As he prostrated beside me, I recalled how the Turkana make a camel go down on its knees with sweet songs. I listened to the high tuned melodies of the choir as they sung “watakatifu wote mtuombee” and as the whole congregation reverberated in unison in response to the choir. I knew with certitude that a fighter voluntarily lay beside me, not because he was weak, but because he had endured so much as to come this far, and now he lay there on his own.
Similarly, this morning of 19 September, I watch from a distance as he prostrate again for the deaconate ordination. The one who had been struck so many times yet never fell, one who is so prone to all sort adversities yet unequalled in resilience. I want to ask him how he has made it, but then I remember that he will just burst into laughter. Not because I have that sense of humour as to make him laugh, but because his answers are always comical, “leo tumezipunguza. jioni ikifika tunatoa moja. Huwa ni 365 days na kila siku unatoa moja. Kwisha!!.” Now this is a funny way of living. Every day for him is lived as it comes and each day, one is deducted on its own – I think that is how he has come this far (maybe I should not think, I should be asking him).