JESUS AND JUSTICE

JESUS AND JUSTICE: A 10 Point Reflection

By Njonjo Mue

Recently, I've been reflecting on the subject of Jesus and Justice. I am still walking along this exciting journey, but I have reached a few tentative conclusions which I'd like to share with you:

1. Our God is a God of justice. As the Old Testament reminds us, justice is the foundation of his throne.

2. Many people, and even whole societies, that claim to be Christian deny this foundational attribute of God in their actions, if not by their words. They preach and practice an incomplete gospel of individual salvation without any reference to the social implications of the true gospel of Jesus Christ.

3. Whether you embrace the purely individual gospel or the holistic gospel referred to in 2. above depends in part on your Christology and your eschatology.

4. If your Christology emphasises only the deity of Jesus Christ and his triumphant resurrection, you are likely to miss out on what God has to say about the pursuit of justice in the here and now and instead merely focus on defending Christ's deity while ignoring or excusing injustice and encouraging yourself and victims of injustice to await the second coming of Christ when all wrongs shall be made right.

5. Your eschatology is also likely to point only to a future end-time when all things will be made right with the return of Christ instead of getting actively involved in the pursuit of a more just world in the here and now.

6. But if in addition to acknowledging the deity, resurrection and return of Christ, we also recognise him as a very human servant of God who spoke prophetically to the unjust religious and political authorities of his time,

7 And if we can be inspired by his bodily suffering due to the injustice he encountered and endured, yet overcame,

8. And if our eschatology not only looks to the establishment of God's kingdom in some distant future, but as an ongoing and unfolding reality,

9. Then we begin to see ourselves not just as lucky members of a privileged club of the 'saved' whose tickets to heaven have been booked and who can therefore sit back and relax while we await the trip aboard 'Rapture Airlines'; we instead come to understand our mandate to work for the creation of a new cosmic and social order in the here and now that is radically different from the one over which the powers and principalities of this world preside.

10. As the author Jerry Folk writes in his book, 'Doing Theology, Doing Justice', "Those who live in and preside over this world are perhaps willing to accept the idea of God's reign coming sometime - but not here, and not now. Yet it is precisely this here-and-nowness that Jesus announces.... The life, death and resurrection of Jesus calls the new creation into existence here and now, in the midst of the old.... The old is already beginning to pass away. It is the presence of this end-time reality here and now that principalities and powers object to, not the abstract idea of an end time."

THE FIRST KISS... PART 3

THE FIRST KISS…

By Njonjo Mue

PART 3

The December holidays could not end soon enough once I managed to figure out who she was. It had happened in the most unexpected way.

A friend of my cousin's, who was in Form Two in Arthur House had also been at the BBQ during that magical night in late November. He was visiting us one day just before Christmas when he casually mentioned her name in conversation, asking me how she was doing.

"Who is that?" I asked, looking at him blankly.

"The chick I saw you with at the BBQ," he said. "Don't tell me that you've already forgotten her name."

"Of course not," I replied, recovering quickly. I did not want to disclose the nature of the curious challenge she had presented to me as a result of which I did not even know her name. But I was barely able to hide my excitement now that the code had been cracked.

I asked him how he knew her and he said that she had been one class ahead of him in primary school. When he came to Alliance, he had escorted her twice across the valley and had later tried to pursue her seriously but she had remained aloof and obviously considered herself beyond his reach, and so he had given up.

As the holidays drew to an end and we prepared to go back to school in January, I was so excited that I found it difficult to sleep through the night.

I imagined how it would be like having an acrossian girlfriend of my own. I no longer had to fear floating during joint events because she would be there for me, and when she happened not to be, there would be no pressure to socialise since everyone would know I was committed to this one person and would take my floating as a voluntary act of loyalty. Life would never be the same again.

January came soon enough and I went back to school to begin my Fourth Form.

I wondered about the best way to break the news that I had managed to find out her name so that we could get on with the business of discovering the ‘few more surprises’ that she had promised would be in store for me once I got over this hurdle.

Should I pay her a visit at Across during the first weekend? No, that would appear too desperate (though if truth be told, I was indeed desperate to see her again). Should I wait for the first joint function? That seemed too far since most clubs were still preparing their calendars for the term. Should I write her a letter? I was reluctant to do that based on my previous bad experience with letter writing.

In the end, it was not me who went looking for her, but she who came to me. I was sitting with some friends in the Dorm in the afternoon of the second Saturday after school opened sharing our various holiday escapades, some real but mostly imagined.

