‘Be My Date!’ Ten Years After, Will it matter?

 ‘Be My Date?’ Ten Years After, Will it matter?

 

Nine years ago, several friends asked me what my photo was doing, as part of the marketing for the programme, ‘Be My Date?’

I told them that I had never heard of this programme and that they were surely mistaken. By the fifteen or so person to approach me, my interest was piqued. In 2014, I was busy running the Babishai Niwe Poetry Foundation, attending to the wishes of every poet on the continent, including their grandmother's, without a thought to other activities. This year, we are focused on editing and publishing African poets.

I am sure my friends thought that my photo was part of one of my special literary campaigns, as they tried to no avail, to find the connection between me and this programme.

My instincts told me to let it go, that by the next year, it would not matter. Against my better judgement, I sent a message on their Facebook page, to kindly remove my photo, which I had not even seen yet. That was in 2014.

Nine years after, the message still sits there, forlorn, unattended to, without a date (pun intended).

On deciding to travel to the TV station, the lady whom I was led to, uninterested in my request to remove my photo, must have been reprimanded by her workmates, who were in the room at the time, passing me furtive glances. Shortly after, my friends reported that my photo had been removed.

It mattered that my friends told me. That was nine years ago. And yes, to me, it still matters.

The mentioned Studio Photo taken in 2010

The message.

One day somebody borrowed a certain tiny car that I used to drive, and parked it in a dingy part of town. Someone called to ask if I had sold it, because I had built a profile that bore no resemblance to where the car was parked. That was over ten years ago. And yes, it matters.

It matters if people are able to associate you with something that you have willingly or unwillingly worked towards.

They will not always be there to stand up for you. Your life should be able to stand up for itself. Even through the many times that we all stumble, our lives should still be able to speak for themselves.

Whatever life you have chosen, stand up and own it, so that others are able to recognize your presence, even when you’re not there.

 

Blessings!

Bev

How I Would Love to See Fela Kuti in Concert!

 ‘How I would love to see Fela Kuti in concert!’

That conversation took place a good number of years ago. I didn’t know who Fela Kuti was. I just needed to keep up the conversation, since everyone around me was educated in all things African music.

‘How I would love to see Fela Kuti in concert!’

Not until someone whispered. “Beverley, Fela Kuti is dead.”

Another one, rather uncomfortably said, “I’m sure she was talking about his son.”

Those were the years when I was still living my inauthentic self, with an insatiable need to appear in a certain way before people. I needed people to perceive me as intelligent, educated and interesting. Their validation was all that I lived for.

Growing in authenticity. 2010

2021

Do we even know what we sound like?

When there is no one else prodding us and whispering things in our ears, do we know what we sound like?

When nobody is amplifying our sound on a pedestal or dimming our sound by muting our efforts, do we really know what we sound like?

We have been told innumerable times, to speak up and speak out. This does not mean we need to shout. What it means, is that we need to make our authentic selves heard.

There are so many inauthentic people, those who hide their flaws. Instead of saying,

“Please tell me more about Fela Kuti,” we go on a continuous verbal onslaught, against our better judgement and make fools of ourselves.

There’s something pure about vulnerability, about letting go of people pleasing, of understanding that ‘No’ is a complete sentence. The more you abandon yourself to please others, the more you’ll forget who you are.

What are your values? If you value healthy eating, prayerfulness and exercise, then walk away from those who dim this part of you.

If there are spaces where you always feel like you are second guessing yourself, walk away. They are muting your authenticity. Whether it’s siblings, spouses, work colleagues or old friends, you know that they are interfering with your journey of self-awareness. Just let them go. On this journey, you will find those that will nourish you.

Authenticity is being able to acknowledge your flaws, apologize when necessary and give credit to those that deserve it.

It’s knowing that the more you hold onto the breadcrumbs being offered on some platforms, the less you’ll be able to experience the yeast that helps you arise every single day.

Join me this evening on 20 February, 2023, at 7pm EAT, on this important topic, as I wind down my excellent seven years of service at Toastmasters. The topic: ‘Identify Your Authentic Voice.’ The registration link is here.

 Identify Your Authentic Voice

The day after the wedding, is more important than the wedding day.

 The day after the wedding, is more important than the wedding day.

The day after you give birth, is more important than the day you give birth.

The day after the accolade, the day after you arrive in the new country, the day after.

Think of the day after; because that’s the most important day.

                                                    

                                                           Taken on 07/07/07 at Dolicoes Studios

We have all watched interviews, heard our friends say it and often gushed it ourselves, that our wedding day, or the day we got the job, or the day we travelled, gave birth, were the most important days of our lives.

