by Denis Kabi

There once lived two sisters in a city by the sea.

The two girls were raised by their father in a spacious manor

in the suburbs of that city.

Their father provided them with all of their needs.

The older girl was only a year older than her sibling.

Their personalities contrasted as sharply as night and day,

a hill and a valley, sea and land, good and bad.

This contrast of his daughters’ personalities concerned the father

so much that he hoped they wouldn’t harm each other

in one of their many heated arguments.

The two girls disagreed about many things,

and they mainly argued about things that were appropriate

and things that were not appropriate.

Music, movies, clothes, books, slang, were some of the topics

that they argued about,

with the older sister taking a conservative stand

while the younger sister leaned heavily towards the liberal.

Their modes of dressing, manner of speaking,

the music they listened to,

the movies they watched, the books they read,

the type of friends they hang out with

reflected their contrasting opinions.

In their late teens when they’d both completed high school,

and were both weighing different options,

and considering which professional courses to study at university,

the older sister startled her father by choosing to join a convent

and be trained to be a catholic nun.

When the father talked to his eldest daughter

and realized that she was serious about her decision,

he supported her and sent her off to the convent.

The younger girl on the other hand chose something different;

she chose to study fashion design at an art college,

and her father supported her as well

and paid for all of her expenses.

The older sister did very well in the strict environment of the convent

and when she graduated she was sent to work in a remote parish.

She lived a pure life,

always conscious to avoid all of the world’s evil ways.

On the other hand, the younger sister flourished as a fashion designer,

and there was not a party within a kilometre of the art college

that she didn’t attend.

During her time at the college,

she conceived and gave birth to a child out of wedlock.

When she graduated from the college she got a job as a designer

in an up-market clothing store

and she drank and partied a lot

and even conceived and birthed another child.

One holiday the father invited his two daughters to a banquet.

When the two sisters had travelled back home to visit their ageing father,

the father announced that he was in the process of writing his will

and would be dividing his property equally between his daughters.

When the older daughter, the nun, heard this announcement,

she was angry at her father

for allowing the younger sister to get half of his wealth

yet the younger sister had lived a carefree, sinful life.

The older sister even pointed at the two children

that her younger sister had brought along to visit their grandfather,

as proof of her loose living.

The older sister would have been contented

if her younger sister got no inheritance.

“Father,” the nun had said to the old man.

“How will the grandchildren learn what is right and what is wrong

if impropriety is rewarded?”

But the father loved his children so much that he wrote in his will

specifying that everything he owned now belonged to them.

The nun was not amused;

but her sister and kids were overjoyed by this Good News.

For it is by God’s grace that you have been saved through faith.

 It is not the result of your own efforts,

 but God’s gift, so that no one can boast about it. *

*Ephesians 2:8-9 (Good News Bible)

© Denis Kabi, 2012

by Denis Kabi

It’s a sunny Sunday morning.

Everything is bright and lively.

The coo of the morning dove permeates the air.

Globules of dew sparkle on the blades of green grass,

and on the green leaves of various plants,

and on the petals of multi-coloured flowers.

Bees buzz busily about,

to and from their hives,

collecting nectar and storing it,

while their legs carry and spread pollen to various plants.

Other insects buzz around as well,

spending their time wisely.

Birds beat their wings and flit around,

eager to catch something to eat,

and they sing noisily while doing so.

There’s not a cloud in the sky,

but acres upon acres upon acres

of delightful light blue.

Everywhere the wind blows

it ruffles the leaves and blades and petals of plants

and makes tree trunks and branches swing from side to side

as if doing a little jig.

Nature sings, nature dances,

nature raises its hands

in praise of its Creator!

It’s a sunny Sunday morning.

Everything is bright and lively.

The coo of the morning dove permeates the air.

The house of worship is packed to capacity

with eager worshippers eager to hear the life-giving Word;

not an inch of pew is uncovered.

Voices of the choir harmonize

with those of the rest of the congregation,

singing “Haleluyia! Haleluyia! Haleluyia!”

as they all clap enthusiastically

and sway from side to side.

It’s so packed in the house

that there’s hardly any room for more worshippers,

and so the latecomers stand outside,

eagerly waiting for the next service.

All three services are packed with eager worshippers

eager to hear the life-giving Word;

not an inch of pew is uncovered.

Voices of the choir harmonize

with those of the rest of the congregation,

singing, “Haleluyia! Haleluyia! Haleluyia!”

as they all clap enthusiastically

and sway from side to side.

His children sing, His children dance,

His children raise their hands,

in praise of their Creator!

This is the day the LORD has made;

we will rejoice and be glad in it.

© Denis Kabi, 2011

Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year!!!

by Denis Kabi

The recession was the worst

that the country had experienced in its history.

Every citizen was distressed

by the worsening economic situation.

The prices of basic food items had risen

to amounts that put them out of the reach

of the majority of the citizens.

The price of fuel was steadily rising,

and it seemed that people would soon be forced to walk

to their destinations

or use bicycles

or use animal-drawn carts to travel,

since only the wealthy could afford to fuel their cars.

People living in the countryside

could at least practice subsistence farming

and feed themselves and their families from the produce.

But people living in the city didn’t have adequate land

to establish farms,

and therefore needed lots of money

to buy everything they needed.

But money was increasingly becoming scarce.

The citizens became desperate.

Crime levels soared

and the frequency of violent crime increased,

and gradually the nature of the violent crimes

began to venture into sadism.

Criminals were not only contented

with robbing their victims of their valuables,

but they burnt their houses and cars

and took time to torture and rape

and humiliate their victims.

Government officials were as dumfounded by the economic crisis

as the rest of the citizens,

and all that they could do was make speeches

denying that there was a crisis in the country.

No one seemed to know what to do.

As the economic crisis deteriorated,

the citizens became more desperate,

and their desperation turned into apathy.

The living standards of the citizens became so bad

that a visitor to the country would mistake it

for a pre-colonial settlement.

There was no running water in the pipes of most households,

for the water supply company had gone under.

There was no electricity supply in most households,

since the companies that generated and supplied electricity

had gone under as well.

The government went bankrupt

and could not pay the salaries of the civil servants

– the police, the military, the teachers, the doctors,

the foreign embassy staff, and other workers.

Nothing was working the way it was supposed to work.

What to do?

Whenever I hold back the rain

or send locusts to eat up the crops

or send an epidemic on my people,

 if they pray to Me and repent

and turn away from the evil they have been doing,

then I will hear them in heaven,

forgive their sins,

 and make their land prosperous again.

© Denis Kabi, 2011

by Denis Kabi

Woolly white clouds float across the vast blue sky,

like a flock of sheep grazing peacefully

in an expansive pastureland.

They must have a leader,

that flock in the sky,

a Shepherd who guides them;

who tells them where to go,

and where not to go;

a Shepherd who cares for them,

and protects them from harm;

a Shepherd who provides for their every need.

Some of the clouds float in one direction,

following the Shepherd,

but some float in diverging directions,

following the whirlwind.

The clouds that follow the Shepherd remain whole,

regardless of the changing weather conditions,

but the clouds that follow the whirlwind disintegrate

and are slowly fading away,

with no hope of redemption.

A whirlwind is blowing across the vast blue sky,

like a twister it strives to pull every cloud

into its spinning chaos.

