Saturday, 29 December 2012
A SPECIAL THANK YOU NOTE FOR 2012
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| every person deserves a second chance |
I find it so strange yet see it
as a part of the big picture that what I am currently doing at the juvenile
prison is a plan I made over eight years ago. I had just dropped out of college
after two failed attempts and had come to Nairobi to make a phone call that
would change my whole life. I had come to Nairobi to call Papa Shaq who had a
reggae show on Metro FM. It was the easiest of plans yet it took me three
months to make the call.
The day I made the call was just
like the many Saturdays before it. My cousin’s wife had invited me to a
wedding. The plan was to hook me up with the many ladies we would meet at the
wedding. I had taken a bath and was using her lotion when I realized it was
high time I made that very important phone call. I opted out of the wedding.
“Okay, then you can buy milk,
warm it and give it to Marcus,” she said giving me a twenty shillings coin. “Make
sure you don’t forget James.”
“I will give him milk at 5 pm. I promise,”
I replied.
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| girls doing an assignment during one of the reading event 2012 |
A few minutes later Papa Shaq
came on the air. I looked at the twenty shillings coin lying next to the radio.
Now I know you can tell what was going through my mind. I looked back at
Marcus, my one year old nephew lying on the bed. I put two and two together and
realized there was no way Marcus would tell his mom he didn’t have milk at 5
pm. I took the money and headed to the nearest phone bureau in Mbotela Estate. And
as I made the most important phone call in my life, tears streamed down my face
freely. It was the first time I cried in public and wasn’t ashamed about it. Days
later I met an Indian and Zambian from the Don Bosco order of brothers. We struck
a friendship immediately. Every Sunday, after mass we would head home where we
would discuss music and talk about making change in the world. Top on our list
were the things we would do in the lives of children.
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| children attending my second reading club event in April 2012 |
With time the two brothers made
me come up with a yearly plan about the activities I wanted to do with children
at Kuwinda where they had a project. And just like the many things I have been
involved with in the past this one didn’t take off. Instead I was left with my
master plan which I would look at all the time until it became etched in my
mind. Then I started working as a TV producer, something which I chanced on and now love doing. There are a lot of other things and goals I have set my eyes on achieving with my life. It goes without saying that one can achieve a lot when they put their mind to to it even when they are not that cut-out for the job. The story of my life attests to this, and I have been having fun pursuing my purpose and the best is yet to come.
I am writing a whole book about this but to cut a long story short, what I
am doing with the boys right now is an exact replica of the master plan I made
eight years back. The first few months were difficult and many were the times I
flirted with giving up the whole idea of working with juvenile offenders.
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| Toloi telling the children a story during the reading event |
Were it not for Richard Onchuru,
Wanini Kireri, Jackline Wanjira, Grace Otiende, James Ngugi and later on James
Bukachi, I would have thrown in the towel. One thing is evident if I would have
done that I wouldn’t be happy. For when one finds their true purpose their life
takes a different turn, and my life has indeed taken a different about-turn and
I am leading a fruitful life.
Seeing that this is meant to be
a special thank-you note and not my book (which is in progress), let me thank the following:
Papa Shaq for playing Luciano’s Its Me Again Jah on Saturday just before
6 pm. Richard Onchuru, for being there through my tears, doubts and whining. Jackline
Wanjira, for laying down the foundation. Judy for allowing us to use her
barbershop. Maureen and Hosea, for their valuable time and energy. Chris Job
and Shadrack Melody for giving me shelter at different points.
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| the 2012 Christmas cake for the boys at the juvenile prison |
Look out for the full story in my
upcoming book Life’s a Song (The Convictions of a Late Bloomer)
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| cover of my upcoming autobiography |
2012 CHRISTMAS PARTY AND SHAVING AT THE INDUSTRIAL AREA JUVENILE PRISON
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| Cake made by Syokau, Marigold Cake House |
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| Ambrose and Maureen doing what they do best |
The day began early with numerous
phone calls to make sure everything we needed was in place. Well, just like the
many ones before, some things worked, others didn’t. Meshack (a boy I am
mentoring) and I met Maureen and Jerry her brother at Tender Touch Barbershop
and Salon at Ayany Estate where we were to pick to stuff and get Ambrose to
accompany us. Meshack had his work cut out. Since he wants to be a lawyer, his
role was to see and get to listen to stories about boys his age. Ours was to
shave, talk to the boys and share with them the Christmas spirit.
