Kwaheri Father Mike.

I was driving on Thika Road last week when I got stuck in traffic at the Forest Road intersection. It’s been hot lately, and I’ve been using my AC more than usual. As I sat in the car waiting for traffic to move, I decided to pick up my phone and check my messages. I almost wish I hadn’t. A pal had forwarded me a condolence message and a poster, telling me pole for the loss of my mzungu father, Mike Eldon.

It was a sweltering afternoon, and this message made my emotions even hotter. You see, Father Mike, as I fondly referred to him, had grown to influence me sana since our paths crossed back in 2017. We even shared a birth month, albeit 30 years apart. Legends are born next month, folks, hehe. For the past week, I have been thinking about the many moments we shared at his home, our Java coffee dates, and when I visited him at the Aga Khan Hospital. I’m sad that I can’t sit at his feet anymore, but he’s no longer in pain, and that’s comforting.

Mike had been in and out of the hospital since the COVID era. Even when his wish for better health was not granted, his mind refused to linger with his body and social distanced itself. In one of our chats at the hospital, he told me that he had little control from the neck going down, but he could control everything from the neck going up. He couldn’t determine how his body would react to his illness and subsequent medication, but as for his mind, he could command it, and he did very well.

When I saw him at his home last November, he reiterated that, and that is a lesson that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. An affliction can and will affect our bodies and lives, but how we react is what will make or break us. We can still decide how we want to move forward, unless our minds have been impacted too.

Mike was on my personal Board of Directors. In hindsight, he was probably the Chairman of that board, hehe. I went to him for guidance whenever I needed to make an important decision that could potentially alter my life.

One example was when I decided to apply for the position of Principal Secretary in our new government back in 2022. The decision was driven by the fact that I knew my future lay in public service (though he often added a disclaimer: ‘not necessarily the public sector’). He had his reservations, and I appreciated them. Nevertheless, I was determined to apply. We agreed to disagree, yet he still guided me on how to go about it. I was shortlisted and, thanks to this opportunity, I attended my first-ever job interview at the age of 48! I didn’t get the job, but the experience was worth it. I can confirm that there are warm people who smile genuinely in government offices —who knew? Hehe!

In May last year, I decided to give Mike his flowers, and I’m so glad I did. I wrote about him and how I had adopted him as my dad after my mzee passed on in 2021. I gave him little choice, and I was delighted that he agreed to be adopted. Folks, if you have people in your life who have been pillars to lean on or shoulders to stand on, please give them their flowers while they are still with us. My buddy Vincent often calls me randomly just to check on me. He says that when someone pops into his mind, he reaches out immediately to say hello and julia them hali. May we be intentional in letting those who matter know how much they mean to us.

Mike was an avid reader of my blog; I always looked forward to his cheeky (yet deep) comments after posting my Friday articles. I felt so honoured that such a busy guy, who interacted with wakubwas, could make time to read my stories. Thank you for validating me, Father Mike.

When my family insisted on throwing a bash for my 50^th birthday, Mike being on the guest list was a no-brainer. Despite not being strong enough to drive, he agreed to attend on the condition that I arranged transportation. I offered to pick him up because I wanted to hear what was on his mind at 50. Maybe I was trying to benchmark, hehe. It was a reflective drive to the venue in Karen. He was one of the speakers, and it was truly heart-warming to listen to him. He gave me a booklet— a compilation of his many articles— from which I will continue mining gems. Writing is a sure way of living on, even after we have left, folks. So, share your wisdom with the world; you owe it to humanity. After all, you won’t need it in the afterlife.

I often use my own photographs in my blog posts. Last year, Mike mentioned that his favourite animal was the giraffe because it is huge yet gentle, and can see far. It has height-inspired foresight, hehe. I called him to check on him and felt the need to go and see him. He had a doctor’s appointment on the day we were to meet, but somehow he managed to reschedule it. Again, I couldn’t believe how much this man accommodated me, and I’m sure it wasn’t just me.

I framed a photo of a giraffe I had taken at Nairobi National Park, and took it with me to visit him. Of course, I also brought the Artcaffe slab cakes that characterised my visits to his house. I brought the cake; he made the tea, hehe. We chatted by his bedside for some time, then he needed to rest, so I bid him goodbye. As I was leaving, he promised to hang the picture somewhere in his room to look at. True to his word, he shared a photo later that day of the giraffe hanging on the bedroom wall. That felt wonderful.

I will miss you, Mike. You have shown me what it means, and what it looks like, to be a good human doing good things, and having a good time while at it. (That is another of Mike’s quotes). I’m forever grateful to Agatha and Don for their ‘Engage’ platform, which brought us together in 2017. Thank you for allowing me to adopt you, and for pouring so much into my life. I have no excuse not to make you proud, just as I promised my mzee when he rested.

You will live on in me and many others, as the Jewish prayer in your poster said: “As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us; as we remember them.”

I will remember you for a very long time, my mzungu dad. Sasa pumzika.