Many clouds are drawn away from their course

and into the dark heart of the whirlwind.

Even the clouds that are following the Shepherd

are not spared from the pull of the whirlwind.

The chaos of the whirlwind is so enticing,

hardly is its power to destroy noticeable.

Some of the clouds float in one direction

following the Shepherd,

but some are sucked

into the dark heart of the whirlwind.

The clouds that follow the shepherd remain whole,

regardless of the changing weather conditions,

but the clouds that follow the whirlwind disintegrate

and are slowly fading away,

with no hope of redemption.

When I look at the sky,

which You have made,

at the moon and the stars,

which You set in their places

– what is man, that You think of him;

mere man, that You care for him?

© Denis Kabi, 2011

by Denis Kabi

He didn’t have much;

didn’t go far in school;

didn’t have a job;

didn’t seem to have a future.

He was a child of the street,

conceived and born in a dark alley,

and reared by the ways of the world.

He never knew his mother,

or father, or siblings, or relatives.

He had no friends.

He trusted no one;

and no one trusted him.

Whenever he walked along the streets of the big city,

people would instinctively move away from him;

and he too learned to avoid meeting these people.

They seemed weird,

the men and women who walked the streets

of the big city by day.

Their children seemed weird too.

The people of the big city were like hybrids

of something bad and something worse.

They seemed eager to embrace modernity

and the Western culture with one hand,

and yet on their other hand they inexorably clang

to the deep roots of their traditional culture.

None of them suspected that they were at crossroads

– going through a transition,

moving away from tradition,

into something without tradition.

Definitely something potent was going on in the big city.

A chapter of history was drawing to a close, it seemed;

and a new chapter was about to begin.

The child of the street kept walking

along the crowded pavement beside the long street,

a plastic bottle with a measure of leather glue in it

dangling from the corner of his mouth.

He clang to the myth

that the intoxicating fumes of the leather glue

would subdue his hunger pangs.

Despite the leather glue,

his body still needed nutritious food;

he still needed clean drinking water;

he still needed decent clothes;

he still needed a decent place to live.

As he walked along the pavement,

he came across a street preacher,

who was standing on the edge of the pavement,

screaming his voice hoarse,

an open copy of the Bible in his hand

from which he was reading a passage.

As Jesus sat on the Mount of Olives,

 the disciples came to Him in private.

“Tell us when all this will be,” they asked,

“and what will happen to show that it is the time

for your coming and the end of the age.”

Jesus answered, “Watch out,

and do not let anyone fool you.

 Many men, claiming to speak for me,

 will come and say, ‘I am the Messiah!’

and they will fool many people.

You are going to hear the noise of battles close by

 and the news of battles far away;

but do not be troubled.

Such things must happen,

but they do not mean that the end has come.

Countries will fight each other;

kingdoms will attack one another.

There will be famines and earthquakes everywhere.

All these things are like the first pains of childbirth.

Then you will be arrested

and handed over to be punished and be put to death.

All mankind will hate you because of Me.

 Many will give up their faith at that time;

 they will betray one another and hate one another.

Then many false prophets will appear and fool many people.

Such will be the spread of evil

 that many people’s love will grow cold.

 But whoever holds out to the end will be saved.

And this Good News about the Kingdom will be preached

 through all the world for a witness to all mankind;

and then the end will come.”

The child of the street stopped on the pavement

and wistfully gazed at the humble street preacher,

and on the child’s periphery vision

he could see the people of the city

who were disinterestedly hurrying past the man.

When the preacher finished preaching,

he closed his Bible and closed his eyes

and bowed his head and prayed

for the people of the big city…in Jesus name.

After this, the man walked away

and disappeared into the sea of humanity.

The child of the street resumed his walk

along the crowded pavement beside the long street,

and removed the bottle of glue from his mouth

and thought deeply about what the street preacher had said.

As the child walked,

he couldn’t help but ask himself,

“Am I ready for the end of the age?”

© Denis Kabi, 2011

by Denis Kabi

My father gave it to me

many years ago when I was a lad.

It was a gift,

a gift that I treasured then,

and still treasure now.

It is bound by a hard cover

which is navy-blue in colour

and on its front cover, shiny gold-coloured letters

are engraved spelling out the title of it

– Good News Bible.

I thank my father for giving me this book.

I thank my Father for blessing me with His Word.

The first day that I opened it,

I marvelled at the whiteness of the delicate pages,

and the sharp contrast of the white paper

with the rich black ink

of its densely printed text and illustrations

and ancient maps.

The line drawings are comical

and sometimes make me laugh,

for they are like cartoons.

I began to worry about the book’s cover,

concerned that it would get worn

from constant handling,

and the gold-coloured  engravings on its cover

would  chip away.

To prevent this occurrence,

I decided to find manila paper

to cover the book with.

But I realized that the manila paper was not suitable,

since it got worn along the spine

and edges of the book due to constant use

and thus was exposing the original dark-blue cover.

That’s when I looked for a sheet of transparent polythene

and used scissors to cut it

to the right size of the cover,

and then used clear cellotape

to seal the hard cover neatly.

The polythene does not wear out easily

and it has preserved and protected the book’s cover

and its delicate title engravings

for many years now.

At the top of the spine of this book

there is a bookmark attached to it,

and it’s made of dark blue woven threads.

It’s very delicate and neat.

I used to slip it between the pages that I was reading

so that I could continue reading

from where I’d left off.

But I soon switched to other types of bookmarks,

mostly those made of hard paper.

I did this not only to preserve the integrity

of the original dark blue woven bookmark,

but also because I needed to bookmark several sections

of the books that I was reading contemporaneously.

Over the years the pure white pages

have gradually acquired a creamish shade,

but the blackness of the text hasn’t changed at all.

From the preface pages I read

that the New Testament of this particular English translation

was published in 1966,

and the Old Testament in 1976.

The New Testament was originally written in Greek language,

while the Old Testament was originally written

in Hebrew and Aramaic languages.

Apparently a group of translators prepared this translation,

and drafts of it were sent to prominent theologians

and Biblical scholars

and English-speaking Bible societies for review.

The translators’ task was to express the meaning

of the original Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek texts

in a manner and form that can be easily understood

by readers who use English as a means of communication.

In this translation the Hebrew name for God

– Jehovah –

is represented as LORD.

According to the preface,

the precise meaning of some sections

of the original text is in dispute.

Some of the text can be understood in two or more ways.

The chapters and verses in this translation are numbered

following the traditional system

of major English translations of the Bible.

I trust that the translators were faithful in their work.

There are thirty-nine books in the Old Testament

and twenty-seven books in the New Testament.

Millions of copies of the Bible

translated into many languages of the world

– and sold at an affordable price,

or given out free of charge –

are distributed in many parts of the world each year.

I’m glad and I feel honoured to have a copy.

“In the beginning God created the universe,”

is the first line of Genesis,

the first book of the Bible.

Prophet Moses probably wrote Genesis.

“May the grace of the Lord Jesus be with everyone,”

is the last line of Revelation,

the last book of the Bible.

Apostle John wrote Revelation.

The most famous Bible verse is probably John 3:16:

”For God so loved the world

that He gave His only begotten Son,

that whoever believes in Him

should not perish but have everlasting life. “

Who really wrote the Bible?

