DIRECTOR OF OPERATIONS

Make sure to watch the video and meet the director of operations before reading the note below...

This video really moved mountains in me. It didn't really have anything new that hasn't been said, but it carries so much weight and I just felt my heart melt at it. How many times do we really really underestimate the work and sacrifices done by the director of operations? How many times have we acted like it is her duty to do what she does yet it is simply her lovely heart that makes her be a super woman just for our sake?

Let's appreciate HER EVERYDAY, EVERY YEAR, EVERY MOMENT and not just on one particular day. Not just on her birthday, or mother's day or during festive season. She deserves much much more than one day appreciation right?!

If you still have this lovely woman in your life then give her a call and tell her how much you love her. If she is next to you then give her a big hug. If she is gone then make a prayer for her. She deserves worth more than a post in social media that she will never see. She deserves worth more than the selfie you took with her just to show the world. She deserves your honest love, care and respect. Remember, so many people wish they could have their mothers with them right this moment so make use of this golden opportunity that you have.

#This is indeed the world's toughest job!! #May God bless all the women who hold the title 'mother'

Share the love.

SUCH IS LIFE

Photo Courtesy: Dennis Onsarigo

The thought of death creeps me and the sight of death is what makes me have a sheer cold, goosebumps and shudder in my place. It takes me right to the scene; to the broken pieces of metal and glass on the floor, each tiny piece carrying a memory of the last laughter, the last talk, the last joke. It takes me right to the father's seat, the husband who maybe had so many plans for his family, to the mother's seat; the wife who took her last breath hearing the voices of agony at the back seat. It takes me right where the daughters were seated, as they get smashed into one end. I can almost feel the cracking sound of bones, the screams, the painful silence and the blood; blood everywhere. I am almost re-living the story; the tragic end of what could have been a beautiful life yet a new start of healing; and healing, is one of the most important stages of life. You just never know how it is ever going to be after but there is still hope because God is always awake and listening to our silent cries and prayers. And hope too, can be brought about by me and you; by humanity, by helping the people who need us. 

I read the below post by Dennis Onsarigo and I just felt it important to share this message. Let's join hands and help this family. Help with the little much you can, every cent counts so let's do this please.

Such is life…..By Dennis Onsarigo

I promised myself that I wouldn’t post the grisly pictures of a road accident I came across on Kiambu road on Saturday. I went ahead and told myself I would not even tell my friends or family about it.  But today, is a testimony that kids are God’s and maybe, just maybe we must start living before we eventually exit the stage.

It has been a few days since I pulled out-with the help of other good Samaritans- three youngsters trapped in their father’s black motor vehicle. The youngsters, hardly ten years old were shaken, some were badly off.

Let me walk you through the first five minutes of the accident: A canter going downhill, a private motor vehicle speeding uphill; one must have lost control, drove into the path of the other….the rest I was told, was a loud bang, silence and then screams.

When I arrived there, the scene was chaotic, the mother, clad in her hijab.…was trapped in the passenger seat. I couldn’t see her face but I could feel her pain, her slow but painful bouts of wailing struck me so hard. Right behind her seat was her daughter, she was the oldest among her children, she was screaming for her mother, we were struggling to keep her calm, at times our shouting for a metal bar to free her from the car, drowned her screams. She was scared and terrified.

Her legs had disappeared under the mangled wreckage of her family car. Ironically, it appears the mother had taken most of the impact aimed her way. I looked and realized if she could feel her legs, if she could scream for the mother, a few more minutes wouldn’t kill her.

Just next to her was her other younger sister, she had blood on her face, she was screaming for the mother as well; I pictured the mother, hearing her daughters’ screams and wailing but there is nothing much she could do, she was stuck, her life flashing right in front of her eyes. I took her in my arms. A woman, whom I later learnt was a relative, came rushing my way, I handed her the young girl, we flagged down a vehicle, and off they went.

Then one man pulled out another young girl, she must have been three years old. She was badly wounded; her “baby” hairstyle neatly in place had been replaced with a gushing wound at the back of her head. The man, who took her out of the vehicle now holding her by the hands, appeared to give up on her.

Her neck had given in to the weight of her head, her eyes turning into a shade of white, he body turning blue and her soul giving up on her. The man placed her on the cold ground, it had rained that day; there she was, lying on her stomach, her eyes were not moving. For a minute I thought she was gone. 

Next to her was her father, a touching distance between the father and daughter. She was breathing her last, my heart racing, trying to call an ambulance, I was struck; the youngster was going to die if nothing was done urgently.

I called AAR, I described the place and nature of the accident, the man at the end of the call asked me “ what kind of a vehicle has been involved in the accident?”, I paused, mad at first, resigned second, then I told him “ it is a private vehicle”, he promised to send the first ambulance available. I called the Nairobi traffic police boss Moses Katana, he promised to send a team of police officers, and they arrived minutes later. I saw the “mother” in one of the traffic police officers, she was distraught, but composed self and she was back to the rescue mission.

