THE MAN WHO STOLE GOD

Prologue

The Saint Michael Archangel Catholic Church committee based at Gilgil Barracks had requested me to give an oral historical account of the Church during the official opening and blessing of the barrack's new church. The request was floated to me seeing that I was a catechist’s son from the same church in the mid-seventies and therefore was bound to have a ringside view of the activities of the church and the personalities then. Regrettably, I could not physically make it due to the exigencies of duty being out then on the Somalia front. So instead I drafted this historical commentary consolidating ideas and views from my contemporaries who we grew up with together in the barracks.

My story covers the period of late 1972 to Early 1980.

St Michael the archangels’ church

The big cream-coloured ‘T’ shaped rectangular space with blue iron sheets that fifty years back  occupied by a church dedicated to Saint Michael the Archangel is now no longer a hallowed space. It is now a derelict Building, aloof, with gaping doors and windows open to the elements. There were flowers then but none exists now; the few trees around it look bare and unkempt, drooping with a sad forlorn appearance. Gazing at the building today gives me a feeling of overpowering stinging melancholy and acute nostalgia of what St Michael had been. The building was my first spiritual home and in no small way made me what I am today.

 

 

 

The fifth battalion The Kenya rifles (5KR) now based in Gilgil cannot claim to have built St. Michaels Archangel Catholic Church. That credit belongs to the seventh battalion (7KR), a unit which - for a yet-to-be-understood quirk of military thinking-had relocated wholesomely from Gilgil in late 1972 to the present location in Nairobi.

It was in December 1972, when I, a young very observant and easily impressionable lower primary lad, settled in Gilgil with my catechist parent who had been posted to the unit from the Kenya navy Mombasa.

St Michael’s Archangel church then though isolated from the married quarters was by the standards of those days quite impressive, the doors permanently open ever inviting that spiritual soul to walk in and seek solace. The Church like any military establishment ( and equipment) seemed to have been built without any stretch of the imagination. A basic building shaped like a “T” and inharmonious furniture where the faithful faced the raised altar.  To the right of the Altar was the wooden structure which held the tabernacle with the red glow of a vigil lamp visible, a confirmation that the blessed holy Eucharist was in the tabernacle.

The church then catered for the Gilgil military establishments, the co-located Koelel high school and the faithful from the national youth service. Gilgil town did not have a Catholic priest then nor was there a church; the catholic faithful then used a class in St Patrick’s primary school for their Sunday spiritual nourishment. As there was no resident chaplain, St. Michael was considered the mother church and catered for the outstation outside Gilgil town. The other outstations then of Gilgil parish were – Kikopey, Eburru, Karunga, support group, Morendat, kwa mbegi And Ndume factory.

 

The only presiding priest then was reverend father Edward Lalor, a tall overworked Irish priest whose grasp of Kiswahili was admirable. The dedication of this missionary priest could be seen by the energy he dispensed in his priestly duties. On weekdays he taught English at Koelel secondary school. On Saturdays, he administered baptisms, weddings or burial rites at either St Michaels church or any outstation. On Sundays, this man of God dispensed mass at the church before heading to a select outstation. Kikopey today is merely a five-minute ride from Gilgil town. In those days, visiting the Kikopey outstation was an all-day affair as the priest’s old Volkswagen vehicle carrying us the mass servers and a catechist could limp and cough through the endless rough terrain for close to two hours before reaching the present Kikopey location. Eburru was even worse, far worse as the hilly terrain tended to sap all energy of the supposedly rugged vehicle.

Other missionary priests later set up base at Gilgil, Leading the pack was Father Lino Zucco, an ambidextrous priest of the Comboni missionary society from Italy who  at any given time apart from playing magician to us kids was always tinkering either on his green Volkswagen engine or doing some form carpentry work. He is practically the founder of the Gilgil mission and the polytechnic.

The other missionary priests then were one Fr. Vulcan Marcello who hailed from Chile in South America and who never adequately failed to grasp the Kiswahili language always struggling to give a homily in broken Kiswahili which we; the youths found amusing no end. There was also another ever-smiling, tall priest who also hailed from Chile and whose name, unsurprisingly was called Santiago. Father Santiago’s teeth seemed to be too many for his mouth so probably what we took for a smile was probably a mere facial expression.

Another missionary priest was from Mexico and was named Manuel Vasquez Nolasco who was short with a very priestly mien. Nolasco expired on one Sunday afternoon after his vehicle rolled en route to Eburru for mass. His remains lie buried at the St Mary’s cemetery in Nairobi.

And then there were the military catechists.