Why was it written?

And why should I read it?

Was it Moses and the other prophets and apostles

whose names are written in the titles of the books?

Or was it God’s Spirit which spoke

through these anointed men and women?

Was it written simply as a historical account

of the ancient people of Israel?

Should I simply read it as a fine work of literature?

“All Scripture is inspired by God

and is useful for teaching the truth,

rebuking error, correcting faults,

and giving instruction for right living,

so that the person who serves God

may be fully qualified and equipped

to do every kind of good deed,”

it is written.

“Before the world was created,

 the Word already existed;

He was with God,

and He was the same as God.

From the very beginning the Word was with God.

Through Him God made all things;

not one thing in all creation was made without Him.

The Word was the source of life,

and this life brought light to mankind.

The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness has never put it out,”

it is written.

“The word of God is alive and active,

sharper than any double-edged sword.

It cuts all the way through,

to where soul and spirit meet,

to where joints and marrow come together.

It judges the desires and thoughts of man’s heart,”

it is written.

“He did this to teach you that man

must not depend on bread alone to sustain him,

but on everything that the Lord says,”

it is written.

“Do not deceive yourselves by just listening to His word;

instead, put it into practice.

Whoever listens to the word

but does not put it into practice

is like a man who looks in a mirror

and sees himself as he is.

 He takes a good look at himself

 and then goes away

and at once forgets what he looks like.

But whoever looks closely into the perfect law

 that sets people free,

who keeps on paying attention to it

and does not simply listen and then forget it,

but puts it into practice

– that person will be blessed by God

 in what he does,”

it is written.

“My word is like the snow and the rain

that come down from the sky to water the earth.

They make the crops grow

and provide seed for planting and food to eat.

So also will be the word that I speak

 – it will not fail to do what I plan for it;

it will do everything I send it to do,”

it is written.

 “Happy are those who reject the advice of evil men,

 who do not follow the example of sinners

 or join those who have no use for God.

Instead, they find joy in obeying the Law of the Lord,

and they study it day and night.

 They are like trees that grow beside a stream,

that bear fruit at the right time,

and whose leaves do not dry up.

 They succeed in everything they do,”

it is written.

“Your word is a lamp

to guide me and a light for my path.

I will keep my solemn promise

to obey your just instructions.

My sufferings, Lord, are terrible indeed;

keep me alive, as you have promised.

Accept my prayer of thanks, O Lord,

and teach me your commands.

 I am always ready to risk my life;

 I have not forgotten your law.

Wicked men lay a trap for me,

but I have not disobeyed your commands.

Your commandments are my eternal possession;

they are the joy of my heart.

I have decided to obey your laws

until the day I die,”

it is written.

“Earth and sky, hear my words,

listen closely to what I say.

My teaching will fall like drops of rain

and form on the earth like dew.

My words will fall like showers on young plants,

like gentle rain on tender grass.

I will praise the name of the Lord,

and His people will tell of His greatness,”

it is written.

 “Heaven and earth will pass away,

but my words will never pass away,”

it is written.

Once a person reads the words of this book,

it becomes clear that the Bible is not an ordinary book.

The Bible is a living Word,

unlike other books

which are simply paper, ink and glue.

I thank God for blessing me with His Word;

this copy that I hold in my hands of the beloved tome.

What hope would a sinner like me have without it?!

© Denis Kabi, 2011

by Denis Kabi

After the shout of command by the archangel,

and after the last trumpet sounded

and the believers were gathered up in the clouds.

After the first half of the tribulations,

and after the reaping of the earth’s harvest

and the second half of the tribulations passed.

After Babylon fell,

and after the wedding of the Lamb and His Bride,

and after the Rider on the white horse

threw the beast and the false prophet into the lake of fire.

After the kings of the earth and their armies

were killed by the sword that comes out of the mouth

of the One who was riding the white horse.

After the thousand years of Christ’s reign,

and after the Devil was thrown into the lake of fire,

and after the final judgment at the great white throne,

the earth and heaven were seen no more.

The Holy City, the New Jerusalem, came down out of heaven.

“Now God’s home is with mankind!

He will live with them,

and they shall be His people.

God Himself will be with them,

and He will be their God.

He will wipe away all tears from their eyes.

There will be no more death,

no more grief or crying or pain.

The old things have disappeared,”

said the One who sits on the throne.

“And now I make all things new!”

Then Christ the King came to rule God’s kingdom

forever and ever.

In the land of Seba,

east of the Nile,

there are great meadows,

grasslands sprawling luxuriantly

over the rolling green hills and plains.

A young man strides across the expansive glade of grass,

a woven reeds basket clutched in his hand

as he goes to pick fruits from the lush fruit trees

in the valleys of the green hills.

The glory of God shines over everything.

The Lamb is a lamp that shines over everything.

As the young man walks,

he grins broadly and waves at and greets lots of people

whom he meets on the way

going about their daily business.

“Habari gani!” he says.

“Mzuri sana!” the people grin

and wave back at him happily as they work in their fields.

Some are harvesting grain from flourishing grain fields;

some are picking fruits from verdant vineyards;

some are herding their great herds of healthy livestock;

some are building beautiful houses;

while others are simply relaxing

under the shades of mighty trees

socializing with contented friends and family.

Everybody is joyful and healthy,

and even the elderly are as strong as oxen.

A bunch of gleeful children run past the young man,

playing with a ball.

As the children kick the ball over the soft green grass,

a baby dinosaur with scaly green skin

and as tall as a full grown giraffe,

chases after the same ball,

and kicks it farther over the expanse of land.

The young man stops and turns to marvel

at the sight of the baby dinosaur playing with the ball.

And he can’t help but smile

when the bevy of gleeful kids

scream in exaltation as they all chase after the ball

and try to kick it farther  away.

Suddenly a gargantuan tyrannosaurus rex,

greyish and scaly and as tall as a mature oak tree,

emerges from behind a clutch of trees.

It is peacefully grazing on the lush meadow

and once in a while it raises its head

to keep an eye on the baby dinosaur

which is still engaged in play with the human children.

The young man supposes that the large dinosaur

is the baby dinosaur’s mother,

and she’s keeping an eye on it

so that the baby doesn’t wander to far away from her.

Across the expansive hilly landscape

various types of dinosaurs

graze peacefully on the meadow  like cattle,

their tall sinewy necks occasionally rising into the air

like tree trunks,

with their equally large babies browsing peacefully

beside their mothers’ huge legs.

Flying dinosaurs flit across the sky,

their enormous leathery wings stretched out

reminiscent of bat wings.

All kinds of species of insects buzz all over the place

and all kinds of species of birds sing

and fly and perch on the leafy groves.

The young man resumes his journey to the valley

to collect fruits from the eclectic variety of fruit trees.

He walks by a pride of lions,

comprising of a couple of stout males

with thick bushy manes over their necks,

and several sturdy females

and many plump and playful cubs,

all grazing as cattle do.

A large cobra crosses his path,

its sleek scaly body as thick as a lamp post.

He briefly stops to allow it to pass.

The cobra too stops and raises its tiny head

– three feet from the ground –

and puffs up its colourfully patterned hood,

and takes a moment to inquisitively gaze at him.

