Br. Muema

Some call him ‘the carpenter of the bicycle’, some call him Onesmus, yet others in his village call him ‘father Muema’ and he laughs about it because he cannot keep correcting the villagers like, ‘I am not Fr. Muema, I am Br. Muema!’. Some years back, he found me in Mpeketoni. Innitially, I did not see anything special. He was ‘just another new brother’, they (we) come all the time. However, as time went by, things started to change, the easiness with which he took life was just great. I realized that with his attitude, all was fine, acceptable and good! Nothing really seemed to trouble him. When he lost his brother, the first born in his family, it was no different. He came back after the burial and I said, “it is good your brother has died, now we are eating mangoes brought from your place,” he laughed an added, “yep, I also had a chance to go to the village”. When I asked him why I did not get to see a lot of people “mourn normally”- the African mourning, he said “hata mimi sikulia, hata sikumbuki kama niliona mtu yeyote akilia!”.

Br. Leonard

I have met brothers, but honestly, very few are as much comfortable with their personality as Br. Leonard. When he finished his final exam at Tangaza, like many other deacons, I and many others expected him to disappear a short while later. However, one week later, Leonard is seated next to me on the bus heading to Tangaza. I am equally surprised because bespectacled and tummied deacons like him just cannot imagine themselves any other thing than priests! I ask him - of course I ask with utmost disinterestedness, incase it provokes him - why he is still attending lecutures.  His response is quite unexpected, “I like it this way, maisha yangu ni tofauti kabisa na ya wengine. Kwanza hivyo ndivyo ninavyoitaka.” Afew days later, in regards to his priestly ordination, he says “haraka ya nini, haya mambo ni polepole” and I add to that, “eh, ni mosmos tu!” as I walk away smilingly knowing that that is a lesson learnt. 'haraka haraka haina baraka' so we say.     

Bsp Paul Darmanin

            I have heard, I have seen and read and above all I have always known that He was consecrated Bishop of Garissa a few years before I was born. Tanaa calls him “Askof wa bisquiti”. Here I am seated right next to him as I type this very text. I sit here because in spite of so much authority vested on him, a certain profound easiness in his presence is. I sit here because I am sure he is not going to intimidate me by virtue of age and power.   I sit here because his presence is evident that life is possible anywhere including the volatile Garissa. I sit here because he shows trust to people around him. He says less –which is good for my typing. However, the fewer words he utters linger. I remember some ‘magical’ words he uttered after I murmured a prayer after a meal with him. “I didn’t hear what you said apart from that ‘your bounty’. Well, we believe you and whatever you have said must be fine with us and God” and then he smiled and I laughed.

Br. Mutuse J.

            ‘The Spaniard Mkamba,’ that is what he told Fr. Louis. To the kids, he is simply all that every child would wish in an uncle.   

He says, “I am there and I am not there! You see, I really don’t know what is happening to me, I think I am getting old. I don’t get to know what is happening around. I have been here for almost three months now, I have been sitting right next to this freezer, yet I don’t even know what it contains. I don’t even know what those colourful torches are doing there. Since I came they have been right there – moja ya blue na moja ya red. Na sitaki kujua zinafanya nini hapo. Sitaki kujihusisha na mambo yasiyonihusu!”. Now, this is hilarious if not strange. In this house, it has been just the two of us, yet he doesn’t know what is obvious. That in that freezer, is where we keep nyama ya dikdik, samaki kutoka Tana. In short, our food na Githeri ya masister. Now I agree with him, he is there and he is not there in a great way!

Br. Fahari

We call him BB, second B is for Boy, but as for the first B, you can put whatever you wish. This is one brother I call crazycrazy! 

Not crazy in the sense of “grhhhhh mad”, but crazy in a pleasant sense, comical crazy. The last time I heard Pope Francis say something to the youths I thought about Fahari, it was about saints. He said “…We need saints among youths… we need youths who wear jeans and still be saints…” Now, I guess the pope must have known Fahari in person. I am yet to see him in anything else other than jeans. I remember Fahari telling me, “mimi nguo zangu ni hizi za kihunihuni, sina zingine.” Well, that does not contradict the pope’s thinking, does it?