Br. Brian

I will tell you about Br Brian but first I will tell you about two types of people, then you put him where you wish. People come up with various analyses of people and number these personalities. I also want to put down mine. Research can be done later by scientists about these two types.  First is what I will call the face value speakers and second are the authentic speakers. Face value speakers will tell you everything they deem right for that moment even if they do not mean it. They will make the listener feel good. They make the listener feel like a hero, while they mean none of their words. On the other hand, authentic speaker are usually scrooge with words. They don't see the need to talk if it is not true and if they don't mean it. They can be quite boring and that is why we don’t want them much around us. Who want to get bored anyway? As a matter of fact, it is not easy to make a quiet man laugh or be made laugh by one. Brian is different because his laughter flows like a river which makes those around him helpless. Do you know the type of people who make you laugh not by the story they tell but by their hilarious laughters that carry you along even before they tell the story? Br Brian!

Today being a Friday, we hit the road to Laini, a small village in our parish. On our way back Brian is engrossed in a very rib cracking conversation with an elderly sister in our company. It is her first experience in the village. Brian keeps teasing her about her powerful teaching. Unlike Brian who had only met two Christians that afternoon, sister had met an approximate number of not less than fifteen. So Brian tells sister that his was very boring. Sister on the other hand says hers was exciting because it had many people. So he says,"sister ukiongea na watu wengi, eti unaskia vizuri sana?" The way he made it sound is like the Sister had felt a good tide around her body like one who is seated on a merry go round swing! Even before he could finish the sentence, the sister had already admitted with a big YES, sending us all into hysterical laughter and Brian keeps fueling it with his laughter.

Br. Moko

Sometimes I wonder how young men who do not even have a single hair below their nose come to acquire so much wisdom, at their age. I know of only one master and his tricks on the minds of elders at the temple when he was only a teen (Lk 2:41-52), but he was the son of God so he knew a great deal of this universe because they built it with his father! Let me put this way: A man dressed in jeans and clad in an Arsenal FC jersey is not a perfect image of wisdom, right? They are supposed to be hanging themselves after their team has lost. At least that is how I know sports fanatics, empty heads, until you think of Jude Moko. Ka-game is his style, even his former buddies at the minor seminary thought so of him.

          A while back, I thought I knew it all, or at least I knew more than Jude. I would talk to him instead of sharing with him. After all, that is how juniors should be treated, rather less important! One morning as I was talking TO him, and giving commands to him to follow me, he did. Right at my heel, I knew an empty headed young man was in need of me. It was a great feeling to be superior or to feel superior. Like any proud and stress-free mind does, I whistled with pride as I led him to wherever we were going. Jude must have been listening to my whistling for quite a while before he said. “Najua hiyo whistling yako sio wimbo, unajua nyimbo nyingi watu huwa wanawhistle hazikuagi nyimbo kwa kawaida, nikujiskia vizuri tu.” And it was true, there was no song, I was just dancing in pride of being needed! Why would God allow such a young fellow to sound so wise? As I grapple with that, I remember a psalm that I had read of another young man who had become wiser than his elders (Ps 119:100). A few more times when we were working together, I learnt that his understanding of things comes pretty easy and yet he is never boastful of it.

I have really aged in foolishness!

Br. Shumila

        I wonder whether John Mbiti verily meant to say that an African has no sense of time and his life is shaped by events. If that is what he meant, then I am truly an African. When Shumila paid us a visit, he sparked in me a lovely thought. It is a thought of an event. It is of an awesome evening with him, then my formatter. If I was to recount this by beginning like a true son of this African soil, I would do it in this manner. A long, long, time ago, when I put down this interesting evening with Shumila I ate and drank from his fat pockets. In my memory it looks like last night.

      

Apparently, I had never thought I really would like to go to the airport to receive strangers and hold a placard all night, seemingly the best form imbecility because I was holding that piece of paper at the wrong exit. Eventually our strangers arrived though they never saw me. I was only informed later. On our way back, we had a hungry lot that was coming from Rome, so shumila decided to treat us in some Kenyan way. He turned to me and said, “riiich, leo niko na pesa nyingi. Hawa watu wa Europe hatuhitaji pesa yao.” That was the beginning of my merry-filled evening (i was alone in that merry spirit). This is why i was alone, at the choma place, one fellow said he wanted to taste monkey meat because it was long since he came to Africa-congo (he was Congolese by birth). We don’t have that in Kenya, so our money could not buy us monkey meat. So we settled on something Kenyan. As soon as they brought mbuzi choma and Guinness baridi, the begging cats camped at our table. Hell was on us, (rather one of us because i did not care). The fellow, a Nigerian born, knew nothing of cats except witchcraft! So he fled and left the meal. So I munched the whole meal meant for four people alone, and my beers on top.