He steps forward and stretches out his hand

and gently strokes the snake’s puffed up hood,

the way one would a pet cat.

Its tongue darts in and out of its mouth severally

before the snake lowers its head

and resumes its journey across the meadow.

He grins and watches the snake as it goes,

before he too resumes his journey.

Soon he comes to a crystal clear stream

and stumbles on herds

of lovely black-and-white striped zebras,

and brownish gazelles,

and brown-and-white patterned giraffes,

and comical horned wildebeests,

and huge rhinos and elephants,

all converged at the banks of the stream to drink.

A baby elephant splashes across the stream towards him

and uses its trunk to snatch the woven reeds basket

from his grasp and runs off with it.

The young man chases after the young elephant

as its mother raises her trunk from the stream

and deposits the end of it into her mouth

and empties all the water into her mouth,

and watches her calf taking off

with the young man’s basket.

The spectacle soon draws the attention of a baby zebra,

a baby gazelle, a baby giraffe,

a baby wildebeest, and a baby rhino,

all of which give chase to the fleeing baby elephant

and the young man rushing after it.

“Hey! Bring my basket back!”

he calls repeatedly after the baby elephant.

Though it has big floppy ears,

the baby elephant doesn’t hear nor heed his calls.

The young man is startled to see the pack of baby animals

which he’d left at the stream

rush past him and catch up with the elephant calf

and start tagging at the basket.

Each of the young animals strives to grab the basket

using their mouths

and ran off with it, as the others give chase,

eager to snatch it and ran off with it.

“Don’t tear my basket!” the young man cautions,

but the young animals blithely ignore him.

Past the fruit trees in the valley they rush,

and up the grassy slopes of the undulating green hills,

all chasing after each other

– squealing, chattering, and bellowing noisily.

“Hey! Come back!” he yells after the bevy of young animals

who’ve run far ahead of him,

playing with the basket,

snatching it from each other,

and running farther away down the opposite side of the hills

and over the vast expanse of meadow land.

“Now look what you’ve done!” he calls out

and draws to a stop, panting.

“I’ve gone past the valley

where the fruit trees that I wanted to pick fruits from are!”

The playful young animals don’t even hear him.

They keep chasing after each other,

drawing farther and farther away.

“Lord, how do I get my basket back

from those baby animals?” he prays quietly.

A flock of flying dinosaurs are flitting across the sky

high  up above him

and one of them breaks away from the flock

and flies down and lands

beside the astonished young man.

The dinosaur is as tall as a one storey building

and its wings twice as expansive.

When the dinosaur crouches

to allow him to climb over its broad shoulders,

he realizes that the Lord has answered his prayer.

He thanks the Lord

and then climbs onto the dinosaur’s shoulders

and it immediately starts beating its mighty wings

and flits up into the blue sky.

Just then, the young man looks down

and he sees a herd of large animals

running after the baby animals,

trumpeting and chattering and bellowing.

He sees that they are the animals he’d seen earlier

at the stream drinking,

and they are now calling for their babies to return to them.

The flying dinosaur which the young man is riding on

high up in the sky

finally catches up with the fleeing young animals.

The dinosaur flits down and lands in front of their path,

blocking it and startling the baby animals

who then drop the reed basket and turn

and run back to their  mothers

who are more than glad to get them back.

The animals and their young then disperse

in various directions as they browse on the succulent plants,

and drink from the network of springs flowing over the land.

The young man climbs down

from the shoulders of the dinosaur

and pats it gently on the leg

and grins up at its big face and thanks it for the ride.

He watches with awe

as the dinosaur beats its mighty wings

and flits up into the sky and heads in the direction

that the flock that it was flying with went.

Finally the young man picks up his basket

and walks back to the valley to pick fruits.

He fills up his basket with juicy multi-coloured fruits.

As he walks across the meadow,

back to his home,

he meets with a group of people

travelling towards the north,

their horse-drawn carts heavy with goods.

They’re animatedly chatting amongst themselves,

describing their exciting journey to the city of Jerusalem,

where they’re going to worship God Almighty and the Lamb,

and present their offerings.

The young man greets them,

and they greet him back.

“Can I come along?” he asks.

“Yes, if you want to!” they say.

So he walks beside them

and places his basket of fruits over the goods

on one of the horse-drawn carts.

They swiftly cross over the meadows of Sudan and Egypt

and finally come into Israel.

From afar they behold the city of Jerusalem.

The city shines like a precious stone,

like a jasper, clear as crystal.

It has great high walls with twelve gates

and with twelve angels in charge of the gates.

On the gates are written the names

of the twelve tribes of the people of Israel.

There are three gates on each side;

three on the east, three on the south,

three on the north, and three on the west.

The city’s wall is built on twelve foundation stones,

on which are written the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.

The city is perfectly square,

as wide as it is long.

The city itself is made of pure gold,

as clear as glass.

The foundation stones of the city wall are adorned

with all kinds of precious stones.

The twelve gates are twelve pearls;

each gate is made from a single pearl.

The street of the city is of pure gold,

transparent as glass.

The young man and the group of people

that he’d travelled with go into the city

and fall down to worship Lord God Almighty and the Lamb,

and thereafter offer their gifts.

Multitudes of angels are singing in praise and honour

to Lord God Almighty and the Lamb.

The city has no need of the sun or the moon to shine on it,

because the glory of God shines on it,

and the Lamb is its light.

As the young man and his group leave the city,

they see multitudes of people

from the nations that are saved,

and the kings of the earth

bringing the glory and honour of their nations

into the city.

As the young man and the group of people

that he’d travelled with pass through the city,

they see the river of the water of life,

sparkling like crystal,

and proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb

and flowing down the middle of the city’s street.

On each side of the river is the tree of life,

which bears fruit twelve times a year,

once each month;

and its leaves are for the healing of the nations.

The young man and his group of friends

drink from the river of the water of life,

and eat fruit from the tree of life,

and then journey across this earthly paradise

back to their respective homes

in the meadows of Seba.

© Denis Kabi, 2011

by Denis Kabi

The ground was cracking

into slabs of hexagonal dried clay,

their edges curling skywards

like hands lifted in prayer,

praying for rain.

A water reservoir once existed here

and many people flocked to fetch water from it

for their own use;

and their herds too depended on it

to quench their thirst.

But then came the drought,

and the reservoir was no more.

No rain had fallen for a long while now,

and no one could even recall what year

the last rains had fallen.

Children under five probably didn’t know what rain was,

for they’d never seen droplets of water

falling continuously from the clouds,

and creating rivulets on the ground

which streamed  into the reservoir,

filling it to its brim.

Whenever the reservoir was full,

there was joy amongst the people.

Singing could be heard

as the community prepared the fields

for planting season.

Singing could be heard

as the community weeded the fields.

Singing could be heard

as the community eventually harvested the crop.

Everyone would have enough to eat,

and every other night the youth would be outdoors

merrymaking, celebrating this or that occasion.

Even minor occasions like birthdays

wouldn’t be allowed to pass without a feast.

In times of plenty, every day is a celebration.

A goat or two would be slaughtered on such an occasion,

and there would be plenty of meat

to be roasted or boiled or fried;

and plenty of other foods and drinks

to accompany the meat.

