Читать книгу My Journey Of Faith - Dr. Charles Mutua Mulli - Страница 7

Chapter Two: Humble Beginnings

It is amazing to realize all that God has accomplished in my life from where I began. It reminds me that God is never limited by our circumstances.

I was born on January 7, 1949, in Kathithyamaa village in Kangundo, Machakos County. I am the firstborn among ten children, nine boys and one girl. Our childhood was very difficult because our poor parents could hardly provide for us.

We lived from hand to mouth, one day at a time. My father, Daudi Kaleli, was a squatter with no land of his own. He occasionally worked on farms with my mother, Rhoda Mukina, in order to feed us. In most cases, whenever they could not provide for us, we had to seek other means of survival for ourselves elsewhere.

In an attempt to cope with our difficult life, my father would often stay away from home. He would only come back at night, and often very drunk. He developed violent tendencies, which added more domestic problems to the already existing ones.

Our clothing was nothing more than tatters. Our housing was ramshackle. I led the life of a street child. The only difference between me and the present-day street children is that I never roamed around in town streets or sniffed glue. Still, I had many similarities with them. I regularly begged for food from neighbours and wandered a lot in the village, to the point that I became a nuisance. Some children from well-to-do families laughed at me as I asked for something to eat from their parents. It was humiliating. But I chose to be ashamed and embarrassed rather than to die of hunger.

When I was six years old, my parents left for Molo in the then Rift Valley province to search for employment. They hoped to earn a living by doing menial jobs in the expansive agricultural farms. I was left in the care of an aunt, who was also very poor. Together with my siblings, I led a life of begging for food from neighbours and other well-wishers. It was not an easy thing to do. But the survival instinct has a strange way of helping to overcome feelings of shame. I regularly moved from one relative to another seeking help, just trying to hang on in life, doing nothing more than existing.

My day started with standing under a scorching sun. I would eat sugarless porridge on those rare occasions when we were able to have something to eat. I would then plot my next move to find some manual job to do in the village. Some days we found work and eventually got some food. But often there were no jobs. And that meant no food.

Despite the harsh economic and social challenges that surrounded us, I had a burning ambition and desire to succeed and make a difference in my life and the lives of my family members. So I tracked the whereabouts of my parents to the city of Molo, where my father was working in white colonial settler farms. Here I started class (grade) 1. But life continued to be unbearable. Not only did we not have food or clothing, my drunken father had sunk even deeper into alcoholism.

I returned to Kangundo a year later and joined the Kyamulendu primary school. I later transferred to Kathithyamaa, where I lived with my relatives. By the grace of God, I was able to complete primary education (grade 8) in 1966 at the age of 17. Unfortunately, I never proceeded to secondary school, due to a lack of money for the fees.

With so many struggles, I began to lose hope in life. I felt that my fate on earth had been sealed—that I was bound to suffer throughout my entire life. I developed a feeling that I would never progress in life. I saw myself as doomed.

I even contemplated committing suicide.

But little did I know that God had good plans for me. He had a purpose for my life. He had designed me to carry out a specific calling.

Yet all of this would happen only in His perfect timing.

During that period of suffering and confusion, a friend invited me to a church event taking place in the nearby town of Kangundo. I decided to go, even though I was not born again and had little interest in the Word of God. I was raised in a society where the Bible was hardly ever mentioned. God was not on my mind. However, I chose to attend this event out of curiosity to see how Christians did their singing and dancing.

When I arrived at the church, I saw a huge crowd. As the pastor preached, I felt he was talking about the very things that were happening in my life. He talked about Christ’s invitation to those who were carrying heavy burdens in their hearts to come to Him and find rest. He talked about God being able to create a way where there seems to be no way and that He turns around difficult circumstances.

“Come to Him, those who labour, and He will comfort you,” the preacher said. “Cast your burden unto Jesus, because He cares for you,” the pastor went on to beseech the gathering. He then added, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” He summed up by reading a Scripture that said, “I am the way and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). I felt the fire of salvation burning within me, and without hesitation I gave my life to Christ that day. I became a born-again Christian. I found a new bearing in life and a renewed hope in God. I was able to relax and allow God to take control of my life.

I went back home a very happy and relieved young man. I had been battling with so many needs, worrying about many things in life—poverty, a lack of education and a bleak future. The more I worried about them, the more difficult they became. I now resolved to allow God to take control of my life and carry my burden. I acquired a small New Testament Bible, which I carried with me in my pocket wherever I went. I mandated myself to read it at least once a day.

As I read the Bible and committed myself to God, I was impacted by 1 Peter 5:5–11:

You who are younger, submit yourselves to your elders. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.

