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Archbishop Ndingi Mwana a'Nzeki's biography: A Voice Unstilled

In this second part of the serialisation of Archbishop Ndingi Mwana a'Nzeki's biography, A Voice Unstilled, read about how the retired clergyman confronted the issue of celibacy

Up to this day, there is nothing that pains Ndingi more than the willful violation of priestly vows and the failure or refusal of those who cannot keep on with the priestly vow of celibacy to seek dispensation in the normal, accepted ways.

On many occasions, Ndingi spoke about this issue at length. At every priestly ordination, he exhorted the priests to uphold the vow of celibacy and live up to their calling as the Lord's servants.

It is a personal burden that is light if we take the adequate means to protect it," he told a congregation at a priestly ordination at Tangaza College on November 28,1992. "We see its beauty in prayer. It is the pearl of great price that we have found."

Ndingi believed and still does, that celibacy was possible even in the most outrageously difficult circumstances. But he also acknowledged that a celibate life is for the brave few, "for those who can accept, for those who can lead a disciplined life." A key component to leading a fullsome celibate life was prayer.

This is something he affirmed repeatedly when he met priests or delivered homilies at their ordination, "We cannot serve God and the world," he told priests at the Hekima Jesuit School of Theology on February 17,1993. "If we look back once our hands are on the plough we are not fit for the Kingdom, for the mission entrusted to us, for the call we have answered."

Yet the Archbishop believed that even those priests who were not able to keep up with their priestly vows were in need of help not condemnation. But before help was offered, he demanded honesty and forthrightness among those who genuinely sought it.

"A priest," Ndingi once told an audience of rectors, "remains human and is beset by temptations like any other Christian. A priest is liable to fail and to fail badly?' But this does not mean that he does not have a vocation. "St Peter," he stressed, "was not removed from among the 12 after he denied Christ One who is obviously trying to respond to God's love is to be encouraged."

Many priests are forever appreciative of the help they got from Ndingi. Fr Kanja says, "Ndingi was especially helpful to those priests whose vocations were threatened and sought help from him. He never condemned. He tried to help."

But what he could not countenance were priests who refused to acknowledge that they had a problem or did not attempt to seek help for it. He stressed continually the need for church leaders to listen to those in need of guidance.

Before priests can be ordained, proper choices must be made, vocations must be nurtured in the correct way and the major seminaries must inculcate values in the seminarians which would enable them lead celibate lives as per the requirements of the Church.

"When there is doubt about a candidate's suitability, he should be advised and helped to find his vocation in the world," he told a meeting of vocation promoters in Nairobi on October 24,1993. But a candidate thus advised should never be made to feel rejected or useless. Every assistance, he urged, should be given to make them adapt to their new environment.

Only the best and mature priests in the diocese should be entrusted with the pro-motion of vocations, those whose lives mirrored the life of Christ. He thus expected his priests to set a good example to those they led. Though he never voiced it publicly he expected priests in the Nairobi Archdiocese to always wear their clerical collar as was the custom in Nakuru. Though it was not a hard and fast rule, the donning of the collar was, to him a testimony to one's pride as a servant of the Lord.

In his first days as Archbishop of Nairobi, many priests admit thinking that they were offending to the archbishop if they appeared before him without the clerical collar. They later got used to the idea that their bishop was more concerned about how they lived their priestly life and carried out their pastoral duties than what they wore.

While addressing a seminar for rectors and spiritual directors of Eastern and Southem Africa at St Thomas Senior Seminary in Langata on July 28,1989, Ndingi stressed the need for priests not to set themselves apart from the communities they serve by way of dress, titles or living facilities, saying this may be a hinderance to their work.

But he also acknowledged that there is a subtly calculated, maybe diabolical, tendency to secularise the priest Too often, too many priests who have succumbed to the trend have become "one of the lads" in dress and recreation and overall behaviour. Thus, his belief has been that the priest's attire must befit their priestly office and purpose, even on their off days.

The priest by tradition is a "signum ek-vatum" (elevated sign), a beacon to beckon others to follow safely on. If the sign that should stand out is lowered and no longer seen, then it has failed in its purpose. The young Church in Africa needs priests - an authentic few committed to Christ and his values rather than a shiftless many who bend to every permissive breeze and are grateful to be "with it".