I walked back to the young gal. I imagined her hearing the faint voices of strangers shouting and trying to get the mother out of the mangled motor vehicle.  Then I touched her small back, she had a pulse, her heart was racing so fast, I did not know her name, I did not know what she liked.

It was ten minutes after the fatal accident. I picked her up, blood on the back of her head, she was getting cold, her small fighting spirit maybe giving up on her soul. Then I started talking to her, I suspected she was slipping between death and life. She could move her eyes, breathe and then go quiet. It was terrifying.  

In the confusion we managed to flag down yet another private motor vehicle.  One girl in the back seat; the one I believed was badly injured in the safe hands of a relative, a red small vehicle sped off in high speed.  The youngsters left behind their mother and father.

Two hours later I walked into Gertrude’s children’s’ hospital in Muthaiga and after inquiring about the four little angels, I was directed to the emergency room. I met the oldest girl in pain but all bandaged up and a busy nurse attending to her told me she was fine.  Across the room, I could barely recognize the three-year-something-old little angel that I had seen at the accident scene. She was on oxygen, but in safe hands. A nurse attending to her said she had pulled through.

As I walked back to my car, three times now since the four angels were admitted to the hospital, it dawned on me and still does that life can be useless at times, but again, it can be all that we want it is all that we crave for.

The little girl- name withheld- was moved from the Intensive Care Unit to the general ward; I was with her today afternoon, she is amazing, she had fed and she was asleep. Her oldest sister, was playing with her mobile phone, she did not even look at me despite her aunt telling her I was not a doctor and I had no plans of giving her a jab.

They are fine. But they need your help, first they need to get well soon, then we must tell them the story of their mother and father. Then tell their father who is in a coma the story of his wife and his daughters. It is a tough place to be in as a father and husband.

But of immediate importance is their growing medical bill. If you’ve been touched, don’t hesitate to go visit them, or support them.

A brother to the mother of the youngsters gave me this account number:

SABRA KHAN,

DTB BANK

5109532001

Nation Centre Branch

You can as well call Shaheen’s sister (the mother to the young girls) – Sabra Khan-0722472166. And the kids would love to have you visit them.

Such is life.

I also read this piece elsewhere too, 'Should Ahmed open his eyes he will understand that beside losing his wife, he also has a medical bill of approximately 4 million to the 4th of May 2016 to pay. That still continues to increase as they are all still in hospital. You might all ask about the insurance. It will only cater for approximately 1.5 million and the rest are for me and you. Mpesa no: 0722472166 Sabra Khan (Shaheen's sister). Admission no Aga Khan AK1784560, Getrudes: 491242/43/46.

Please let us remember them in our prayers and help whenever we can. May God give the family patience through this difficult time. Keep sharing this message. You just never know when you will need such help too so never ignore. Such is life; it has lots of surprises, and sometimes, they are not so pleasing. 

God bless you all.

JUST A FRUSTRATED WRITER

Photo Courtesy: http://www.amsvans.com/

Sometimes I wish I could be a drama queen.You know like,'You are going to listen to me. Whether you like it or not!' and just make noise till I get what I want. This has been my thought since morning today. I decided to wake up and do something once again after I had given up on all the newspaper houses I knew of. Well life is all about trying again and again,isn't it? 

I rushed into town with a very well plotted plan on how I was going to go into Nation media and approach the receptionist as confident as ever. I would look into her eyes with such a burn that she would get scared that I am just from murdering someone.I would ask for the editor and of course she would tell me he/she is not around. She would ask me what I need from the editor and that I can leave a message. I would lean forward and tell her in a deadly whisper,'I have a hot story worth your headlines. You better not let me go away from here because I am going to sell this story to the Standard and YOU (pointing at her) will be fired for letting  a person like me not meet the editor. You are going to bite your fingers with regret and your editor will hit your head to the wall for making the paper go through such a loss. No other media house will take you in because everyone would have known how you let a story worth millions go to the competitor. Woman,you are going to be miserable forever.' I would then walk away confidently and she would quickly pick her phone behind my back and whisper something before calling me out loud. I would turn as innocently as ever and ask,'are you calling me?' and she would quickly nod before apologizing,'Sorry, the editor asks us to not let people in. They should just leave their message here.'

'But I am not people did you notice that?'

'Yes I did. Sorry once again. You can go in. His office is over there.' She would say so apologetically as she shows me the way.

I would walk confidently into the office and give the editor an enigmatic smile.

'I was informed you have a hot story. So i'm all ears.' He would say after the greeting.

I would sit upright and cross my legs.

