It’s January again, just like it was at this time last year, and the year before that. Two years ago at this time I was recovering from a herniated disk. Back then, when I wasn’t lying completely flat, I took convalescent walks. Being home during the day gave me the opportunity to walk the neighborhood in the middle of the day. Soaking up the early-morning sun, I sauntered alongside dog-walkers, house-spouses, and workers-from-home.
Thursdays are garbage pick-up day in this corner of Nairobi. There is a man who comes through our neighborhood each Thursday. He comes to scavenge from our rubbish bags anything with scrap value. He has neither a pick-up truck nor a wheelbarrow: he rides a black mamba—a heavy, single-speed bicycle so common in Africa—to which he has affixed mudflaps and, on the handlebars, small American and Israeli flags. Had he purchased those, I wonder, or just found them—with the rest of last year’s fashion—in the trash?
I had seen this man many times before. I had never stopped to talk to him. Usually, I spent Thursday mornings driving to work. But now, as I trudged slowly up the road, an irritated sciatic nerve slowing the movement of my right foot, I had plenty of time to slow down and share a greeting. The man shared his name, which I’ve since forgotten, and when I asked what he was after let me know that his preferred loot were metal cans and jugs made of heavy plastic.
He asked why I was limping. I explained my injury.
“Utapona,” he told me warmly in Swahili. “Utapona.” You will heal.
I wanted to cry.
Had the gabapentin gone to my head, or was I having a deeply spiritual experience? I was both warmed and humbled; I felt hopeful yet guilty. I sensed at once both the deep cruelty of this world and the beautiful, irrepressible hope of its inhabitants. Who was this Christ-possessed man, who despite his destitution and our inequality saw no reason not to share the only thing he could, and the dearest thing in his possession, his very loving heart?
He was right of course. I would heal. And I did heal. And as recently as last Thursday he, on a now flagless bicycle, was still making his weekly rounds through this neighborhood. I doubt he remembers his prophetic encouragement. I’m sure I won’t forget it.
It’s a new year now, a new time to be encouraged, and a new time to encourage others.
Utapona. You will heal.