A Deep,Painful Open Letter To Jacob Juma’s Nine-Year Old Son,John Juma…Read And Learn.

Watching Jacob Juma’s little boy,John Juma, make an impassioned eulogy to his late date,one couldn’t help condole with the poor young man who obviously was too young to understand the extent of his father’s interactions,sins,Controversies and sometimes messy relationships with people – politicians,fellow businessmen,public figures,sons of Presidents,everyone.

Juma junior is obviously blind to the cause of his Dad’s sudden death and the huge upheaval that came with it.

Stoically,he spoke on,like a man,extolling his Dad’s heroic deeds,expressing how much he truly and unconditionally loved him,hailing him as his hero,and repeatedly mentioning the words ” Dead ” or ” Died ” or ” Death ”.

I doubt there was a dry eye in the room after the boy’s haunting speech was up. Poignant. To the bone.

Dear Juma Junior,

First and foremost,sorry about the sudden loss of your Dad at such a tender age. He was too young to die. And you certainly are too young to lose him. But life,young man,has it’s own ways of going around us and surprising us. Nothing in life is cast in stone. Not even your next minute.

Allow me to send my condolences to you and your mother,sisters,relatives for this loss. He certainly didn’t deserve such an ignominious exit. He lived like a King and sure,Daddy deserved to bow out in a more dignified manner. Not in the sort of bloody,violent way he did.

You may not know this,but your Dad did have a sea of enemies baying for his blood. For the past two decades or so,your Dad had accumulated massive amounts of money – but even more enemies along the way.

Your Dad wasn’t the most polite man in the room. And I am sure your Mummy knows this all to we’ll. He could be troublesome,feisty,arrogant,entitled,brash and mettlesome.

He,sometimes,could be condescending. And seemed to have been perpetually inebriated in his own ego.

He lived fabulously- even fatuously… And he started fires more times than he put them off.

Your Dad,unbeknownst to you,saw his death coming. It may have been a sticker to us but it certainly wasn’t to him and to those closest to him. You’re nine,you obviously wouldn’t know these things. But Daddy knew someone was after his blood. But Daddy kept raising hell. He kept taunting,kept flirting with death,kept casting a ruckus,kept poking his nose.

His death was untimely… But,weighed against his past transgressions, and the many shoulders he rubbed in the wrongest of wrong ways,his death,to be honest,was long overdue.

He seemed to relish trouble… And never seemed to want to tone down,maybe not for his own sake,but maybe,for your sake,for your mother’s sake,for your sister’s sake.

He knew you were too little to lose him. He knew your sister was too young to watch her Dad leave too. And he,we hope,definitely loved your mother so much to ever want her to raise you guys on her own. But still,he never seemed to care much,and never seemed to want to quit picking fights,taunting his foes,playing with fire.

A distraught John Juma (Holding cross) surrounded by his family members and CORD Leader Raila Odinga.

Daddy,little man,deliberately plunged you into the predicament you’re in. He knew he could do something for your sake. But he,clearly,only relished endangering his life – and not safeguarding yours.

He lived dangerously,even with the full knowledge that he had little kids are home looking up to him,waiting for him every evening and hoping to grow up and make him proud.

To him,that didn’t matter. What mattered were the fights he was always embroiled in. What mattered was the scores he always wanted to settle. What mattered was showmanship,vanity and endless battles with almost everyone.

You never seemed to matter. Or maybe you did. I don’t know.

Daddy seemed more interested in holding grudges than holding his grandchildren in the future.

He surrounded himself with danger. And openly invited death to his Kingly home.

Daddy had a choice. He’d have kept you safe,I think. But I am not sure he worked towards that.

He knew his enemies were lethal, and powerful and callous. He knew he was battling with murderous scoundrels. But he kept taunting them . Kept asking them to come kill him. Come finish him. Come separate you from him.

I saw your labored speech. I was touched. And then I was angry at your Dad. For leaving you. Even when he could have found a way to stay with you… By being tactical,being smart,being less combative,being less of a murder target,being less of a threat to his own self.

Young man,you will grow up soon. And grow up fast. You will soon go to college and then get some girl and then marry her and then have your own little ones too.

I would ask you to not follow your Dad’s path. He wasn’t the most righteous man in town. Or maybe he was,we may never know. He started way too many fights. Angered way too many people. Taunted way too many people. Wronged way too many people.

It’s even hard to tell who among-st all of these foes actually killed him.

He consistently believed he was indestructible,invincible,indomitable. And he trashed,fought and sued everyone else who dared challenge him.

Young man,you appear bright. Appear smart to me. Oh,what a fine young man you are.

When you grow up and you can finally stand on your own,learn to pick your fights properly. Learn when to fight and when to walk away.

Learn when to draw your sword and when to hide it.

Learn when to punch send when to gracefully take the kick.

Learn when to win and when to lose.

Learn when to fight and when to act scared.

Always remember,not all fights are won, not all threats are cheap,but all enemies are to be messed around with,not all secrets need to be told,not all the signs of the past need to be retold and definitely,not all issues need to be solved through a fight.

Your little boys will still need you.

I’ll tell you something else,in this goddamn Country,yes,Goddamn,Heroes are not celebrated -or rewarded. No matter how much of your life you dedicate to fighting corruption,unmasking the corrupt,exposing evils and uncovering hard State secrets,it will never benefit you. And the people will never care. We trash our heroes and kill them. And then bury them and forget. It’s a thankless job. Ask Boniface Mwangi.

Be a man. Be courageous. Be strong. But also,be wise,be smart, be tactful and be restrained.

If only someone wrote Daddy this letter before he left.

Take care,young man.

And may you live long. Longer than a mere 45 years. Your little boys will surely need you.

Love.