Drumbeats would rend the air

and dancing fêtes  would drag well into the night.

Large herds allowed for dowry

to be paid promptly and generously;

and many marriage ceremonies took place

during such times of plenty.

On every face there would be a ready smile,

and all eyes gleamed with something good

– happiness, hope, contentment, certainty.

Adversity would be the last thought in anybody’s mind.

But it’s always there,

lurking in the shadows,

looming in the horizon,

zooming in on the carefree merrymakers.

It creeps in so slowly that no one realizes

that it is there,

until the ground starts to crack

into a million slabs of dried clay.

The slabs of dried clay cracked and disintegrated into bits

when the bare feet of an emaciated drained man

walked over them.

The sun was high and blazing

and he was extremely thirsty.

He needed to find water to drink fast,

and if he didn’t find any,

he’d collapse and give up the ghost.

He felt so weak that his will to live

was the only thing that sustained him.

His tongue clang to the roof of his mouth

and his eyes were so dry

that blinking couldn’t wet them.

Perhaps only a hose could.

As he walked,

he scanned the cracked ground for any signs of mud,

for he reasoned that there could be water

underneath any muddy patch of arid ground.

He was lucky,

because he soon spotted such a muddy patch

amongst the slabs of cracked earth,

and knelt beside it.

With his bare hands he began to dig

and he scooped large mounds of wet earth,

and dumped them on the edges

of the one-foot deep,  one-foot wide hole

that he’d excavated.

At two feet deep, he groaned with frustration

and stopped digging.

There was no water in there.

Just mud.

Damned wretched mud.

If the muddy hole was six-feet deep

and six-by-three feet in length and width,

it would have made a cool place to rest for a long time,

he thought while gazing at it resentfully.

What if he scooped a mound of mud

and wrung it like a drenched cloth, he thought.

Perhaps water would come out of it.

He swiftly scooped a large mound of earth

with both his hands,

raised it over his open mouth,

and wrung it like a drenched cloth,

expecting cool water to trickle into his mouth.

No water came out of the mud;

not even a single drop.

He flung the mound away and cursed it bitterly

and then stood up.

He was panting and seething with anger and frustration

as his eyes scanned the deserted arid vicinity

for any signs of the presence of water.

Just beyond the curve of the sandy horizon

he spotted a white object

which had a tall upright plank

and a slightly shorter horizontal plank

fitted across it.

It looked like a cross,

similar to the ones found at Christian houses of worship.

The white cross glowed in the sun like a star

and he was so intrigued by it

that he started to walk slowly towards it,

his bare feet dragging over the cracked ground.

After an hour of walking,

he still hadn’t gotten to it

and he started to think that the white object was a mirage,

similar to the illusory pool of water

usually seen glittering in the distance

on a sunny day.

But the cross’s potent glowing light drew him to it.

Another hour passed as he walked

towards the intriguing white object in the distance,

and as he walked, he grew thirstier.

The sun was blazing with fury

and there was not a tree in sight

or a house in which he could take shelter under.

He considered turning around

and going back the way he’d come,

but when he peeked over his shoulder

he saw a long trail of his footprints

stretching out over the dry expansive bare ground.

There was nothing back there

to go back to, he thought.

Nothing but sure death.

So he looked ahead and kept his eyes fixed on the cross,

and even though he grew thirstier with each step,

he kept walking towards it.

The heat was so intense

that he imagined that if he looked up to the sky,

he would see a thousand suns shining up there like stars.

He came across a withered thorn bush

which had recently fallen to the ground

and scattered its dead branches.

When he took his eyes from the cross to look at it,

he felt a sharp pain sting his heel,

and he had to stop to crouch and examine his heel.

A long thick nasty-looking white thorn was embedded

deep into the flesh of his heel.

He grimaced and writhed at it.

Muttering something under his breath,

he held the stem of the thorn between his fingers

and yanked it out.

A globule of ruddy blood rose to the surface

of the perforated area of the heel

and he released a sibilant hiss through his front teeth

as a sharp pain shot up his leg.

He flung the thorn away

and pressed the tip of his thumb

on the perforated area of his heel

until he felt sure the blood had clotted.

There was a blotch of red on his heel

when he pulled his thumb away,

and as soon as he put his foot down to walk,

the sharp pain again shot up his leg.

He grunted and seethed in ire.

But when he looked up to the horizon

and saw the gleaming white cross,

he temporarily forgot his pain

and instantly resumed his long walk towards it.

With each step he took towards the cross,

the wound on his heel inflicted by the thorn,

kept nagging him with sharp pain.

The wound on his heel kept reminding him

of the adversity he’d left behind.

The pain reminded him of the prolonged drought

that had refused to cease.

The blood he’d seen on his heel reminded him

of the folks and flocks that had perished

due to lack of water.

In spite of all these sad memories,

he pressed on towards the cross,

his eyes fixed on its potent light.

There were rotting odorous carcasses

and sun-bleached pale bones

of beasts that had perished,

scattered over the landscape

and sometimes blocking his path.

He didn’t look at them,

but simply walked around them.

He tried to ignore the stench.

On his periphery vision he could see

vultures clustered around a fresh carcass,

tearing chunks of meat from it

with their hooked beaks,

before greedily swallowing the chunks.

He felt sure that the vultures were appraising him,

asking themselves if his meat was any good

since he was so thin.

From the devilish gleam in the vultures’ eyes,

and their deathly cackles,

they were praying for his fall,

for he must’ve seemed moribund

in their jaundiced eyes.

Vultures relish taunting a troubled soul.

Despite sensing with his five senses

the close presence of death,

he pressed on towards the cross,

his eyes fixed on its potent light.

He could feel their eyes,

the wicked eyes of the vultures,

piercing his bare back

as he strode across the vast cracked dry ground.

The cracked ground was gradually replaced

by acres and acres of sun-bleached pale sand.

With each step he grimaced and grunted

because the sand was superheated

and it seared the soles of his bare feet.

Then the sand became less dense

and his legs began to sink into it

up to his knees.

Each step he took now

required great amounts of strength

for him to keep pulling each leg out of the loose sand.

His thirst was now as intense as the heat

of the sweltering sun above him.

When he was ready to give up and collapse,

he saw a well

and a man in white shining clothes

sitting beside the well.

The man was glowing with the same light

that the cross had glowed with.

‘Sir, I’ve come a long way and I’m thirsty,’

said the thirsty man.

‘Please, Sir, allow me to fetch some water from your well

and I’ll drink it and not die from thirst.’

The man in glowing white clothes said:

‘Whoever drinks this water will get thirsty again,

but whoever drinks the water that I will give him

will never be thirsty again.

The water that I will give him will become in him a spring

which will provide him with life-giving water

and give him eternal life.’

‘Sir,’ the thirsty man said, ‘give me that water!

Then I will never be thirsty again,

nor will I have to come here to draw water.’

© Denis Kabi, 2011

by Denis Kabi

The bus departed from the terminus

and drove through the bumpy winding roads

of the stuffy congested city,

steadily gaining speed

as the traffic gradually cleared up

the more distance the bus put between itself

and the big city.

It was a typical hot sunny day

and the air inside the bus was humid,

a riot of odours clashing,

making breathing a conscious chore

of labored inhalation and exhalation.

