When you walked in with your dusty boots, majestically, and came to where we were seated with one of your musketeers, and in a way introduced yourself (I knew who you were but we had never met in person), I knew I had met a friend.
I remember the day very well because it was a few days after my birthday, when Olympia Owira abducted me and took me out for a late lunch which turned out to be a very good evening and one treasured.
You walked in with your best friend Blessing Lung'aho, a man you called your twin, and the three of you called yourselves the three musketeers because you were always causing trouble everywhere you went. I woke on Thursday looking forward to a great sunny day, but it turned dark soon after receiving the news of your demise.
The first thing that came to my mind was your wife, Jennifer Kimwati, who has been tirelessly by your side since the accident and your son, and how they were copping. I made a few phone calls and talked to a few people to know what was happening and it broke my heart to know that you were no longer with us.
After your accident in late September, 2018, I had been following your progress, through hospital visits to talking and comforting your family and friends. I remember how your face lit up when I visited you at Nairobi Hospital, where you were admitted. Though you could not move, your smile, which you wore everyday said it all.
I remember talking to your wife before a fundraising that was organised by your friends to raise money for your hospital bill and later being harassed for talking to her and publishing her story. I would later come to learn that despite your condition, you put down your foot and told them to stop and stop they did.
I remember during the premier of “This Is Life”, I harassed you for not keeping your promise about our interview and you told me you will come through later. Little did I know that it would be the last time that were hanging out together. It was a good day.
I may not have known you for very long, but I know I am not the only one who will live with the void that you have left. Everywhere you went and in the things you did, you touched everyone’s heart. You might be gone but I know you will still live in us through the work you did. To your wife, son, mother, brother, friends and colleagues, hang in there because he is still smiling at us. Rest easy, Kone.