Good Samaritans

Dr. William A. Twayigize

DR. WILLIAM

ENCOUNTERING GOOD SAMARITANS

As I was growing up, during our evening gatherings around the warm, crackling fire to express gratitude for the day and seek divine protection for the night, my mother had a heartfelt prayer tradition. She would beseech God, saying, “Dear Lord, please plant trees of blessings alongside the highway of life that my children will travel, so that they shall never want for anything.” This prayer was her consistent and cherished conclusion to our nightly rituals, instilling in us a profound sense of hope and abundance.

Kakuma Refugee Camp to Nairobi Streets

Arriving in Nairobi as a refugee marked the beginning of a challenging yet transformative chapter in my life. My journey commenced at the UNHCR offices in Kenya, where I joined fellow refugees from Southern Sudan, Ethiopia, Congo, Burundi, and Somalia, embarking on a journey to Kakuma Refugee Camp, situated approximately 1000 kilometers from Nairobi. This vast camp became a temporary home to over 200,000 refugees, forming a diverse and vibrant community, each individual carrying their unique hopes and struggles. Kakuma evoked memories of Kibumba Refugee Camp but in a different context. While Kibumba was a place where people spoke my language, Kakuma surrounded me with over 10 different languages, an intimidating yet reassuring reminder that being a refugee did not equate to being cursed, as I had been led to believe.

Among the residents were individuals who had been born in Kakuma and were now entering their teenage years, as well as those who had arrived as teenagers and were beginning to see their own grandchildren—an initially daunting revelation. However, my time in Kakuma Refugee Camp greatly broadened my perspective on the refugee experience. It illuminated the fact that being a refugee was not a curse, but rather a circumstance often shaped by forces beyond our control, often involving powerful nations seeking to exploit Africa’s abundant natural resources. It was within this rich tapestry of humanity, comprising people from nations like Uganda, Sudan, South Sudan, Somalia, Eritrea, Congo, Rwanda, Burundi, and more, that I gained a deeper comprehension of the intricate complexities that define the Africa’s refugee journey.

Kakuma Refugee Camp, located in one of the most remote regions of Kenya, felt incredibly isolated and intimidating upon my arrival. However, the most daunting aspect for me was encountering the desert and sandstorms for the very first time. While I had grown accustomed to rainstorms, a sandstorm was an entirely unfamiliar and overwhelming experience. The swirling sand obscured everything in its path, making it difficult to even draw a breath. Once the storm subsided, we all resembled ghostly figures covered in layers of dust and sand. However, the bright smiles and laughter that followed, as we shared our experiences and marveled at our dust-covered appearance, were a testament to our resilience. It was during this moment that a profound conviction took root within me, reinforcing the belief that Kakuma Refugee Camp was not my ultimate destiny. I reminded myself that I was now in a land of freedom, far removed from the gunshots and persecution that had haunted me in the past. It became clear that the responsibility to seek the peace and opportunities that had long eluded me rested squarely on my shoulders.

This photo captures a challenging time in my life when I lived outside the UNHCR offices in Westlands, Nairobi. My shelter was made of bushes, leaving me exposed to the scorching sun during the day and enduring heavy rain at night. Life was incredibly tough, and the only way to get food was by begging.

This gate serves as the entrance to the Kakuma refugee camp, which is situated in the northwest region of Kenya, approximately 1000 kilometers from Nairobi. Its establishment in 1992 was prompted by the influx of Sudanese children fleeing the civil war, famously known as the “Lost Boys of Sudan.” Presently, the camp is home to over 201,000 refugees, with a significant number originating from South Sudan and Somalia. Additionally, refugees from Rwanda, Burundi, Congo, Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Uganda find shelter within its confines. Kakuma operates as a structured camp, with a distinct separation between refugees and the local population, set in one of the most challenging climates in the region—a harsh desert environment characterized by water scarcity and minimal rainfall.

Life in Kakuma was an enduring struggle, with every facet of survival shaped by the harsh realities that surrounded us. The scarcity of food, access to clean drinking water, suitable clothing, decent shelter, medical facilities, and educational opportunities made daily existence an arduous challenge. My father had instilled in me a valuable lesson, underscoring the enduring nature of knowledge and education stored in one’s mind, which can never be taken away. He inspired me to embrace education as my heritage, a message that remained a guiding light even as a refugee. My dream of returning to school often felt like an unattainable goal amidst the adversity we confronted. During my stay in Kakuma Refugee Camp, I frequently sought out conversations with fellow young refugees who had grown up in the heart of the desert “city” of Kakuma, eager to learn about their experiences and aspirations for the future.

Conversations with these young refugees in Kakuma were always disheartening, as they seemed resigned to the belief that escape was an impossible dream. They shared stories of how their fathers had arrived in Kakuma as young boys, eventually marrying and having children, which they saw as an inescapable cycle of life in the camp. Their perspective was one of hopelessness, reinforced by the deliberate isolation of refugees in the Kakuma desert, a measure enacted to prevent any interaction with the local Turkana residents. This isolation served the dual purpose of government control over refugees and providing humanitarian organizations with the statistics they needed to justify their existence and funding. Thus, Kakuma’s remote location was ideal for both entities, despite the dire circumstances faced by the marginalized indigenous communities in the Turkana region. These communities had long suffered from neglect by successive Kenyan governments, resulting in food scarcity, lack of infrastructure such as paved roads and clean water, and their reliance on wild edible fruits like Edome and Eng’ol for survival in the desert (Muluka, M. (2021, May 18). While the absence of nearby gunshots provided a semblance of safety, Kakuma bore its own sense of foreboding, especially for young refugees grappling with an uncertain future. I, however, steadfastly refused to accept that Kakuma would determine my fate.

