John the Martyr

March 11, 2000. What a wonderful day! The season of rain and grey clouds sweeping through the rolling hills still lingers over most of the Rift Valley, but not in Nairobi. The sun shines warm and bright and Father John Kaiser is an exuberant man, happy to be arriving in the big city to greet his old friend, Don Beumer, who had just arrived from Minnesota. “Who-o-o-e-e-e, there you are,” the joyful priest let out a cry of greeting, “what a sight to see you again! And you brought your beautiful daughter Denise, and her just as pretty cousin, Cindy.” With hugs and greetings all around, the two men locked bone cracking grips on each other, proving without words their mutual joy upon being together again. Laughing, Don greeted John with a puzzled smile. “Just look at you. What is going on? You look like a real priest all decked out in your flashy clerical black. “Ah-ha! Surprises yet to come,” grinned the six-foot two-inch two hundred pound priest as he threw a crushing arm lock hug around his friend. “Guess where we are going and we will have to get moving pretty soon. A group of classy up-town lawyers want us to attend an awards party they are having. My old Toyota pickup doesn’t get along like it used to so we need to get a head start on any possible trouble. It seems the pistons are clanking around in there, but it just keeps on going. A look of hesitation crossed Don’s face as he looked at his crumpled travel-worn slacks and shirt. “I’m not going anywhere looking like this,” he replied with a note of exasperation in his voice. “What kind of a party is this anyway? Are you setting me up for some kind of sick joke? Since when did you become a party boy?” “I’m not exactly sure what this is all about,” John replied. “What I do know is that we will be attending the Law Society’s annual achievement awards dinner and ball, and they want to include my name with the real achievers in the law profession. I had turned down their invitation last year because I felt some people might think that I was being rewarded for my testimony at the AKIWUMI COMMISSION when I accused top government officials of crimes against humanity. A lawyer by the name of Evens Monari was trying to prosecute me and find fault in my testimony. He was representing Minister Julius Sunkuli, who I believe to be one of the thugs behind the ethnic cleansing that took place in 1993 and 1994. Anyway, somewhere along the way, Mr. Monari got religion. I mean he saw enough truth in what I was saying that he found it difficult to defend the government and Sunkuli. Later on he apologetically approached me and started to twist my arm trying to convince me to attend this meeting. After putting him off for a year or more, I guess I decided to give in and go along with the wishes of the Law Society. When the two men left the hotel where the Beumers were booked, Don warned the girls to be very careful and not to leave their room until he returned. “The banquet will be held just down the street at the Continental Hotel, and I will be back early. So, take care for now and don’t leave the hotel. O.K.?” “Good night, Dad, don’t worry. We can take care of ourselves.” As the two men approached the hotel where the banquet would be held, John noticed a slight but knowing smile trace his friend’s now quiet features. “Whatever you are thinking, Don, It can’t be all good, not with that look on your face” “No, it’s nothing. I just had a flashback. About fifteen years ago!” “Oh? And what is that about?” Trying to hide a smirk Don asked. “Isn’t that the same pair of pants and black dress coat that you bought in Minnesota? Didn’t you tell me you picked them up at a Salvation Army store in St. Cloud?” “Oh no! Not at all. That was a totally different outfit. I think I gave the pants to a barber in Kisii for a haircut. I didn’t need them anymore because when I was home about ten years ago, I got a much better deal on these togs, bought them in Fergus Falls at the Goodwill store. I didn’t have to pay much either. I believe I got the suit for less than ten dollars.” “Well, you don’t have to worry. You look petty good in you ten-dollar suit,” Don chuckled as they entered the elegant main lobby of the hotel. Peering around and trying to find some indication as to where the Law Society meeting might be, John noticed an attractive, beautifully groomed young lady walking toward him. Even though she seemed to draw attention from everyone in the lobby, her dancing eyes and smiling face were focused directly on John. “Good afternoon, Father Kaiser, it is so good to meet you in person. My name is Winifred Gitau. I am so glad that you decided to come to our awards dinner. It is such a privilege to have you here.” “It is my honor to be invited to your celebration. Is it Mrs., or is it Miss Gitau?” John asked being very careful to refrain from applying his usual grip as they shook hands. “Oh, I am so sorry, Father Kaiser, but if you would please just call me ‘Winfred’, I would be happy.” “Well, er, yes. Yes, Winifred, that would be fine with me. Winifred is a fine strong name and I am so happy to meet you too. I would like you to meet a very special friend of mine, Mr. Donald Beumer, from St. Cloud, Minnesota. Don, this is Winifred Gitau.” While the lady and the visitor were greeting each other, the priest was explaining the need for his friend’s uninvited presence. “Oh! Don’t worry about that,” she pleaded, “of course you should be here. We will be very happy to attend our dinner and ball. Don’t be concerned about a few wrinkles, you look just fine. As long as you are Father Kaiser’s friend, you are our friend and you belong here. Turning and proceeding to a hallway at the back of the main lobby, Winifred motioned for the two men to follow. By this time Don was beginning to feel a little more at ease. “I guess they won’t throw me out now, but I’m not staying around to participate in their fancy ball, not in these duds.” “Funny, but it seems like I’ve seen that young lady someplace before, or at least I’ve heard about her, or read about her,” John whispered. “Maybe it was from one of your missions, or from one of the schools?” Don offered. “No, I don’t think so. I doubt she is a Maasai, but she could be. I’m quite sure she is not a Kisii. Oh well, I guess it doesn’t matter.” As Winifred escorted the two friends toward the grand conference area, the distant clamor of congenial conversations signaled that a large crowd had already gathered. As they entered the room, mysteriously the whole assembly rose while conversation dropped to a whisper. All eyes centered on Father John. Quickly glancing past the grand décor of the room, a magnificent chandelier, the graceful lines of an ice sculpture, he surveyed the beaming faces of at perhaps two hundred or more men and women, the elite of Kenya’s Law Society. A warm and soothing glow flowed through John thankful that this August gathering was brimming with friendly demeanor. Too many encounters with hostile advocates over the past few years, too many lies manufactured to bury the truth in order to protect corrupt officials, both in and out of government, had left him with a distaste and distrust for Kenya’s rule of law. But thank God there are many lawyers like those here who try to uphold the natural laws of justice. As the escort led Father John up the raised platform to a chair at the left of the speaker’s podium, the rustle of the assembled dignitaries seating themselves was silenced by the master of ceremonies beginning statement.