       A few weeks ago, shumila paid us a visit. We did the same thing all over again. This time I wanted to do what we call “revenge for the generosity”. Like that evening, he told me the same thing again, “hapana, mimi niko na pesa nyingi huwezi nilipia.” One day, perhaps I will repay that generosity. Unlike most of us who are always broke or lying we have no money, he has and I know it from experience.

Because he says he has money, I believe him!

Br. Gabriel

          I wish to call this particular article “a walk under the scorching sun with a priest.” When you take a walk with a priest you ought to brace your tainted heart for scathing admonitions and your drooping spirit for some levitating or lulling advice. In this case, the priest here is Bro Gabriel or Gabu if you like. That was back in 2009. These are vivid memories of my occasional evening walks in the afternoon with him. The sun would be very harsh on us, yet I and him enjoyed the company. Rarely did we think about the sun. As it is, coming to Hola was an experience of its own kind for Gabriel. He frequently insisted we walk because I was available. I did not understand then the purpose of those walks to and from the shopping centre. In fact, he often informed me early enough and the walk would only be at 4pm. On the first day, I was looking forward to it for two reasons. First, I was expecting a free beer. Second, I was looking forward to it because, before then, no ordained brother had ever asked me to take a walk with him, probably because ordained priest usually have means of transport. So it was probably a privilege to me and unfortunately a disgrace to him. It does not matter because both reasons were wrong especially the one about a beer.

         

I call it a walk with a priest under the scorching sun because Gabu was always aware of his status as a priest, was not supposed to be languishing under the heat of the sun. He always felt the sun was unfairly hot! Often, we discussed a lot during those walks mostly rotated around priesthood and the “hardness of life”. These discussions would at times scare the young me then. Gabu has a way of putting across his points. He is a comically serious man who would tell me, “Haki wewe si unateseka sana! kama mimi ni padre na nateseka hivyo hapa Hola, na jua hii, na wewe?” seemingly, priests are not supposed to experience the raw scathing of the sun. I had not thought about suffering then until he pointed it out to me, perhaps I was just a happy pig munching its rotten rubbish and never caring to change a thing in life, (and I have not changed a thing, I am still preparing). All the same, he woke me up!!

Br. Mwaura

        Today Br. Mwaura will be buried. A lot of stories are going to be said about him, and probably you and I will not hear even a half of them. I am going to tell his story as well, from my perspective. It is easy to tell stories of dead men; owing to the obvious fact that they are never there to object. Only in comics do they rise to defend their character when it is not well represented. For instance there is that fellow who had pretended to have been dead only to hear his neighbor telling his wife that “he has died with my cassava, arrowroots, sweet potatoes, and other debts, he should have paid his debts before going.” The fellow rose to tell his wife the truth! Br Mwaura is GONE, gone too soon although he had hit the fifty years necessary for seeing Abraham (Jn 8:57).

         

The period between when I met Br. Mwaura, forgot him, then met him again and renewed our acquaintance, was a decade that flew like a snowball falls off the sky. When I met him last, he reminded me that indeed there are people who live their life saying yes to almost everything, fully conscious that an emphatic No hurts and an inappropriate yes can always be explained later. He was one of them. Everything to him was “ah, ndio”. One day, and as his responsibility to dispense certain services like giving me 40 shillings for shaving, he always did it with a vibrant, “ah, ndio, unahitaji kunyoa ukae smart, ndio.” He would give and then later tell me, “lakini sasa ukinyoa hivyo watanzania, watakuona kama umetoka kwa mazishi!” I stopped shaving like “that” jordan. I stopped shaving all together - but today I have to shave because indeed it is a burial day for him. May his soul rest in peace. 