In my unwavering determination to change my destiny, I resolved to find a way out of the confines of Kakuma refugee camp and explore the possibility of mingling with Kenyan people who, I had heard, were accepting and non-discriminatory. My hope was to make new friends and, ultimately, gain access to Kenyan schools. With this goal in mind, one night, I embarked on a perilous journey walking day and night, trekking through dense bushes for weeks and sandy roads, facing the constant threat of encounters with hyenas and other wild animals. Armed with nothing more than a flashlight and a Bible, I persevered until I finally reached a place called Lokichar. I was tired when I arrived in Lokichar. I stayed for some days, begging from well-wishers for food and water and telling them my story of going to Nairobi, all while still relying on crutches. In Lokichar, luck smiled upon me as I encountered a kind driver who offered me a free ride to Kapenguria, where I stayed for days until I found someone heading to Maili Saba who offered me a ride on his motorbike. From Maili Saba, I walked the rest of the way to Kitale. When I arrived in Kitale, I was famished and utterly exhausted. I approached a restaurant owner known as Kiprono, who allowed me to work in his establishment in exchange for food and a place to sleep, where I stayed for some weeks. The distance from Kakuma refugee camp to Kitale town is approximately 410 kilometers, a journey marked by hardship and determination.

After spending some time in Kitale, Kiprono assisted me in securing transportation from Kitale to Nairobi. When I arrived in the bustling capital city of Nairobi, I found myself once again at the gates of the UNHCR, sleeping at the gate and relying on the generosity of passersby and collecting leftovers from nearby restaurants where customers often left sizeable pieces of meat and nicely cooked rice. I continued to press on, hoping that one day God would perform a miracle. I never looked to the UNHCR for assistance because I knew they had a bias against refugees from Rwanda, Burundi, and Congo. My hopes were firmly placed in one basket—God, and I patiently waited.

Meet Rev. Arnold C. Temple, my rescuer from the streets of Nairobi. His family provided me with shelter, supported my education, and changed the course of my life. Without their generosity, I might still be on the streets today.

Lavington United Church stands as a beacon of warmth and acceptance, a place that extended its open arms to welcome a refugee from a foreign land, like me. This congregation, led by the Temple family and other devoted members, embraced me, making me feel like I had found a second home. The church’s history is rich, dating back to its establishment in 1960 through a collaborative effort of the Anglican Church of Kenya (ACK), the Methodist Church of Kenya (MCK), and the Presbyterian Church of East Africa (PCEA). It was born as a community church with the mission to serve the Lavington community. In the post-World War II 1950s, a significant number of people sought change and viewed Africa as a sparsely populated “land of opportunity.” This collective sentiment was ignited by an offer from Buchannan’s Kenya Estates, the makers of the renowned Scottish Black and White whiskey, who were developing the Lavington area. They generously provided two plots, one for the Anglicans and the other for the Presbyterians, as there were few Methodists in Nairobi at the time. Nairobi, in particular, experienced rapid expansion, with settlers from various parts of the world, mainly Europe, and even local Africans, seeking a new place to congregate, given the evolving racial landscape in Africa. Under the leadership of Reverend Mbogori, the Lavington United Church provided me with the opportunity to teach French at the LUC Academy. This not only offered me a means of sustaining myself but also allowed me to actively contribute to the community (Source: LUC).

God Sent Angels

One fateful day, fortune smiled upon me as I crossed paths with a compassionate man named Peter Sirkoi, a law enforcement officer in Nairobi. Despite his limited means, Peter made regular visits to the place where we, as refugees, resided. Peter Sirkoi and his wife Alice were incredibly generous people. Despite their own modest resources, they selflessly shared whatever meager coins they had, even rallying their friends to provide us with clothing. At times, Alice would cook and send food with Peter for me, which I gladly shared with other refugees staying at the UNHCR gates. Peter’s unwavering support extended beyond material assistance; he checked on my well-being daily and utilized his resources to sustain our lives. In addition to these kind gestures, he became the brother I had never had, offering a sympathetic ear and patiently explaining things to me despite my struggles with English grammar. Peter continued to help me and other refugees until he was transferred to a location far from Nairobi. However, whenever he visited Nairobi, he made time to see me and left me with some coins. He always asked me to pray with him, and his Christian beliefs were not just spoken words but strongly manifested through his selfless actions. Peter’s kindness and selflessness left an indelible mark on my heart.

Life on the streets of Nairobi remained exceedingly arduous for me and my fellow refugees who had sought refuge at the gates of the UNHCR offices in Westlands, Nairobi. The already meager supply of leftover food from nearby restaurants further dwindled as a growing number of street children, compelled by harsh economic realities that were tearing families apart, swarmed the city’s streets. Additionally, the economic climate in Kenya continued to worsen, primarily due to heavy Western sanctions imposed on Moi’s regime. Furthermore, the Western-imposed structural adjustment measures, intended to reshape African economies, ended up exacerbating the already dire hardships faced by refugees and locals alike (Oyugui, Kigozi, & On’gwen, 1994).

IIt was a quiet Sunday in Nairobi, a day when the city’s streets were less crowded, and I made the choice to station myself near the Westlands junction. My goal was to approach pedestrians and motorists, especially those coming from the nearby Westland Baptist Church, in the hope that individuals leaving church services, often feeling charitable after a sermon, would be willing to offer assistance. Despite my longing to attend church, I refrained from doing so due to my disheveled appearance and the lingering smell from clothing that had gone unwashed for an extended period. Nevertheless, I summoned the courage to approach churchgoers, holding onto the hope of encountering minimal judgment from the congregants..

These gates, the entrance to Daystar University’s Athi River Campus, located approximately 40 kilometers from downtown Nairobi, symbolized the threshold to a new world for me. As they swung open, revealing the sprawling campus beyond, I couldn’t help but feel like an explorer in a foreign land. The sight of thousands of students congregating on the campus grounds, conversing fluently in English, was akin to a culture shock, and yet it filled me with a sense of wonder and excitement. The grandeur of Daystar University’s entrance, adorned with international flags reminiscent of the United Nations, infused me with a deep sense of joy and belonging, as if God Himself were orchestrating the fulfillment of His promises. With over 5,000 students hailing from more than 30 countries, Daystar University was a microcosm of the African continent, where diverse cultures converged. This campus became my home, a place of growth, learning, and transformation that would shape my future. Every time I read the university’s motto, “to educate Christ-centered servant leaders to transform Africa,” I discovered a profound purpose in my life, one rooted in faith and dedicated to making a positive impact on the continent I had come to love.

