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?

Br. George

            Many wonderful things that happen among the capuchins, one of them is the coming together for evening prayer. Brothers living in the big cities understand just how almost impossible that is. The cities are noisy, prayers often take place at sunset, right when the cities are coming to life, someone is stuck in the traffic (I suspect someone was once held at the Westgate, he appeared after the hostages were released and he looked equally scare and fatigued). simply put, there are whole lot of reasons why the environment in the city is basically not conducive for these evening meetings.

However, there are a few times I was in the same community with George - in Westlands and Starehe - and it was different! I tend to think community prayer is the one thing that counts most, according to him. One time he told me, “Brother umecheza football? Umetoa jasho? umefurahi? Sasa mwili uko sawa kwa sala? hiyo ni sawa.” Now, that was a funny relation, football and praying? Back in Lusaka, during the annual visitations, while all other superiors went out there to make great times around Lusaka, George was always seated in the chapel for Evening prayer. During such days, I, a member of the lot that is usually a few minutes behind starting time, made it in time - trying to emulate my superior. Students from other jurisdictions would say, “ah! this superior of yours is praying too much, he is setting the standards too high for you Kenyans. Most of you won’t make it!”

Br. Monima

            A person should not and cannot be defined by his origin and past! I have known Monima for a while now. I have also known “the Barracks” - Hola Boys. There is not even the slightest trace of the gloomy face of “the Barracks” in Monima, yet that is where he schooled. He is a brother who happens to give a kind of exact the opposite of that face. One fascinating thing with him is his ability to articulate his power of reason at an amazing ease and even at times funnily.  

 While travelling with him once, since I have a taste for troubles - if I don’t get myself into one, one will get itself into me – I encountered one in form of an immigration officer. The officer kept talking and magnifying the issue. I was even convinced that I was indeed on the wrong. Fortunately, Monima intervened because he realised I was helpless, “Excuse me, please, try to understand, this man does not know how to travel, he has never travelled, this is his first time he has travelled, please forgive him and when he goes back he will correct that”. The office was that easily convinced. I ended up with a mixture of laughter and anger; Angry, because Monima portrayed me as one alien idiot. Laughter because the officer had been so easily fooled!

When the officer was gone Monima hilariously said, “shida imeisha, hao ni hongo walitaka”!