A Homage to Mr. & Mrs. Moore - Reflections of a Young Man™

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A Homage to Mr. & Mrs. Moore

This is Mr. & Mrs. Moore, the wonderful couple whose foundation sponsored my education at Starehe Boys' Centre at a time when my family was undergoing hard financial times that began when my mother underwent a heart surgery at the turn of this century.

The great inspirational figure and educationalist William Arthur Ward once said, "The mediocre teacher tells, the good teacher explains, the superior teacher demonstrates, the greater teacher inspires." I can't find a better example of inspiring teachers than Mr. & Mrs. Moore, the wonderful couple in the photo above who hail from the bountiful state of Indiana in the United States. Mr. Moore taught me History while Mrs. Moore taught me English - both in junior high school.

Although I was never a star student in their classes, the Moores inspired me to learn more with their dedication and creativity. They went out of their way to give us files for arranging our papers and expanded our knowledge beyond what was required of us in the curriculum. Like Mr. Moore had us know that Guglielmo Marconi was the inventor of the radio. And that 50% of the world's wealth is in the United States - I am not sure if that's still the case given the recent rise of India, Brazil and China as world powers.

But what I enjoyed most in the classes of the Moores were the fun-facts they told us at the beginning of every lesson. I still remember some of them like that Mr. Moore was a school-mate of Neil Armstrong, the first man to land on the moon.

I also remember Mrs. Moore asking us in one lesson, "What do George H. W. Bush, Bill Clinton and Mr. Moore have in common?" We all tried to guess what they had in common but nobody figured out which forced Mrs. Moore to tell us that they were all left-handed.

That the Moores cared deeply about our education was revealed in the way they invited one Mr. Kennedy Hongo to one of their classes to lecture us on the dangers and spread of HIV/AIDS. I enjoyed listening to Mr. Hongo; his lecture probably explains why I have refrained from engaging in pre-marital sex. And I am thankfully glad to report that going by the HIV test I underwent recently, I am negative in so far as having that deadly virus is concerned.

Not only did I appreciate the Moores for their dedication in teaching but also for their unending generosity. They used to lend me newspapers when I was in Form 2 which made me stay abreast of what was happening in Iraq during the Gulf War 2 that was engendered by the Bush administration following the infamous 9/11 attacks. And my education at Starehe, as I have pointed out in the caption of the picture above, was sponsored by the Moore Foundation. Actually, it's their son - Mr. Mark Moore - who sponsored me under the umbrella of the foundation.

We, the Moore Foundation fellows, were always treated to special dinners and trips. We feasted on sumptuous dishes at the school canteen on special occasions, went golfing at 5-star hotels and toured the Nairobi National Museum. Can you see how generous they were?

I have kept in touch with the Moores over the years, including at one time when I begged fees for my university education from them but they flatly replied that they don't sponsor anyone beyond Starehe years. And I was a bit saddened when Mrs. Moore informed me sometimes last year that Mr. Moore passed away on 22nd May of 2016.

For some reasons, Mrs. Moore has tactfully refused to share with me the contacts of Mr. Mark Moore, her step-son who I have said sponsored my education at Starehe. Maybe she fears I might pester him with pleas for financial assistance. But I want to let her know, if she's reading this story of mine, that I have matured up. As in, I no longer nag people for help and I nowadays don't dish out contacts of important people in my life to friends and strangers alike.

All told, the Moores inspired me. They were the kind of teachers that the great inspirational figure and educationalist William Arthur Ward would describe as great. I thank God for having let them cross my life. And I have resolved that should I ever get a chance to visit the United States, the most successful nation in history and the land of my heroes, I will have to drop by their home in Indiana to catch up. So help me God.


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An Inspiring Advert

Over a decade ago while preparing to report back to Starehe Institute for my final months of a diploma course in Information Technology, I was browsing through an old Time magazine when I came across an advert on rolex - the classy watch made in Switzerland. I was so inspired by the advert that I penned down what it said in a notebook I still have to this day. The advert said:
"There are people who believe that the world moves forward on the back of inspiration and ideas. For them, a day is more than 24 hours. A day is an opportunity to make something happen - to make a positive difference. They are the people who believe that making a contribution matters. And they find it impossible to go about their lives any other way. These are the same people you'll often find wearing rolex. Not because they have to. Because it's who they are.

A rolex watch will never change the world. We leave that to the people who wear them."
So inspired was me by that advert that I used its words to interview Starehe Institute students who wanted to join Gskool.com - an educational website I co-founded with my classmates Stephen Mutevu and Kennedy Munene. I have long since ceased to be part of the website. Same with Munene. But Mutevu still runs it with admirable persistence and professionalism.

That rolex advert still inspires me to this day though am not sure if I will ever buy the classy watch. Maybe I will when I get as rich as King David, my hero in the Bible.

By the way, I have a friend called Rolex Mwamba who I noted doesn't like getting known as Rolex. He calls himself Mwamba Onyiego on Facebook. I will let him read this story of mine and hopefully by the time he finishes reading it, he will become proud of his name Rolex.


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Salvation is Free Folks!

This is me with my friend Michuki after we were ordained to be receiving the Holy Sacrament circa April 2000. I haven't seen or heard from Michuki in more than a decade but I shall forever remain grateful to the Catholic Church for instilling me with a spirit of morality, discipline and knowledge that have served me well in my life so far.

Back in the '90s, there was this anecdote which made rounds in the impoverished Naru-moru Primary School near my home in Kiserian where I began my kindergarten education in 1993. I stayed in the school till the last term of my Standard 7 education in 2000.

The anecdote was of a boy in the school who attended a Catholic mass one Sunday during which he saw people receive the Holy Sacrament: a small, round and white substance that looks more like a biscuit baked without any additional ingredients apart from wheat flour. Curious to know how the sacrament tastes, the boy resolved he would have to taste it the following Sunday.

According to Catholic Church customs, the sacrament is a symbol for a bread for the soul. It is a freebie because Jesus Christ came to save souls for free. All you need to receive the sacrament as per Catholic customs is to attend catechism classes in the church where you will be taught Biblical values after which you will be ordained in a special mass to be receiving the sacrament.

But the boy who resolved to taste the sacrament didn't know all that stuff. He thought that the tithes offered during mass (which come before Holy Communion) was a payment for the sacrament just like the way you hand out a few coins to a shopkeeper in order to receive a biscuit. So the boy went to look for a few coins and went back to the church the following Sunday.

Now, the Catholic priests usually say "The Body of Christ" before giving out the sacrament. And when the priests say so, you are supposed to reply "Amen", bow your head slightly and then open your mouth with the tongue sticking out in readiness to receive the sacrament. But the boy didn't know that either.

Armed with a few coins, the boy turned up for mass the following Sunday. He tithed during the offertory session. He then lined up during Holy Communion session to receive the sacrament. And when his turn to receive the sacrament reached and the priest said to him "The Body of Christ", the boy looked at the priest straight in the eye and replied, "I have paid!"

That anecdote usually sets me laughing when I think about it because the sacrament is a symbol of salvation which is free. All you need to get saved is surrender your pride and acknowledge Jesus Christ as Lord. Let no pastor ever hoodwink you into parting with your money in order to get saved. Salvation is free for shizzle.

So to make salvation more freely available in a modernized way, just click the button below if you would like to get saved:

Haha! Indeed, you are now saved. Let no more sins and sorrows grow in you. Be reading the Bible everyday. Be meditating on its message regularly. Be attending a Bible-based church that sings joyful songs. Be forgiving of yourself and others. Be beautiful. Be loving. Be honest. Be humble. Be bold. Be you!


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