Standing there, I couldn’t help but notice a man with a substantial beard patiently waiting at a traffic light, poised to drive once it switched to green. Our eyes met, and I approached his car, where he greeted me with a warm smile and a booming yet kind voice. He rolled down his car window, and we engaged in conversation. He inquired about my background, recognizing my non-Kenyan accent in English. I explained that I was a refugee from Rwanda who had found myself living as a beggar on the streets of Nairobi. He smiled and commented that I didn’t fit the stereotypical image of a beggar, to which I responded with a touch of humor, considering myself a “qualified” beggar. Deep down, I was aware that I encompassed all the traits commonly associated with “chokoras,” the term used for street beggars in Nairobi. I was stateless, homeless, and physically challenged, reliant on crutches for mobility. However, without a country to call my own, I lacked a system to hold responsible for my hardships. Additionally, the UNHCR, the organization tasked with aiding refugees, did not extend favor to those from Rwanda, Burundi, and Congo, especially if they were men. Thus, every circumstance seemed to conspire against me, leading me to a life of begging on Nairobi’s streets.

I gazed into his face, my smile masking the visible sadness that had consumed me as I contemplated my dire circumstances. After candidly sharing my beggarly qualifications, he burst into laughter and reached into his car’s compartment, retrieving a $20 note that he generously handed to me. As I felt that money between my fingers, a profound sense of relief washed over me, akin to quenching my thirst with cold, refreshing water. It was as if I had encountered an angel and finally found a place where I belonged. Overflowing with gratitude, I showered him with countless “thank yous,” for that $20 bill represented a significant sum, especially for a refugee like me in the early 2000s when it equated to around Ksh 200. I couldn’t help but wish him and his family countless blessings, to which he humbly responded, “It is okay, William. God bless you too.”

He then mentioned that he was rushing to the airport for a conference in Geneva and looked forward to seeing me again in two weeks’ time. His statement struck me profoundly because, besides providing me with what I considered a substantial amount of money, this man wanted to meet me, a beggar, once more. I wondered to myself but then assured him that I would be at my “office” by the UNHCR gate, where I had established my makeshift station near the bushes, which I had come to call home. Before we could conclude our conversation, the traffic lights turned green, and he drove away. With the generous gift he had bestowed upon me, I decided to close my “begging office” for the day and headed back to my makeshift station to share the incredible news with my fellow refugee friends. It was a day when I felt that God had genuinely smiled upon me.

After purchasing a substantial amount of food, including beans and rice that could sustain us for several weeks, I informed my fellow refugee friends that I intended to take a break from begging until our food supplies were depleted. The constant scrutiny and judgmental looks from passersby whenever we extended our hands for help had worn me down. “God has granted me a reprieve from the streets, at least for a few weeks. Now, I plan to rest, read my Bible, and contemplate the future,” I shared with them.

As promised, two weeks later, Reverend Arnold C. Temple returned to seek me out at my makeshift shelter near the UNHCR gates, where I had established my modest abode amidst the surrounding bushes. Inside the humble confines of my tent, one of my fellow refugees approached me with news that my friend with the big car had come in search of me. Filled with curiosity, I eagerly ventured out to meet him. With genuine concern, he inquired about my well-being, acknowledging the substantial food supply he had provided, which was keeping me well-nourished for the weeks to come.

Here stands Daystar University’s Valley Road campus, an academic haven nestled in the bustling Upper Hill business district of Nairobi. This modern facility boasts state-of-the-art conference rooms designed to accommodate various types of lectures and academic events. Notably, it serves as a crucial hub for students, particularly those referred to as day scholars, who rely on the university’s buses to transport them to the Athi River campus, primarily catering to undergraduate students. In contrast, the Nairobi campus predominantly caters to working professionals seeking to pursue graduate studies alongside their careers.

With a warm smile, he then proposed that I accompany him to church, given that it was a Sunday. However, I hesitated, explaining my self-consciousness stemming from the fact that I hadn’t been able to maintain proper hygiene. I recounted that I had been wearing the same set of clothes for three consecutive days without any means to wash them, a common dilemma we refugees faced. He responded to my concern with unwavering kindness, dismissing it as inconsequential. He graciously offered to wait while I performed what we humorously referred to as a “Passport Face Wash,” a quick and basic cleaning routine that focused on one’s face and sufficed for the day.

After my brief freshening up, I joined him for church, where he warmly introduced me to his family. Among them was his son, Arnold Jr., who happened to be my age and had already commenced his studies at Daystar University, nearing graduation. Our Sunday service took place at the Lavington United Church in the Lavington Neighborhood, and following the service, they extended an invitation for me to join them at their home for lunch, an offer I eagerly accepted.

Amidst our meal, they kindly broached the subject of my educational aspirations, a topic that had left me feeling uncertain and hesitant. While my fervent desire was to continue my education, the daunting reality was that I had no support system or guidance, being a lone refugee in Kenya with neither parents nor relatives to rely on. To my astonishment, they disclosed that their son, Arnold Jr., had nearly completed his studies at Daystar University and had a substantial balance remaining in his student account, which he was resolute about putting to good use. Witnessing numerous students grapple with the burden of school fees, he felt a deep urge to assist someone in need. Believing that God had brought me into their lives for a purpose, they proposed that I could be an ideal candidate for a one-year grant to enroll in university.

Their remarkable generosity did not end there. They went above and beyond by covering my rent for an entire year, ensuring I had a stable living arrangement as I awaited my enrollment at Daystar University. Moreover, they facilitated my attendance at Graffins College to enhance my English language and computer skills, further equipping me for the academic journey ahead. These gestures felt like answered prayers, aligning with the hopes and dreams I had consistently shared with God, particularly my aspiration to one day attend Graffins College in Westlands. Seeing these blessings unfold before me was nothing short of miraculous, and I felt overwhelmed with gratitude and hope for the future.

