(A friend asked for this testimony and I thought to share it here as well)
When I was
working in the Media and posted at Marsabit, I encountered an armed robber.
As a background,
there was no public transport in the Isiolo – Marsabit – Moyale route those
days.
We therefore
rode trucks transporting goods, and paid very expensively for that.
Another dynamic
was that there were highway robbers (called shiftas after the shifta menace of
the 70s).
This meant that
the trucks would travel in convoys.
The journey goes
through the desert and so many times it meant the trucks would leave very
early.
I had been on
leave and was therefore going back to work.
On this day, I
had spent the night at my brother’s place some distance from town.
I left shortly
after three.
Not long after,
I met someone I knew as a robber.
In fact, he
proudly called himself a murderer.
His name was
Ibilisi (lucifer), a name he was proud of so I suspect it was a nickname.
The last time I
knew he had gone to prison.
More surprising
was that he operated from Meru and not Isiolo.
I therefore
pretended not to know him for obvious reasons.
He asked for
money and I gave him and thought the worst was over.
I suspected he
realised that I knew him because he hit me with that bolted club at the back of
my head.
I came to
probably two hours later, completely unaware of where I was.
But it was still
dark.
I started
walking anyhow.
The only thing I
knew was that I had been attacked and was severely wounded as I was bleeding
even from the ears.
I then stumbled
on a church mission where there were watchmen at the gate.
I told them I
was wounded and needed help and they turned me away.
I fell again and
became unconscious for some other minutes.
When I came to
again, I was able to recollect where I was.
I started
walking toward the Police station which was kilometres away.
The officer I
met wrote me a note to take to the hospital so that I could be helped.
The hospital was
also some distance away but I walked.
By then dawn was
approaching.
I met a distant
cousin who worked at the hospital as he was coming from his shift.
On seeing me, he
took me back to hospital so that I do not struggle with much protocol.
He left when he
was sure I was being attended to.
Then they
required an X ray and required payment.
Interestingly,
another cousin was the accountant of the hospital who was told about my case
when he met the other one.
He therefore was
able to authorise that X ray.
My skull had
been dented by that knock.
Then I was taken
to the wards.
I was initially
taken to the observation ward because the nurses thought I would somehow die.
Many would come
and look at me and openly wonder
You are not
dead? And many other such questions.
It appears that
the guy was a professional and only God frustrated his mission.
Two days at the
observation ward and I was taken to the normal ward after which I was
discharged after another two days.
It took some
time before my memory was fully healed.
As an example, I
would be holding the guitar to play the intro to a song in church and I can’t
recollect the tune and someone has to hum for me to catch.
I probably need
to state that he took my bag which had tools I had bought very expensively and
some Bibles especially a Study Bible I prized.
After I felt
better, I went to the police to report since I knew the guy.
After several
visits, I realised that they were not in a hurry to do anything. And I was then
operating from home in Meru.
In fact, I at
one time saw him at our market. When he saw me, he was so shaken because I
think he had been convinced that I had died.
The family
decided that we will need to take the police to court to force them to take
action, especially since the offender was known.
But I had been
praying.
And the hospital
had been extending my leave, especially since the clotted blood stuck in one
ear was not in a hurry to come out.
God told me to
go back to work and so I went and the plan of taking the police to court died.
As I continued
praying, God challenged me to start praying for the guy.
But how does one
pray for someone who had killed him but for God’s intervention?
Incidentally,
God had given me Psalm 34:7 as the reason I did not die.
As I prayed, God
slowly started working on my heart until I started praying good things for him;
he finds salvation, he ministers alongside me, etc.
Eventually, I
was able to completely forgive him.
But I didn’t
know that until God confirmed it.
After I left
work, I went back home to await other orders.
I got involved
in a denomination that planned a youth camp in the school near the shopping
centre.
There were many
events, but in the evenings, we had meetings where we would talk to the youth
and share the Gospel.
On this day I was
the one leading and I asked whether there was someone who wanted to get saved.
Who do I see
walking from the back?
The guy who had
‘killed’ me in Isiolo.
But instead of
feeling bitter or edgy, I felt such a release and love that I gladly led him to
Christ.
But this is not
what I have been asked to write about.
Yet the next
story would not be clear if I had left out this one.
Marsabit had
enough drama for me and my faith.
I went because
God told me to ask for the transfer.
I therefore expected
ministry to thrive because at that time we were praying through Operation World
and combined it with praying about unreached people in Kenya.
I went and there
was confusion and pain all over, for the most part.
After that
assault, and combined with some intense persecution at work, I decided that God
did not call me to Marsabit and I had just imagined it since there was so much
pain (at one time my salary had been stopped for six months)
I requested for a
transfer and even looked for transport to move.
Then I thought
to ask God for a sign, a sign that I knew He could not beat.
But He did it
anyway.
This confirmed
to me that He wanted me in Marsabit.
I therefore
settled.
He had showed me
a church deep in the Manyattas and I went there with gusto.
Even the bosses
who had engineered the stoppage of my salary had gone and so I thought things
would get better.
Incidentally, my
friend, who had been at loggerheads with those other bosses, was the one who
was made my boss.
But my joy was
short-lived, especially as ministry opportunities started opening up
I will not
speculate, but as ministry started getting clarity and results, my friend
completely turned against me, started placing as many blocks as he would to
those ministry openings.
He even started
accusing me of anything, asking for explanations from me for very funny (let me
not say stupid) things.
The other staff
could not understand.
The others had
done the machination in secret. This one was openly fighting me as a person.
To imagine I had
to walk twelve kilometres (one way) to town and back to do my shopping yet the
rest of the staff would be taken by the station vehicle is one such reality.
My life became
one battle after another.
Incidentally,
that persecution and incessant accusations is what God used when He wanted me
to leave employment because I told Him I would be ready to leave employment but
I was not ready to resign.
But this time I
was no leaving as had been the case of planning to go for a transfer. God had
clearly asked me to leave employment.
It is only that
I wanted Him to work out in such a way that I would never be in doubt that He
had asked me whatever else happened.
I was later
called to start a student ministry in Nairobi.
As I had learnt
when I was dealing with the guy who had attempted to kill me, I was sure that
God wanted me to pray for this guy who had made my life a living hell of sorts.
After a few
years, I felt that God had healed my heart of bitterness and anything else that
would stand between me and what God wanted for me.
I prayed and
asked God to give me the evidence that He had healed my heart.
God is very
interesting.
I had friends in
the tallest building in Nairobi (then) and would visit them.
That was a
government office which had an unending stream of visitors at all times. The
lifts are packed at all times.
I therefore got
into one lift and this former boss enters.
Nobody else
enters and I know that my heart has healed.
But it does not
stop there.
We start
talking.
The lift goes up
to the 29th floor without anybody entering. It would stop, people would look in
and simply not enter.
Then it goes
down to the ground floor the same way.
It then went up,
again the same way. But this time he stepped out at the floor he was visiting.
That was how God
confirmed to me that He had healed my heart of any bitterness against him.
Any questions?
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