Yes, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” As a young person, I felt that this section of the Bible was directly addressing me. I chose to obey it fully. Prior to the Kangundo gospel event, I had become desperate. I had thought that taking my own life was the only way out. I saw nothing good in life. But this portion of Scripture reminded me that God cares for me.

At that moment, I was weak both physically and emotionally because I lacked most of the things I desired in life. Yet this verse revealed to me that the “God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong.”

***

One day, on a visit to my relatives in Kithimani, I received information that the government was recruiting soldiers for the Kenya Army. There were only two days to go before the exercise would take place in Machakos. I had been harbouring a desire to join the military because I thought I was strong and capable of serving in the disciplined forces. Whenever I encountered soldiers, I would look at them in awe and admiration. So now I had to move quickly in order to try my luck at getting enlisted.

Because of my lack of resources, I did not have even a shilling to board a vehicle to Machakos. My relatives in Kithimani could not help either. But this did not deter me from going to Machakos to attend the recruitment exercise. By faith, I decided to walk all the way from Kithimani to Machakos town through the expansive Yatta plateau. This would be a 50-kilometre journey. I left home very early and walked through thickets, rocks and grasslands under the scorching sun of Ukambani.

There was no specific road to follow. I got my bearings through natural geography as I walked towards Machakos to secure my goal of a military job. At times I would walk for over five kilometres without seeing a home or even meeting a single person. Whenever I met people on the road, I asked them for the directions. I was glad when their answers indicated I was heading in the right direction.

I was alone for most of the journey. I feared being attacked by wild animals, but that did not deter me from soldiering on. I only stopped occasionally to eat wild fruit and drink water from the river. During this journey I was convinced that “though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, because the Lord protects me.”

Between the towns of Kithimani and Machakos, I had to cross two major rivers, the Athi River and the Thwake River. I managed to cross the Athi River with the help of young men who had boats. Their work was to help people cross from one side to the other for a fee of 50 cents. I used my last coin to pay for their service.

Nightfall found me in Kabaa, and I slept in the corner of one of the shops. I resumed my journey early the following morning and walked straight into the Iveti hills; I did not go in the Makutano direction. Scaling these hills was not easy, but I managed to climb up and descend down the rocks.

When I came to the Thwake River, there was no bridge to cross over. But as a determined young man nothing was going to hinder me from reaching my desired destination. I waded through the waters and managed to cross the river by the use of sticks to measure the depth and employing the hop, step and jump style, also known as triple jump. I arrived in Machakos town just as the evening was approaching, very tired and very hungry.

I did not know anyone in Machakos town. I did not have any money for food or accommodation. Strangely, after such a long and difficult journey, I felt neither hungry nor tired. All I longed for was to join the army and get an opportunity to turn my life around. I spotted some young men talking by the roadside, and I humbly approached them, greeted them and told them that I had come all the way from Kithimani to attend a military recruitment exercise. I asked them to show me where the recruitment would take place so that I could go and stay there in readiness for the event. I had planned to sleep on the verandah or in the corridors of the recruitment venue.

One of the young men told me that he also had intentions of joining the military and was going to present himself for recruitment. “I’m aware of the army selections, and I will be going there to try my luck. I really want to be a soldier,” he said. I looked at his body frame, and in my assessment he was fit for the job. He warmed up to me, asked me about Kithimani, and even offered to host me in his home so that we could go together in the morning for the selections. He was a godsend. Those were the days when people were never scared of strangers. Those were the days when honesty, generosity, kindness and brotherhood, among other good virtues, were highly regarded. We knew that everybody meant well for one another. That evening I was able to eat and sleep well in a stranger’s house.

Through this experience, I gathered that God has His own way of preserving His people. He always sends someone ahead of you. He creates a road where there is none. He protects you from evil. And He provides for you.

The following day we left early in the morning and walked about five kilometres from my host’s home to the Machakos stadium. We were among the first to arrive. Our first test was a simple drill—the recruitment team wanted to assess our strength through a running exercise. We were told to run about 10 times around the stadium. I was a good athlete and managed to finish among the first group. Over 200 people had turned up for the exercise, but close to half were dismissed right away for either finishing late or not being able to complete the race. According to those recruiting, the good runners already had one foot in the military.

When one was told “go to the right,” he was moved on to the next level. Those who were told “go to the left” had failed the test. That was an automatic disqualification with no chance for appeal. Everyone’s prayer was to hear “go to the right.”

After the running exercise I was told “go to the right.” I was happy about my performance so far. My hope of joining the military was beginning to be realized.

The next test was an assessment of our body, height and general fitness. The recruitment team also checked for any sign of physical deformity. When they examined my body frame from top to bottom, everything was well: my height was desirable, as I was above five feet tall; I had no problem with my eyes; my teeth were white and none of them was missing; my hands were straight; there were no missing fingers; my legs were straight; and I walked upright. So far, so good. I had met the conditions for joining the military.