After the Temples had assisted me in attending various colleges in Nairobi, including the All Africa Conference of Churches College (AACCC), to improve my academic background, English, and computer skills, they went a step further by shopping for me once I secured admission to Daystar University and sent me off to the university as if I were one of their own children. The overwhelming generosity and fulfillment of God’s promises struck me deeply, especially considering my darkest days in the torture chamber in Rwanda when I had lost all hope for survival. Every aspect of Psalm 91 seemed to unfold before my eyes through the Temples’ unwavering support. They became the parents I had never had, going above and beyond to ensure my success in life. Joining Daystar University, once an improbable dream, had become a remarkable reality, all thanks to the Temples and the selfless sacrifice of Arnold Temple Jr., who could have used his college funds for personal pursuits but chose to invest in my future.

The Gates of Daystar University

The day the Temples sent me to school at Daystar University remains etched in my memory as the best day of my life. I can still vividly recall the moment when our vehicle departed from the bustling Nairobi-Mombasa highway onto the tranquil Lukenya road. As we ventured further, the breathtaking scenery unfolded before my eyes. The car convoys wound their way through the picturesque Lukenya Hills, and the African savanna came alive with the graceful presence of giraffes, impalas, gazelles, and zebras basking in the warm embrace of the sun along the banks of the Athi River. I found myself in a state of disbelief, overwhelmed by the realization that God had indeed paved the way for me.

As our vehicle approached Daystar University, a surge of mixed emotions washed over me. On one hand, I found myself reflecting on the incredible kindness and generosity of the Temples, individuals who hailed from the distant shores of Sierra Leone. They had taken it upon themselves to enrich my life for the better, a thought that filled me with deep gratitude. On the other hand, a nervous anticipation crept in, overshadowed by the uncertainty of how I would fare at Daystar University. English was not my first or even my second language; I had grown up speaking my mother tongue, learned French, and later embraced Lingala, with languages like Kiswahili and English being relatively new to me.

The support I received from numerous individuals at Lavington United Church, including Roger and Nancy Day, Godfrey Kibua, General Francis Ogolla, Freeman Ade’s family, Michael Oyier’s family, Lillian Mwaniki’s family, Harrison Maina’s family, James Kimonye’s family, Deborah Rimbui’s family, Lukiya’s family, Samuel Paul Itam’s family, and many others, left me deeply moved. They became the family I had lost in Rwanda and Congo, extending their care and assistance to ensure that my experience at Daystar University would be exceptional. These families, although strangers at the outset, went to extraordinary lengths to support my journey towards success.

The Temples, in particular, assumed the roles of parents I had never had, diligently ensuring that every requirement for my university education was in place. Despite not being exceedingly wealthy, their hearts shone with a rare and precious kindness, forever graced by the presence of God. Their commitment transcended their own comfort and resources, as they provided me with everything I needed to lay a solid foundation for my future success. The day the Temples sent me to Daystar University stood as a testament to their unwavering faith in me and the boundless power of compassion, forever etched in my heart.

As we arrived at Daystar University and the gates swung open, the sight of international flags waving and dancing in the air felt like a warm and welcoming embrace, an unmistakable sign of acceptance. The Temples’ extraordinary kindness in facilitating my enrollment at Daystar marked the inception of a lifelong commitment to paying their boundless generosity forward, with the aim of ensuring that their love, kindness, and steadfast Christian principles would positively impact the lives of others. That memorable day, as I stepped through the gates of Daystar University, surrounded by dozens of African flags alongside the proud display of the American flag, it became apparent that God had already paved the path to my success.

In that moment, I found myself standing at the threshold of Daystar University’s entrance, the anticipation palpable as we readied ourselves for the Daystar University International Students Association Dinner. This institution, Daystar University, has been a beacon of hope for me, nurturing my faith and facilitating my personal growth, all while instilling in me the value of reaching out to others.

Dr. Thomas H. Englund and his family were instrumental in supporting my education at Daystar University and my graduate studies in the USA. Their wonderful support made all the difference, and without them, I might not have been able to complete my education at Daystar University.

Upon my arrival at Daystar University, I eagerly joined orientation groups, although one particular encounter had me quite apprehensive. I found myself grouped with a collection of these Kenyan ladies who exuded an air of affluence, arriving in grand cars and conversing in English that seemed to flow at an intimidating pace. Their fluent conversations left me feeling somewhat lost and confused, as I struggled to keep up with their rapid speech. The thought crossed my mind that if things continued this way, I might face a challenging time comprehending lectures and keeping up with the Kenyan students who were so adept at the English language. Doubts about my ability to compete in this environment began to gnaw at my heart.

Nonetheless, as the orientation concluded, I was directed to my new abode, Imani Hostel. Inside, I met my roommates – Ngoima, a teacher from Mpeketoni in the Coastal region, who, despite being older than the rest of us, proved to be remarkably easy to interact with, exuding wisdom and warmth. Victor Ochieng, hailing from Kisumu, was an impeccably organized and disciplined individual, known for his brightness and neatness. Lastly, there was Dan Karami from Niger, the youngest among us, but his proficiency in both English and French, a language I also spoke, brought a harmonious balance to our hostel room. These roommates turned out to be the embodiment of what one might wish for in companions, fostering an environment of mutual support and camaraderie as we embarked together on our shared journey at Daystar University.

As the school year commenced, anxiety coursed through me, and I found myself grappling with the weight of the rare opportunity God had bestowed upon me to join Daystar University. My apprehension was rooted in the fact that my grasp of English was far from perfect, unlike the fluency exhibited by many Kenyan students who seemed to effortlessly wield what I had come to recognize as the Queen’s English. However, as my days at Daystar University unfolded, I had the privilege of interacting with fellow students from French-speaking nations such as Zaire/DR Congo, Niger, Burundi, and Rwanda. To my relief, I discovered that they, too, faced similar language challenges, yet they were excelling academically.