Br. O. Evans

          This 17^th day of May, 2017, as we prepare our breakfast with Br Evans, our laughter shrieks through to the sitting room where Br Kamrata is seated. It is obvious that Kamrata is concerned because, according to him, Evans is a little reserved. So, what could he be laughing about? That is exactly the puzzle I have been seeking to solve with Evans. This life has taught most of us that our view of life is highly shaped by our passions. Take for instance, when a pilot is looking at a cow (ng’ombe), it is true he sees a cow with four legs, a wagging tail and so forth. But, if he is truly passionate about his flying job, he might find himself looking at the cow in relation to his passion; probably wondering why cows don’t fly like eagles or like his airplanes. Hence, Evans is passionate about various things but mostly animals.

          One time, as I flipped through the Tuesday’s newspaper (full of animals and farming stuff), Evans peeped and asked if we could talk a little. Of course we could talk because I was actually reading the newspaper out of sheer boredom. I, like many government employees shamelessly admit, the best way to look busy in the office is by carrying with them a newspaper around as if it is the book of eternal life. The talk with Evans hence surpassed that of the newspaper significantly. The talk was about his journey as a Capuchin Friar. It was very interesting, or is it how he narrated it that made it interesting? Anyway, I have forgotten most of the things he said, but there is one account I would be an imbecile if I forgot.

Apparently, some year back, his father said ‘to hell with the taxman’ and boycotted the taxman's rule of staying alive. So, the formattor called Evans and informed him that he would need to travel to kisii. Unfortunately, the formattor did not entirely disclose the purpose of his travel and that he was actually going to bid his father goodbye. Thus, as usual, we say that when you hear Kisii, your head has no option but to go “bananas”. That is exactly what happened (it went “bananas” for the sake of natural inclination to self-preservation). According to his very interesting narration, he put aside the fear of the office of the formattor. He demanded to know why he was being sent away without a just cause. Even more he left me in stitches when he told me that all the while the formattor spoke (mentioned) about “some” problem back at home his mind raced and was flooded with strange idea of his/their priceless cows back at home. His spirit wreathed in anger and disappointment, and he thought furiously, “acha kunidanganya bwana, unataka tu kunifukuza, unaniambia niende nyumbani juu kuna shida, ni shida gani hiyo iko nyumbani, kwani ng’ombe wetu aliibiwa?” For the love of the animals, what other more problem can there be other than the safety of animals? So he wondered. 

Hardly have I met a man half-passionate about animals as Evans.

Br. Peter

   I happen to know only the good side of many brothers, not that I don’t see the bad ones, rather, that they don’t show me that side and it is certainly good for my health. Br. Peter is one of these many brothers whose only side I know is the good one. I have intermittently lived with him in various communities and it was always like living in the life of the famous Mr. Bin! He lives a silent yet hilarious lifestyle. The best memories of Br. Peter I have are of a tough-faced hilarious brother. I prefer calling him “P” because he mingles well with young folks and they call him father “P”.

Some brothers remember him as the haired one with afro and beard. But to me, he is a clean shaved brother living this moment. I want to tell why I refer to him as a man living this moment. I met him a decade ago. That time, we had a gathering, celebrating something (something I cannot really remember because it was a “high school celebration” and being fresh from school then, the memories of high school were still fresh in me – bad memories. school, to small minds is a kind of foretaste of how we will suffer in hell). Anyway, it was a school by the ocean run by the Daughters of the Sacred Heart sisters. In fact the school is known as Baharini because it is – as I said – by the ocean.

As usual, the celebration was very boring with multiple speeches. Br. Peter came late while the speeches were still going on. Upon sitting next to me, before anything else, he spoke in a very audible voice. A voice that attracted  the attention of those around because it was loud, clear, true and in the middle of someone’s speech. He asked, “sasa tutakula saa ngapi?” I could not stop laughing all through the celebration. He had not even spent three minutes since his arrival. He must have seen the hunger and the boredom so glaringly written on my face. True to that moment, what we needed was food not talks, and he saved us!!!!! 

