Br. Steve (N)

I always find it a wonderful thing to deal with people who are certain of what they want. Ever since I met Steve, I have always seen him as such. I am sure I can safely hide behind him because he is amusingly assertive, which I unfortunately lack. I remember a time we traveled to Kisumu for the burial of Br.Jabedo’s mother. We left Nairobi at four in the morning, took a very light breakfast at six in Nakuru and that was it, the meal for the rest of the day. We were quite a number of us in that car and all of us kept grumbling without openly telling the guardian we needed some food. How could he make us go for a whole twelve hours hungry, yet it was not Lenten season? Had it not been for Steve ever jokingly assertive character, I and all of us in the car would have changed nothing with our grumblings. Of course, we didn’t get a very good meal – it was ugali and Pilsner – but it is better than none at all.

Br. Steve (O)

Steve is simply a good man ‘but’ I tend to think he is too good. When I joined the order, he was at St. Padre Pio friary, Lang’ata and that first encounter is indelibly highlighted at the back of my mind as a one brotherly encounter. His was a very long stay at the friary. In fact, he remained there until some months before I came to stay in the house for Theology. What is he, if not a veteran in the house? I believe even the mosquitoes must had grown tired of his blood by the time he left the house.

                    I wonder if any single thing is really of concern to him. Our fears don’t seem to be his fears. In other words, fear doesn’t seem to exist in his world. Usually, we tend to be protective of people, things or even places - for our security's sake which is at times paranoid - not Steve. He has mentioned fear in my presence and as such awaken me in a way. One time, we were preparing for a house picnic and I was, just like everybody else, upbeat about it. As we waited for some other brothers to join us, someone started chanting and to keep with the mood, I took the drum and accompanied to chant. I didn’t do it for long. Steve looked at me and asked “Why did you stop” and then he continued “Richard shida yako wewe ni muoga sana. Unajua kitu lakini unaogopa watu, unaacha kufanya. PIGA NGOMA!” It was so easy a thing for him to say, yet so penetratingly put.

Br. Callist

At times I wonder how people get to do so much with seemingly less strain. Callist is one of them. I met him for the first time when he was making his final profession in Nairobi. Unlike the rest of the brothers in the same profession, he seemed so energetic despite the fact that they had all traveled from Tanzania and ran up and about for the day. As I trimmed his hair in preparation for the D-day, I expected him to doze off as many do. It happens always, the shaving machine soothes and often people doze off especially if they are tired, he did not.

                    It never occurred to me that traveling was a hobby to him. I have seen him travel from Mpeketoni to Nairobi to Kisii and back, non-stop – he even did the driving at one point. Traveling is seemingly a beautiful thing he takes pride in. Some months ago, he was talking to the one itinerary Br. Chris who was trying to challenge his him as a novice in regards to traveling. According to Chris, brothers hardly travel to new places unless the Order initiates, “lazima wengi wenu mtegemee shirika” to which Callist responds, “Travelling depends on ones interest. Mimi nilienda kwa Nyerere na Juzi tu nilikuwa Uganda, on my own”. Now I know why he seemed so full of life when I met him for the first, even after so long a journey from Kasita, it was just but a hobby. Indeed a brother full of life and energy.

Br. Simon

 I want to refer to him as a man of few words but I think I should simply refer to him as a man of ‘no words’. Strange, isn’t it? That is not strange to me in any way. I have lived with Simon in times when there were many brothers around and in times when there were no other brothers around except I and him. It is all the same, a quiet brother. At times I used to feel like I might be making noise by asking how he had slept the night before, but to my surprise he always asked first, “uko sawa ndugu”.

                    Well, ours was not a community. If you ask Br. Kamrata, he will say two is not a community, three is! It follows then that mine with Simon was not a community, it was two brothers, during which I had a chance to see the inner side of him, the prayerful Simon. For the first time – and the only time – I knelt before the Blessed Sacrament for two hour nonstop. I remained on my knees for that long because he knelt right in front of me and it seemed so good a thing to emulate. Well, I don’t know if I prayed but I believe God listens to the prayers of every part of us, that day He must have heard the cry of my knees.

                    After that stay with him, I left for Lusaka and he left for Ireland. We didn’t meet until after two years. Unlike how it goes with many people after staying for such a long time apart, I and Simon repeated our old phrase “uko sawa ndugu” and the presumably catch up chat was over!

Br. Martin

                    Trust me you, it is not always that what we see is simply what there is! This is a family and in a family you get to meet everyone in one way or another. Sometimes you never get to meet them physically, but you get to know a lot about them from other family members, some true some not, you choose what to take. I didn’t meet Martin until after my fourth year as a Capuchin. It was in the afternoon, indeed a slow one and we – brothers in formation – were preparing to leave for Meru for our annual retreat. What he said that first time is very much common a statement, “mtuombee sana”. Don’t you think it is very old a statement? I didn’t care what he said because he didn’t seem to pay attention to us let alone to what he had just said.

                  

  A few years later after his studies in Rome, we met. This time, I ought to have repeated the old statement but for some reasons and looking at him from outside, I didn’t – perhaps because of my pride. I actually never thought he knew me. Surprisingly, he knew me, not simply by name, but by character as well as the sleazy mud I had smeared on myself. I didn’t expect him to know that, after all, is he not the same Martin who didn’t seem to pay attention to our presence back in the day? How wrong I was. According to my judgement, his attention seemed somewhere else. On the contrary he was very much aware. “It will be well, it is just a matter of time” so he said, as he encouragingly patted my back. I almost asked him, “What will be well?” but I swallowed my pride, I had been proved wrong, what I thought I knew of him was all wrong. Such paradoxical, absently present!