This revelation breathed new hope into my journey, offering a glimmer of confidence in my abilities. It became increasingly clear that success wasn’t solely contingent on fluency akin to a native speaker. Instead, it hinged on one’s capacity to grasp and interpret academic concepts as the professors intended. The initial anxiety that accompanied the start of the school year began to dissipate, replaced by a growing self-assuredness that I, too, could navigate the academic terrain at Daystar University by approaching it with diligence and a determination to understand the underlying principles.

The Agape Library at Daystar University’s Athi River campus served as my sanctuary and source of knowledge throughout my college journey. With a seating capacity of about 600, this library became my second home, where I diligently utilized the resources it offered to enhance my academic and personal growth. I spent countless hours here, delving into a wide range of books that not only deepened my understanding of my coursework but also enriched my Christian faith, broadened my perspective on Africa, and helped me comprehend the global landscape. Some of the transformative books I encountered included “The Contemporary Bible with Commentaries,” which allowed me to explore the Bible in greater depth; “Peace Child” by Don and Carol Richardson, which recounted their remarkable experiences sharing the gospel among the Sawi people of New Guinea; “Bruchko” by Bruce Olson, a memoir of his missionary work in Venezuela and Colombia with indigenous tribes; “How Europe Underdeveloped Africa” by Walter Rodney, shedding light on Africa’s historical exploitation by European colonial powers; Chinua Achebe’s “Things Fall Apart,” offering insights into pre-colonial African life and the impact of European colonialism; and John S. Mbiti’s “African Religions & Philosophy,” providing a systematic study of African attitudes, beliefs, and cultures. These books not only shaped my academic journey but also helped me understand myself, my culture, and my people through the lens of Christianity and African heritage.

The Agape Library

To excel at Daystar University, I made the Agape library my second home, fully aware that I needed to invest three times the effort into my academic work compared to my Kenyan peers for whom English was a first language. Over time, I discovered that the library naturally divided into three sections, each attracting a distinct type of student.

The first section was known as the “Librarians,” inhabited by moderate students who diligently followed the expected library etiquette. They balanced their reading, socializing, and studying in moderation, content with aiming for a satisfactory B grade. This group exhibited a controlled approach to their studies and university life.

In contrast, the second section earned the intriguing moniker “Heaven.” Here, you would find dedicated students who sought an undisturbed academic haven. These individuals shunned noise and prioritized academic excellence over socialization. Their singular aim was to excel academically, some driven by the determination to achieve a pristine straight-A record. Others hailed from underprivileged backgrounds and saw Daystar University as a rare privilege, their families’ hopes resting on their shoulders. For these students, gratitude toward their sponsors and a commitment to Christian principles were paramount. The “Heaven Group” beckoned me because it embodied the serene and focused environment I needed for assignments, readings, and preparation. Failure at Daystar was not an option, and the Heaven Section of the library provided me the ideal setting to achieve that.

Conversely, the last group, humorously dubbed the “Hell” group, stood in stark contrast to the Heaven Group in every aspect. Comprising students from affluent families, they often felt their futures were secure and attended university more out of parental compulsion than personal choice. While their parents were deeply committed Christians, fervently praying for their children to thrive in a Christ-centered environment, these students didn’t necessarily share the same perspective. Their parents had chosen Daystar University with great care, seeking to imbue their children’s education with Christian values, even though more expensive institutions like Strathmore University or USIU University, or even studying abroad, were available options. These students, who featured prominently on their parents’ daily prayer lists, tended to gravitate toward the “Hell” section of the library. There, socialization and discussions about the world of entertainment took precedence over academics. Given the chance, they might have favored a university with a more socially-oriented atmosphere, akin to Nairobi University, where festivities and protests were commonplace. Their life motto echoed, “Enjoy life; it is short.” Often regarded as noisemakers, these students seemed unfazed by the specter of expulsion, driven primarily by parental insistence. Essentially, the Hell Section of the library attracted individuals from privileged backgrounds with fewer academic concerns than the rest of us.

Imani Hostel, upon my arrival at Daystar University, swiftly became my cherished home away from home. Within the confines of my hostel room, I found camaraderie and friendship among my three roommates: Victor Ochieng, hailing from Kisumu, Kenya; Mzee Ngoima, a wise and experienced teacher from Mpeketoni in Mombasa, whose age and Christian values made him a mentor-like figure; and Dan Karami, a fellow student from Niger. Together, we forged a tight-knit family, fostering an environment of cleanliness, peace, and harmonious coexistence that enhanced our university experience.

Emails Bearing Good News

After a year of adapting to the collegiate lifestyle and grasping the ins and outs of academic rigor as a university student at Daystar, my surrogate family, the Temples, retired from their roles at the All Africa Conference of Churches and returned to their home country, Sierra Leone. These were days before the ubiquity of cellphones, and email was only beginning to gain popularity as a means of communication. Retirement often brings financial constraints, and despite the physical distance, our communication waned, as they no longer had the surplus means to sponsor my education. In that year, I had undertaken both regular academic courses and intensive summer classes, depleting my financial resources, and subsequently, I received a letter requesting payment for the remaining balance of my summer classes. Faced with a lack of funds and limited options, I reached out to various individuals for assistance, including a Christian acquaintance and a well-known chairman of one of Kenya’s Commission of Inquiries, who, despite their known affluence, dishearteningly dismissed my plea, suggesting I abandon my education. This response shifted my focus from people to the One who declared ownership of the entire world, and I anchored my resolve in Psalms 24:1.

In the subsequent semester, my mounting debt reached an unsustainable point, as I continued attending classes and meals at the dining hall without payment, leading the university to issue a stern ultimatum for me to leave campus due to unpaid fees. This ultimatum fell on a Thursday, a day when the entire Daystar University community gathered for chapel, an event I cherished for its spiritual connection. Reluctant to miss this poignant day on what could be my last at the university, I attended chapel, after which I returned to Imani Hostel while others headed to class. Engaging in a heartfelt conversation with God, I questioned His intentions in bringing me to Daystar given my financial constraints and the stark disparity with my wealthier peers. In my plea, I asked, “Why did You lead me to an expensive institution knowing I couldn’t afford to complete my education?” It was during this introspective dialogue with God that a fellow student, a Rwandan refugee facing similar financial struggles, urgently approached me for assistance in translating a Kinyarwanda letter into English, hoping to secure support from American families. He believed my English proficiency and typing skills were superior, making me the ideal candidate to aid him.

