba to have a look at the trees. That’s when I got a chance to catch up with my aunt (dad’s younger sister). She told me the stuff they used to do as kids on the farm and how they arrived at the decision to plant trees. It was a walk down memory lane. She then shared her view of the situation currently in light of my mzee’s absence and that’s what struck me.

Auntie showed me parts of the farm (now forest) where my grandfather would milk his cows and other parts where they would grow crops and fruit trees. My granddad did his best and left his children the shamba to do as they wish. She then said that I’m here in dad’s capacity because he is not around and so I should accept that it’s my turn to make a dent on the family tree. She went on to say that in future maybe my son would walk this same land and replant the trees for his generation and his kids.

That conversation painted a clear picture of how brief life is. Time never stops. It reminded me of an article by Sunny Bindra where he said that we are a speck on a speck. Almost irrelevant in the larger scheme of things. Even the Good book compares our lives with a flower that blossoms in the morning and withers jioni.

How do we then live large and meaningfully in a very short moment? I believe it’s by doing stuff that will outlive us. Dad’s effort to cultivate peace with his family and others is what we are now enjoying. He sowed seeds that are growing on our trees. May we resist the illusion of permanence that this world portrays and live with an urgency to do good that will impact many long after we have expired. Folks let us commit to long meaningful actions.

Happy first birthday in heaven Dad. You are now my youngest baby shark at One. You may have been just a speck like the rest of us but your life was a huge speck because of your actions and interactions with people. Oh and please put in a good word for me to Sir God. Tell him I’m trying to be a speck worth emulating too. Enjoy majuu.