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Written off: Jagaman

 


Everybody had written him off, this person whom we shall call Jagaman. He had been an artiste of great promise – social, political issues, a bit of gospel. Then bad company came calling with small small easy money. Now, his songs turned into wine, song and smoke – Mary Jane. His eyes, full ‘nyanya’ –  red ripe tomatoes coloured. Morning till eve. He broke our hearts.

Now, nobody called him to concerts and shows. His producer changed to dealing with gospel artistes only, for Jagaman had become full trouble – difficult in every which way: rehearsals, recording, bad breath and hygiene that made the whole studio stink when he was around, cuss words… his company was as desirous as an STI, which he confided to another artiste that he was being treated for. Already, parents in the neighbourhood were complaining as he had four children with three different girls barely out of their teens.

It is like Jagaman was cursed. And the person who had cursed him had been buried, as we say, for nothing was working in his favour. He now survived on odd errands … carrying luggage, as a water vendor, garbage collection… shabbier, shaggy and dirtier by the day. Now into injection drugs, permanent stupor and lost in a fearful world. It’s like he had gone batty.

When we found him, we thought he was dead. He had been ought on the street, stone cold, rain sweeping the neighbourhood the whole night. It was just as well that where he lay was good drainage, else, a little puddle and he would have drowned. Our conscious was jolted that we had let him descend to such depths. Remorseful, we did a little contribution and took him to hospital and forgot about him. Out of sight, out of mind… plus, nobody wanted him as baggage.

Ukaniokota, toka jaa la uasherati
Ukanivua, toka danguro la ulevi
Ukaniosha, ukanitakasa
Sasa mimi nyota, la ukuu wako!

(From the trash bin, you picked me
Fished me from the den of alcoholism
You cleaned and purified me
Now, I am testament of your greatness!)

Three years later, he appeared. Clean shaven, chubby, more white in his eyes, sharply dressed. No, don’t call me Jagaman, call me by my real name. He was now doing theology, after studying counselling. He was here at the invitation of Pastor Ken, he of the Faith Moving Mountains Ministry. Here to talk to youth being rehabilitated. A good number of us went in to listen to his talk. We were his witnesses. He was concise. It was all Jesus, he said.

(Chorus)

Elohi tembea, tembea nami
Usiku wa kiza, tembea nami
Jua kucha-kutwa, tembea nami
Nikiwa nayo pumzi, tembea nami.

(Elohim walk with me
In the dark of night, walk with me
As the sun shines and sets, walk with me
As long as I have breath in me, walk with me).

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