A man of honour has fallen; I wish for the day death will die

Allow me to sing; to sing the dirge of our great, great grandfathers in honour of a fallen hero, as we say where Ken Walibora was born: “Khe swala Khu muse”.

I wish for the day death will die. Our cultures have ways of explaining why and when men invited death into their lives.

While these stories may sound outlandish, they offer explanations to our existential problem. However, if there is any philosophy I believe in, then it is the fact that part of why we are here is that we are in our different ways looking for our own death.

Unfortunately, some of us find it in the most outrageous circumstances. My friend and fellow writer Ken Walibora found it in very unclear circumstances and at the wrong time.

These are times mourning is regulated. It is the wrong time to express love for the departed in the way we know. But this does not steal from me the memories of a man of honour.

The Ken Walibora I knew operated on a very high intense level. I got a close glimpse of how his mind operated when I got the opportunity of translating his Kufa Kuzikana novel into English as Friends for Life.

His fine and intense prose meant that, as translators, we had to weigh every word and every sentence; otherwise, we would loose the meaning.

SEIZING OPPORTUNITIES

If there was a man who operated from well-defined principles, then that was Ken Waliaula Walibora.

While writers are considered boring people who mostly entertain themselves, Walibora oscillated well between the world of his works of fiction and the real world.

While with peers and colleagues, he was that social guy who enjoyed a good laugh. And when he cracked a nice joke, it was the kind that would tickle even the late Francis Lotodo, who rarely laughed.

He was highly proactive and knew when opportunity presented itself. That is precisely why he moved into academia when he realised that he had milked the journalistic world.

While he wrote on themes that were painful, Walibora often painted the picture of how our own inhumanity destroyed the God in all us.

Every situation presented an opportunity for story ideas. He never shied to confess that he was a slow learner during his early years in school until his talents started to blossom as years went by.

TAKING RESPONSIBILITY

He not only grabbed opportunities, he also had ways of creating them. That is why he would not hesitate to knock on the doors of publishers with numerous ideas for books, which he executed with precision.

He was a well-adjusted individual who was in control of his life and knew how to live it. He knew that his calling required him to spend most of his time with himself and this is what he was fond of.

Throughout my interaction, I noticed that his behaviour and character were a direct product of conscious decisions.

He took responsibility and never blamed any one or circumstances for not finishing his writing projects. This made him enterprising as a writer and entrepreneur who sold stories for a living.

If he sets aside three hours for writing every day, then there could be no excuse for not doing just that.

I cannot end this dirge before telling you what pained Walibora most in his life. Though it was rare for him to blame people for what happened to him, it was very strange when he opened up and confessed that he was a victim of American racism. This was the only time I heard him reveal the pain in his heart.

SACRIFICES

Walibora had categories of friends: academic friends were just that, academic. He also had friends he would confide in and have a nice unrestricted laugh.

Then of course, there were colleagues he worked with and their relationship ended there. His interaction was, therefore, a product of conscious choices he made about living his life.

Creative endeavours

He was undoubtedly one of the most prolific and versatile writers that Kenya has ever produced. Undoubtedly, his success was as a result of painful sacrifices he made about his life.

He had a limited circle of friends whom he kept close for they supported his creative endeavours. Here is a man who practised what I call self-management.

He made decisions and acted in accordance with the choices he made. Simply put, he executed around the priorities he set.

He had very calm ways of saying no to things that were not urgent or important that rarely offended those it was directed to.

It does not surprise me that he met his death while all alone, perhaps that was his way of self-renewal. As we say, “Kenda bulayi bakoki”.

Prof Kabaji is a scholar and president of the Creative Writers Association of Kenya C-WAK; [email protected]