Despite the urgency of leaving campus to catch the 11:45 am university bus to downtown Nairobi, a situation made more pressing by my lack of transportation funds, I willingly agreed to assist my fellow student. I firmly believed that my own challenges should not hinder others’ opportunities for success. Together, we made our way to the university computer lab library, where we translated the letter from Kinyarwanda to English, composed an email, and sent it off to his American Christian acquaintances, humbly pleading for their assistance in covering his overdue school fees. The university had already issued him a warning letter about his accumulating balance, which we attached to the email as evidence of the urgency of the matter. Lacking confidence in the first email’s outcome, my colleague had prepared a second email as a backup plan, just in case the first American family couldn’t provide the help we sought.

After sending the email to the American family, we waited briefly while chatting with three of our friends: Mokendi from Congo, Ochieng from Kenya, and Lubega from Uganda. As I explained to them that I needed to leave campus at 11:45 am, as it was already a few minutes past 11 am, my colleague insisted that I shouldn’t depart without helping him compose his second email. Impatiently, he kept an eye on his inbox for any incoming emails. To our profound astonishment, an email arrived, and my colleague opened it. The American Christian family had responded promptly, delivering the incredible news that his outstanding balance had been cleared. This miraculous turn of events meant he could continue attending classes without the fear of expulsion due to payment default. Such unexpected assistance serves as a powerful reminder that even in the most challenging circumstances, help and miracles can emerge from the most unexpected sources, reaffirming the presence of God’s grace and the significance of faith. Overwhelmed with gratitude, my colleague leaped for joy and offered visible praise to God.

As my colleague continued to bask in his jubilant mood, he handed me the email he had initially prepared as a plan B and said, “William, I understand your financial struggles, but before you leave campus, could you use this email to reach out to this American Christian family and explain your background and current situation?” Initially, I was hesitant, expressing my reluctance to write to people I had never met, detailing my financial and educational challenges, and asking them to potentially pay thousands of dollars on my behalf. However, my colleague persisted, and Ochieng chimed in, suggesting that it wouldn’t hurt to send a random email. Reluctantly, I sat down at the computer, composed a polite email greeting, wished them God’s blessings, and briefly shared that I was a refugee from Rwanda who had endured torture. I mentioned that a kind Christian I had met at a church had supported me for one academic year, but I had now exhausted my funds and was on the verge of leaving the campus since I couldn’t continue attending classes and eating in the cafeteria without paying. I also emphasized that if they couldn’t help, it was completely understandable as we had never met, and they had helped many others.

After about ten minutes, I found myself on the verge of closing my email, ready to collect my backpack and depart the Athi River campus, carrying the heavy weight of shame, disappointment, and frustration. However, just as I was about to click that fateful “close” button, an email notification appeared on my screen. My initial instinct was to dismiss it as another piece of spam, but a closer look revealed that it was from none other than Dr. Thomas H. Englund, the very person I had reached out to only moments ago. I settled back into my seat, heart pounding with anticipation, to carefully read the email’s content.

Dr. Englund’s message commenced with a heartfelt, “Dear William,” expressing deep sympathy for the challenges I had faced due to conflict and political turmoil. Yet, within his empathy, there was also profound gratitude for the divine intervention that had led me to Kenya, where I had found refuge. Dr. Englund shared that he and his wife, Sue, had already discussed my email and were fervently praying for my healing and well-being. What followed was nothing short of a miracle: he conveyed their family’s unwavering commitment to cover all my educational expenses at Daystar University until I completed my studies. It was a response to their six months of prayers, a timely answer that had miraculously intersected with my plea for help. As the email concluded with warm regards, I was left in a state of disbelief, stunned and profoundly grateful. Overwhelmed by the moment, I looked up into the sky, stretched my hands upward, tears streaming down my cheeks, and whispered to God, “Thank you, thank you. Indeed, you are Jehovah Jireh—The Lord, our provider.”

In this photo, I’m William A. Twayigize during my time as a Daystar University student. It was taken outside Imani Hostel as I prepared for supper before heading to the library. Our daily routine began at 5 AM with gospel music and prayer, followed by breakfast. Some of us attended morning lectures, while others went to the library. After a short afternoon siesta with some country music, classes, and library time until 6 PM, dinner was at 6 PM, followed by the evening news at 7 PM. The rest of our evenings were dedicated to the Agape Library.

In this photo, you can see William Twayigize attending a chapel service at Daystar University. These gatherings took place after the students had attended their respective chapel services at the university. Students, whether residing on or off-campus, would come together in the university’s chapel as a place for worship and connection following a week filled with classes and other academic activities. Daystar University students considered the chapel a sacred space, a place to reconnect with God, express gratitude for life’s blessings, and seek spiritual solace. Additionally, Sundays often brought parents to visit their children, enhancing the chapel’s vibrant atmosphere as it became a meeting point for students and their families.

The Office of the President

My time at Daystar University stands as one of the most remarkable experiences of my life. It offered me unique opportunities to engage with people from around the world and, most importantly, to discover my true identity beyond the label of a lost refugee boy. Within those hallowed halls, I came to the profound realization that the power of education could shape not only my own future but also that of my offspring, sparing them the harrowing experiences that had marked my own life. Through unwavering dedication and hard work, I committed myself to excel at Daystar, laying a robust foundation upon which I could carve my own path, guided by faith in God and a clear sense of life’s purpose.