A Form 2 boy from Aggrey House walked in and announced that I had a visitor waiting to see me at the Parade Ground.

I was not used to receiving random visitors in school and so I wondered aloud who it could be as I started for the door.

“It’s an acrossian,” said the Form 2, his voice chiming with the exaggerated tone of the bearer of unexpected good tidings. My heart almost stopped.

I knew it could not be anyone else. I did not know any acrossian who would walk all the way unannounced across the valley to see me on a Saturday afternoon.

But I also doubted it was her. Wasn’t she supposed to wait until I found out who she was and sent word to her? But then I thought back to our first meeting at the BBQ in November and I remembered how she had come across as a woman who usually knew what she wanted and went for it. It had to be her.

I went back to my locker and quickly changed into more presentable clothes, applied a dab of cologne and dashed off towards the parade ground.

When I got there, I found her half-sitting, half leaning delicately back against the low stone platform on which the teachers usually stood as they addressed the school parade.

She looked composed and regal as if posing for a portrait, with her arms crossed over her chest, one leg bent at the knee and the foot resting gently against the wall.

The new school uniform she wore made her look somewhat smaller than I remembered her from our first meeting. It also made her look as sober and innocent now as the blue miniskirt had made her look sensual and provocative then.

“Hi, what a surprise!” I said, my voice sounding a pitch higher than usual in my own ear.

I was not sure how I should greet her. A mere handshake seemed too formal given how our last encounter had ended, and yet a hug in mid-afternoon in the middle of the parade ground might be interpreted as being a wee bit forward and invite trouble from some over-enthusiastic prefect.

I did neither, instead choosing to give her an endearing look that I hoped adequately communicated my dilemma.

“Well, I guessed that you’d failed the test and did not have the courage to admit it, so I thought I should come over and put you out of your misery,” she said, laughing gleefully with the confident manner of one accustomed to winning.

As she laughed, she tossed her head back in such a carefree way that I found myself instinctively joining in the laughter. But my excitement at seeing her made my own laughter go on a little too long.

“Ah, but you are wrong, my dear,” I said, regaining a measure of control. “Terribly wrong.”

I did not immediately tell her that I had already found out her name. It was my turn to play games now that she had brought herself willingly and unexpectedly to my territory.

“How much time do you have?” I asked. “Can we take a walk?” I was half-hoping to re-enact the memorable stroll we had taken at the BBQ, though of course, I knew that this time around we had to keep a respectable distance from each other.

I could almost feel the eyes of curious onlookers on our backs as we casually strolled, deep in conversation, past the dining hall and the swimming pool towards the lower gate.

I had never enjoyed being the centre of attention so much before in my life. I was suddenly in very good spirits and had to resist the urge to stop and say hello to random boys we passed on our way to ensure that they took note of my exceedingly good fortune.

I had once wandered into the beautifully manicured lawn of the Church of the Torch where I had spent a lazy afternoon lying alone on the soft grass reading a book and enjoying the sights and sounds.

At the time, I had thought it such a waste not to have anyone to share all this serenity with. I had, therefore, subconsciously made a decision that one day I would bring my acrossian girlfriend, if I was ever privileged to have one, here to share this beauty.

And so, once outside the lower gate, we turned left towards the junction and then walked up the hill past Musa Gitau Primary School and onto Hospital Road, enjoying the perfect afternoon weather that was neither too hot nor too cold.

Once inside the church compound, we spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on how each of us had spent the Christmas holidays after we had taken leave of each other in November.

We admired the grand architecture of the old church before settling down to sit on the grass and enjoying the giddy feelings of young teenagers falling in love.

From then on this church lawn would become one of our favourite places to hang out on the weekends. I would often read poetry to my newfound love as the majestic cathedral stood in silent witness. The birds also seemed to cheer us on as she regaled me with stories of growing up in her family farm in Nakuru.

It was the start of a whirlwind romance. We couldn’t see enough of each other.

Being one class apart, we did not let the fact that we did not have many club functions in common deter us. Instead, I would usually make a point of waiting for her at the end of a club meeting and she would skip the refreshments to spend time with me before I walked her across the valley.

And then there were the charity films that neither of us missed and yet hardly really watched as the highlight for us was the opportunity to sit together, holding hands in the darkened hall whispering sweet nothings to each other and rekindling memories of the first night we met.

We also exchanged letters, sometimes as many as three a week, making full use of the unique mail service that delivered letters to and from across twice daily.