The military norms of referring to senior officers as Afande or sir were sort of dispensed when junior ranking soldiers were related to warrant officers who were catechists. The catechists were therefore respectably referred to as Mwalimu due to their nature of calling and duties. It is hard to perfectly pin the terms of service for the Mwalimu; They are catechism teachers, religious counsellors for the faithful, and religious lesson teachers and are the main link between the Priest and the faithful. I encountered three catechists during my time at the church.

There was Mwalimu Paul Muhia, who had a pleasant long face and a vacuous expression; Mwalimu Muhia's movements seemed to be conditioned as if programmed by some invisible hands, (robotic as a term was yet to be invented them days). He also had a gift for praying and his prayers from the gravelled voice seemed to float directly to God and beyond. Mwalimu may have been having sinus problems as he sniffed perennially hence always having a white handkerchief in his hands.

And then there was Mwalimu Alexander whose sole reason for existence I suspect was to impart catechism lessons to the youth; A task he took with gusto, repeatedly ramming the catechism lessons and the catholic dogma and prayers to our teenage throats; should you fail to adequately master the lesson you could have had it hot – Mwalimu or not-. Fifty-plus years later, the catechism lessons fronted by Mwalimu Alexander still stick in my mind. Example:

 ‘ Mungu yu Nani?” ….

And our answers followed the programmed diction:

“Mungu ni roho, ni kamili na ukamili wake hauna mpaka”.

Mwalimu would then become human and in a very friendly voice dwell on explaining what Kamili (Perfection) exactly means.

And then he would stop, glare at us catechumens from the top of his bifocals; I suspect the glare was meant to trigger our rapid access memories as the next moment he would in a thundering voice call out:

“ Sakramenti zote ziko ngapi! Zitaje!”

And our timid voices in the chorus would respond:

 “ Sakramenti Zote, ziko Saba; ndizo hizi….

But then he was also witty, humorous and had a way with the preschool kids. The dedication of Mwalimu Alexander in imparting the Catechism lessons was a true reflection of a person who has found his calling in life.

And then there was a very lively character in one Mwalimu Joseph Kioko.

There are many headdresses for use in the military, Mwalimu Kioko loved the Slouch hat (Or to use modern slang-the Godfather), the slouch hat has big flaps with one side of the flap neatly pinned together and from where a beautiful plume of red, brown and green juts out. So Mwalimu could look comical as he sauntered around the church in his duties the slouch hat at a rakish angle. He could start prayers by having his eyes darting all over the faithful. Mwalimu Kioko had a squint, so with a fast eye flicker across the pews, every faithful in the church would imagine that Mwalimu had looked at everybody and at nobody in the same instance. After the fast glance, prayer book in hand, Mwalimu Kioko in a parade ground voice, would then bellow:

‘Tuombe!”

I sometimes felt discomfited by the way Mwalimu Kioko conducted the prayers; it seemed to me as if he was making demands to the almighty or as if he was talking to an equal!

 He had a big laugh too, Mwalimu Kioko did, which was always extended in a machine gun staccato of  eh..Eh…eh…eh…eh..Eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…eh…!! Ad infinitum. To me, the laugh was so comical and found myself just like everybody else joining in the laughter.

Being a military church, on some occasions, the military catholic chaplaincy could task an army chaplain to provide spiritual services to the church from the many military formations. especially during Easter and Christmas periods. Chaplains who periodically paid St Michael’s church a visit were Fr. John Auro – the chief chaplain then based in Langata. Fr Auro must have been in his late seventies and could drive in slowly in an old battered black Volkswagen painted in hearse colours. Fr. Auro’s services were generally slow, methodical and faltering; his voice ever straining to carry the message of Christ.

The other military chaplain who also occasionally came to say mass was Fr. Agapius Njeru; a bespectacled chain smoker and an avid composer of gospel songs. There was Fr. Peter Kibe, an affable priest, but then with stoic indifference to all around him.Fr Kibe’s shoes were always pointed sharp, very well brushed with soles leaning at an angle as if he was too heavy for the shoes. And then there was Fr. Silas Mugambi now the Bishop of the Meru diocese and auxiliary bishop of the Kenya Defence Forces.

Neighbouring Koelel high school then was a mixed school and every Sunday, the students could be seen in white shirts and grey khaki short trousers trickling to the church. The church therefore on Sunday was always full to the brim and the Koelel high school choir was outstanding.

Two unrelated incidences happened in late 1975 and early 76 which somewhat changed entirely the character of St Michaels and by extension the youth of Gilgil barracks. First, in 1975, Koelel high school was converted to be an all-boys school with the girls moved to now Naivasha girls; the school management also made a decision that the boys were to have service within the premise of the school and not at St. Michael’s church. This decision had an adverse effect on the church, as suddenly the pews became empty every Sunday and the services became hollow as there was no active choir.