Priests, he insisted, must remain priests all the way. But what, even as he entered the last decade of his episcopate, saddened him was that some priests did not want to be priests in that sense of totality. "Some have already succumbed to a level of compromise between sacred pledge and sad performance," he says, "they want to be priestly, not sana (very much) but kidogo tu (just a little) as if there ever was a 'no-man's land' between the commitment Christ demands and the compromise man commends."

Yet, he was always appreciative of the fact that priests also led a difficult life in their efforts to uphold their vows. He was especially sensitive to anything that threatened priestly celibacy but those who ever had an opportunity to lay bare their lives to their bishop recall that Ndingi was always supportive.


He tried to help them in the best way he could, sometimes even transferring them to far away places just to separate them from the women threatening their priestly life.

In the early 1990s, Father Peter Mbuchi, an up-and-coming, young intelligent priest, was stationed in Nakuru Diocese. Mbuchi had had his measure of problems since his seminary days.

He was a seminarian in Nyeri when he was accused of leading a strike in the seminary and he was expelled. But some of the priests there had faith in him and still believed he would make a good priest.

His spiritual adviser, Fr Remigio Dalsanto, believed that a young man endowed with exemplary talents should not be let go off the seminary because of an infraction he probably had never intended. There was only one bishop he knew who could be willing to listen to the young man and even offer him a chance. He called up Ndingi in Nakuru and explained the situation.

"Let me see the young man," he told Fr Dalsanto, even though a letter sent by the rector had already damned Mbuchi to almost irredeemable levels.

Arriving in Nakuru one morning, Mbuchi met the bishop. For close to an hour, Ndingi listened to Mbuchi. Somehow he was struck by the young man's sincerity and determination to become a priest. "This is my candidate," he heard him say.

From then onwards, Mbuchi became a seminarian in the Catholic Diocese of Nakuru. After being accepted back, Mbuchi wrote Ndingi a letter expressing his gratitude "Sooner or later," he wrote, "you will realise that I am not the kind of person you have been told I am."

From then onwards, Ndingi and Mbuchi were one. "I believed my personality and his danced to each other," Mbuchi was later to say. When Mbuchi became a priest, the chemistry between him and Ndingi continued to flourish. Mbuchi found himself undertaking tasks that required full trust of the bishop. When Ndingi wanted something done, he sent for Mbuchi. When he wanted to replace white missionaries with Africans, he always sent Mbuchi to take over.

In many ways, Mbuchi was able to execute Ndingi's will and plans almost faultlessly. Ndingi thought he had found his man in Mbuchi. He trusted him fully and saw him as his son to the extent that the other priests thought that Ndingi favoured him.

So much did Ndingi trust Mbuchi that in 1986 he made him a representative of all the diocese priests in Moshi at the General Assembly and 25-year anniversary of AMECEA. In Mbuchi's own words, "the bishop had fantasies about what I would become. He saw me as his spiritual son, as someone to whom he would pass the mantle." Yet, much as he trusted the priest, Ndingi was afraid to let Mbuchi know how he felt about him even as he told everyone else what a wonderful priest Mbuchi was.

At one point, he wanted Mbuchi to go to America to study sociology. But Mbuchi was too in love with his work and was not ready to go. Instead, the bishop sent Fr Patrick Kanja. Fr Mbuchi was, however, to find himself in some inauspicious circumstances. In the course of his work, he met a nun with whom some intimacy developed. The nun was in charge of schools in the area that Mbuchi was administering. The relationship blossomed and in 1990, the nun got pregnant with Mbuchi's child.

When Ndingi came to know of it, he sent for the priest and they discussed the matter openly.

Mbuchi told the bishop that he wanted to quit priesthood on account of what had happened.

"Why?" the bishop asked in consternation. "Because of the relationship?"

Clearly, Ndingi did not know the whole truth. Then Mbuchi dropped what he thought was a bombshell: "You see," he told him, "the lady is heavy with my child."

Ndingi looked up as he is wont to when in deep thought He looked at the priest and said, "Yes, you have done wrong. But you are not the first one to fall into that kind of problem. You are still a priest"

The two continued debating the issue. According to Mbuchi, Ndingi talked to him as only a father would, in many ways, he believed that the Church should not be denied the services of such a priest because of the sins of the flesh.

Soon after, Mbuchi took some time off to spend 30 days interrogating his soul in an exercise called Ignitian Exercises (named after St Ignatius). The exercises were conducted under Fr Cecily Mc-Garry SJ, Mbuchi's spiritual adviser.

He spent the days reading the book of Job. Perhaps equating his tribulations with those of Job.