All the while, we eagerly looked forward to the weekend and the obligatory walk up the hill to our favourite spot on the green lawn of the Church of the Torch.

It was a romance made in heaven whose details we were just faithfully working out here on earth. Surely the gods were smiling down upon us.

Or so I thought.

For all too soon, our fairytale romance came to an end. Suddenly and unexpectedly.

We had a date to meet at Across one Thursday evening after a Debating Society meeting. Earlier during the day, I had gone to Nairobi for a dental appointment.

Unfortunately, I never made it back in time to join the team going Across as the Kenya Bus broke down at Dagoretti Corner on our way back. I, therefore, wrote to her that same night apologising for not showing up and explaining what had happened. I ended the letter by telling her how much I had missed her.

Her reply, when it came, was a thunderbolt that knocked the breath out of me:

“I did not miss you at all”, the words leaped from the page assaulting my unbelieving eyes. “In fact, I never want to see you again.”

I thought it must have been a joke. But when I wrote to her two more letters that went unanswered, and two weeks passed without hearing a word from her, it started to dawn on me that she may have been serious after all.

I went Across to see her the following Saturday afternoon hoping at least to get an explanation, but when I sent for her, she did not come. Instead, a friend of hers came and told me flatly that she did not want to see me. “Why?” She was not at liberty to say.

To this day, I have no idea why our budding friendship came to such an abrupt end. I had been the perfect gentleman during those six months, at least as perfect a gentleman as any sixteen-year-old boy could be. Nor was it, as far as I could tell, the fact that she’d met someone else, for after that, she avoided all social functions.

And so, as suddenly as she had come into my life, she had gone away, taking my heart with her. For a while, I did not know whether it would ever be returned to me.

But, eventually, it came back, in bits and pieces. As I wrote her long letters of lament which I never sent and took lonely walks up the hill to breathe the fresh air that we had shared at the Church of the Torch. As I silently re-read the poems that I had read to her in happier times and I remembered the moments that we had spent together during those magical months. All this, surely but agonizingly slowly, brought my tender, aching heart back to me and, eventually, released me to move on.

With the passage of time, I have often wondered whether what we had was true love or just a passing infatuation between two teenagers.

But whether the love was real or imagined, the memories of the moments we shared in school and on the hills and valleys around Kikuyu during the first two terms of 1984 remain some of the most defining features of my youth.

/The End/nm….

THE FIRST KISS ... PART 2

THE FIRST KISS....

By Njonjo Mue

PART 2

If there is such a thing as an SI Unit for beauty, up until this point in my life, my SI Unit had been one Judy Achieng (not her real name). Back in Form 2, I had laid my eyes on her at some function in school and had immediately fallen head over heels for her.

But my courage had entirely failed me at the last minute each time I had tried to speak to her. And so I had decided to express my interest by penning a love letter to her. I had then eagerly waited for her reply to come.

But days had turned into weeks and weeks had become months, but the much-anticipated letter never arrived.

From then on, I had kept a relatively low profile, finding comfort in observing the comings and goings on the social scene in quiet anonymity and from a safe distance. I, therefore, thought I was relatively unknown at Alliance Girls.

And yet here was this perfect stranger standing elegantly before me, smiling knowingly and proclaiming that she knew who I was. She did this with a familiarity that I found both unnerving and reassuring in equal measure.

The annual Hospital Hill barbecue would take place at the school hall on the last Thursday of November. It was usually a family affair with parents and guardians catching up with each other in the hall over drinks and nyama choma. Their children, meanwhile, mingled freely with their friends nearby only coming in once in a while to take a bite of the food and reassure their parents that they were okay, before disappearing again into the night. All the while the latest music played in the background giving the entire event the aura of a serious street party.

“Would you like to take a walk?” I ventured to ask her, expecting the worst but hoping for the best.

“Sure,” she said, almost in a whisper. “And where exactly would you like to take me this evening, Mr. Mue?” She asked.

She said ‘Mr. Mue’ with all the feigned respect of an overpaid butler accompanied by a slight bow. The dancing in her eyes seemed to suggest that this evening might be pregnant with possibilities for me.

“Well, I thought we could move a little further from the hall,” I offered, “where the music is not so loud, so we can talk a little.”

I knew it was really just a reasonable excuse to move away from the light and the crowd in the hope that some privacy and darkness might yield unexpected dividends. I half expected her to object, but she obliged.

Soon, we were strolling away from the crowd escorted by the fading sound of Lionel Richie and Diana Ross as they sang their hit duet, Endless Love.

