WHO KILLED PASTOR STROBO?
ABOUT THE BLOGGER
Rev. Dr. James Mbotela Syomuti, ThD, DD, PhD, is a Kenyan citizen and he lives in Kitui County, near Kitui Town. He is married to Anna and they have been blessed with six children, (four sons and two daughters.) All of their children are now adults and some of them are married. He is a pastor, a teacher, an artist, a writer of fiction and nonfiction, a poet, a humorist and he is also a prolific personal blogger (https://syomuti.blogspot.com). He has a deep passion for writing content. So far, he has written and published some ebooks with Smashwords Publishing Platform in USA. His published titles are; (1) The Maid (2) The Moving Mouth (3) The Virgin (4) The Drunkard. (5) The Soliloquist (One), (6) The Soliloquist (Two). (7) The Stranger & Other Poems. You can access the above books by visiting his site on the internet, by clicking https://syomuti.com He has taught students at different Secondary Schools in his home county for many years down the line. He is an approved Bible Skills Institute (BSI) trainer, a theological program of Every Home for Christ International, (HeadquartersThe Jericho Center, Colorado Springs, COUSA). He teaches church adults theological courses. On top of that, he teaches adults (physically), English Language. He is a born again Christian, a pastor and the Founder/Bishop of Siloam Worship Center International Ministries. You can access the church details online, by just writing and clicking the above underlined name, on the internet. He is an itinerant preacher, a radio preacher and a teacher of the Word of God. He has several certificates and diplomas in theology, from national and international Bible Schools. He has a certificate in Spiritual Life Development from Northwestern Christian University, in USA. Above all, he has honorary doctorate degrees of Doctor of Humanity (DH) and Doctor of Theology (ThD) from Prixton Church & University, in USA. He also has a Bachelor of Arts (BA) in Ministry Science, and honorary doctorate degrees of;Doctor of Achievement in Ministry Science, Master of Arts (MA) in Ministry Science, Doctor of Divinity (DD) in Ministry Science and Doctor of Philosophy (PhD) in Ministry Science, from Abide University, in USA.
WHO KILLED PASTOR STROBO?
In the core of the hearts
of the people of that village,
existed the deep mystery
and the disturbing news,
concerning the assailant
who killed pastor Strobo.
The entire fraternity of the divine service, had been immeasurably stung and perplexed, by the sorrowful news, about the untimely and unexpected death, of the prolific pastor, whose flock had been left without a shepherd.
Who killed pastor Strobo?
The villagers had been wondering and pondering. But nobody seemed to have any idea, about the merciless assailant.
The local media had been flooded
with the shocking news, about the perplexing question, of the assailant, who killed pastor Strobo.
His bereaved wife and children,
had been crying day and night
in their house.
Efforts from the neighbors
and the flock of the deceased,
and as well as the mourners,
to console the family, had proved to be fruitless.
Everybody had been asking the same question. Who killed pastor Strobo? Precise track record of his reputation, indicated that he was a servant of rare and exceptional integrity.
That, apart from being a man of God, he was a diplomat,
full of wisdom and charisma.
His preaching and gestures,
were always full of power,
and godly anointing,
which always carried the impact
that moved his audience.
But now everybody was at the cross roads of the disturbing question, which had become the refrain of the day, of the unknown person, who killed pastor Strobo?
TIME AND MAN
The minute hand of the clock,
swings round and round,
and here I am, the time conscious man, staring at the clock vacantly.
Time is running out of my hands.
Man has so many ways of wasting it, yet he does not have the slightest idea, of how to create even a minute.
Oh dear me, time is moving. Neither time nor conscience,
neither man nor reality,
are the answers
to the big question,
of the meaning of life.
Oh time, time,
time offers no margin
of compromise to man.
Dear time, why do you continually
push man ahead and ahead,
day and night? And yet, man has so many missions, to accomplish on this earth.
Oh time, what a great enemy you are, to man. Since time immemorial, you have always managed to be a faster runner than man.
And in the long run,
man surrenders in the race of life.
Oh man, there you are,
rotting in the abyss of destruction,
below the earth’s surface,
forever and ever.
And time continues moving,
with or without the presence of man.
THE GANGSTERS
The screeching of police car tyres,
The sudden grinding and halting,
The random shooting,
The prolonged hooting of heavy traffic horns,
The police cars and their siren relentless wailing, The atmosphere is dangerously charged.
People are running frantically.
Everybody is trying to take cover.
Everybody is now for himself but God for us all.