All the seats of the bus were packed

with animated travellers  heading home,

away from the big city;

or perhaps they were travelling away from home

to the countryside.

Who knows where they were going!

Rich timbres of varied mother tongues

flowed freely from all corners of the bus,

like a hotchpotch simmering in a pot,

the voices in conversations as loud as the bright colours

of their intricately patterned and embroidered attire.

The loud rattling noise of the bus engine,

and the thick black acrid cloud of exhaust fumes it belched,

competed for attention

with all these sights and sounds and smells

within the now speeding bus.

In one of the worn upholstery seats of the bus

sat a weary passenger,

his shoulder leaning heavily against the window,

his scarlet eyes cast forlornly out of the glass,

passively observing the rushing blur

of bushes and trees and fields

beyond the shoulder of the tarmac road.

In his travelling bag was a packet

filled with white powder,

an illegal substance which he was going to sell upcountry.

He slowly raised his right hand

and slid the window open,

hoping to get a bit of fresh air.

A gust of wind rudely hit his face,

and his breath caught in his throat.

The rushing wind made breathing difficult

and he now preferred the labored chore

of breathing the strange mixture of odours in the bus.

He tried to pull the window shut

but realized that he couldn’t,

for it had stuck.

The gust of wind hitting his face

was getting more and more forceful

as the bus gained more speed.

And since his breath caught in his throat

and he couldn’t breathe,

he was forced to lean away from the window

to avoid the wind hitting his face.

The woman passenger whom he shared a seat with

clicked her tongue in annoyance,

and asked what he thought he was doing

leaning so close to her.

As soon as she said this,

the passengers on the seat behind his seat

too clicked their tongues in annoyance

and loudly demanded that he close the window immediately,

for the gust of wind was ruining their hair-dos.

He lifted his hand again

and tried to pull the window shut,

but again realized that he couldn’t,

for it was stuck.

And so he raised his voice

to inform the annoyed grumbling passengers about this.

More passengers soon got drawn into the issue,

as the gust of wind grew stronger

the faster that the bus travelled

over the winding bumpy tarmac.

Because all other windows had been shut

to keep away the rushing wind,

this sole open window became the focus of attention

and source of great annoyance to many passengers.

Various angry voices speaking in varied mother tongues

called for the window to be shut immediately,

and if it could not be shut,

the bus should be stopped to fix it.

Neither did the bus driver hear these voices

calling for him to stop,

nor was the window problem fixed.

The gust of wind rushing into the bus

was getting more and more forceful

as the bus gained more speed,

and the angry voices irritated by it

grew angrier and greater in number.

Passengers on the rows of seats

on the right side of the bus

soon got up from their seats

and found someplace else they could squeeze into

on the left side’s rows of seats

while some stood on the aisle.

He didn’t follow the other passengers,

but remained seated on his seat on the right side

and kept tugging at the window,

desperately trying – without much success –

to pull it shut.

It was at that time

that the bus driver wrenched the steering wheel,

upon spotting a huge pothole

on the inclining curving road ahead,

and the bus swerved to the slanting dusty shoulder

of the tarmac road.

The weight of the passengers

packed on the left side of the bus

made the speeding bus tilt dangerously to that side,

and its right side’s front and back wheels spun crazily

as they rose from the ground.

Voices of panic-stricken passengers

yelling in varied mother tongues

collectively asked, “What’s going on?”

as their hands flung out to grab

at whatever firm thing they could cling to.

The weight of the yelling passengers

packed on the left side of the bus

made the speeding bus tilt further to that side,

and its right side’s front and back wheels kept spinning furiously

and rose higher off the ground.

The driver screamed from the front of the bus

announcing that he’d lost control of it.

The voices of panic-stricken passengers

yelled in varied mother tongues

upon hearing the driver’s unnerving proclamation.

The inclining curving road passed over a bridge,

and below the high bridge,

fifty metres below,

was a wide gushing brown-watered swollen river.

With no one to control the fateful bus,

it hurtled down the inclining road,

and broke through the bridge’s steel railings.

For a few seconds,

everything was quiet in the bus,

as it flew over the edge of the bridge,

and flitted down towards the brown gushing waters

of the swollen river.

His hand was still holding the handle of the stuck window

and he tugged at it one last time,

and this time the window easily slid shut.

Ah, finally the gust of wind

that had irritated the passengers was shut out.

Now every passenger who’d abandoned their seat

could return to the right side

and settle down on their respective seats

and enjoy the rest of their journey home

– or away from home –

depending on where they were going.

When he didn’t hear the rustle of movement

of passengers returning to their seats,

he turned to the left side of the bus

to look at the frozen passengers.

Everything moved in slow motion.

Their mouths were ajar,

their eyes wide,

their faces twisted into incomprehensible expressions.

He turned to the window on his right

and looked through the glass.

He saw what a person sitting on the window seat

of a low flying aircraft sees.

It was not the most pleasant of sights to see,

especially if you’re not in an aeroplane,

but are in a bus.

With a monstrous splash,

the bus plunged

into the brown waters of the swollen river,

and was swiftly swept

by the powerful river currents downstream.

All the passengers, including the driver,

drowned while struggling to scramble out

of the sinking flooded bus.

The man who’d sat beside the stuck window

suddenly opened his eyes.

His entire body was in excruciating pain.

He began to cry out in anguish.

He tried to move this way and that way,

but there was no relief from the excruciating pain.

In the surrounding area he could hear various voices

crying out in varied mother tongues,

sickening anguish in their high-pitched tones.

There was great heat in that place,

and when he looked around,

he saw flames rising up from the surface.

It seemed like a kiln,

a vast subterranean kiln

filled with wailing convulsing multitudes of humans

– both women and men,

from all races, nationalities, ethnicities, and religions.

Though the fire was endlessly burning,

none of the wailing humans was consumed by it.

The fire scorched them without consuming them

– similar to holding ones hand close to a candle’s flame

and losing the ability to pull back the hand from the flame.

The flame inflicts unbearable pain on the flesh,

though the flesh is not destroyed or altered.

In the subterranean kiln

the man who’d sat beside the stuck window

looked around and could see people he once knew,

people who’d been his friends and family,

people who’d been his acquaintances and business associates,

people who’d died and been buried,

people who were atheists

and people who were religious,

people who were wealthy

and people who were not wealthy,

people who were highly educated

and people who were not educated at all,

people who were stingy

and people who were philanthropic,

people who were nice

and people who were not so nice,

people who were famous

and people who were not famous,

people who’d lived decadent lives

and people who’d lived lives that were not decadent,

people who were good

and people who were not good.

As the man who’d sat beside the stuck window

looked around the crowded subterranean kiln,

a gentle force suddenly lifted him up and out of that terrible place.

He then heard voices screaming in alarm

and again he opened his eyes.

He saw daylight

and realized that he was floating belly up

in the gushing brown waters of a wide swollen river,

and there was a crowd of horrified people

looking down at him

while standing on the edge of a bridge

built above the river.

The steel railings of the bridge had been torn apart.

Two young men from the crowd of onlookers

swiftly removed their shirts, shoes, socks, trousers,

and remained in their shorts.