On our way to the prison we
picked a cake from Syokau at Nakumatt Prestige then after picking a few things
at the supermarket – a box of biscuits, plastic cups, knife and juice – we set
off. As luck would have it, we met Pauline Wanja, who in charge of the prison
and she had very good things to say about our work with the juveniles. Well,
ours was an easy task – get in, shave the boys, talk to them after which we
were to share the cake, biscuits and juice with them. This is easier said than
done. It took us a whole four hours to get this done. By the time we were done
nobody wanted to hear the word Christmas, juveniles and shaving. We just wanted
to go home and crash to bed.
I am eternally thankful to the
wonderful people who make it possible through their generous support,
contributions, advice, time and energy they put into the programme in general. Since
we began in late July 2012, a lot of good things have happened. Many boys have
given their lives to Christ, many have regained their freedom, many have
reconciled with their parents and the people they had wronged. A few of them
have been convicted for the offenses they committed while some of them are
still behind bars as we try all we can to help them. Being in prison isn’t a
cup of tea, neither is it a walk in the park nor something I would wish even on
my worst enemy.
We have been able to help the
boys go home after intervening in their cases. We have also spoken to parents
over the phone and managed to convince them to visit their sons in prison. We have
also accompanied parents to the court, sought for recommendation letters from
schools and visited a number of very grateful parents. Only in one instance
have we dealt with the men in these boys’ lives, the other men have wanted to
have nothing to do with their sons. The rest of the people we have been dealing
with are the women, the mothers to the boys. In a world where mentorship is
needed now than ever, I strongly believe men should get involved in raising
children instead of leaving it to the mothers.
The prison authorities report
that our intervention is reaping fruits. Such kind of good reports need sustainability
which means funding, human resource and a concerted effort from each one of us.
I remember the first time I met the boys. Richard Onchuru, a lawyer whose
assistance has sustained this dream this far, and I met the Assistant Prison Commissioner,
Wanini Kireri. There I was, thinking I needed more resources and funding. But she
was adamant that if I wanted to make a change then I had to start the programme
there and then since she was convinced I had come at the right time and was therefore
the right person to do it. At that time I was undergoing a lot of challenges which
I am yet to overcome.
A lot of water had passed under
the bridge and there we were – celebrating our first Christmas with the boys
behind bars. Nothing was enough, nothing really is when you are behind bars. But
we had to make do with what was available. We had three shaving machines and we
got busy, after hours of toiling, standing inside the dingy hall, the time the
boys had been waiting for came. One of the new boys who had spent a mere week
behind bars shared with us his experiences behind bars.
“I was arrested for defiling a
girl,” he said. “While what I have done isn’t a good thing I don’t like being
behind bars especially on Christmas. But I thank you guys for coming to cut our
hair and share with us a cake and juice. “
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After this we cut and shared the
cake and a glass of juice. About five hours later we stumbled inside a
restaurant in town and had a much deserved lunch as we shared our experiences
for the day. I am happy to have spent half the year and my Christmas with the
boys. And though some of them have committed serious offences against humanity
my conviction is that they deserve to stay behind bars, go to court and rejoin
the society once they are free with dignity. These are our sons, our
neighbours, our children’s friends, our daughter’s future husbands, our
grandchildren’s fathers, uncles and neighbours. And much as they have done what
is not right they deserve a second chance in life. They need our help. Who knows,
through our intervention we might save tomorrow’s Kenyan man. This can only
happen to one boy at a time. I take this opportunity to thank each and every
person who have helped keep this dream alive and afloat. I don’t know where I would
be without your help and generosity. This is a difficult journey that only you
made possible. I will be forever grateful. And as we step into 2013, I hope to
get the funding needed and ask that you continue giving the way you have done
this year. In 2013, the year of jubilee, we look forward to scaling greater
heights and transform more lives through this noble cause.