[My love,

There's only you in my life

The only thing that's bright

My first love,

You're every breath that I take

You're every step I make…]

I casually slipped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer to me. She did not complain. I held her tighter, so tight in fact that we struggled to maintain our balance. Only then did I loosen my grip on my newfound treasure.

We walked towards our unknown destination with the sudden urgency of a new love still waiting to be discovered.

[And I

I want to share

All my love with you

No one else will do...]

As we walked passed what must have been the administration building, I could vaguely make out the school motto written boldly above the entrance. It stated, “Nothing but the best.”

I took this as a message from the heavens that our romantic stroll under the night’s moonless sky was the beginning of something very special.

[And your eyes

Your eyes, your eyes

They tell me how much you care

Ooh yes, you will always be

My endless love...]

“You seem to know all about me, but I know nothing about you except that you are an Acrossian,” I gently protested, stopping and turning her to face me as I leaned against a wall as soon as I felt we had gone far enough to guarantee our privacy.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said, playfully tugging at the lapels of my jacket. “I can either tell you everything about me now and then you will never see me again. Or I can give you a couple of hints and if you manage to find out who I am by the time we open school in January...” she paused and smiled coyly, the mysterious sparkle returning to her eyes. “You might just be in for a few more surprises.”

“If I choose the latter,” I said, putting my negotiating hat on, “I will need a deposit guaranteeing my investment.”

“Agreed,” she said.

When I asked her to give me the hints, she told me that she was a class behind me at Across and was in Bruce House. But she would not tell me her name. That was what I needed to find out by January if this night was to become not just the beginning of the end but only the end of the beginning.

All too soon, I knew that we needed to be heading back to the hall before a search party was sent out to look for us as the barbecue was nearing the end. Lionel Richie and Diana Ross also seemed to be coming to the end of their song which for some reason the DJ had decided to play again.

[Two hearts,

Two hearts that beat as one

Our lives have just begun…]

“And my deposit?” I asked as I gently repositioned her so that we switched positions with her back now against the wall.

By now I had given up my jacket to help keep her warm, and so I couldn’t tell whether the shiver I felt was the result of the light breeze that was blowing our way or whether it was coming from somewhere deep within me.

“I thought you’d never ask,” She whispered, instinctively moving closer to me in sweet surrender and closing her eyes.

[Forever

I'll hold you close in my arms

I can't resist your charm…]

As I held her close, I noticed that she too was shivering.

For what seemed like an eternity, none of us spoke. We stood there swaying gently as if dancing to the wind, and listening to the silence that only gave way to the sound of our own two hearts beating as one.

[And love

Oh, love

I'll be a fool

For you,

I'm sure

You know I don't mind

Oh, you know I don't mind…]

When the moment finally came, it came without warning and was as surprising as it was expected. Our lips found each other and we kissed, lightly at first, then, deeply and passionately, as if we had no intention of ever letting go.

['cause you,

You mean the world to me

Oh

I know

I've found in you

My endless love.]

Eventually, we reluctantly pulled away from each other and walked back, hand in hand, to the hall where the party was just ending.

She was even more strikingly beautiful in the full light inside the hall than she had looked in the soft glow of the lone street lamp when I had first laid eyes upon her earlier that evening.

I was reunited with my cousins and she with her friend. We said goodbye with a handshake and an innocent peck on the cheek, promising to look each other up when school opened after the Christmas break.

As I left Hospital Hill School that Thursday night in late November 1983, I was excited at the fact that there was a distinct possibility that I might soon join the ranks of the elite club of those boys in school who had their very own Acrossian.

But before that could happen, I also knew that I had my work cut out for me.

[TO BE CONCLUDED....]

THE FIRST KISS...

THE FIRST KISS...

PART ONE

A true story by Njonjo Mue

The year was 1983. I was a 14-year-old Form 3 student at Alliance High School. It was the year President Moi had called a snap election to rid his government of the sympathizers of my namesake, Charles Njonjo, following the unsuccessful 1982 coup attempt. The subsequent 'Msaliti' saga had dominated national politics and Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' had stormed the airwaves with the hurricane force of Katrina.

It was late November and school was out. My cousins and I had gone to Hospital Hill Primary School one Thursday evening to attend one of the year's highlights - the annual barbecue.

As the sun went down, I took a quiet stroll to enjoy the early evening breeze and get away from other boys who had found their opposites and were busy exchanging sweet nothings. From the sound system just outside the school hall, 'Kool and the Gang' were urging us in song to 'Get down on it' and to 'Celebrate Good Times'. That was when I spotted her. And the very sight of her just took my breath away.