I halt y’all, right there, skid marks and all. A screeching halt, burnt rubber, with the awful smell rising.

The most important day, is the day after.

When you’re a virgin on your wedding night and were promised angels and golden awards for your virginity, you’ll most likely still be waiting, because the day after is when your thighs are bruised, your head aches and you’re dazed, from a long night of partying and listening to speeches, camera lights, preceded by a week of sleepless nights.

It’s the day you wake up from all of this and you are still determined that it was worth it and you can actually see what you both look like without make-up, bow ties and hair gel, without maids in waiting and carriages at your beck and call. That is the most important day. When the butterflies have gone to roost and your body and mind are healing from the flurry of it all, and you are still agreeable, then congratulations.

It's the day after the media interviews, holding your countless trophies, hugging a ceaseless number of friends, acquaintances and skeptics, when all of that is gone and the trophies have no space in your sitting room and your phone stops ringing, the job offers have stopped flooding in and when the last camera has stopped clicking and the party is over.

It’s the day after all of that, when there is hardly any response to any of the emails from the large pile of business cards that were thrust into your hands, during your moments of fame.

If, after all of that, you can still thrust your chest out and hold a smile that’s warmer than Uganda, and acknowledge your goals, aspirations and visions to a brighter tomorrow, then you’ve found the most important day. It’s not the award but it’s what it represents. Because even without it, and even without the fame, it means you still know who you are and what you stand for.

I have had more media interviews than I can count, my name mentioned in more circles than I dare to say and my former students spent copious amounts of time googling my name in awe. Did any of that matter? Maybe.

What I do know is that even before google, and I had my yahoo account, I still knew what I stood for and what I represented.

Old email address: bevwithjc@yahoo.com

It’s always the day after, that matters. Build your foundation. Remain unshakeable, with or without the accolade. You are.

 

Bless!

Beverley N Nsengiyunva

It was on an ordinary morning in 1997; Pastor Gary the Legend

 It was on an ordinary morning in 1997.

I was in my senior six vacation, and I knew that I needed to speak to somebody about a few things that were troubling me. I needed someone sound, sincere and steadfast. I took a taxi to KPC, to meet Pastor Gary Skinner. We didn’t have an appointment.

The conversation was easy. I told him about my childhood, how I enjoyed the places we lived, my father who enabled us to have a splendid life given his work, and how a lot of that had changed. I spoke to him about how after becoming saved, I felt like my confidence had waned. I had stopped being as audacious, self-aware and outgoing as I used to be. I needed to understand the dissonance.

Why did I feel like I had lost my identity? I missed the old me, who was popular, brilliant at everything I set my mind to, (except cooking and sewing, at the time). I was Bev. What had happened! I felt I’d lost my confidence and cheerful attitude, two attributes that are central to who I am.

I needed to know if I truly understood who God was and where He was in my future. I wanted answers. I wasn’t a member of KPC. I don’t think I belonged to any particular church except the school fellowships, like many of us.

Pastor Gary listened intently and said,

“Beverley, you do not look like you have lost your confidence. You’re one of the most confident people to ever walk into my office. You speak well.”

I don’t remember the rest of what he said. I don’t even remember if he prayed for me.

What I do remember, is that Pastor Gary sees people. He sees you. He sees potential and harnesses it. His unwavering confidence in God and the systems created under KPC and Watoto, led him to disciple Pastor Rwotlonyo, who’s now the lead Pastor of Watoto.

Screenshot of the handover ceremony.

Screenshot of Pastor Rwot and Vernita

To witness a missionary establishment with enough confidence in God and the systems they have created in Uganda to enable another Ugandan to lead, is noteworthy.

I have helped to coordinate two children’s Cantatas under Watoto, worked at Power FM under KPC and while still there, taught Sunday school there for a number of years. Enough to know the tenacious spirit that goes into planning, under Marilyn and her team.

The fastidious strength of the leaders is admirable. Like any place, there are insurmountable challenges. At least we don’t read about any back stabbing or mud-slinging from insecure ‘opponents’ on social media. Whatever it is, they deal with it on the inside.

Admit it, we all learned something about leadership from the handover of Pastor Gary to Pastor Rwot and from Marilyn to Vernita. Yes, we did.

And those who may have borne grudges, been shrouded under misunderstandings, had to rethink.

I’m glad that Pastor Gary is writing a book, which many of us will be blessed by. I know that there will be continued growth and in a few decades when Pastor Rwot hands over, there will be another similar post.

Bless!

Beverley N Nsengiyunva