Thank you so much for being there
for us in 2012. May God bless you abundantly and may He supply for all your
needs, now and forever.
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
A HAIR CUT
By James Ouma
The second hair cut is barely
weeks away. The first one was successful and went along way in convincing the
boys we really meant business, a limited budget notwithstanding. The first time
I decided to have their hair cut I spent a lot of time, energy and money asking
friends to contribute money towards this noble cause. A number of people (JUDY,
RAMA, MAUREEN and HOSEA) agreed to accompany me to the prison. As the boys
lined up to receive a hair cut I couldn’t help but reminisce about my first
hair cut. I still remember the way it used to be as if it was just the other
day.
My mom (a no nonsense widow)
would bawl at the top of her lungs calling out my name on a Sunday evening. I
dreaded Sunday evenings because it meant a forced hair cut. It also meant going
to school the following day to face the wrath, laughter and jeering that came
from the boys whose family could afford an electric hair cut at the local
barbershop, an hour away walk. What made it worse was the jeering that came from
the girls who gave you a look that killed one’s confidence in a mother’s
hair-cutting skills.
My mom would dig the soles of her
feet on the ground then using her knees she would grasp my upper body in a firm
grip. I would listen as the blunt scissor went snip, snip, snip as it cut away
my hair. The following day I would arrive at school amidst the taunting
laughter and jeers from my classmates.
I don’t know about you. But a
simple hair cut means a lot to a boy behind bars. It means the prevention of a possible
infection of a number of diseases since they share blunt and rusted razor
blades. And when they don’t shave, their hair is in danger of hosting a number
of parasites that can cause a lot of harm.
We are preparing for the second
hair cutting which will be followed a week later by an xmas party with the
boys. We hope such simple gestures will go a long way in preparing the boys for
their restoration back to the society where they will become better people
ready to fulfill their life purposes. Cutting the boys hair taught me a lot of
lessons one being that deep within each person’s heart, be they good or bad,
rich or poor, man or woman, there beats a heart that yearns to be loved, to be
embraced and to be told you too matters. Since that day many of the boys have
been freed, many have given their lives to Christ while a number of families
have resumed contact with the children they once thought were lost forever.
There is a lot of drama as I work
with these boys. Two days ago I was in a cyber café when a gang of young boys
stormed in brandishing guns and knives. They ordered everyone to hit the floor,
remove their phones and wallets and hand it over with their faces kissing the
dirty floor. As I lay on the floor I kept thinking about the boys at the juvenile
prison who I have been trying so hard to help get out of prison and here I was,
kissing the floor and listening to a bunch of boys who were getting a one way
ticket to prison. My heart went out to them and it made me resolve to do all I
can for the ones in custody, and perhaps seek for a way of preventing others
from joining them. I kept thinking how can this happen and what will my
friends, the ones who have been discouraging me from working at the prison say
when they hear this. Well, the boys left the cyber café before they could rob
me.
The next day I emailed a request
for funds to enable me have the last hair cut and a Christmas party for the
boys at the prison. I have lots of plans for the boys and I am taking one day
at a time. There are a number of activities and my long term goal is to set up
a half-way centre for these boys. I need lots of support and I therefore humbly
ask for all kinds of assistance both materially and in kind, funding and
volunteers right from lawyers, probation officers, counselors and mentors to
come help me change tomorrow’s man – one boy at a time. Hope to hear from you
soon.
Monday, 15 October 2012
TODAY
Today gave me a chance to explore
Today I am collecting tomorrow’s hay
On lands unmapped and unravelled before
For I want to narrow the gap by the day.
Today made me forget all the bygone years
When the drainage got all my strive
And I lost buckets of tears
Today I saw a chance to thrive.
Today compelled me to use my own
And live my life to the fullest
So as to transform my folks back home
This is my season to get blest.
Today fashioned me a purpose
To dare dream and do my own bidding
I added another brick I suppose
To the art of nation building.
from A Man Has One Mood collection of poems by James Ouma
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