Reflecting on Purpose

You know when you get introduced to a new community hence language and how sometimes you’ll have someone teach you the basics so as to get by? Like learn how to greet, say thank you and ask for directions…. Sometimes you start to get the hang of it and even forge a few sentences here and there. Then sometimes you stop (maybe coz you left that community or no longer have anyone to throw your broken language at) practicing and the progress you made flies out of the window until you meet someone who is a native speaker and then you suddenly remember you can greet and forge a few things. And how after that brief “heroic” moment (nanti eh! You can speak that language too?!), you slip back into oblivion….

Well, hold that thought.

One of the strangest relationships I have had is with music. Like nange olusi sibitegela. We are as if close but not close, as if into each other but not. As they say, it seems complicated. Naye kale we’ve known each other since childhood…kale laba childhood friends! Things like music (the Arts nebigendelawo) usually ensure to track you down early (as early as in your mother’s womb  ) and commit to you for life. Our story – still unfolding.

So, back in the day when our relationship was quite young and blossoming, this dear friend of mine ensured I get a crush on the percussion (to this day I’m not sure if this has remained that way, or grown to more or much less). At the time I played the animal skin drums in the school chapel; I literally came to life spending time with these beauties. I was a school choir “crasher” (choir was only for music ‘takers’). There is a time the choir was practicing for the national competitions (which I never once attended because crashers definitely don’t get that privilege). They had brought in the Ndere Centre team to train us. I was playing bass adungu. Eh, the sadness, the drag.

You see, this friend of mine is multifaceted and as in most friendships and relationships, there a things about the other ‘person’ that you may not necessarily be crazy about either for a while or forever. And for me, strings is one such thing (not even guitar). I absolutely love the sound that comes from them but I don’t fancy playing them. Anyways, after a while, for some reason a drumming slot opened up. When they asked who could play the drums, my hand quickly shot up. I played. I thrived. The joy! 

My acquaintanceship with drums rotated around this skin and wood for some years. Then I joined university and met their cousin. Hoh! Just know this crush was growing. Nanti these ones had simanya a kick/pedal, hi-hat, manya cymbals, snare and toms. We got introduced, fooled around and loved it. We even filled in for pros whenever they were late for practice…of course just giving tempo and all, nothing posh. Life went on and after university I decided I needed to heighten the effort I was putting into this particular relationship. I sought and found a teacher. Denis Habeba…where are you ooh? (Anybody know?)

You remember the thought you held? My teacher started to help me learn this drum language. I started to pick a few words and phrases. Something happened (I don’t remember what) and the lessons stopped. It was during this period that I had gotten me those sticks in the photo below. It’s been about 10 years since and we’ve moved together…from house to house, wardrobe to wardrobe, box to box. They are still here. And all I can do is “greet” in their language. 

Kale imagine these sticks have a purpose – to clap and bounce off snares, rub against cymbals and work with all these other parts to produce sound, sound that ultimately tickles ears, soothes souls and makes bones move almost involuntarily. Eish! But check….cruel me has confined them to a life of closet hoping, coming out once in a blue moon only to go right back . Mmmmm?! Embarrassing! Singa I was using them to hold up something at least or stir my porridge or something… But that would be abuse!

Do you know why the creator of this beautiful universe placed you on His earth? The purpose to which you have been called? Have you asked Him? Are you playing your role? Have you abused it? Are you fulfilled? Are there things on the inside of you that just travel from place to place inside your body but never really come out to unveil that drum pattern or roll? 

Did you once have it going but can’t tell how and where things fell out of place? As far as your purpose is concerned, are you on the road to speaking that language fluently or have you settled for knowing just how to say hello and bye?

These past several weeks we’ve all had the opportunity to slow down. I hope that it’s been some good time to reflect and get back to the drawing board; but especially back to tuning our antennas to hear from heaven, to hear from our ever loving Father that we may be able to do His will. 

“who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace which was given to us in Christ Jesus before time began” – 2Tim 1:9

(Banange, if you’ve read to this point bakuwe kyonywa hahaha! The Lord bless you and increase you. May you live to fulfill the Lord’s purpose for your life in your generation, amen)