Power is an intoxicating thing.

One of the few times I have had an encounter with power, just a brush of it, was in a mock court session at an Advocates training I happened to gain access to [with much controversy and alarm behind the scenes]. I was suddenly at the Commercial Court with access to the bench that the trajectory of my life had withheld from me, cross-examining the defendant in a matrimony cum succession cum land dispute. I went from gathering my notes at the table, with determined focus but recovering frailty straight to attack. The faux witness flinched, my cynical emphasis on her use of the title ‘wife’ as I sought to disqualify her from the position that would grant her access to the property under contention by another ‘wife’ struck a little too deep. I recovered quickly, but how far I had gone in a moment never left my mind.

Now that was not a real dispute, but I have been in the heat of one before, where the scales were falling rapidly* like a sinking Titanic*. Quizzically with a name that means power, I have, after a brief* political career in my childhood found myself hiding, in the shadows of every institution I have happened to exist within. That is, only with the exception of my time in a small central African Republic, which should have been a place of missing, of disappearing.

Power, upon which some have fashioned a creed, a game of stakes and control, the darkest of it, played behind a mask, hiding behind the principle of laissez faire, where you can throw lives and livelihood away into prison, at your beck and call, guns shoot and make disappear, public services go on and off like a light switch and you can set a fiery lid on the mouths and brains of an entire nation? How easy is it to step on a caterpillar just for fun?

Who is someone when they are no longer relevant to you? How do you treat those who now seem like a liability, a hump to your social ladder on your climb to the top? Is it lack or riches that expose true character? Does it matter at what point you joined the movement? In the bush or in the white house? Is it when you share a bodaboda or when you have the house? The jury is still out.

I wonder if maybe, feeling lost is a somewhat a struggle for relevance. Is expression of identity, dignity and dignity, power? Who gives us our relevance, our significance?

*

I wonder how with all the power that God has, he simply did not just make us to do His will. It takes a tremendous amount of love to stabilise power.

Whoever gives us our significance has the power to control us and might have the power to destroy us.

… sometimes, not often, i change the wording of something I’ve written, words are very important to me, to all of us, I would like to use them in the best way I can…*.