Part 1/5
We’re on our way to Bungoma. After waiting approximately the number of times Peter denied Jesus , 'in hours' we’ve convinced ourselves that the supersonic speed our driver intends to unleash must coincide with Omanyala’s final lap. Our schedules might just survive today. May the ancestors negotiate peace on our behalf. Before my eyes fully process what’s happening around me, my five senses are already overwhelmed. Poverty has a peculiar way of introducing itself...
Part 2/5
Inside this mechanical miracle, the smartest passenger is dressed in a vintage charcoal suit. A pair of spectacles sits perfectly on his nose, polished shoes shining brighter than his future, while he calmly flips through a Taifa Leo newspaper as if he's travelling first class. Across the aisle sits...
Part 3/5
The flamboyant parents bought seats for their children. The rest of us are conducting a practical lesson on Newton’s Laws of Motion. My four brothers and I have been standing since Nairobi. A good Samaritan volunteers to carry my little sister so Mum and Dad can each hold one child. You already know what happens whenever the driver discovers a pothole. Bold of you to think only watchmen sleep while standing. After this trip, I’m filing a petition for my brothers to receive an Oscar. Maintaining deep sleep while standing inside a speeding Kenyan bus is a criminally underrated talent. It might be our family’s only ticket out of poverty. Halfway through the journey, my younger brother wets himself....
Part 4/5
We've just passed Limuru. Nakuru is approaching. Then comes Salgaa. Suddenly...Silence. The kind of silence capable of waking the dead. Without announcement, the playlist shifts. Country music disappears, Reggae retires, Gengetone resigns, Bongo packs its bags...Now it's nothing but gospel. Nobody requested it. Nobody questioned it. Even the children stop crying. The lights come on. From different corners of the bus, lips begin moving. Some are praying. Others are bargaining with heaven. Nobody knows whether they'll make it past Salgaa alive....
Mum: “Who took the milk?”
Son: “Not me.”
Dad: “I haven't even touched it.”
Sister: “Why are you looking at me?”
Mum: “Because you were the last one in the kitchen.”
Sister: “So now entering the kitchen is evidence?”
Dad: “Just answer the question.”
Sister: “I drank tea. That's all.”
Mum opened the fridge.
The milk was gone.
Then the youngest walked in and said something that changed the whole conversation.
Psalm 150:6
“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord!”
Everything that has breath, people, animals, and all of nature, is called to praise.
This is the grand finale of the entire Book of Psalms, summing up all 150 chapters in one final command.
As long as there is breath in your lungs, you have a reason and a purpose to praise God.
Show up, give your best, and trust that no sincere effort goes unnoticed. The results may not come overnight, but consistency always pays off.
May your work be fruitful, your mind be at peace, and your day be filled with favor.
Kipande House was historically known as Nayer Building, a historic stone structure at the corner of Kenyatta Avenue and Loita Street in Nairobi’s CBD, now houses The Kenya Commercial Bank (KCB).
It was built, designed and completed in 1913 by Gurdit Singh Nayer, an Indian entrepreneur from Punjab who arrived in Kenya around 1889.
"Kipande” name originated From about 1919 onward following the Native Registration related laws, it became the main office where African men typically over age 15 were registered and issued the kipande, a compulsory identity document containing personal details, fingerprints, employment history and wages It was carried in a small metal container worn around the neck.
The building was gazetted as a national monument in 1976 and The Kenya Commercial Bank purchased it in a notable transaction involving a historically significant property.
I’ve heard that some people bury a Bible at the corners of a house foundation before construction. What’s the significance behind this? Is it a biblical practice, a cultural tradition, or something else? Genuinely curious.