Papa held my baby, then kissed his forehead

The crowd, though it would be more appropriate to call them a congregation, were getting impatient. They had been waiting for hours; some of them had been up since 3 am. It was gone six now, still dark, but at least they were inside out of the cold and they were warming up for the main event by singing hymns and shaking their cold limbs into a dance.

They had watched lorry loads of security men accompanied by sniffer dogs disappear inside the church of St Joseph the Worker in Kangemi, one of Nairobi’s poorest slum areas.

The police were there searching the aisles, looking under the pews, inspecting everywhere because in less than five hours the Pope himself would be visiting.

They had waited for the all clear and now they were inside and the church was declared safe. The crowd, some from Kangemi, some from Kibera, Mukuru, some of them parishioners of this tiny church, hidden in the heart of the slum, were waiting.

It was gone 8.30 when the roof began to shake its iron sheets and the walls, though made of brick, seemed to shiver. The noise got louder. It was a security threat, someone said. Another shook his head. “No, it’s a police helicopter”.

The roar became a rumble and then a steady beat as the helicopter gained height, its job done. The Pope could now arrive.

The Master of Ceremonies, a big smile on his face, must have made thousands of announcements in his time, but this was one he would never make again. He stood before the altar and said, quite calmly, the words everyone had been waiting for:

“The Pope must be approaching Kangemi. Those are security officials in that helicopter.”

The announcement was met with ululations and screams. The choir stood and started dancing. The congregation joined in. The voices of children screaming mingled with the excited chants of “Karibu” that were coming from the back of the church.

Then it happened. The moment they had come for. The door was already open waiting for Francis to enter and enter he did. He didn’t just walk into the church. He arrived with a spring in his step. He turned and smiled and waved and was certainly caught up with the emotion of the moment, the music, the choir, the enthusiasm and love generated by the parishioners. Nor did he rush. He stood at the door and laid his hands on a group of sick children who had been placed there. He shook hands with the old and the poor and chatted to them.  And as he approached the altar, I could see how fit he looked, how full of life.

 

Of course, the congregation loved him. Among them was young John Otieno. A former street boy who had something special he wanted to give the Pope. He had written a personal letter to the pontiff. He said it contained ideas, “things he wanted to share with the Pope”.

Part of the letter read: “I survived as a glue boy for three years doing all illicit things, stealing and doing bad things...”

He wanted the Pope to mention his name in prayer. Then there was Mathew Kinuthia, 88, one of the founders of St Joseph the Worker Church was also in attendance. In an earlier interview with The Standard on Saturday, he had said that he would grace the occasion wearing a suit and a smile.

He kept his word. He looked like a businessman in his smart striped suit, and his smile never left his face. He sat on his wheelchair since 4 am waiting for the door to be opened. And when the Pope arrived and walked up the aisle, Matthew reached out to grab the hand of the pontiff and kissed it.

The Pope’s message was one of empathy and encouragement. Most members of the congregation nodded as he talked. “I am here because I want you to know that your joys and hopes, your troubles and your sorrows, are not indifferent to me. I realise the difficulties which you experience daily! How can I not denounce the injustices which you suffer?”

Esther Gathoni, the church cleaner whose story was featured in yesterday’s Standard newspaper, said she felt like the Pope was talking directly to her.

When the Pope talked about wisdom which is born of the “stubborn resistance” Esther said she identifies with the line because she has struggled to be where she is now.

When Pope Francis finished, he made his way towards the children. As he was passing, Evelyn Omoto held her three-month old baby Stanlaus Omoto towards Pope Francis.

“I wanted him to bless my son, but he was looking the other way. Then one of his security men saw me and signaled him to turn to me. Then the Holy Father held my baby and kissed his forehead,” said Evelyn.

She also got a rosary from the Pope; a gift she says she will carry wherever she goes.