The tears of a distressed dad

Gerald Mwangi Karicha is every Kenyan dad. He is every Kenyan dad because what happened to him is, by extension, happening to every Kenyan dad of goodwill.

His son, Billy Mwangi, 24 was abducted on December 21 at around 3pm in Embu. He was just about to have a haircut when he was bundled into a white double-cabin Toyota Fielder and his phone was immediately switched off.

Unless you are the only stranger in Jerusalem, you know the strange things that have been happening to our young men.

When all the strength is gone

It is hard to see a man breaking down in public. Sure, we break down many times, but it is always kwa bafu; where running taps and flushing toilets drown our whimpers. And that is because we have been taught we need to be strong for others.

And so when a visibly distressed Gerald broke down in court because his son was still missing, it was a sign that all his strength was gone. He had reached the end of his rope.

Cry, the Beloved Country

I often wonder about the men who commit abductions, murders and atrocities. How do they even function? Who raised these men?

I often wonder if these men have a good night's sleep. If they kiss their children and spouses goodnight. How do they even bring themselves to hug their children with hands that are dripping with innocent blood?

In Cry, the Beloved Country, Alan Paton poses this same question: “What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another? What broke when he could bring himself to thrust down the knife into the warm flesh, to bring down the axe on the living head, to cleave down between the seeing eyes, to shoot the gun that would drive death into the beating heart?”

What happens to their conscience when they watch the news and see a distressed Gerald? Do they switch off the TV, just like they do their conscience, and go about their bloody business?

Man, for the life of me, I cannot fathom how these men lead normal lives.

My bad. I forgot. These types aren't human beings but monsters.

Testimony of tears

For Gerald and other dads whose sons have been abducted, Psalm 56:8 comes to mind: “You number and record my wanderings; put my tears in Your bottle - are they not in Your book?”

Here's how I exigete the above text. Tears are invaluable prayers and petitions. They are profound testimonies presented before The Holy Judge. Besides, tears - just like prayers - are not lost. Records are kept for every tear that one sheds.

Gerald, your tossing and wanderings were not in vain. Neither were your tears. Your son is now home, and for that we thank God.