Afterwards, Ndingi, determined to save Mbuchi's priesthood sent him to a remote parish in Mombasa where he had to work with very difficult missionary priests. But despite these efforts the relationship between Fr Mbuchi and the nun continued.

Ndingi, who had thought that Mbuchi would forget her, got to know that the relationship was continuing. He had a perfect intelligence network. Ndingi had maintained a close relationship with the masses and with his priests. He would drop by a convent here and a parish there. That is how he got to know that Fr Mbuchi had not broken off the relationship.

He called him for a chat and encouraged him to leave the woman and continue with his vocation.

He could see the will in the priest yet there was a weakness that prevented him from acting. Ndingi hoped to act on that weakness and eventually prevail over the priest

Later Mbuchi went to America to create distance between himself and the nun while lending her support.

But none of that was working. Defeated, Mbuchi felt he had to quit "There was no way I was going to abandon that lady" he says. "I felt the Church expected me to reject her and the child" Ndingi still believed that Mbuchi should not quit

Even after Mbuchi wrote to the Vatican explaining his circumstances, the bishop advised him not to send the letter. When Mbuchi finally wrote to the Vatican asking to be laicized, Ndingi felt betrayed.

Ndingi's position on celibacy was quite strong. While he would encourage priests to rise above temptations, there were some things he was unequivocal on: "Priests who have fathered children should never be allowed to live a double life. It is either celibacy or family but not both," he maintained.

His insistence that Mbuchi go on with his ministry was therefore a contradiction. But it showed how much he believed in Mbuchi, his transgressions notwithstanding.

Upon Mbuchi's decision to leave the ministry, Ndingi underwent a period of turmoil. Those who worked with him say, "It was as though something died in him," recalls Fr Mirango, "as though he had lost a son."

On February 19, 1994 Ndingi wrote a heart-rending letter to Mbuchi expressing his regret at his leaving the priesthood.

Dear Peter,

It is with deep regret and sadness that I write to acknowledge receipt of your letter dated 8th February, 1994. I have read your letter and I see the unfortunate decision you have reached to leave priesthood. With effect from the moment you receive this letter, you cease to practise your priesthood except as stated in Can. 976.

The obligation for celibacy remains until such time as laicization is requested and dispensation granted. I take this opportunity to assure you of my continued prayers and will always be available to assist you in any way I can.

On February 23,1994, Ndingi wrote to all the parishes of the Catholic Diocese of Nakuru, all Kenya Catholic bishops and the Apostolic pro-Nuncio informing them that Fr Mbuchi "had decided to resign from the priestly ministry"

At the time Ndingi was writing this letter, he had seemingly given up on saving Mbuchi's priesthood. A number of letters had been exchanged between the priest and his Ordinary and despite Ndingi's best efforts, Mbuchi had decided to leave.

In his letter to Rome asking for laicization, Mbuchi stated that "for over six years I have been tormented by the conflict between the official teaching of the Catholic Church on the priesthood and my own experience as a sexually active person."

He went on to say that after parenting two children and having always preached responsible parenthood and against discrimination and suffering of children and single mothers, "I feel it a requirement of guilt shame or fear."

I felt that I should not preach water and drink wine. I have therefore publicly accepted my parenthood and wish to identify myself with these children and their mother, Mary Gertrude Kasiva, without remorse, guilt, shame or fear."

Even as he left the priesthood, Mbuchi wrote one last letter to Ndingi, lamenting a few incidents when he felt let down by the Ordinary but acknowledging that the bishop was "an honest man who would never intentionally say or do anything to hurt another person"

The letter was personal in nature but it also underscored the kind of relationship that Ndingi had with his priests, even those with whom they differed fundamentally. Like Mbuchi, they acknowledged the "atmosphere of openness" in which the bishop sought to ferret out matters.

Mbuchi was eventually granted laicization after 13 years of priesthood and left the Church in 1994. He married Mary Gertrude Kasiva at Mwangaza Spiritual Jesuit House on December 31, 1999 at a low-key ceremony presided over by his spiritual adviser, Fr McGarry.

Ndingi was evidently in agony after this. Had he invested too much in Mbuchi? Couldn't his ministry have been saved? Ndingi believed that celibacy should not be used to deny the Church the services of such priests. Ndingi still beheves in his heart that Mbuchi is still a priest even though he left the Church.

The case of Mbuchi revealed a man who was fiercely loyal to the Church but who, at the same time, was still rooted to his African roots.

