There is feeling that I should just type the name - Br. Joseph – then leave a long blank space, just to make you understand how little can be said of him. This is among the brothers I have spent quality time with but the truth is that little can be said. Nonetheless, I remember we chose him as our representative at one point. I somehow don’t remember voting because I never thought I needed to be represented anyway, but I remember he was my representative. His decisions were straight and clear, followed by his silence.
It happened that we had been invited by the sisters to celebrate the day of their founder. One of us had to go and Joseph could not think of anyone else but me. He came to me and said, “Unaenda wewe”. I never responded because certainly I was not going. “What kind of a celebration can the sisters have surely?” I wondered. I could not imagine celebrating any thing save the liturgy – and I did not go. Whether Joseph was irked by that or not, I don’t know! A few days later, Joseph came to me with a cutting from one of the dailies’ cartoons which was a comical signpost saying
the first character in the Cartoon asked,
“what if he doesn’t die?”
“well, he will be shot again!”. responded the second character.
Joseph left me in stitches. A few weeks later, we had our own celebration. Naïve as I was, Joseph made me the MC of the day. Whatever energy of resistance remained in my bowels dried.