I was waiting to be told “go to the right.” But one military man re-examined me and asked, “What happened to your leg here?” He pointed to a white scar on my left leg. It was an injury that I sustained over 10 years earlier when I was cooking porridge for my siblings. The serving spoon toppled over and landed on my leg, scalding me with boiling porridge. I was severely injured and could not walk for months. I was never taken to hospital. There was no money for treatment. The injury grew worse and even started emitting a foul smell. My leg became terribly swollen. With no medical attention, it took over six months for the wound to heal, and I was left with a permanent scar on my leg. This military man noticed. He looked me straight in the eyes, paused for a moment, and said, “Go to the left.”

Just like that, I had missed the chance. I felt so disappointed. But I knew that there was a reason for everything. The exercise was conducted in a quick manner and left no room for negotiations or appeal. If you were ordered to leave, you had to depart immediately. I left the Machakos stadium a very downtrodden man. But I asked God to preserve me so that I could fight another day.

***

I went back to my relatives in Kithimani on foot, just as I had left. While there, I worked on a coffee plantation and other farms for about a month. My work was to clear the weeds and prune the coffee plants. I also engaged in picking coffee and transporting it to the nearby factory. However, this job ended, and I returned to my home in Kangundo to search for other ways of earning a living. I did not wish to stay at home and pity myself, so I kept trying out different avenues to earn income.

But while at home, things kept going from bad to worse. We would go for days without food. We only survived by begging from neighbours, which had become our normal routine. There was nothing to do to earn a living; even the common manual jobs like weeding, harvesting and transporting farm produce to the market were not easy to come by. I longed to get a job of digging in someone’s farm in Kangundo, but I was never hired. Eventually, I considered relocating to a town where opportunities were unlimited, maybe Machakos or even Nairobi.

One evening, I sat quietly and prayed to God to take charge of my life. I asked Him not to forsake me in my hour of need. I told God that I was relying on Him totally to make a change in my life. After a long period of meditation and prayer, I went to sleep.

I woke up the following morning feeling quite energetic, and I made an instant decision to leave home and go to Nairobi to look for employment. The epic and risky journey to Nairobi, 70 kilometres away, saw me pass through thickets and bare land. It took me three days to reach the city. Despite numerous dangers on the way, I remained determined as I walked in faith.

***

This happened barely three years after Kenya had attained independence. The government’s agenda was to develop its citizens and give them jobs, land and business opportunities for national growth. Children who had performed well in their exams were being given scholarships to study abroad. Those were the days when people with various desirable academic qualifications were taken from their homes to go and serve in government offices, schools, industries, corporate organizations and other places.

Having stopped schooling in class 8, I did not possess meaningful academic papers (certificate, diploma or degree) that could help me secure a white collar job. Even though the white collar jobs were not as limited in those days as they are now, I knew I stood no chance of serving in an office. The realistic option for me was to use my hands and other relevant life skills to eke out a living. I was ready to do any kind of job. I had done a lot of farm work at home, and I did not mind doing more as long as it would enable me to generate income and stop me from having to beg from people.

I arrived in Nairobi and came face-to-face with a huge city full of people. I did not know anybody here. I could not even figure out my way around the many streets. There were many people rushing about, everyone minding their own business, not talking to each other. This was not what I was used to back in my village. Nobody greeted me in Nairobi. I would have received many greetings in Kangundo.

I walked through the streets, admiring the levels of development. The buildings were big and clean. The roads were good. Everything looked smart. The people were well dressed. The items on display in the shops were marvellous. There were so many people in town. But I also noticed a couple of beggars and street families.

After walking aimlessly through the city, I became very hungry. I had not tasted a meal since I left Kangundo three days previously. I had been surviving on only water and wild fruits. I slept on the town pavement for another two nights. On the third day, I walked outside the city and found myself in one of the high-end estates. It was mainly inhabited by Europeans and Asians. It had nice bungalows. The compounds were full of trees and well-manicured lawns. The gates were large and made of iron. Years later, I learned that this was the Runda estate.

I knocked on one of the gates repeatedly until an Asian woman came out. She was visibly angry. “Why are you disturbing us?” she asked me. I told her that I was desperate and I wanted some food to eat. She hesitated for a moment and then told me, “Come inside.” She gave me some very good food, and I gulped it down quickly.

I thanked her profusely for her kind gesture. I then told her I was looking for a job. “I will do any job you want,” I told her.

She did not mull it over for long. She called one of the senior workers, who came running, and instructed him to assign me duties in the garden.

