What’s your story? I’m still standing...

Harrison Wanyoike is only 33, but has seen it all, so to speak, including witnessing his elder brother commit suicide in the most gruesome way. If this didn’t break him, he says, there is no tragedy you cannot overcome.

“To get up when you are down; to fight more intensely when you are struggling; to put in extra effort when you are in sheer pain; to pull a comeback when nobody expects you to and to stand tall when everyone and everything is pulling you down are the markers of a champion.”

Thus reads a post on Harrison Wanyoike’s Facebook page.

It is a post that is reminiscent of someone who has had his back to the wall all his adult life. This is just one of a series of self-encouraging posts that feature prominently on his Facebook timeline.

Wanyoike, 33, from Nairobi’s Buruburu estate, is a man who is no stranger to grief and failure. He has failed, fallen and fallen again, but always risen above his setbacks, every time stronger.

In 2016, Wanyoike lost his mother to Aids. A week later, his only sister had a heart attack and died. Fast on their heels was his grandmother, his only source of support.

A TRAGIC LOSS

Way before this, when he was just 11, Wanyoike watched his 17-year-old brother commit suicide by jumping into the path of a train to escape the misery of poverty in which the family grew. He died.

“My brother and I were walking home one evening. He told me that he was tired of living and that he wanted to commit suicide. Our mother was jobless, and sometimes we would go without food for even two days.

Raising money for school fees was such a big problem, that my siblings and I would be out of school for weeks. When my brother told me he would commit suicide, I thought he was joking, only for him to jump into the path of train in Dandora, (a Nairobi suburb) which ran over him, killing him. As an 11-year-old, I felt so helpless, I could not believe it. I have been haunted ever since by my brother’s horrific death.”

In spite of all these setbacks, Wanyoike, a deejay (he goes by the name DJ Harry) of urban contemporary music, cuts the figure of an effusive artist. In his element on the decks at a city club, he embodies the zeal and energy characteristic of someone in love with what he does best: wowing his youthful audience with hits of the day.

As he spins his equipment with consummate deftness and naturalness of manner, you wouldn’t see the anguish concealed in the core of his heart. Until he opens up about his life, he passes for another enthusiastic city disc jockey.

His mother’s health started deteriorating in 2016.

“She was in and out of hospital for six months. At around this time, my elder sister was diagnosed with a heart problem and admitted at Kenyatta National Hospital. When my mother’s condition worsened, she was admitted at Nairobi Women’s hospital.”

For a month, between April and May 2016, Wanyoike was a deeply troubled man. Crisscrossing the city from their home in City Carton, a slum in Buruburu, to visit his ailing mother and sister in hospital became his daily routine.

TOUGH CIRCUMSTANCES

“My wife was expecting our second child at the time and could not work. That left me as the only breadwinner and caregiver. My grandmother, who lived with us in the same neighbourhood was too old to help out,” he recounts.

For someone without a stable job, who depended on deejaying gigs that were sometimes hard to come by, he was in desperate need of money.

“Deejaying gigs are difficult to find, especially if you are not employed by a club or a company.

Freelance deejaying means sometimes going for days without a job; it is not the kind of job a family man would entirely rely on for a living. It is even worse if you don’t have your own equipment. Finding someone from whom to hire decks, cheaply, is tough,” Wanyoike explains.

His mother and sister were still admitted in hospital when his wife, Caroline Wanjiru, went into labour.
“We took her to Pumwani Maternity Hospital but she developed complications and was referred to Kenyatta National Hospital where she was admitted.”
Wanyoike’s difficulty had tripled.
“I now had a sick mother, sister and wife in hospital all looking to me to fend for them and take care of them. I was sure that I would go mad.”

Wanyoike would occasionally inform his sister how their mother was fairing. When she passed away, after a month in hospital, Wanyoike was hesitant to break the sad news to his sister, afraid that it would make her even more ill. He therefore lied to her that their mother was making good progress. He ruminated over the matter for three days, unsure of what to do.

“I feared the news might shock her to death. Finally, I decided to consult relatives. They left the matter to me, though they pointed out that it was too risky to break such bad news to a cardiac patient. I sought the opinion of doctors, who told me that it would make no difference to tell or not to tell her about our mother’s death,” he says.

Wanyoike eventually delivered the news.

“Surprisingly, she was composed and seemed to sympathise with me more than she was concerned about her own grief. We were the only remaining children in our family and she feared what would happen to me if she also died, but assured me that all would be well.”

But all was not well. Soon after he broke the news to his sister, Winrose Njeri, her health went into a tailspin, worsening with each passing day. Six days later, she died. Wanyoike was now the only surviving member of his family.

“I did not get to mourn my mother’s or my sister’s death because soon after, my wife had delivered through caesarean section, which further complicated matters. I was running around organising my mother’s burial, taking care of my wife and looking for money to clear my dead sister’s hospital bill. It was the most demoralising period of my life,” he recounts.
After his family and friends managed to fundraise the hospital bill of more than Sh500,000, Wanyoike’s mother was finally buried two weeks after her death. Three days later, his sister was also interred.

“My wife did not attend either burial since she had not been discharged from hospital; doctors needed to monitor her condition, but she was recovering well.”

The intervening months of his mother and sister’s deaths were tumultuous for Wanyoike. Distraught, he was nursing his wife back to health while struggling to look for a job to cater for his family.