'You are very lucky I choose Nation and if you are curious to know why then let not the suspense kill you. Do you remember 'the falling star' fiction story published 10 years back? I was just 12 years then but your paper declared me among the youngest best writers. Do you remember? Perhaps you don't but I very well do. Let me show you (and I would hand him the well laminated piece of newspaper),this is why and how I've always considered myself one of you. When you declared me among the best writers, you gave me hope and this is when my writing journey started. This is when I decided i'll be a writer for the rest of my life. So how dare you decide that i'm not worthy your newspaper now without even having a look at my CV? How dare you shatter my dream and of many other writers by letting secretaries deal with us instead of YOU deciding and listening to us and seeing our potential before declaring'THERE IS NO SPACE FOR ANYONE??! Please make me understand why things happen the way they do. Please make me understand why you let so many people give up just because of these boundaries? Someday I'm going to be the bestselling writer and I promise to remind you of all the CV's I sent that ended to the secretary instead of the editor or HR' *whispers ameen to that* Then I would courteously apologize for his time. The hot story was simply about the hundreds of talented writers who are never given the opportunities. I would leave my business card and my CV, just in case you know...he might still want the story...I'd say thank you and leave him as flabbergasted as never before. I wish it was as simple as writing it. See why I started with wishing I could be a drama queen? I would have spoken for so many other people who wish to do the same. But I am an activist by pen so this is what I can do best perhaps.

Well I was planning to make the editor as guilty as possible, ruin his ego and make him feel like the worst human being ever.Then after that I was going to go do the same at Standard,Nation, Star and all these newspapers I ever submitted my CV to and never got a response not even a humble one of,'We did receive your CV but unfortunately we don't need a writer but we will surely consider it for the future.' Isn't there any etiquette left?

Well,being a drama queen was never going to get me a job or anyone but I needed to explode and when you have to,then make sure you do it at the right place;to the people who can change the course of things.

So when I finally got to Nation media house and as I adjusted my confident self,I got a face palm from the kind notice on the door,we have moved to opposite Pandya hospital.' Aarrghh, my bubble burst right then. All that planning?! I console myself,'Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens for some goodness.'I look ahead and see Coast Weekly. Let me try over there.

I go to Coast Weekly and the personal secretary to the editor explains to me that the editor is not around and that she has to deal with me first before sending me forward to the editor. I was heartbroken once again.Why do editors keep these barriers always? Why do they let secretaries decide and filter whom is worthy being listened to?I saw it in ALL offices I went to and I ended up believing that to get a job especially in media industry you need to have strong connections in the hierarchy somewhere so that they can fix you the job. I do understand that secretaries are important and that without them we would have mediocre people and jokers storming in to the editor for silly issues but haven't people seen that so much talent keeps being kicked off? What if,just what if,this person you sent away without listening to may be the light in your dark tunnel? Just what if they push your company to grow?

Anyway,I decided I had learnt from experience and said firmly I was only going to talk to the editor and no one else. I wanted my privacy I insisted but this lady explained that these are rules for the organization and had to be followed. I understood,it is like that always.Everywhere.RULES and boundaries. She offered to help and so I spoke to her. I was really pissed then. Pissed at how editors are acting like mini gods. Even God Himself doesn't keep such boundaries!! The lady then recognized me from when I used to write for Coast This Week and praised my work. Now that she knew am talking from experience, I told her of how secretaries keep making decisions on behalf of their bosses and she said she understood me and that in their office, all that is received is open to all the key leaders in the organization.  This kind lady tried to console me before asking for my contacts, just in case you know...I calmed down a bit and left the office.

Many thoughts been clouding my thoughts since then. You talk to people about these problems and they just sympathize. But we don't really need the pity! We; writers have worked hard,got our good certificates,have the talent required yet why do we people have to treat us like orphaned children who have nowhere to go yet we have oceans of wisdom to offer? I know this happens to many other people as well in other sectors where you have to force a connection with a superior to make it through. Do our CV's even get past the secretary or the editor just asks'what is that? A job application? Just put it on my desk' and it rots there forever. Or is it thrown in the dustbin? Are the emails even read after we get the automated responses? It's really annoying and sad.

I've always wanted to become an editor and the more I meet these boundaries so I don't get to talk to the editors or HR managers, the more I want to become one. I hope this dream comes true someday because I will employ these writers who have nowhere else to take their work. I will make space for them even if there is none.I will give chances to these very talented people whose work is just getting old in the yellowing books. I will look beyond the certificates because I very well know of degree holders who have zero zeal while there are some local writers with so much passion that when kept on the great wall of China,it would explode from it's weight.. I will not let any secretary or anyone decide on my behalf whether they are worth the job or not. I will listen to them myself and help if I can. I will pay them well and not peanuts like they always get. I will give them the utmost respect because these people;these writers are the people who are making a difference,they are the people who can awaken humanity.Yes, I am going to be the best editor that ever existed. You good people keep praying for me;someday by God's will we will all be working together and we will make the best team in the world! Ameen!