Br Seme

“A beautiful boy” is the literal meaning of the name Seme in his mother’s language! Apparently, there was once a fellow older than Jesus “the human”. He said that one is a perfect fool if he appreciates nothing of beauty and the beautiful ones – that fellow was Plato in his dialogue Happias Major. (I don’t want to be a fool, so I acknowledge Seme). For a person like me whose spirit droop pretty often, we depend on Seme because he is always laughing. Br. Khisa https://capuchinkenya.blogspot.co.ke/2013/08/normal-0-false-false-false-en-gb-x-none.html would say “anatoa meno Nje saa yote.” Even when his own spirit is low. I have personally witnessed his mixed up moods with admiration. It is a breathtakingly concocted set feelings that he displays. Imagine this, I and he had a minor accident, he laughed then kept his mouth ajar for like a minute in disbelief of what had happen then fear came upon his skin like a coat. On another occasion, We gathered to come up with a student representative, we unanimously pointed one and Seme alone in the middle of his laughter shouted in protest saying that he did not wish to have a leader like that. We all turned to him and there was a concoction of feelings on his face again – laughter, fear and disappointment, all at the same time. But above all his laughter never goes away! Personally I have come to depend on him on a day like today when I am down. It heals.  

This my personal benefit. He looks at me and he realizes that I am off the beat of life, then he tells me “ama wewe unasemaje?” I wonder what he is driving at, then he continues “Unajua nimefanya research nimejua kitu? Ukitaka mosquitos wasikuje chumbani kwako unafanya nini? Unaacha viatu vinanuka kwa dirisha, hawatakaribia.” (well, that research is very unscientific).  That was enough to jack-up my spirit. Then he laughes his ribs off to the floor. Even if I had missed the jest, I would have laughed at him or still his laughter would have carried me along. Any of them could work. But as for me, all of them worked.  

Indeed, beauty heals the mind and the heart and so is Seme. 

Bro Charles Daniel

Unfortunately I have no memory of how I met Charles. I think he came to exist in my world at the same time as capuchins – the long I have him known is equally the long I have known the capuchins. I will simply refer to him as Obama the master. I refer to him as the master because according to me, he is the master of his life. Few of us determine where life leads us, he does. One person who can predict his pieces with precision. He knows where every piece will fall in future. While most of us wait for life to happen to us, Obama is busy making his life happen to him. That is the person I have known for almost a decade yet I have not seen him make a mistake about anything that is meaningful to him. I would say that if this life was a chess game, then Obama has more pawn and he knows very well that pawns grow to any other piece including to queen. He protects his pawns well more often for the good of those people he cares about.

When we were very new in this capuchin way of life, he acted as our elder brother for a month – it was a very long month. It was necessary that we listen to his advice. So one evening I asked him if according to him I could make a capuchin, he laughed at me saying “Rich maisha yetu ni difficult (Swahili ngumu kwa mjaluo) lakini wewe utafaulu, kwanza unakula chakula kidogo kama paka, huna shida utasurvive hapa.”

Since then I have been surviving probably because of his prophesy!!!

Br. Geoffrey (Jeff)

To all the ladies out there busy kissing all sorts of frogs in search of their “prince charming”, stop wasting anymore time, the fellow you are looking for I think missed his turn in life and ended up right here with us! Unfortunately, the chances of kissing him are pretty minimal. See, now he is already a brother with three vows including chastity – which he takes very seriously. Now, knowing him in person, as I do, you will be awestruck at the realisation of just how true it is that charming has got nothing to do with being humorous, just like a smile has nothing to do with being good. I call him charming because I believe my friends and relatives, who upon visiting me, the only person they tend to tell me to pass regards to when we meet again is him. I often ask why, “because he is interesting!!!” they say.

Mind you, he is not only likable to the visitors and poor of my class but also the strong and the “don't touch” folks. A couple of times I have seen the superior looking for him to discuss “certain issues” and I always wondered what they discussed. Probably because a superior’s call would scare the hell out of my bowels. Apparently, when the superior is looking for you, trust me, you should be on your heels and hastily putting your words in order lest they fly out of you untamed. That is not Jeff as we call him. He is not troubled and he can handle pretty much anyone with fitting words and calm. Always taking things easy, the other day as he offered me a drink he said, “wacha nikakuletee ukunywe juu nimesikia wewe umekuwa my ‘godfather.’” we laughed it off though we both knew those words had been used elsewhere to demean him, yet he took no offense …… I think he is a good deal for a “godson”, he will make fun of it after all and entertain the people with it!!

