Reflection on Sunrise #1

There is no beauty that parallels the glory of the Morning Sunrise. As the warm shafts of the sun lick the caps of hills and mountains, the birth of a new day is heralded. Much earlier, the darkness of dusk and silhouette of nothingness progresses to the chirp of birds and crows of cocks. As the lights of a new day engulf the expanse of nature, confidence is restored. Predators retreat, preys run about to celebrate yet another triumph over death, evil hatched in the darkness of the night takes refuge in unlit woodworks and ledges.

As one watches the sun rising in the East, one can’t help but marvel at the ironies of nature. Darkness gives way to light, coldness gives way to warmth, and the dominance of the stars and the moon are soon relegated by the iridescent rays of the morning sun. The artificial neon lights designed by man are soon dwarfed by the natural light, all-night-long bonfires die at dawn and candles blown off.

To add to this beauty, animals and man in full spleandour wake up as if to bear testimony to this marvel. Soft music from radio, cow-bells, the whistle of the herdsman, troop to the well or the river by women, all these are the accoutrements of the morning glory. 

As dawn quickly fades, the morning music of Amka Kumekucha by Maroon Commandos will filter into my ears. Uvivu ni adui mkubwa wa ujenzi wa taifa, kamata jembe na panga uende shamba/ Hata wewe karani amka kumekucha/…. Uvivu ni kiini haswa kisababishajo njaa…When I hear this song, sleep deserts me, all over sudden some feeling of hidden potentials of a new day attacks my spirit and soon I am awake.

I bolt from the bed with a revived spirit to carry me through the day. In the next hours that lie before me, I know all that I need are the right ingredients: time consciousness, right attitude, determination, unity of purpose. Mornings don’t discriminate, they are not tribal, they are not racist, they visit upon man equally. Mornings can’t be split, they are whole and in this wholesomeness man is reminded an important aspect of life in selflessness and achievement of one’s full potentials. 

The sun never spares its spleandour, it just shines as the day progresses. In fact, its rays progress from feeble, bask-friendly to the scorching, sultry, burning itself up, exhausting much heat it possesses as if to make man learn that the sun also means business. Conversely, could such scorching heat also portend another hidden message that the sun bears too? That of intolerance, show-off, a competition in the galaxy? Could such also reflect on man’s excesses given ability in position of service? Could the habit of the sun reveal how man’s self-same talent could bring about fellow man’s triumph or ruination? What shall we say of how the sun creeps into wall cracks of people’s houses without invitation? If man wants to sleep in the dark, pray, what right does the sun have to shine its light and disturb such a man’s privacy? Could we also glean mankind’s nature here too?