Ndingi's initial refusal to let Mbuchi go, his frantic efforts to save his priesthood and his perorations about the need to uphold celibacy and the importance of waking up and walking when one stumbled upon the hurdles of one's vocation, reveals a man who not only deeply cared about his priests but who also felt that African priests were operating in peculiar circumstances.

In his reign in Nairobi, he accepted back a priest who went to the USA to study but failed to return after his studies. One day Ndingi was shocked to receive a call from the priest. "If I came back, would you agree to see me?" the priest asked.

"Come back and see me," he told him.

"Will you accept me back?" he sought assurance.

"Just come and see me. I'm your bishop and father."

The priest came back and after he listened to him, Ndingi accepted him into the archdiocese and posted him to a parish in the eastern deanary. As this book was being written, the priest was happily carrying out his pastoral duties at a parish in the Nairobi Archdiocese.

Ndingi was a firm believer, as the Mbuchi case amply demonstrates, that the Church must harness priests. In fact, he wrote a letter to the Nuncio on November 28,1983 outlining the possible causes why diocesan priests were leaving the ministry and offering suggestions to help the Church ring-fence them.

"It is so hurting to see a good priest and who is sincerely seeking help from those who should give it getting turned down. Is it better to keep a priest who is not happy in his own diocese and eventually see him leave the ministry or is it better to let him transfer and keep happy and in the ministry. If this option was or is given, there are some priests who would have remained in their ministry", he said.



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Archbishop Ndingi Mwana Nzeki Biography: Ndingi's plan that saw 'bui bui' clad Maathai beat tight police cordon

Archbishop Ndingi found like-minded allies in the person of Maina Kiai, who was to become the chairman of the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights at the turn of the decade and Prof Wangari Maathai, who was later to be awarded the Nobel Prize for her fight against social injustice.

Prof Maathai, the environmentalist-cum politician, was one of the most vocal politicians at the time and one who was constantly in the government's bad books. The government could not condone any occasion where Prof Maathai was present or where she was addressing people. Her pairing up with Ndingi was particularly seen as hair-raising and the government constantly kept her in check.

On March 3,1993, there was a meeting to discuss the rehabilitation of the displaced people at the hall of Christ the King Cathedral in Nakuru and Prof Maathai was invited.

The embassies of Canada, Germany and Netherlands had also sent representatives to give views
on how best to resettle the people. There were many people gathered at the gate of the cathedral.

As the bishop and the professor walked from the bishop's office to the cathedral, they were met
by an astonishing sight.

The cathedral had been cordoned off. There were General Service Unit (GSU) and Criminal Investigation Department (CID) personnel all around. The police were fully armed, "as if they were at war" and they were stopping people from entering the compound. Priests were required to identify themselves before they could be allowed entry into their church. Though they put up a strong resistance, the police were not in any mood to compromise. They stopped the meeting but the publicity it gained was more than enough to arouse the sensibilities of the nation as to what was going on in the Rift Valley.

Wangari's crusade did not have the benefit of awe and fear as that of the bishop. She was a marked person in a way that the bishop was not. The bishop, however, lent her every kind of support. Her relentless battle with the government had started a little earlier when she mounted a serious campaign against the construction of Kenya Times Tower (KIT) in Uhuru Park.

Wangari's view was that the construction of the complex would ruin the city and turn it into a concrete jungle. Almost single handedly, she waged a war against the development, drawing the anger and earning quite a number of enemies but also admirers.

Members of the ruling party, Kanu, were never comfortable with her. They railed, and threatened her so many times that she was in constant fear for her life; she was constantly in need of protection.

Together with another crusader, Fr Ndikaru wa Teresia who had also waged an environmental crusade against a company called Kel Chemicals in Thika, they were people on the run.

Kel Chemicals was emitting harmful gases into the environment; endangering the lives of those living in the surrounding.

In 1992, Wangari was at the peak of her crusade. This was also the time that her life was totally threatened. She was followed everywhere and was never sure of where she would be the following day. Where could she hide from the seeming omnipresence of security people? As they say, it is in the middle of danger that those who are threatened find the best refuge.
Italic
Ndingi even though a marked man, arranged to house Wangari.

How Maathai teamed up with Ndingi to fight for the rights of victims of ethnic cleansing in R. Valley

On March 2,1993, he arranged with Fr Ndikaru wa Teresia and Fr Francis Mirango to assist the professor go into hiding in Nakuru. This was a risky and almost impossible mission. Every one knew Wangari and the route to Nakuru was full of roadblocks.

