Mr. Sugarcane: Part II

There is something I need to say: after that whole incident in Bulbul, I was genuinely sorrowful. Not performative sorrow. Not the kind we manufacture because we know we are supposed to “feel convicted.” No. This one was real.

Because deep down, I knew the issue had never been about casual labour or boda boda riders conducting recruitment conferences by the roadside. You know the Lord would have easily told me to preach to them… The issue was obedience and I had failed that test in the most painfully human way possible. Through hesitation.

The thing about godly sorrow is that it doesn’t just make you feel bad. Not as bad as condemnation. Condemnation is the ghetto!!! Godly sorrow pulls you back toward God. That is the difference. Worldly sorrow pushes you into shame. Godly sorrow pushes you into repentance. After I asked the Lord for forgiveness, I remember my next prayer almost immediately became: “Lord, give me another chance.” Then again: “Please give me another chance.” Then again… And again… Like a man trying to negotiate a replay after missing an open goal in the 89th minute.

To be real, the opportunity was gone. Finished. Expired. Mr. Sugarcane was somewhere back in Bulbul living his life, probably on another assignment peacefully, while I was on the complete opposite side of Nairobi trying to continue with flooring works and pretend I had emotionally recovered. Which I had not.

Days passed. Grinding was completed and we were waiting for the client to put their house in order so that we can resume the rest of the flooring phases. Life moved on. But every now and then, I would remember him and every time I did, I would quietly tell the Lord again: “If possible… another chance.”

Then heaven did something interesting. Not dramatic. Just precise. Boom! Because that is usually how God works. Now let me explain something to you about construction professionals. There are tools you buy casually. And then there are tools you hunt like they are artifacts from Wakanda. At that particular time, we had been searching for white rubber mallets for our crew somewhere in the wilderness. Specific rubber mallets. Not the ordinary black ones. Not the suspiciously soft ones that look like they were manufactured by disappointment itself. – But suppliers, even you guys have started pissing us off. You’re really giving us a headache with some of these tools… you stock once and then move to another product what 🤷🏽‍♂️🤯

Anyway, we needed proper white rubber mallets. And let me tell you something: we searched everywhere. Hardware shops. Supplier contacts. Online stores. TikTok recommendations. WhatsApp groups populated by serious fundis. Nothing. Extinct is what they were! The mallets were like a lost tribe. And I kid you not 👌🏽 you will see the number of suppliers of white rubber mallets who will pop up after this article. You wait and see…

Then, the Holy Spirit nudged me again after some days of struggle. After the events of Bulbul, I had learned to stop acting clever – suddenly. The instruction was simple: “Check a specific hardware in Karen.” Immediately my mind shifted into operations mode. Who can I send? Who is available? Who runs errands around this side? It wasn’t sounding economical to send Errands with Maina all the way to Karen for such a small commodity. It would eat a whole chunk of day and with the darkening clouds, it just smelt disaster in my analysis.

And then suddenly…Ah. May the Lord drop ideas in your mind suddenly!!! 😂 Mr. Sugarcane!!! Now what I had not told you (or I did. Maybe I did… 🤔 ) in the previous story is this: On that first day, before we parted ways, I had taken his number. Almost instinctively. And I remember telling him: “Maybe one day we can work together.” At the time, I thought I was just being polite. Meanwhile heaven was preserving a future appointment. So I called him. He picked up. And immediately I did what all Kenyan men do before asking for a favour.

“Chief! How are you?” “How’s life?” “Uko aje?” After enough ceremonial greetings, I finally told him: “Listen, I need help with something…” And before I even finished explaining, he said: “Mimi niko tu home. Sina shughuli.” The man was free. I don’t wanna overthink or it’s mind playing games, I think I heard a baby cry in the background. But the fact that he was free… relief. Suddenly I started smiling. Both externally & Internally. Because I could feel heaven quietly arranging something. I told him I needed him to run an errand for me in Karen and if he was willing to run it for me. So I sent him the photos of the mallets. Explained the specifications carefully. Told him exactly where to go, just as the Holy Spirit had hinted.

The mallets were there. He sent a picture of two mallets. One black and one white. THEY WERE ACTUALLY THERE. After all those weeks of searching. The elusive white rubber mallets had been sitting peacefully in Karen waiting for Mr. Sugarcane to locate them. At this point I had stopped asking questions. I was just flowing with redemption. It’s only now that I am fighting off that temptation to imagine that these kinds of mallets could only be found in “Karen” IYKYK & Kampala. – I bought the last ones at a branded tool shop in Kampala last year.

So I paid for four immediately. I did not ask if they had stock. Infact during the phone call to confirm if the money had arrived on their end, I overheard the cashier shout “kwani huyo jamaa anakaaje? Analipa hata bila kuconfirm tuko na stock!? I hanged up even before that statement would continue futher. By faith I was gonna get those rubber mallets. Wangezitafuta aki! Wapige simu Mombasa zitumanwe! But who is God!!! They had them in stock. Faith wewe!😮‍💨😮‍💨 I asked him whether he had Bolt or Uber so he could send a rider. He said no. No app. No rider hailing app.

After a lot of confusion on my part, we agreed he would bring the tools toward town. My errands lady would meet him on the other side. Then the goods would finally make their way to me in Roysambu. Simple. Somehow chaotic, but very functional. Very Kenyan.

You should have seen the smile on my face during that entire process. Because this was no longer about mallets. This was redemption. The Lord had actually given me another opportunity to engage the young man I had ignored. Another chance to respond correctly. Another chance to build relationship – if it’s the Lords will. Another chance to obey differently. And this time; I did not hesitate.

That is the thing about God that continues to humble me. He convicts us, yes. But He is not eager to destroy us. He corrects us because He loves us. And sometimes, in His mercy, He allows us to revisit the very place where we failed… not to shame us, but to grow us.

And so eventually, yes, I finally got to give Mr. Sugarcane work. That errand was a full assignment. And now, slowly, a friendship is forming. A rapport. A connection. All because God refused to let one moment of hesitation become the final chapter. He is a God of many chances. Honestly, that may be my greatest takeaway from all this: The Lord is not only holy. He is kind. And sometimes His kindness looks like a second phone call… a random errand… or a white rubber mallet sitting quietly in a shop in Karen waiting to become part of a redemption story.

Anyway dear fam, that is where we shall leave today’s diary entry. Mr. Sugarcane has now officially entered the storyline. And somehow, I suspect this may not be the last time you hear about him.

Just another story from a man still under construction.

Grace and peace.✌🏽