Her dark smooth skin seemed to radiate warmth against the soft glow of the lone street lamp beneath which she stood speaking quietly to a friend. Her distinct features remain etched in my memory to this day. She had short hair, bushy but well-trimmed eyebrows, and eyes that seemed to sparkle with mystery as she spoke as if inviting her audience to guess what she really meant, which was far deeper than the words that actually escaped from her delicate lips.

She wore a simple grey chiffon blouse that gave the upper part of her body an exquisite floating appearance, and a pleated navy-blue mini-skirt that stopped just above her knees, exposing the finest pair of legs I had ever seen.

I needed to speak to her. No, make that I had to speak to her. My very life seemed to depend on it.

You can therefore imagine my consternation when, upon saying hello and telling her my name, she replied nonchalantly, "I know you."

"But... but... you couldn't possibly..." I stammered, my heart beating like an African drum. I did not know whether it was a good or bad sign that she claimed to know me, or even whether she was mistaking me for someone else.

"You are an acrossian in Sellwood House," she said with the regal authority of Wangu wa Makeri. The fact that she had used the word 'acrossian' in reference to my school confirmed that she was also an acrossian from Alliance Girls, which was across the valley from our school. And the fact that she knew my House, made it clear that she had the right person in mind.

As if on cue, her friend melted into the night leaving just the two of us standing alone silhouetted against the soft glow of the lone street lamp inside Hospital Hill Primary School.

[To be continued...]

THE FLAG

THE FLAG
By Njonjo Mue

The flag, our flag
The symbol of our freedom

They told me the black
Was for the people, all the people
And the red for the blood
The price of our freedom
The green for the land, our land.
And the white for peace.

And yet, here I am
Back in Courtroom 7
Because I flew the flag, our flag
Without a title

They tell me
The fine is a million
Or five years of my freedom
for flying the flag, our flag
Without Permission.

16 October 2018

KENYA: THE OLD IS DEAD, BEHOLD THE NEW IS COME

On October 19, 2017, I wrote a Facebook Update about the old dying and the new being born. The dynasties that had controlled Kenya's fortunes and misfortunes since independence were at an advanced stage of collapse.

Since then, the repeat election has been held, the President has been sworn in, the other President has also sworn himself in, and then there was a mysterious handshake at Harambee House between the two protagonist in this epic drama.

These twists and turns are hard to follow. But I know this for sure, the latest detente between the two dynasties is going nowhere and is taking Kenya nowhere. It is a trick meant to hoodwink and pacify Kenyans who have rejected utterly the idea that our fortunes as a nation will continue to be determined by a handful of rich families while the rest of us barely survive on crumbs thrown down from the master's table.

In the heavenlies, the shift has already occurred and God Almighty has written the following update on his Facebook Wall concerning the Kenyattas, the Mois, the Odingas, the Rutos, the Musalias, the Kalonzos, the Wetangulas, the Sonkos:

Ezekiel 21 (KJV)

"24 Therefore thus saith the Lord God; Because ye have made your iniquity to be remembered, in that your transgressions are discovered, so that in all your doings your sins do appear; because, I say, that ye are come to remembrance, ye shall be taken with the hand.

25 And thou, profane wicked prince of Israel, whose day is come, when iniquity shall have an end,

26 Thus saith the Lord God; Remove the diadem, and take off the crown: this shall not be the same: exalt him that is low, and abase him that is high.

27 I will overturn, overturn, overturn, it: and it shall be no more, until he come whose right it is; and I will give it him."

The hour is late.

Those who in the past have gained power and riches through witchcraft, oppression, manipulation, violence and bribery will be swept away.

The best they can do now if they hope to survive to see a new Kenya is to resign their office promptly and start living their lives as ordinary citizens. This is their only way out.

If you linger on the seat of oppression, you will be swept away, viciously and immediately; and upon the ashes of these fallen, we shall build a new Kenya, one where justice truly is our shield and defender. This new Kenya will be the spring board to a great revival which will quickly spread to our neighbours, the rest of Africa and to the uttermost parts of the world, until the whole earth is filled with the glory of God as the waters cover the sea.

A new dawn is coming
A new age to come
When the children of promise
Shall flow together as one

A truth long neglected
But the time has now come
When the children of promise
Shall stand together as one.

May the LORD find us faithful and worthy at his hour of coming.

End/nm/30 May 2018