Besides, Fr Ndikaru himself was also a marked man. But this was a time to take risks and it was better to try out the mission than wait and get caught unawares.

Fr Ndikaru was to meet Wangari at Uthiru, 10 kilometres from the city. The location was ideal because the place was teeming with people. No one seemed to notice a sickly looking lady, dejected to the core, wearing a buibui and gazing into nothingness as if she had lost all hope of living. Those who saw her must have dismissed her as another Somali lady probably looking for her kin in the densely populated and cosmopolitan suburb.

Fr Ndikaru arrived at 9.35am. The scrawny lady recognised the white Toyota Corolla car, registration KAA 203G and ambled towards it. She opened the door and got onto the back, slumping down like a patient. The car started off at a steady speed. No suspicions aroused, it got onto the highway and started the 140 kilometre journey to Nakuru.

At Kamandura-Limuru road, they came across the first road block. The car slowed down, the police peered in and saw a Somali lady. They waved the vehicle on. The next road-block was at Delamere in Naivasha. The police were not interested in a ragged looking man wearing a cap and a Somali lady seated at the back. They probably thought it was a taxi, so they waved it on.

But in Gilgil, tougher luck was awaiting them. The people manning the road-block were not regular police but GSU personnel. These would be more difficult to fool than the others. They waved down the vehicle. At this point the occupants of the vehicle said a prayer in Kikuyu, "Mwathani utugitire na utuiguire tha" (God protect us and have mercy on us).

"Where are you going?" a burly GSU man asked in a rude and abrasive voice, all the time training his eyes into the vehicle and the figure slumped at the back. Fr Ndikaru thought that the officer would recognise Wangari and his heart raced with terror.

He was cold and full of fear. "I have never felt that kind of fear in my life," he was to later say. He was nearly responding when the officer cut in; "Kwani Mama ni Mgonjwa?" (Is the old lady sick?) "Eee ni mgonjwa sana" (yes, she is very sick). It was a holy lie and "God would forgive me," Fr Ndikaru recalled.

"Haya basi kimbia haraka umpeleke hospitali pale Gilgil (then hurry and take her to hospital in Gilgil).

"That was the Holy Spirit at work," Fr Ndikaru told Maathai who also could not see it any other way.



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A Voice Unstilled: Archbishop Ndingi Mwana a' Nzeki: Bishop who took on a brutal regime over Rift Valley killings

Fearless Catholic Archbishop Ndingi Mwana a'Nzeki' tells His story with the first installment of his new biography, A Voice Unstilled: Archbishop Ndingi Mwana a'Nzeki'.

F or people residing in some parts of the Rift Valley, the period 1991-1992 was a time of living dangerously. At that time ethnic clashes had broken out around Kipkelion, Olenguruoni, Molo and some parts of Bomet.

The government preferred calling them land clashes, attempting to convince the masses that what was happening there was just simple clashes but there was more than met the eye. Houses were being torched and people were being killed senselessly.

Neighbour was rising against neighbour and communities where people had lived peacefully for years became veritable tinder boxes, hi spite of this, the government still wanted people to believe that the clashes were about land. In fact, the term tribal clashes disappeared from the media and the softer 'land-clashes" became the denning term for the atrocity happening in the Rift Valley. It was largely seen as a Kikuyu-Kalenjin affair where two tribes had turned against each other with dreadful consequences.

Two things made this conundrum puzzling. First, it was coming at a time when the clamour for multipartyism was at its peak Kami's hegemony, as a political party that had ruled the country since independence, was being fiercely challenged by a rabid opposition. The supporters of Forum for Restoration of Democracy (Ford) were mainly Luos, Luhyas and Kikuyus and some of them lived in Rift Valley. To ensure that they did not vote, they had to be uprooted from the province.

Police protection

Second, there was what was seen as government lethargy in dealing with the problem. When the clashes first broke out, the government did nothing to stop them, hi some cases it was claimed that the raiders were receiving police protection and even as the fighting continued no one was getting arrested for the atrocity. Some believed that ethnic-cleansing was at work.

As the atrocity continued, the allegations that some of those actively involved were members of Kami, were rife. In just five days, 20,000 people had been displaced and were now gathered in open areas requesting intervention from the government.