I became engaged in tilling the garden, cutting grass, pruning flowers, washing clothes and cooking in the kitchen, among other domestic chores. My salary was 65 Kenyan shillings (KSh65) per month. This was good money at the time. I could afford to buy clothes and even had money for my mother and siblings.

Suddenly my life changed. It was now good. I did not worry about my next meal, because I was given three meals a day by my employer. Plus, I was given a room and a bed to sleep on. I repeatedly thanked God for creating this chance for me.

While doing this work, I exhibited a lot of patience, honesty, trustworthiness and commitment. Most importantly, I obeyed my employer. Every time I was assigned a duty I ensured that I accomplished it well. Generally, I liked doing my work with a degree of perfection. Whenever I cleaned the compound I ensured it was thorough. The same applied to washing utensils and even pruning flowers. Some of my fellow workers complained that the pay was so little; they felt like we were slaves who suffered as others enjoyed. But I had a different opinion. I told them I had come from a worse situation than this. So I had every reason to like my job and be happy.

***

Six months later, the man I was working for, Mr. De Souza, though I hardly interacted with him, decided to transfer me from his house in Nairobi to his company (Kakuzi Ltd.) in Thika, where he was the managing director. Initially I never knew where my employer worked. All I gathered was that he was a rich man who owned a palatial home in the city, drove a very nice car, bought so many things for his family, and occasionally held parties for his friends at his house.

So on that morning, on the day of transfer, I received a message that the boss wanted to see me. I was scared. Most people who received such messages ended up being sent away. Normally, when the boss summoned us, we rushed to clean our hands and feet before going to meet him. I quickly spruced myself up and rushed to the main house. I was told to dress well and wait at the gate.

When the tall man came out of the house, he called me to enter his Mercedes car. I could not believe what I was experiencing—a shamba boy being given a ride in his employer’s luxurious car. We went for about one hour along the present Thika road, past Thika town, before reaching the Kakuzi farm, where he appointed me to serve as a farm clerk. This was a very huge promotion. I worked both in the office and on the farm. My duties included keeping a record of workers who had reported on duty. This farm had over 200 workers. My salary increased. Slowly but surely, my life was beginning to take a new turn. God had released His favour upon me.

Here I exhibited strong managerial and leadership skills and was further promoted to the position of an assistant manager. My job entailed assigning workers their duties in the farm and supervising the coffee picking process.

While working in Kakuzi I met and fell in love with Esther Nthenya, who was also a casual worker, and we eventually got married on December 22, 1970.

Then came another step forward. In 1971, I joined Strabag Road Construction Company in Mwea, Embu County, where I was put in charge of the stores. I was not given a specific title, but this position was similar to a procurement officer. I was involved in receiving construction materials from suppliers, storing them, issuing them to workers and keeping records.

Later that year, Strabag was awarded a tender to construct the Timboroa-Eldoret and Nyaru-Eldoret roads in the then Rift Valley Province. I was transferred to this region in the same capacity.

In 1972, the Strabag Company completed its road construction project in Kenya and embarked on a new project in Saudi Arabia. I was offered an opportunity to continue working with Strabag in the new location in the Middle East. But after a moment of soul-searching, I declined the offer and opted to remain in Nyaru, where I continued to engage in various business activities, mainly public transport.

I became a bona fide resident of Nyaru. This was a forested place with temperatures much colder than I was used to. The transport system was very poor. It was not easy to travel to Eldoret due to a lack of vehicles. Eventually I decided to start a matatu (taxi) business along the Eldoret-Nyaru route. I drove the vehicle myself. My business expanded, and I bought minibuses. I christened the company Mullyways, and it operated between Kapenguria, Eldoret, Nairobi and Machakos.

Besides the transport business, I operated a small shop in Nyaru that was managed by my wife, Esther. I also engaged in different agricultural ventures, which included dairy farming, poultry keeping and large-scale farming of maize in Uasin-Gishu for commercial purposes.

With time, my business ventures flourished, and I built a house in Pioneer Estate in the town of Eldoret, where I relocated with my family. I diversified further by opening a hardware shop and establishing Mullyways Agencies Ltd., a multi-purpose company that dealt in insurance, microfinance, real estate agency, security and debt collection. I even bought 50 acres of land on the Thika River in Ndalani that I would use a retirement property for our family.

Esther and I were blessed with seven children: Janey, Grace, Ndondo, Kaleli, Mueni, Isaac and Dickson. We also adopted and raised Miriam, my youngest sister. I enrolled them for school in the then prestigious Kaptagat Preparatory. As a devoted family man, I ensured that my children grew up to be responsible people. I led them in daily devotions where they sang and memorized Bible verses. Everything had exceeded my wildest expectations.

At least that’s what I thought.