First, let me apologize for getting back to you less promptly than the urgency of the matter at hand calls for. I do so because just like justice delayed is justice denied, I consider this late response – a response denied.

There comes a time in life, when one sits down to ponder on some momentous happenings and pose the question above. At a time when Kenya has made its own brand of history, I will not be left behind by all pundits, without a word or two about this moment.

Believe you me, when I say that I know what the leaders of both ‘green’ and ‘red’ are feeling at this time. . I say this because I have lived to witness so many referenda in my house, that I have lost count.

No one comes short in their allotted territory, because each man has his own gift from God; one has this gift, another has that. Everyone has enough resources to do the job because He has elected to make each a co-laborer with God.

How time flies amazes me. It was only the other day I was in Jamhuri, and am getting ready for the annual pilgrimage to the land of my forefathers.

The other day I went to the supermarket and bought what appeared to be a good bargain for beef patties. I was gearing for a nice one man cook out.

Jesus Christ played out His preliminaries on earth, defeated the enemy in the knock-out stage in hell and rose again in the finals, to make a public spectacle of how He triumphed, and disarmed all principalities and powers.

When Allan Paton penned his novel, “Cry the Beloved Country,” it was hailed for clearly mirroring the racial divide against a downtrodden populace.

Rev. Kiiru is a Godly man. He served as a priest in the African Inland Church-Kenya, for many years in various Parishes.

Jesus Christ took our penalty kick at the cross and scored. When we were slain by our own shortcomings, having no way to turn around the game that was going against us, God made us alive with Christ.

I have a mea culpa to make; there are a few things about me, which I do not understand. Take my waist for example. I have no idea what my waist measures.

Maina Mugwe is my paternal uncle’s eldest son, making him my ‘brother,’ according to the traditions of my people.