On the Sunday morning of November 3,1991, a group of armed raiders invaded farms belonging to non-Kalenjins in Kokwet, Chepkechei and Mtaragon areas, set houses ablaze, shot people with arrows and raped women. Consequently, the displaced families ran away and sought refuge at a nearby school, leaving their farms at the mercy of raiders and looters.

Sitting in the bishopric house in Nakuru, Ndingi received the news with shock A number of priests, stunned at what they had seen, took the bishop through the entire episode, giving him a blow by blow account of what had happened. Desperation, anger and helplessness permeated the atmosphere. Ndingi reclined in his seat and listened much more carefully.

The priests who knew him well also knew that he usually acted on his feet when a burning issue was brought to his attention.

But on this morning, he just sat dazed and listened like one in a trance. Then he took out his pen and started jotting. As the moral disgust of the entire problem receded in Ndingi's mind, its political and historical contours became visible.

"Something has to be done," he told one of the priests,"we must make the whole world aware of the goings on. The Church must play its role."

Unbeknown to the priests, Ndingi's statement that "something has to be done" was the start of a long and bruising moral crusade against what was to clearly emerge as one of the biggest crimes against humanity to be committed in that part of the country.

Catholic priests

That very day, the Catholic priests of Nakuru Diocese crafted a strongly worded statement on the clashes, calling on the government to protect the lives and property of the communities living in the Rift Valley.

"These are people who acquired their land legally and are ready to be issued with title deeds...their future is now unclear to them. Though they have been promised security and a return to their land they feel- that this guarantee is too little; too late," the statement read.
The priests wondered if the government was trying to balkanise the nation. "The torching of houses and property appear to have been carefully planned and orchestrated.

In Kunyak, eyewitnesses stated that Kami officials were actively involved...there is no doubt that these events have caused great damage to trust and confidence among different ethnic groups.
Is this majimboism in action?"

The statement was endorsed by Ndingi as the bishop. It did not, however, make the screaming headlines that other stories from Ndingi had previously done. Still, it was a handy warning shot and a declaration that the Catholic Church was not about to take a backseat while people were dying and their houses being burnt.

The clashes had now spread to areas bordering Kisumu, affecting three dioceses: Kisumu, Nakuru and Eldoret. The bishops of the three dioceses, Archbishop Zacheaus Okoth of Kisumu, Ndingi and Cornelius Korir of Eldoret, Archbishop John Njenga of Mombasa, John Njue of Embu and Father Ndikaru wa Teresia, the editor of Mwananchi magazine got together and visited the affected areas. They were horrified at what they saw.

Hordes of people walking along the God-forsaken roads of Olenguruoni and Molo, stunned them.

Dead bodies were strewn on the road and warriors armed with arrows were spoiling for war.

They saw cows, mooing with the pain of un-milked udders; heard the agonised bleat of goats which, like their human owners, had been displaced from the familiarity of their pens; saw lost children crying for their parents, some unaware that their parents had been killed or seriously wounded and they saw the charred remains of what used to be peaceful homes; the scorched expanses of what used to be fecund earth. They beheld the unrepentant, bloodthirsty faces of the killers of Molo.

The picture was horrifying. Bishop Njue could not contain himself and he shed tears. Njue, was so enraged that, as those who were there recall, it was difficult to know if the tears were out of pain or anger.

Amidst sobs, he took out his camera and took some pictures of the warriors armed with arrows. He had underestimated the tempestuous nature of the moment because at that point, some young men approached them menacingly.

"Why did you take our pictures?" one of them asked.

Brandishing pangas, they demanded that the bishop gives them the camera. Bishop Njue hesitated and the men closed in.

Sensing serious trouble, Ndingi implored Njue to acquiesce.

"Let's not cause a commotion by taking photos," Ndingi pleaded with a frustrated Njue. "These people can even kill us."

They took the camera and unspooled the film, then furiously stomped on it.

Archbishop Njenga recalls seeing planes dropping arrows in the area, which were then hastily collected by the locals. For some time, he thought he was wrong but it dawned on him that the situation was not as it had been reported in the media. People were not fully aware of what was going on in the Rift Valley.

Land clashes

The whole issue had been made to look like a case of simple land clashes between warring tribes. But there was more to it. This was a war by one heavily backed set of people against another unarmed, hapless lot. It was a war full of fire and rage and in many ways, devoid of sense.
After this scaring episode, the bishops continued with their fact-finding mission. At one point they met an old woman on the road and stopped the car.