The two young men then hurried

down the steep walls of the river bank

and once they reached the edge of the embankment

they dived into the river,

and swam towards the man

who was floating downstream.

With a lot of difficulty,

the two young men managed

to pull the man out of the river,

and dragged him up the rising riverbank

to the tarmac road above the river.

He was the only survivor of the bus tragedy.

A selfless motorist stopped and volunteered

to rush the injured drenched man to a nearby hospital,

where he was hospitalized and treated,

and discharged three days later.

The bus tragedy was widely reported in the media

and the sole survivor was besieged by news reporters

who asked him how he felt being the only person

who lived to tell the tale of the fateful bus journey.

Though he said he was a Christian,

he had not prayed

or gone to church

or read the Bible

since he was a boy

attending Sunday school,

twenty or more years ago.

Despite his religious indifference,

he didn’t hesitate to answer the reporters

by attributing his miraculous escape

from the grisly bus accident to God.

But he was hesitant to reveal to anybody

his short visit to the vast subterranean kiln

where he saw multitudes of humans wailing

and convulsing in unending torment.

The sights and sounds and smells

of that terrible place played and replayed vividly

in his mind for several weeks after the bus tragedy.

Sometimes he couldn’t even sleep at night,

for he feared closing his eyes

only to see and hear those hellish images and voices

of that vast subterranean kiln.

Was that place hell? he wondered.

Is it possible that he’d gone to hell

and escaped from it?

What was that gentle force

that had suddenly lifted him up

and out of that terrible place?

What was the meaning of all of this?

Why was he the only survivor of the bus tragedy?

Why did the gentle force save him from the kiln

where the departed dwelled in unending torment?

And now that he had experienced

this shocking series of incidents,

what was he supposed to do with this knowledge?

Now he recalled a story,

a story that the Sunday school teacher had once read aloud,

from the children’s Bible,

a story describing a rich man and a poor man

who both died and went to different places

– one to heaven and the other to a fiery place.

For the first time in twenty or so years

he searched for his copy of the Holy Bible

and once he found it,

he blew the dust from its cover

and opened it.

He flipped through its densely printed pages for a while,

desperately searching for the passage he wanted,

until he found it.

With his hands trembling,

he began to read:

There was once a rich man

who dressed in the most expensive clothes

and lived in great luxury every day.

There was also a poor man named Lazarus,

covered with sores,

who used to be brought to the rich man’s door,

hoping to eat the bits of food

that fell from the rich man’s table.

Even the dogs would come and lick his sores.

The poor man died and was carried by the angels

to sit beside Abraham at the feast in heaven.

The rich man died and was buried,

and in Hades, where he was in great pain,

he looked up and saw Abraham, far away,

with Lazarus at his side.

So he called out, “Father Abraham!

Take pity on me,

and send Lazarus to dip his finger in some water

and cool off my tongue,

 because I am in great pain in this fire!”

But Abraham said, “Remember, my son,

that in your lifetime you were given all the good things,

while Lazarus got all the bad things.

But now he is enjoying himself here,

while you are in pain.

 Besides all that,

there is a deep pit lying between us,

so that those who want to cross over

 from here to you cannot do so,

nor can anyone cross over to us

from where you are.”

The rich man said, “Then I beg you, father Abraham,

send Lazarus to my father’s house,

where I have five brothers.

Let him go and warn them so that they, at least,

will not come to this place of pain.”

Abraham said, “Your brothers have Moses and the prophets

to warn them;

your brothers should listen to what they say.”

The rich man answered, “That’s not enough, father Abraham!

But if someone were to rise from death

 and go to them,

then they would turn from their sins.”

But Abraham said,

“If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets,

they will not be convinced

even if someone were to rise from death.”

It seems that once a person is born,

and after their allotted time here on earth expires,

their spirit will live for eternity somewhere.

Heaven or Hades, which one do you choose?

This man chose heaven.

He decided to confess his sins,

and ask Jesus to come into his heart

and be his Lord and Saviour.

He got born-again!

© Denis Kabi, 2011

by Denis Kabi

Daughter of Ham, how lovely you are.

A home was chosen for you

in the east coast of Africa,

a land to the south of Jerusalem, Israel,

farther south of the territory once ruled by the Queen of Sheba,

east of the source of the River Nile.

A little bit of the world is in you;

the lakes, the rivers, the streams;

the hillocks, the hills, the mountains;

the forests, the grassland plains, the deserts;

the sun, the snow, the ocean;

the browns, the blacks, the whites;

the Shems, the Hams, the Japheths.

How did your people come to live here?

Well, God created Adam and Eve,

who had two sons, Cain and Abel,

and another called Seth,

and seven generations down the bloodline,

Noah was born and in due time

he had three sons,

Shem, Ham, and Japheth.

When mankind had spread all over the earth,

the Lord saw how wicked everyone on earth was

and how evil their thoughts were.

He was so filled with regret

that He said, “I will wipe out

these people I have created,

and also the animals and the birds,

because I am sorry that I made any of them.”

But the Lord was pleased with Noah.

Noah had no faults

and was the only good man of his time.

He lived in fellowship with God.

God told Noah to build a boat,

for He was going to destroy

every living being on earth.

God told Noah to go into the boat

with his wife, his sons, and their wives,

and a male and a female of every kind of animal

and every kind of bird,

in order to keep them alive.

Then the flood came.

Every living being on earth died

– every bird, every animal, and every person.

When the flood ended

Noah and his family, and the animals

left the boat.

God blessed Noah and his sons and said,

“Have many children, so that your descendants

will live all over the earth.”

Noah, who was a farmer,

was the first man to plant a vineyard.

After he drank some of the wine,

he became drunk, took off his clothes,

and lay naked in his tent.

When Ham, the father of Canaan,

saw that his father was naked,

he went out and told his two brothers.

Then Shem and Japheth took a robe

and held it behind them on their shoulders.

They walked backward into the tent

and covered their father,

keeping their faces turned away

so as not to see him naked.

When Noah sobered up

and learned what his youngest son

had done to him, he said,

“A curse on Canaan!

He will be a slave to his brothers.

Give praise to the Lord, the God of Shem!

Canaan will be the slave of Shem.

May God cause Japheth to increase!

May his descendants live with the people of Shem!

Canaan will be the slave of Japheth.”

Things started rather badly

for Ham’s descendants, didn’t they?

The sons of Ham – Cush, Egypt, Libya, and Canaan –

were the ancestors of the peoples

who bear their names.

The descendants of Cush

were the people of Seba, Havilah,

Sabtah, Raamah, and Sabteca.

The descendants of Raamah

were the people of Sheba and Dedan.

Black people probably descended from this bloodline.

At first, the people of the whole world

had only one language

and used the same words.

As they wandered about in the East,

they came to a plain in Babylonia

and settled there.

They said to one another, “Come on!

Let’s make bricks and bake them hard.”

So they had bricks to build with

and tar to hold them together.

They said, “Now let’s build a city

with a tower that reaches the sky,

so that we can make a name for ourselves

and not be scattered all over the earth.”

Then the Lord came down to see the city

and the tower which those men had built

and He said, “Now then, these are all one people

and they speak one language;

this is just the beginning

of what they are going to do.

Soon they will be able to do anything they want!

Let us go down and mix up their language

so that they will not understand each other.”

