This race is certainly not for the swift; Runnin out of running titles

=

Back due to public demand... yes farmgal ... u do qualify as the public, unless of course you'd rather make a private demand:) We are dedicating this post in part to the dearly departed, specifically my cousin's cousin Kariuki, who accidentally passed away recently.... And JOINTly to my dread sistaz in KL... puff puff n pass it on:)

So.... I went to Jersey254 two weekends ago and all I brought back was two bottles of Captain Morgan...

Ok... Last I checked both bottles were unopened.

Anyway, that and the fuddled up memories of good times, good peoples and some damn good nyama choma. No kidding, if you ever find yourself in Paterson NJ, please, do yourself a favor and visit Mt. Kenya Bar & Grill... Well worth the three trips we made there and bounced.. I mean, what the heck! .....and that being a weekend when Kenyans were supposed to be flocking into New Jersey.

Anyway, back to the memories and the good peoples... One people in particular stands out in my memories... probably because I just saw a picture I took of him, very inebriated, telling us about growing up in Kariobangi. Don't quite remember much of the details... actually none if I am to be honest. But I do remember chastising him for wasting my alcohol when each time I poured a generous portion of my Cpt. he would pour half of it (it seemed to me anyway), libation to his ancestors. A total waste of my money, I thought then, considering that chances were his ancestors had never heard of let alone tasted Captain Morgan Rum when they were alive.... I doubted very much they'd have much appreciation of it in their repose.

But not so Mr. Kariuki, in whose memory I was getting ready to drink to the other day when I was accosted by a certain Pastor Joanne. The good pastor was on that particular day leading the prayer service as we got together to mourn our departed brother, uncle, cousin, friend and fellow Kenyan. Kariuki would most certainly understand my not bothering to pour libation to his good memories considering it was on that very cement floor in my dear uncle's kitchen where, forgetting that he was not in his mother's hut in Karatina, he had insisted that we ought to dedicate a portion of our drink to our ancestors and gone on to spill a good portion of his Heineken on the ground..... Let's just say that the only thing that saved his life as the lady of the house came after him with hell's fury, was his slipping on the very drink he'd spilled and nearly killing himself.... perhaps, the ancestors were really looking out for him after all.

Unfortunately, not even the most watchful ancestors could save him from the treacherous roads in Kenya.... A point that I got the feeling Pastor Joanne was kinda driving at but never quite got to in her lengthy sermon. Probably because she got sidetracked and went off on a tangent or two talking about drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes. I was never quite good in geometry back in school so don't ask me what she said.... I could never follow a tangent let alone two. But I do remember her accusing me of hiding behind the alcohol and suggesting that all I got out of drinking was a fake high. Fake my ass, I wanted to snort out loud... fake or not, I'd prefer it to a low... wouldn't you?

Her premise, I gathered before I got distracted by a cute thing that had just walked into a wake in a mini-skirt.... designed, I'd say, to awaken even the dead... was I ought to give up the alcohol and turn to Jesus.

Now... pray do tell, why should I have to give up one love for the other? I mean, to bastardize our worldly President's favorite phrase, those two are not mutually exclusive now... are they? I raised my hand in objection... prepared to explain to her how my love affair with the Capt has led to my appreciating even more the Love that the Lord has got for me.... It is not rare for me, in a drunken moment, to recall quite distinctly the words to a X-tian hymn that I have not sung in nearly twenty years and bless my fellow drinkers with an off-key version of it.... And more often than not, a kindly fellow while sober, I become overly charitable when inebriated.... ask all those girls to whom I have given my number without them even having to ask...

So there I was enumerating all these pros of drinking alongside the 'For God so loved the World...' ones, and meanwhile the kindly Pastor had moved on from the sermon to the summons and she was now calling out to all those who would like to take a step of faith and accept....

Yeah, at that very moment she was calling out to the sinners amongst us, I had decided that I did indeed have a case to plead and raised my hand.

It took me but a few moments to realize my blunder... well, for luck of a better word anyway.... After all, this wasn't the first time that I had gotten saved, albeit by mistake.... He doth work in mysterious ways after all...and was about to ummm... withdraw my faltering step of faith when I saw the pleased look on the woman's face. Did I mention how charitable I get when inebriated....

Well, I just couldn't bring myself to wipe that look of happiness out of that face... After all, she was rather fetching and who knows, she might have gone on to suggest a private prayer session where we could reminisce on the good old Soul Night days at Carnivore... Yes, she was speaking from a position of ummmm.... knowledge when she spoke about the vices that are alcohol and cigarettes.... I should, perhaps, refer her to Loco's...

So anyway, last Friday, they laid Kariuki to rest.... and this time I spilled a little church wine on the ground... I couldn't afford to waste too much... the good stuff is rather expensive.... and given how much of it it takes to get me drunk.... In fact, the price alone is about to send me running back to the good ol' Capt'n.

Oh! Crap! Forgot I was blogging about my running... Well, after having acquired, via Pastor Joanne's impassioned prayers, faith as big as a mustard seed... I took on the mountains... and my legs are still telling the story... So FG... about that massage....