"Where are you going?" Njenga asked the old, haggard and scared woman. "I don't know?" she replied.

The bishops consulted and decided to take the woman in their car. They went all the way to Olenguruoni parish where they left the woman under the care of the parish priest.

"We as pastors must speak out," they proclaimed, quoting the book of Luke (19:40) "I tell you, if these keep silent the stones will cry out."

Getting back to the Kenya Catholic Secretariat, they crafted a statement challenging the government to break its silence and bring the clashes to an end. Then they cobbled together a collection of other bishops from other denominations with the intention of seeking an appointment with the president.

In Nairobi, they called the Head of the Civil Service, Prof Philip Mbithi, and asked him to arrange an appointment for them to see the president. Prof Mbithi was reluctant, probably sensing that the bishops were up to their rabble-rousing activities again. "If we do not see the president
today, we will demonstrate at the Holy Family Basilica tomorrow," they told him.

Mbithi realised that things were serious and that the clerics perhaps meant every word they said. He hastily organised a meeting for the bishops. All the ecumenical bishops met the president at State House that day at six in the evening. The meeting, Njenga recalls, was tense.

After Archbishop Okoth read the statement prepared by the bishops, Archbishop Njenga addressed the president. "Your Excellency, people are dying, we saw planes dropping arrows in the area and the situation is serious."

Moi hit the roof. "Bishop Njenga, I think you are exaggerating," he thundered. "The pilots you are referring to are Kikuyus. How can they drop arrows that would kill their people?" he asked.

"Your Excellency, given money they will do anything, even if they are Kikuyus."

Things were hotting up. The meeting was tense. The bishops were angry. The president was also annoyed at the audacity of the bishops. Silence descended on the room; no one wanted to speak and no one knew who would speak next and what they would say. The president fixed his gaze on the bishops.

All of a sudden one of the bishops rose to speak. He began to thank the president for the good deeds he had done for the country, pouring profuse praise on the Head of State.

"Your Excellency, I came here to thank you for the help you have given my church," one bishop said, "we have been able to do a lot with your generous contributions."

Another one would thank the president for helping his son get a scholarship and suddenly a few others chimed in with praises and panegyrics.

The whole course of the meeting changed. Moi sat there enjoying the whole drama and the sudden move some of the bishops had made to change the course of the entire conversation.

What had been, only a few minutes ago, a matter of grave national and public concern, was turned into a circus of praises. The Catholic bishops were seemingly isolated as the others chanted praises for the president and ignored the topic for which they had sought an appointment.

Needless to say, when the meeting ended, some of the bishops were assailed by a fierce sense of betrayal, a feeling that the meeting they had so painstakingly sought and issued threats over had miserably failed.

Perhaps unbeknown to some of the bishops was that the coterie of bishops was divided down the middle. There were those who were fierce loyalists and there were those who were genuinely searching for justice. The former are the ones who changed the course of the conversation.

Ndingi was crestfallen. He felt betrayed by some of his colleagues and as they left State House, he was almost in tears. He knew then that nothing would be done, that the president had not taken them seriously and that the appointment had come to nought.

In the following three months, the clashes continued. A litany of anguish and woes loomed large across a section of the kaleidoscope of Rift Valley.

Kamwaura area in Molo experienced some of the most vicious clashes with a hundred houses belonging to non-Kalenjins razed. About 2,000 homeless and displaced people sought refuge in St John and Paul churches in Kamwaura. Eight of them were killed.

In Elburgon area, 46 houses were burnt on March 16,1992, while during the same period, a group of about thirty youngsters from the Kalenjin community started burning houses belonging to the non-Kalenjins. They were doing this while guarded by elders armed with bows and arrows. Over fifty houses were torched.

On March 18, some houses were burned in Njoro area, some primary schools were shut down and several people were killed in an area called Larmudiac, near Egerton University.

Charged meeting

Sensing that the clashes were not about to abate, Ndingi gathered his priests for a meeting, the charged meeting, statistics on the death and suffering of the people of Rift Valley were put on the table.

On the Feast of Saint Joseph on March 19,1992, the priests and the bishop, once again released a statement expressing concern at the killings and destruction of property and just fell short of blaming the government for the violence.

"Our analysis leads us to conclude that there is reluctance among our political leaders to contain the situation and this reluctance depicts a certain lack of confidence in those empowered to guide and protect us."

