Just Another Day

September 2024 marks my 30th year living in Africa. Tanzania, South Sudan, and Kenya have been home for most of that time, though there were some "on and off" periods for renewal, travel, graduation, and, more recently, retirement. However, none of that is the focus of this reflection. Instead, I want to ruminate on the events of one particular day—August 29th, 2024, in the Mukuru slums of Nairobi, Kenya.

As usual, my day began with my invocation prayer:  "God of my life. I welcome this new day—the first day of the rest of my life..." During the meditation that followed, I became aware that this date marked the death of Blessed Edmund Rice in 1844. Along with that memory came the recollection that it is also the anniversary of the death of Paul Noonan, a great brother, friend, mentor, leader, and mate. He tragically died of cerebral malaria in Sierra Leone in 2001. Remembering them, I should have realized that the day would be anything but ordinary.

L-R

Br. Frank, Dr. Owino & Mr. Stanslaus Masinza during the awarding ceremony for the lab accreditation.

Living in Africa invites everyone to move with the flow, meaning it is wise not to approach any new day with the unrealistic expectation that it will unfold as imagined. Instead, it’s best to embrace the present moment, adapting to whatever arises. Yes, I must admit that over the years, I’ve grown fond of one of my standout comments: "If it can go wrong, it will go wrong." And in describing this August 29th, 2024, I can use an Australian colloquialism—simply put, it was "a little ripper." Arriving at Ruben Centre at 7:30 am, my mind was entirely focused on the big event at our Health Centre. After two years of hard work, significant financial investment, and extensive staff training, KENAS, the largest medical accreditation body in Eastern Africa, was coming. The CEO and his team were to present our Medical Laboratory team with a Certificate of Accreditation. Accreditation by KENAS instills confidence across all sectors by underpinning the quality of results, ensuring their traceability, comparability, and validity, and maintaining the highest levels of impartiality and competence through continuous assessment on the KENAS website.

After accreditation, our laboratory will be able to offer results for 21 medical tests, which will be accepted worldwide. This will prevent the ruthless financial exploitation of vulnerable and sick people, who are often forced to repeat tests at the whim of a facility. After visiting the Health Centre and noting that the staff had all preparations under control, I took a quick look around the campus. Our 3,600-plus school students were busy arriving for their day at school. My walk was interrupted by the arrival of two massive, cargo-laden trucks at the compound. I quickly learned that the trucks were loaded with food and household items from Islamic Relief USA, specifically for April flood victims. Apparently, the local chief and his cohort had requested our Head Teacher to use our playing field to distribute the items to the slum dwellers. Surprised by this, I checked with him about his decision to allow such a large-scale operation, involving over 300 family beneficiaries, into the compound. Being new, he may have thought, unknowingly, that the humanitarian benefits might outweigh the inconveniences of trying to conduct a normal school day for our primary-age kids while simultaneously managing this massive relief operation—all within our two-acre compound. I left, wondering if my favorite colloquial phrase would come into play. I then went to the laboratory for the accreditation ceremony, determined to focus on this planned main event. The visiting KENAS administration, Ministry of Health officials, and some community members arrived, and the occasion began. The presentation of the Certificate by KENAS was one of the few things that remotely went according to plan (key guests were only an hour late), and all the speeches truly acknowledged the hard work and technical skills of our Laboratory team.

Now, let's see where this all goes, but the hope is that being the only accredited hospital or medical facility in Embakasi (a sub-county of Nairobi with a population of over one million), we will achieve two outcomes. Firstly, by offering accurate and professional laboratory results that must be accepted by all referral hospitals, we will provide a real service to many patients. Secondly, we hope it will generate income for the recently upgraded Level 3 Ruben Medical Health Centre. The occasion passed, but during the modest celebrations honoring this achievement, I was called to our school grounds. Chaos was evident as a huge crowd had gathered outside the school gates, preventing the specially chosen recipients of the relief goods from leaving. Yes, Kenyan corruption was on full display before my eyes. Apparently, this well-meaning Islamic Relief had been completely hijacked by the corrupt local chief and his cronies. All three hundred recipients were well-to-do outsiders to the Mukuru slums, something obvious to me when I saw many cars fully packed with goods. There were no barefooted women and children in rags to be seen.

The standoff continued until the gates were finally flung open. The fully packed cars sped into the crowd, while a convoy of motorbikes rushed inside. The speeding cars, with their contents, were untouchable, and the motorbikes were deemed a secure way of carrying the loot beyond the enraged crowd. Anger and frustration were palpable, and the only good thing was that no one was run over in the melee. The Officer Commanding Station (OCS) of our Ruben Police Station appeared and led me away to a quiet place to express his huge disappointment with the proceedings. An upstanding Muslim, he spoke of his passion for uplifting humanity and how his values have often led him into overt confrontations (since his posting here eight months ago) with the Chief and his gangsters. "We men of God must prevail," I said. He went on to tell me that he couldn’t intervene in something like this since "no law has been broken," but he vowed to nail this corrupt chief one day when the law is infringed and issue an OB (a legally generated number) to this criminal.

I gave him the chunk of cake I had carried from the Accreditation Ceremony, and an emboldened Frank headed off again to the increasingly heated scene at the school. I found a group of people surrounding a fully loaded car, and it was obvious their anger was directed at the driver, who was protesting his innocence by claiming he was only there because his wife had delivered a baby in our birthing unit. "Muongo! (liar)”, I said and began letting down his front tire so he could not escape, only inflaming his ire and creating havoc in the assembled crowd. Suddenly, I wondered what I had started when two birthing unit nurses appeared to tell me that this man had left a three-year-old in the birthing unit with his wife, but the child had now disappeared. Truly, there was now potential for the day to live up to my "If it can go wrong, it will" notion. The now infuriated man was pulled away from me and, in turn, jumped in his car and roared off on his three good tires.

I retreated to my office to calm down. About an hour later, several staff members and a few other "hangers-on" appeared. The staff, in a great show of solidarity with me, had pursued that driver and returned him to apologize to me for his failings. I immediately saw an opportunity and jumped up to shake his hand, assuring him that "all’s well that ends well." We walked outside only to find his wife standing there with the newborn baby. I peered into the blanket and blessed the baby girl, saying, "May this baby be like her mother and not her father. Go in peace." Everyone, even the "liar" dad, had a laugh, and they left.

Reflecting on that one day, August 29th, I am drawn to read more about Edmund Rice, and I relate to this quote from John Murphy’s biography of him: "The Spirit is moving. Pray God that we are mindful enough to allow ourselves to be moved by it and to pursue excellence in all our endeavors! Upon my head, a burden of leadership has been cast. So be it. Let us get on with it." And I can hear my no-nonsense mate Paul Noonan concurring with the last bit.

“Yes, bring on the rest of 2024. It is good to be back and getting on with it.” This is Africa, the place that brings me alive, and I mustn’t forget that there is always plenty of good happening, even when things seem to go wrong.

By: Br. Frank O’Shea OAM

Edits: Lisa Karanja & Gregory Barake