In April this year, another shocker would hit Wanyoike. His grandmother, Ruth Wanjiku, 80, succumbed to pulmonary embolism (sudden blockage of an artery in the lung, usually by a blood clot). Her death blew the last shred of hope he had been nursing to recover from the devastation of the year before. If Wanyoike had withstood the twin tragedies of his mother and sister’s departure, the setback of losing his grandmother further put him on the back foot. He was distraught, tossed into hopelessness and effectively robbed of his only remaining reliable support.

“Since the death of my mother, my grandmother had been the source of financial and emotional support for my family. Whenever I was unable to raise school fees for my son, she would step in and help us. Sometimes she even paid our rent. She was all we had, but she was now gone. It was unbelievable. I was shattered and lacked the will to go on with life,” he recounts.

LEAN MONTHS

But even in her death, it seemed his grandmother was still looking out for him. In the very lean months that followed, Wanyoike and his family lived off his grandmother’s pension; she was a retired bank employee. Jobless and hopeless, Wanyoike even tried his hand at being a tout.

He narrates,

“Early last year, I was desperate to find a job. I found one as a tout at a Buruburu bus-stop. A tout’s job is a dangerous one for a first-timer. I was taken advantage of, such that while some of the more experienced touts earned a minimum of Sh800 a day, I was only making between Sh150 and Sh200 per day, which was not enough to support my family. The touts I found there were inhumane, and would swindle me of my dues. Sometimes they even assaulted me. I gave up after two months.”

He is firmly back to his deejaying job, which he works hard at, even though he is far from where he would like to be.

“What keeps me going is that I have a young family to look after. My two sons, five and two years, give me the strength to keep going. Their welfare is a responsibility I cannot shirk. I may not look up to them for strength, but they look up to me for their survival, so I cannot afford to give up. I have to keep trying to be better every day despite the difficulties. In them I see regeneration of my departed family.”

Wanyoike admits that it is only through his wife’s constant support that he has been able to overcome all the upheavals that life has thrown at him.

“Carol has stood with me through the hard times and always encouraged me whenever I was at breaking point. She is not just my wife, but my pillar of strength,” Wanyoike says.

He adds,

“This is not the kind of tragedy that one would go through and still stand tall. I have learnt through this difficult time that the moment you lose hope, you are on your way to destruction. I have battled suicidal thoughts and been tempted to turn to alcohol, and crime, to earn a better living, but thankfully, through my wife’s support, I have managed to keep going, to keep hoping.”

Despite his predicaments, and for a person with so little, Wanyoike feels that he has something offer. For a long time though, for someone clobbered so badly by life, he believed he had nothing, that he was nothing. Then, he would have laughed in your face had you told him that his story had the power to inspire others who may have been in a similar predicament.

“My experiences have taught me that those around you may encourage and support you when tragedy overwhelms you, this is not enough; you have to encourage yourself and stand up for yourself too. If you choose to remain positive despite all the unpleasant experiences, the burden becomes a bit bearable,” he says.

With three friends, Wanyoike organises music concerts in neighbourhoods around Nairobi, events they use to crusade against tribalism, drug abuse and crime.

“We seek to promote unity among young people and fight negative ethnicity, which is almost tearing down our country. We also caution the youth against involving themselves in criminal activities. We have been doing this since 2012, and the campaign has so far been fruitful” he explains and adds,
“As long as you are healthy and strong and you have a skill, you should be able to earn an honest living. Most young people, especially those who come from underprivileged backgrounds, underestimate their ability to do well in life. Others want to land big jobs and make money instantly, which is not practical.”
Wanyoike, who currently relies on borrowed equipment for his performances, believes the essence of succeeding in whatever you do is humility, accepting your circumstances, but doing everything that you can to change those circumstances.

“Our outfit has three DJs and one emcee. We are invited to perform at clubs and in various social events. We often perform on a weekly basis. Our pay ranges between Sh5, 000 to Sh15,000, but is subject to negotiation. This is not the kind of income one would comfortably raise a family on, but we are hopeful that with time, we will be able to command better pay.”

SCHOOL CUT SHORT

After completing his high school education in 2007, his mother could not afford to take him to college, and so Wanyoike chose to study a deejaying course, which, he says, was cheaper, shorter and convenient as it would allow him to perform odd jobs around the neighbourhood when not working to supplement his income. Today, he has eight years’ worth of experience under his belt.

“I was trained to deejay at Homeboyz Music Technology Academy, which is run by Homeboyz Radio. The academy imparts practical skills such as deejaying and recording to young Kenyans with musical talent to prepare them for a career in music. I am a beneficiary of the initiative,” he says.

“I have performed at events in the city and several radio stations in Nairobi including Radio Jambo. I am looking to be hired to offer my services at a club or events and though I love deejaying, I also am open to other jobs,” says Wanyoike.

He is convinced that had he had a chance to continue with his education, he would be in a much better place. With this in mind, among the many goals he has set himself, the first is to ensure that his children complete school, that they go up to university level.

"My young family is looking up to me for support. I don’t want to disappoint my sons. I want them to have a good education and to lead a better life than I have. They are looking up to me, and the last thing I want is to disappoint them.”

A staunch Catholic, he adds that the church has been a constant source of comfort and hope, adding that the support of friends has also enabled him to keep standing tall.

He observes,

“Often, people do not realise the important role the church plays until they are at a breaking point like I have been. The church gives you reassurance that you will overcome the tragedy, no matter how bad it is.”

Sharing the burden with friends has also helped to pacify his anguish, and it gives him huge relief to share and inspire people through his incredible story.

“I have chosen to be strong for myself and my family, and I hope that my story has encouraged someone who may be going through a difficult period in his or her life. If what I have been through did not break me, why should what you’re going through discourage you?”