Daystar University transcended the boundaries of being just an academic institution; it became a sanctuary where I cultivated enduring friendships among my peers and found mentors who played an indispensable role in sustaining my unwavering focus while nurturing my Christian faith. I owe a profound debt of gratitude to remarkable individuals like my late Somali professor, Ahmed Ali Haile, whose wisdom and guidance left an indelible mark on me. Equally instrumental was the steadfast registrar, Nkita Tshiama Arao, whose Congolese heritage added to the rich tapestry of our experiences. The ever-supportive Phillis Mutua and her Kenyan family extended their unwavering support, while Professor Rebecca Oladipo from Nigeria assumed the role of a nurturing figure, akin to a mother to many of us international students. They not only fostered my spiritual growth but also provided invaluable guidance on my life’s journey, constantly encouraging and inspiring us to reach for the stars.

My journey at Daystar University was a turning point, as it was here that the seeds of a profound vision began to take root in my heart. It was during my time at this institution that I felt inspired to create a Christian ministry with the aim of “PAY-IT-FORWARD.” This vision led to the birth of ANEHOPE Ministry, a venture dedicated to providing scholarships and essential educational resources to underprivileged children residing in Nairobi’s slums, as well as nurturing the potential of bright young minds within urban refugee families. Daystar University not only shaped my academic path but also instilled in me a deep commitment to give back to society and make a positive impact in the lives of those less fortunate. It was here that I found my purpose, offering a second chance for these deserving children to access the transformative power of education.

As I approached my graduation, the quest for an internship opportunity loomed large on my horizon. In Kenya, a nation with its own unique challenges and opportunities, the search for such a crucial step in my academic journey proved to be a formidable task. While Kenya’s society didn’t present issues of racism, it did highlight the universal truth that, in any part of the world, access to opportunities often hinges on one’s network. Lacking such connections made my internship pursuit particularly challenging, especially given my status as a refugee. My only tangible proof of identity was a document from UNHCR acknowledging my refugee status, which, in itself, held limited weight.

Amidst the challenges I faced, my former professor, Ahmed Ali Haile, emerged as an unwavering pillar of support. Hailing from Somalia, he possessed a profound understanding of the unique hardships that refugees endure. His own personal journey had been marred by adversity, having lost a leg while attempting to mediate conflicts among warring clans in Somalia. This firsthand experience not only fostered empathy but also provided him with an acute awareness of the intricacies of geopolitics and their impact on the lives, struggles, and aspirations of refugees.

Haile recognized the unjust denial of my UNHCR protection papers, a bureaucratic roadblock that had persisted for years. It appeared as though the UNHCR’s complex appointment system was intentionally designed to keep a significant number of refugees in a state of uncertainty, all while they continued to receive funding from the United Nations. Ahmed, intimately familiar with the inner workings of the UNHCR, questioned why this agency failed to advocate for my rights. Driven by a deep sense of injustice, Haile took it upon himself to champion my case directly with the UNHCR management in Nairobi. The outcome was a sudden and long-overdue issuance of my protection letter, which had languished in their offices for years, seemingly forgotten, with no effort made to provide it to me. This unexpected turn of events transpired without the need for an interview, accompanied by a perfunctory apology citing a technical error. Ahmed Ali Haile’s unwavering support and commitment to justice played a pivotal role in reshaping the trajectory of my life journey.

Acquiring my UNHCR protection letter marked a turning point in my life as a refugee in Nairobi. With its possession, the unsettling instances of police harassment on the city streets began to diminish, allowing me to refocus my efforts on securing an internship to meet the graduation requirements at Daystar University. I confided in Mrs. Lillian Mwaniki, a compassionate member of Lavington United Church, about the daunting challenges I faced, including the imminent risk of missing my graduation due to the complex hurdles I was navigating. Mrs. Mwaniki, deeply touched by my refugee journey and my miraculous escape in Rwanda, referred me to Dr. Alfred Mutua, who not only served as the government spokesperson but also oversaw a department within the Office of the President. This fortuitous connection became the linchpin of a significant chapter in my journey.

Meeting Dr. Alfred Mutua was nothing short of a divine miracle, orchestrated by God’s intricate plan. As we engaged in conversation, we discovered that he had previously served as a professor at Daystar University. Sharing the intricacies of my life journey, including my journey to becoming a refugee in Kenya, left him awe-inspired by my resilience. He expressed his belief that our meeting was part of God’s masterplan. Dr. Mutua’s compassionate nature shone through as he graciously allowed me to undertake my internship within his department.

In this photo, you can see Lubega Emmanuel, Victor Ochieng, and William Twayigize during their time as students at Daystar University. Here, they are preparing to attend the university’s chapel services. This provided them with a wonderful chance to step away from their academic studies, shift their focus to spiritual matters, and gather together with fellow students for worship. It wasn’t just about connecting with God but also taking a well-deserved break from their books and using this time to rekindle friendships on campus. These chapel services served as a meaningful pause in their busy student lives, fostering both spiritual growth and social connections.

In this captivating photograph, I take immense pride in presenting a meticulously crafted painting during a significant moment at the All African Conference of Churches College (AACCC). This institution played a pivotal role in introducing me to the global community, as students from as far as Myanmar and Haiti were among my peers, enriching the college’s cultural diversity and broadening my exposure to communities worldwide. The esteemed recipient of my artwork, representing the AACC, was none other than Ms. Phumzile Dandala, the wife of the General Secretary of the AACC and the then 2020 Presidential candidate of COPE. This memorable occasion was graced by several distinguished dignitaries from the AACC, who gathered alongside Ms. Dandala to witness the presentation of this painting. It’s worth noting that, in addition to my other pursuits, I possessed a strong talent for painting, a passion I regrettably did not pursue further as I grew older.

In the midst of our conversation, Dr. Mutua’s compassion and generosity became evident as he reached into his desk drawer and handed me Ksh 50,000, a significant sum at the time. He emphasized that this financial support was intended to facilitate my search for a one-bedroom apartment in Nairobi, alleviating the challenges of a lengthy commute from Athi River that might have disrupted my work. Understanding my unfamiliarity with the city, Dr. Mutua went the extra mile by introducing me to one of his dedicated staff members, Martin Wahogo, who willingly provided invaluable guidance, helping me secure suitable housing in a reputable Nairobi neighborhood. With their support, I successfully settled into my first apartment upon completing my studies at Daystar University. As my internship concluded, what was initially a day of farewells with colleagues like Irukan, Mugo, and Zippy, turned into a day of unexpected opportunity, leading to my employment with the Office of the President of Kenya as a civil servant.

