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! 

Br. Maranga

I am always amazed at his calmness. You see, Joseph has been my formattor (of course not in circular letters) for a very long time. He became one soon after his noviciate year while I was doing my postulancy year. We met again in Lusaka where he was the vice president of the students. It is obvious that he was a vice president of very verbally belligerent brothers – The philosophers and logicians who can hardly be convinced that what they see is what there is!

                    One time, the student brothers had an issue with our cooks at Laverna. It is a problem that frequently arose and it was mandated to Joseph and the president to call for a students’ meeting. During the meeting, brothers being experts of arguing tore and twisted tongues; they talked languages global and local, formal and informal all in the name of making this point clear. All the while, Joseph never interrupted as they expressed themselves. He took the most necessary point, repeated by almost all the brothers and waited for the most apt time to conclude, “We have talked and we have heard that this is not good and it should not happen again.” It was period and the meeting was over! I stayed there for two more years after that and never again did I happen.

Br. Ken

      

I hear now they call him the philosopher here in Kenya- Ken the philosopher! I think it is because he is the first Kenyan capuchin brother to teach philosophy at St. Bonaventure. Back then when I met him for the first time he was not a teacher of philosophy, he was a newly ordained deacon in Mpeketoni. 

One day, we, the aspirants at Umoja, had a discussion with the formator. During that talk, the Formator - seemingly angered by one of us - made it clear to us that we should not be in a hurry to reckon ourselves as brothers, “you are aspirants and you should remember that”. A few days later, I and Ken went to Wema Parish. We visited the sisters and as usual, there had to be some introductions. So, Ken did the introduction. He referred to me as a Bro. This was somehow new to me and it took me by surprise. It was contrary to what the formator had made me believe I am, nothing more but an aspirant! I thought to myself that Ken had gotten it wrong and so I completed the introduction for him “I am an aspirant” and Ken smilingly looked at me. Later, when he became the parish priest in Mpeketoni, I realized that he meant what he had said back at wema. "He is our brother at umoja", is how he had introduced me to the sisters at Wema. Ken didn't see any point in insisting that one is an aspirant. That is how Ken made us believe,  brothers!