Br Adam

Well, he has come to believe that my room has a basement room - although I actually live upstairs. I wonder how there can be basement in an upstairs room! His concern is that he is my immediate neighbour yet he doesn’t get to see me once I have entered my room or hear any sound hence the basement thing. He wonders if all is well with “me” when I retreat in the basement! such is Adam the brother of Eve as we usually call him (Eve I hear is his twin sister- I don’t know her).

Upon meeting Br. Adam, you will surely know you are a human person because he will make you feel like one. One fellow who will never assume your presence. He is a true Adam (man) and full of life! He will make you know human beings count over objects. 

Just a memory: A few years ago, as we were doing the dishes, he noticed that I was struggling to dry them by wiping with an already wet wiping cloth. He smiled as he took the cloth from me and he hastily wiped them. Kamrata http://capuchinkenya.blogspot.co.ke/search?q=kamrata , was also present and he was taken aback at how Adam was doing it. I also questioned because the dishes were not fully dry. To Adam, that was pretty funny and he laughed as usual. Certainly according to Adam’s wisdom, plate are objects and so he continued placing them in the cabinet as he laughed saying “Huku kuna joto sana, zitakauka upesi, hata mimi nikioga huwa sijipangusi na nakauka mara moja.” And he continued laughing – we joined him in his laughter

Such is him a man who seems to know what to care about and what not to worry about.

Br. Maloba

If you want to make a hilarious story about any community here in Kenya, there is always a mythical story to tell. For instance I have heard that if someone collapsed in my tribe, the best way to resuscitate him is to call his name and say to him, “hey, Njoro yule mzee alikuwa na deni yako ndiye huyu amekuletea”, surely the fellow will wake up energetically. Now brother Charles comes from a community whose hilarious stories have to do with stomach matters. A community in which two fully grown-up folks can stand and have a serious conversation about ugali. Trust me, I have been with him and I know of few people who could equal his train of truly progressive thoughts. He is always speaking in a joking manner yet he raises issues that build communities and particularly my current religious community. I once tried to make a contribution in his conversation and he listened to me. He comically commented, “ndugu una mawazo mazuri. Mawazo kama hayo ni mazuri, inatakiwa yakafundishwe wapostulanti!” and his conclusion was that the advanced ones would not find my thinking quite sensible, I think I also did not find it sensible. I walked away pretty glad that a man of his calibre listened to my deficient thinking.

Br. Njoroge,

Umoja is a very remote place and away from “civilisation” – It is in Mpeketoni where grandmothers teach their young grandsons how to jump on bicycles. Bikes, bikes and more bikes is what you see. On arrival, we were received by a deceptively young priest. Having in mind that I was a young boy, for me to be able to tell that someone is young he must have looked very young, nonetheless I was under his tutelage.

I looked at the many pieces I wrote to pick something about him but I couldn’t tell what to pick but I came across one phrase he uttered in class while sternly looking at me. “hakuna kitu kipya hapa duniani, usidhani utafundisha dunia kitu chochote kipya, ni jina lako tu mpya juu hakujapata kuwa na jina wanyeki hapa shirikani” (now, that is a rephrased eccl. 1:9 and my name added to it). My classmates laughed. I am not sure whether they were laughing at me or not!  

Later on, I saw something new, Fr Njoroge was on a bicycle going for mass. A priest riding a bicycle? Mpeketoni is another world or is it Fr. Njoroge who is from another world of priests? That was unheard of in my world. Where I come from, priesthood and car are synonymous!.

Br. Sammy

          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).   

Br. Joe (Bsp)

        It is true that when we are young we don’t pay much attention to youthfulness and when we see young people it doesn’t seem to matter. That was true for me until I met Bishop Joe in 2008. He was then the provincial of Malta. What was striking is his youthfulness. At first I asked Fr. Joe how come they have such a young provincial and Joe shouted facing the Bishop, “Hii ni Mzee hata ni mzee yangu, ako na nywele muzuri”. 

As usual, the bishop kept his smile lingering as he watched fr. Joe make fun of his youthful appearance. Well, I could hardly understand how it was possible for him to take so much chaffing until I stayed with him and realized how easy going he is. With so much ease, every evening he walked to my room before retiring to his and said, “usiku mwema”. Isn’t it that I am the youthful one here who should have walked to his room instead?