Uncle Lewis.

Marriage is kazi mob, we often hear. While that may be true, it still offers benefits that many do not discuss. One of those is that we can be lucky to meet good, solid individuals in the family we marry into and vice versa—great in-laws and not outlaws. That’s what has made this a heavy week. I have lost one of the coolest uncles I’ve ever had from Mummy Shark’s side. I feel like one of her roles was to connect me with Uncle Frank.

Uncle Frank, though I often teased him using another name that many don’t know—Lewis—was a good man. That’s the summary of his life, in my view. He used to call me ‘bro,’ and that made me view him more like a big brother. I met Uncle Lewis about 20 years ago when I joined their family, and I felt a kabond, like we had a lot in common. I didn’t need to try too hard with him.

Over the years, we would have a good laugh at family gatherings over a fine drink. He would laugh from his belly, and I’d take that as assurance that my jokes were landing, hehe. The outpouring of love and comfort has been immense this week, with folks saying how he was a great mentor, boss, colleague, and friend. Social media and even the gazeti have described Frank’s impact, especially in corporate Kenya, as having left an indelible mark.

He was a mkubwa when I met him, and he clearly led well if the many messages of condolence are anything to go by. I have a friend who worked for him, and they spoke of how easy he was. But let that fool you at your own peril: he may have been friendly, but he was also firm. He got stuff done, and that’s why he was at the top of his game for many years.

I admired how he lived big and enjoyed his achievements in life while remaining sympathetic to the needs of those he interacted with. Uncle Lewis ate life with a big spoon, but he also fed many with the same spoon. I’m a beneficiary of that. Years back, I needed capital to grow my events business to the next level. I approached Uncle Lewis, and he didn’t hesitate. As we did the paperwork later, I was surprised at how simply he had said yes and invested. I’ve heard how complicated those business investments are and how they can take forever to be completed. But Frank put in the chums and went on to attend board meetings, offering much-valued and needed guidance on how to scale the business.

When COVID struck and the business was no longer viable, I went to him and another investor who had put in money based on Frank’s assurance. I was sweating profusely because I felt guilty that they hadn’t recouped their investments as well as they had hoped. We met at his house and had tea. After some small talk, I summoned the courage to tell them both that we should sell the business. After some tough questioning, they both agreed, and that felt like someone had lifted a huge boulder off my shoulders. I still feel like I owe them, and that makes me even sadder that he’s left us.

In a sense, I owe a big part of my transition into my second half to Uncle Lewis. My shareholders’ agreeing to wind up the business gave me wings to fly into a new season of life, and for that I’m eternally grateful. Thank you for showing me what an abundance mentality looks like, Frank.

I remember another time he threw a birthday party for Tata (auntie); it was a surprise, and so we had to show up discreetly lest we blew it. I was feeling pretty upbeat as I had just upgraded my car. It was one of those used ex-Japanese motis, but to me, it was a new car.

Once we all settled in, we were ushered to where we could surprise the birthday girl and there, a brand new car wrapped in a bow was unveiled! Yaani, this Meru man had bought his wife a brand new car. I couldn’t help but tell him, “Frank, I don’t know whether to love you or hate you right now.” Here I was thinking that I’m a tough guy, kumbe I was nowhere near the big boys’ club hehe. We laughed about it, toasted to our dear auntie on her birthday, and wished her many more years of unwrapping life’s gifts.

That was Uncle Lewis for you: a family man who was generous to a fault. He set a good example for many. Social media is alive with tributes to that effect from many quarters.

Frank was also a fierce protector. Being a guy who loved cars, he once bought a new Land Rover Discovery that I would just salivate over. It had one of those rare brownish metallic colours that, when pronounced, sounded like the name of a food. We agreed that I’d buy it after five years, so I was looking forward sana. When the time came, I went to him eagerly. The car was well kept, and being German, had (hopefully) depreciated a lot in value.

Frank refused to sell it to me and broke our deal. He said it had cost him a lot to maintain, and he wouldn’t want to pass that burden on to me. Jokingly, he concluded that he would find an enemy to buy it, hehe. I was upset, but in hindsight, he saved me a lot of grief while confirming that I was not his enemy, hehe.

We are often reminded that you only live once (YOLO). But if you live well, then maybe once is enough. You lived well, bro, a.k.a Uncle Lewis. We shall carry on with the lessons you taught us, among them creating things with the people we meet and wearing our passion as per the plaque above that hangs on your office wall. Pumzika sasa.