There is heavy shooting in the city.
Gunshots have saturated the atmosphere. The latest announcement from the police boss says that, nobody should get out of their houses.
Everybody should stay indoors,
until further notice. Some people have been inevitably trapped,
in this drama of ‘shoot or be shot.’
Shops have been closed,
because some opportunists have been in a looting spree.
It is not business as usual.
The empty dustbins have become good places for safety.
The normal life routine has changed. There is relentless wailing and groaning.
The heavy traffic has completely
been immobilized. The vehicle owners have not fled. They are in their vehicles taking cover.
They cannot be seen.
The corps are in the alert gear.
their boss has instructed them adequately.
Attention officers. Attention officers. We are dealing with a very delicate situation.
The situation is quite volatile.
We cannot take any chances.
Attention please. Attention please.
We are appealing to the general public, to be wary of the dangerous gangsters, who are lurking in the city.
We are issuing a stern warning,
once again to every driver on the road, to stop driving for some time.
We are combing the city,
in order to crack down the gangsters.
No pedestrian should be seen walking now. Everybody should lie down, on their stomach.
Don’t you make a mistake
of touching anything with your hands. By so doing, we might suspect you of attempting to use a firearm.
HOT PURSUIT
Why do you pursue me, day and night? Sleepless nights
have been part and parcel,
of my frail life. In the core of my existence, you have threatened me persistently.
Yes, I say in this hot pursuit of yours, my timid heart, has been restless. Surely I cannot fathom, how long this pursuit will take. In the nothingness, and futility of this life, you have pursued me
up and down.
And eventually, here I am in the quagmire of indecision,
waiting and panting in intense fright and anguish. Where do you get your audacity from,
to toss me this way and that way?
Why do you pursue me like a charged hunter, pursuing a wounded wild game?
WHERE ON EARTH?
Where on earth, did you take
Mulewa’s only child?
Where are you hiding that innocent child, you inconsiderate kidnapper?
In the stillness of that night,
when everybody was deep asleep,
and when the crickets shrieked occasionally,
to punctuate the night’s stillness and loneliness, you tip-toed gingerly towards her house.
And since she was not in the house, you took away her only son,
and the only child she had.
Where on earth,
did you take that lonely
and frail child, of our neighbor, Mulewa?
It is quite mysterious. The entire village has been plunged,
into a state of total fear and uncertainty.
An atmosphere of desperation
has gripped our village. Our neighbors observe that,
the dogs did not bark that night,
to raise the alarm and wake them up.
This is an extremely unbearable,
and a disturbing issue. Where on earth might you be keeping that child? Where on earth can anyone contact you, to pay some ransom,
for the child’s redemption?
The child’s mother
and the neighbors have been cursing and mourning.
The entire village
has been transfixed,
in a state of confusion,
in a thunderbolt stricken manner.
MR. MAN'S SCARECROW
In Mr. Man’s farm,
just near the hedge,
which borders the ravine
that supplies water to the village folk, there is a funny looking scarecrow.
Nobody knows when Mr. Man made it. It is always dangling
on his dry orange tree,
in a ready to attack position.
Its tattered hat which looks like the American Sombrero,
is made of palm tree leaves.
Its shirt is red, dirty and tattered.
It has a few white patches,
here and there. Everytime I look at it, it reminds me of the old man who was employed as a herdsman,
by our village elder.
Mr. Man’s scarecrow,
has a simply made bow and arrow.
When strong wind blows,
the scarecrow turns this way and that way, and it gives you the impression that,
it is just about to shoot
with its harmless weapon.
Mr. Man’s scarecrow arrow,
is made of an old rusty piece
of corrugated iron sheet.
The legs are made of dry grass.
The scarecrow’s undersize long trouser, is definitely the same trouser, that Mr. Man’s grandfather used to wear, when he was alive.
These days, one of the scarecrow’s leg, is nowhere to be seen.
It seems like, Mr. Man has not been frequenting his farm for quite some time. I think the naughty school boys who have been frequenting Mr. Man’s farm,
to steal his mangoes and paw paws, as they go back home from school, can be held responsible for the missing leg, of Mr. Man’s scarecrow.
You can contact me through;
Email:syomuti@gmail.com or jambsy@yahoo.com
Mobile:+254724649652 or +254718776259
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/jamesmbotela.syomuti.7
Twitter:https://twitter.com/jambsy@yahoo.com
Website:https://syomuti.com
Blog:https://syomuti.blogspot.com
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