My journey, evolving from a refugee navigating the streets of Nairobi to assuming a pivotal role within the Office of the President of Kenya and the government spokesperson’s office, left my friends deeply moved. Among those friends were Peter and Michael Oyier’s family, dear companions I had met at Lavington United Church. During moments when I faced adversity and uncertainty, they extended their unwavering support, encouraging me to rely on prayer and trust in God’s divine control. These friends affectionately referred to me as Joseph, drawing striking parallels between my life experiences and the timeless biblical narrative. My office found its place within the esteemed KICC, the Kenyatta International Conference Centre, a majestic 28-story architectural marvel that stood proudly in the heart of Nairobi’s City Square. While for many, KICC remained a distant landmark, glimpsed from afar or captured in touristic photographs, for me, it served as a daily reminder of the extraordinary journey I had embarked upon—an enduring testament to God’s boundless love and favor. Within the sacred confines of these hallowed halls, I had the privilege of serving the nation of Kenya, a country that had warmly welcomed and embraced me in ways my homeland, Rwanda, had never afforded. Each morning, as I treaded the expansive KICC compound on my way to the office, I couldn’t help but offer heartfelt praise to God for His unwavering kindness and boundless mercy that had illuminated my path.

While my position undoubtedly signified a privilege, it was not exempt from substantial challenges. Among my colleagues, there was a struggle to comprehend how a foreign refugee like me had secured a role within the prestigious corridors of power, particularly in one of the highest offices in Kenyan politics. Lingering suspicion gave rise to conjecture that I might be an undercover operative, a presumed “mole” tasked with investigating corruption or monitoring underperforming staff.

One individual, whom I’ll refer to as Gairo (a pseudonym), openly held animosity towards me, as he perceived my presence as a threat to his own ambitions. In a desperate bid to have me removed from my position, Gairo resorted to stealing office equipment used for the weekly government press briefing, intending to frame me for the act. However, on that specific day, unbeknownst to Gairo, I had requested a three-day leave to prepare my graduate studies admission application. To his detriment, CCTV footage unveiled Gairo’s actions in the early hours of the night, as he absconded with the same equipment without formal authorization and failed to report the incident. Ironically, Gairo’s attempts to douse the flames of my progress inadvertently fueled the fire, intensifying the blessings and kindness that God had bestowed upon my life.

One day, the Office of the President decided to assemble a team of employees to visit various embassies, with the aim of gaining insights into their operations and promoting Kenyan values and interests abroad. This endeavor coincided with President Kibaki’s government policies to instill patriotism for Kenyans at home and in the diaspora. Dr. Alfred Mutua’s office and the Office of the President introduced the catchy slogan “Najivunia kuwa Mkenya” (I am proud to be Kenyan), but some political detractors twisted this slogan into “Najihurumia Kuwa Mkenya” (I feel sorry for being a Kenyan).

During this instance, my name had appeared on the roster of civil servants designated to visit various Kenyan embassies in South Africa, Botswana, and Dubai (United Arab Emirates). However, I found myself embroiled in a perplexing predicament—I lacked any form of travel documents. Since the day I had sought refuge in Kenya, I had never ventured beyond the country’s borders. Now, a significant hurdle loomed before me. Despite my unwavering efforts over the years, obtaining travel documents from the UNHCR offices in Nairobi had proven to be an arduous and seemingly insurmountable task, particularly for refugees originating from Rwanda, DR Congo, and Burundi. The UNHCR offices in Nairobi appeared to operate with a noticeable bias, their decisions often swayed by the geopolitical interests of the United States in the Great Lakes region, which happened to be the major funder of the UNHCR programs. As refugees from this region, we frequently found ourselves at a disadvantage due to this alignment. However, on this particular day, I held firm in my belief that God was charting my course, and no evil or force would thwart His divine plan.

With unwavering determination, I ascended the stairs to meet with my boss, Dr. Mutua, and lay out the predicament I faced regarding the lack of necessary travel documents for my upcoming journey and return to Kenya. I expressed my willingness to step aside and allow someone else to take my place on the mission. However, Dr. Mutua advised me to consult his secretary, a kindhearted lady named Kawira. Upon hearing my dilemma, she greeted me with a reassuring smile and encouraged me to take immediate action by placing a call to the UNHCR office’s director. She reminded me of my privileged status as a Kenyan civil servant within one of the highest offices in the land, stressing that I possessed the capability to secure any required document while holding this position. Following her guidance, she handed me the phone, and I promptly dialed the UNHCR office, clearly identifying myself as a civil servant from the Office of the Government Spokesperson, Office of the President, and requested to speak with their UNHCR director.

Once I had him on the line, I detailed the prolonged struggle I had faced in obtaining the Refugee Travel Document and emphasized the urgency of my situation, with a government mission to South Africa scheduled for the following week. To my astonishment, it was evident from the director’s voice that he was deeply moved, and he earnestly requested a day to address the matter. Staying true to his word, he swiftly delivered the document to my office at KICC on the very same day, personally extending his apologies for the prior difficulties. This episode served as a poignant reminder of the Biblical story of Joseph and his journey in Egypt, reinforcing my belief that God was actively at work in my life. It marked the commencement of yet another unexpected twist in my life journey, illuminated by God’s unwavering grace.

Meet Peter Recha Sirkoi, one of the remarkable friends I had the privilege of making during my time in Kenya. Peter would regularly visit the place where I resided, just outside the UNHCR offices in Nairobi. He not only prayed with us but also extended his assistance and support to us refugees. What’s more, his wife would prepare delicious meals for us, offering a taste of home, and they would provide us with much-needed water to combat the relentless Nairobi sun and the ever-present dust. Their kindness helped us find relief from the scorching weather. Peter and his family exemplify the kind of incredible, God-loving people who made a significant impact on our lives during a challenging period.

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DR. WILLIAM

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