So the Lord scattered them all over earth,

and they stopped building the city.

The city was called Babylon,

because there the Lord mixed up

the language of all the people,

and from there He scattered them

all over the earth.

Daughter of Ham, how lovely you are.

A home was chosen for you

in the east coast of Africa,

a land to the south of Jerusalem, Israel,

farther south of the territory once ruled by the Queen of Sheba,

east of the source of the River Nile.

A little bit of the world is in you;

the lakes, the rivers, the streams;

the hillocks, the hills, the mountains;

the forests, the grassland plains, the deserts;

the sun, the snow, the ocean;

the browns, the blacks, the whites;

the Shems, the Hams, the Japheths.

How did your people come to be so poor?

Well, is Noah’s curse still in effect?

The people of Angola and DR Congo

have suffered for many years

from political turbulence and civil unrest.

The people of Ethiopia and Eritrea

have suffered for many years

from political clashes and border disputes.

The people of Kenya and Uganda

have suffered for many years

from political strife and ethnic fire-ups.

The people of Sudan and Somalia

have suffered for two or more decades

from political turmoil and civil war.

The people of Rwanda and Sierra Leone

have suffered for many years

from political instability and subjugation.

The people of Western Sahara and Madagascar

have suffered for many years

from political upheavals and repressions.

The people of Zimbabwe and Cote d’ Ivoire

have suffered for many years

from bad governance and stagnating economies.

The list can go on and on and on…

Every other African country

seems to be rushing down the path to conflict

– or coming up from it.

The situation is even more depressing

in the lands where Africans in the Diaspora live.

The black people of Europe and America

have suffered for many years

from political exclusion and repression.

The people of Haiti and Jamaica

have suffered for many years

from political unrests and other tempests.

A sizeable percentage of the descendants of Ham

have never known peace or prosperity.

Sufferance seems to be their collective surname.

Year in, year out, decade after decade,

droughts come and go,

wiping out beings and beasts alike

in their wake.

Year in, year out, decade after decade,

civil wars come and go,

wiping out beings and beasts alike

in their wake.

Year in, year out, decade after decade,

coup d’ etats and violent elections come and go,

wiping out beings and beasts alike

in their wake.

Year in, year out, decade after decade,

colonialists and neo-colonialists come and go,

wiping out natural resources

and destabilizing indigenous societies

in their wake.

Year in, year out, decade after decade,

this vicious cycle seems to repeat itself,

wiping out more beings and more beasts

in their horrifying wake.

Nothing seems to go right in Africa!

Why did Ham go into Noah’s tent

that fateful day in history

and see him in the state he was?

Why did Noah pronounce such a terrible thing

against his own flesh and blood?

Couldn’t Noah have simply reprimanded the chap

and chosen a benign form of punishment?

Why did Noah curse

the descendants of his son Ham?

Did Noah know what the consequences

of his words would bring?

Perhaps there’s an answer to these questions…

Perhaps it’s only a biblical scholar or theologian

who can shed light on these concerns…

Daughter of Ham, how lovely you are.

A home was chosen for you

in the east coast of Africa,

a land to the south of Jerusalem, Israel,

farther south of the territory once ruled by the Queen of Sheba,

east of the source of the River Nile.

A little bit of the world is in you;

the lakes, the rivers, the streams;

the hillocks, the hills, the mountains;

the forests, the grassland plains, the deserts;

the sun, the snow, the ocean;

the browns, the blacks, the whites;

the Shems, the Hams, the Japheths.

How do your people plan

to make things better in the future?

Well, Deuteronomy twenty-eight says:

If you obey the Lord your God

and faithfully keep all his commands

that I am giving you today,

He will make you greater

than any other nation on earth.

Obey the Lord your God

and all these blessings will be yours:

“The Lord will bless your towns and your fields.

The Lord will bless you with many children,

with abundant crops,

and with many cattle and sheep.

The Lord will bless your grain crops

and the food you prepare from them.

The Lord will bless everything you do.

The Lord will defeat your enemies

when they attack you.

They will attack from one direction,

but they will run from you in all directions.

The Lord your God will bless your work

and fill your barns with grain.

He will bless you in the land

that He is giving you.

If you obey the Lord your God

 and do everything He commands,

 He will make you His own people,

as He has promised.

Then all the peoples on earth will see

that the Lord has chosen you

 to be His own people,

and they will be afraid of you.

The Lord will give you many children,

many cattle, and abundant crops

 in the land that He promised your ancestors

to give you.

He will send rain in season

from His rich storehouse in the sky

and bless all your work,

so that you will lend to many nations,

but you will not have to borrow from any.

The Lord your God will make you the leader

among the nations and not a follower;

you will always prosper and never fail

 if you obey faithfully all His commands

that I am giving you today.

But you must never disobey them in any way

or worship and serve other gods.”

Deuteronomy twenty-eight also says:

But if you disobey the Lord your God

and do not faithfully keep all his commands

and laws that I am giving you today,

all these evil things will happen to you:

The Lord will curse your towns and your fields.

The Lord will curse your grain crops

and the food you prepare from them.

The Lord will curse you by giving you

 only a few children, poor crops,

and few cattle and sheep.

The Lord will curse everything you do.

If you do evil and reject the Lord,

He will bring on you disaster, confusion,

 and trouble in everything you do,

until you are quickly and completely destroyed.

He will send disease after disease on you

until there is not one of you left

in the land that you are about to occupy.

The Lord will strike you with infectious diseases,

with swelling and fever;

He will send drought and scorching winds

to destroy your crops.

These disasters will be with you until you die.

No rain will fall,

and your ground will become as hard as iron.

Instead of rain, the Lord will send down

dust storms and sandstorms

until you are destroyed.

The Lord will give your enemies victory over you.

You will attack them from one direction,

but you will run from them in all directions,

and all the people on earth will be terrified

when they see what happens to you.

When you die,

birds and wild animals will come

and eat your bodies,

and there will be no one to scare them off.

The Lord will send boils on you,

as He did on the Egyptians.

He will make your bodies break out with sores.

You will be covered with scabs,

and you will itch,

but there will be no cure.

The Lord will make you lose your mind;

 He will strike you with blindness and confusion.

You will grope about in broad daylight

like a blind man,

and you will not be able to find your way.

You will not prosper in anything you do.

You will be constantly oppressed and robbed,

and there will be no one to help you.

You will be engaged to a girl

– but someone else will marry her.

You will build a house

– but never live in it.

You will plant a vineyard

 – but never eat its grapes.

Your cattle will be butchered

before your very eyes,

but you will not eat any of the meat.

Your donkeys will be dragged away

while you look on,

and they will not be given back to you.

Your sheep will be given to your enemies,

and there will be no one to help you.

Your sons and daughters will be given as slaves

to foreigners while you look on.

Every day you will strain your eyes,

looking in vain for your children to return.

A foreign nation will take all the crops

that you have worked so hard to grow,

while you receive nothing

but constant oppression and harsh treatment.

Your sufferings will make you lose your mind.

The Lord will cover your legs with incurable, painful sores;

boils will cover you from head to foot…”

Daughter of Ham, why do they call you Her?

Yet it’s your sons who have ruled you

and brought you so much misery…

© Denis Kabi, 2011