In December, 1975, Lieutenant Father Peter Kaloki was posted to St. Michael as a parish priest to the Gilgil military units. Witty, bespectacled, pious, chain smoker and rail thin; this young priest brought that rare freshness to the church. Fr. Kaloki, then loved smoking and clearly enjoyed the effort, he could inhale the smoke from the cigarette, sort of chomp the smoke in his mouth before exhaling up in the sky through a rolled tongue.

Though somewhat controversial the young priest had that knack for preaching sometimes being carried away in his preaching becoming too explicit for a priest. His coming led to the setting up of netball and volleyball pitches within the church precinct, under his guidance, we the youth got involved in doing concerts and yes Christian movies were also among his many surprise menus.

Fact that now a chaplain was permanently in place, worshippers started streaming back to St Michael as it was relatively easier to engage in other matters spiritual like weddings, baptisms, and daily masses.

The church of Christ progressed.

One Saturday morning, however, Gilgil barracks woke up with an imaginable happening. The church had been broken into and the tabernacle which holds the holy Eucharist- the holy of holies- had been stolen. The tabernacle holds a special place in the catholic faith; it is considered as the body of Christ under the appearance of bread. It is the bread of life; the food of the soul giving an increase of grace to those who partake in it. The holy Eucharist, therefore, occupies a pride of place in every Catholic Church and explains why the catholic genuflect when entering the church- an honour of being in presence of Jesus Christ himself ( and Jesus is God). So the loss of the tabernacle which was holding the holy Eucharist was therefore unthinkable.  It is like an Infantry unit, losing its fighting colours, only worse, much worse.

I was a mass server on Sunday next but anybody who was in St Michael’s archangel church will never forget that day. Fr Kaloki’s explained to us the shocked faithful the enormity of what had happened, and he prayed with us for the church of Christ not to be sullied by the happening. He begged for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

 And then the Lieutenant reverend Father Peter Joseph Ndambuki Kaloki went the whole hog. He bitterly castigated and cursed the man who had stolen the Eucharist. The priest’s lips then dripped with unimaginable curses to the unknown man. (It had to be a man) he cursed the offspring of the man, he cursed all his undertakings and in the name of God, he cursed and cursed and cursed. We the faithful lapped all this with a feeling of rapt bewilderment.

Finally, he maintained an ominous silence, gazing at the space where the tabernacle had been and whispered almost to himself.

“This man stole God”

Life was good. If only it could have remained in a permanent state for us the youth. But alas, it could not be so. We grew up; we moved on.

We the youth of Gilgil barracks of the seventies and early eighties are now greying and gracefully becoming grandparents but are proud that we have ridden piggy back on technology to maintain our childhood links. Solid links because growing up in a barrack setting gives it an exceptional special flavour. We are also proud that in a remarkable way we have made a positive impact in every undertaking globally from the academics, sports, government, clergy and the uniformed services. We have a presence on all continents and yes, we do have our own right into the national cabinet.

It behoves today, that as St Michaels’s church hands over the spiritual responsibilities and a new church now fill the void. It brings in a feeling of cross-pollination of tears and joy at the same time.

St Michael’s church will forever remain in our minds and hearts. But what springs and remains steady in my mind is that this was a church where at one time, a mortal man had stolen God.

Postscript

Neat endings are rare in nature, but in the case of the St Michael church a sort of tidy ending is taking place somewhat.

A new modern and spacious St Michael church has finally been erected with the chairperson of the parish committee a brat whose first spiritual home is the now decommissioned St Michael.

As the normal run of things would dictate, the three catechists within the period have all crossed the bridge to their promised mansions up yonder. The whereabouts of some of the missionary priests are unknown save for reverend father Edward Lalor who despite ailing is back in his hometown in Ireland and continues to be active but passively as a youtube missionary under the banner

“Mission accomplished”.

Father Peter Kaloki resigned from the KDF with the rank of major and controversial as ever, is now arch-bishop ministering with the African brotherhood church in his home county. Together with a former Vatican-based Catholic arch Bishop, Emmanuel Milingo, archbishop Kaloki founded the international married priest’s catholic prelature of saints Peter and Paul.

Two years after the stealing of the tabernacle a man on bended knee approached Father Kaloki in the streets of Nakuru and sought forgiveness and reconciliation for breaking in and doing the sacrilegious act. He begged for the curse to be lifted. The man had been a state guest for 15 months having been convicted for another case of breaking and entering; He was convinced that the tribulations bedevilling him were due to the spiritual curse levelled on him since breaking into St Michael’s church.

A few weeks after the breaking in of the church, the tabernacle was found in a ditch a few kilometres from the church. There had been tampering in breaking of the tabernacle, but the chalice holding the holy host was not touched. The tabernacle finally found its rightful place back at the St Michaels Archangel church.

God could not be stolen.