The government was sending no help to the many victims strewn all over church compounds in the area. To make matters worse, no government officials visited the area.

Ndingi felt that matters were reaching intolerable levels and decided to take on the government personally, once again.

He released a statement, this time written and signed by himself as the Bishop of the Diocese of Nakuru, squarely blaming the government for the clashes:

How is it that, after so many assurances by the president that people can live anywhere and own property anywhere people continue to get displaced? As recently as 13th February, 1992, the president had assured people that anyone burning houses would be punished but houses continue to burn in Eldoret today and any policeman on duty in these clash torn areas who tries to defend the innocent and shoots or kills an attacker is transferred. How is it that nobody has been prosecuted for burning houses or shooting people with arrows? Our conclusion is that the government of Kenya - Kanu government is behind the clashes.

Those killed

This was followed by a documentation of all those killed and the places where the atrocities were committed.

The government did not do much in the way of exonerating itself. Around that time, the clamour for multiparty democracy had reached fever-pitch with the main opposition party, Forum for the Restoration of Democracy (Ford) presenting Kanu with its toughest challenge yet.

The Kanu diehards continued threatening those who were seen to oppose Kanu or embrace the opposition.

"Those who do not sing the Kami song," a Kanu politician proclaimed in public on February 27,1992, ''will be chased away"

By this time, Cardinal Otunga was getting increasingly wary of the situation. The government never really worried about him as the politicians knew him to be an extremely guarded clergyman who eschewed controversy. Whether they ignored him or just kept him at arms length was sometimes hard to tell. His manner contrasted sharply with that of Ndingi and other senior clergymen who were known to fly off the handle whenever they sensed injustice. The government sometimes praised him for his silence and sobriety.

But this time, the cardinal too could not keep quiet. On January 24,1991, he invited Ndingi to his house in Nairobi.

He was in a pensive mood and he went straight to the point. After voicing his distress at what was happening in the Rift Valley, he told the bishop: "We must do something to defend the people."

© Waithaka Waihenya & Fr Ndikaru wa Teresia 2009, Published by Sasa Sema, an Imprint of Longhorn. Available at leading bookshops countrywide. Price: Sh500



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Archbishop Raphael Ndingi Mwana a' Nzeki Biography: A glimpse into the life of a pioneer priest

By Tom Odhiambo

The biography of retired Archbishop Raphael Ndingi Mwana a' Nzeki probably would never have come at a better moment.

Caught in the crosshairs of the politicians' threats and innuendoes about 2012, the country is in a moral conundrum. And maybe, the story of the 'little boy" from Mwala in Ukambani who became a pioneer African priest, bishop and archbishop will provide some inspiration.

Ndingi's journey to priesthood can best be summed up as a journey of trials and tribulations that saw him attend seminaries run by no-nonsense rector-fathers in Kenya and Tanzania. Ndingi persevered through the hardship but not by simply conforming.

He would challenge authority whenever he felt that those in administration were a bit too hard on the seminarians. It is this streak, the ability to stand up to authority which actually marked Ndingi out and probably defines his life in the service of the church.

Colonial rule

Ndingi joined the church when the country was still under colonial rule and even the Church hierarchy was largely white. Racial tension between white priests and their black counterparts formed part of his early experiences. The biography notes many instances when Ndingi would put his foot down and confront white priests whose pronouncements and actions towards black priests like Ndingi were racial and condescending.

For Ndingi and the early African priests the challenge of starting life as celibate men was both personal and communal. Their communities frowned on the idea of unmarried adult men yet the Church demanded selfless service to God. This conundrum remains with the Church up to now as recent debates in the media attest. The question of celibacy has been at the foundation of the Church for many years.

The writers of the biography detail a case of a priest who had a relationship with a nun when he was serving under Archbishop Ndingi. The bishop still thought of the fallen priest as a child of God who needed to be treated with compassion.

His time as the bishop of the Nakuru Diocese was probably the most trying; what with the monster of ethnic clashes that broke out in the early 1990s in Rift Valley.

Many battles that Ndingi fought and won, on behalf of his congregation, Christianity and Kenyans in general are well documented by the two biographers.

Many questions

Yet many questions shadow the biography. For instance, why he was never made a cardinal (though an explanation is offered by the biographers); his position on the 2005 Constitutional Referendum and his mellowing in the face of a corrupt Narc government will deny the cake its icing. We hope that maybe one day the good old archbishop will "tell his own story"; and that we shall then have some answers to the lingering questions.



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