26 February 2020: The Old Man in Tattered Clothes

 

Plot

The chapter opens in the present. Kombani encounters a distress message on Twitter from a single mother in Kenya asking for help. He is cautious. He admits that social media “is awash with cases” of opportunists who exploit well-wishers. Rather than sending cash directly, he tests the situation: he instructs the woman to go to a supermarket and promises to pay for her shopping. His reasoning is clear and practical—“if she were a scammer, she would insist I send her money rather than sending her to the supermarket.”

This present act triggers a long flashback to childhood in Molo. The narrative shifts into a remembered family crisis: “We had reached the end of our tether. We had no food at all. Not a single morsel.” The desperation is heightened by the detail that Sammy had been sent to Eldoret with the last two hundred shillings to seek help. The children wait anxiously, running to the road at every sound of a vehicle. Over time, hope fades: “After a while, we stopped rushing out of the door.”

On the critical day, the only sustenance is Nyayo milk and a small amount of ugali prepared from flour given by a neighbour. Just as the food is ready, an old man in “tattered clothes” appears, asking first for water, then for food. The mother’s instinct is refusal—she shakes her head. The old man begins to leave. But something unsettles her: he skipped other houses and chose theirs. She calls him back and serves him the only food available.

He eats everything, prays a long blessing, and adds a striking line: that what they are waiting for may come “tenfold.” Soon after the children return to school hungry, the mother collapses in guilt and despair. Then comes the turning point: Sammy returns unexpectedly, bringing gunny bags filled with food and a wad of cash. The family abundance is immediate and overwhelming. Later, when they eat meat and rice to fullness, the mother recalls the old man’s prayer.

The narrative returns to the present. The woman on Twitter confirms receipt of the shopping. Kombani responds “Amen!” and sends additional money specifically instructing her to “buy some meat for the children.” The chapter closes by linking that instruction directly to memory: “I have never forgotten the taste of that juicy meat — over thirty years later.”

The structure is cyclical. A present act of giving is rooted in a past act of sacrifice. The past explains the present.

Language Use

The language in this chapter operates on two clear levels: reflective adult narration in the present, and emotionally textured childhood recollection in the past. The shift is not decorative. It mirrors the movement between technology-driven modern life and lived memory rooted in scarcity.

1. Contrast Between Modern and Past Worlds

The present-day sections are framed by contemporary vocabulary and controlled reasoning. The narrator explains:

• “I was scrolling through Twitter…”

• “a screenshot of a direct message conversation.”

• “A notification came through on my mobile phone.”

The diction here is functional and observational. The sentences are steady, measured, almost procedural. He evaluates risk logically:

“If she were a scammer, she would insist I send her money rather than sending her to the supermarket.”

The tone suggests caution shaped by experience. He acknowledges that “social media is awash with cases” of opportunists. The vocabulary — “technological advancements,” “applications for social engagement” — situates the present in a world of systems and mediated interactions.

In contrast, the childhood narrative abandons abstraction and moves into physical detail and emotional immediacy:

• “We had no food at all. Not a single morsel.”

• “His lips were cracked and his voice quivered.”

• “a massive uniquely welded piece of metal” jiko.

• “gunny bags were filled with food that would last us for many months.”

• “a large sufuria full of meat and rice.”

These are not general descriptions of poverty. They are sensory markers. The cracked lips, the welded jiko, the weight of gunny bags — these make deprivation and relief visible and tangible. The language slows down to record textures and objects. The effect is documentary rather than sentimental.

The adult voice analyzes; the child’s memory testifies.

2. Repetition for Emotional Weight

Repetition is used sparingly but effectively.

The phrase:

“We had no food at all. Not a single morsel.”

The second sentence reinforces the first. It removes any possibility of exaggeration. The scarcity is absolute.

Similarly, the repeated question:

“Mother, anything?”

It appears first at lunchtime and again in the evening. The repetition conveys routine deprivation. Hunger was not dramatic; it was cyclical. The children expect disappointment. The question becomes ritualistic.

Even the mother’s response — “no” — is repeated. It signals a pattern of absence that shapes the household.

This repetition anchors the emotional rhythm of the chapter. Hunger is not a single event. It is an ongoing condition.

3. Suspense Through Delayed Revelation

The narrative pacing slows at key turning points.

First, the old man drinks water and begins to leave. Then:

“Then he hesitated at the door and turned around.”

That hesitation marks the narrative pivot. The tension rises because the family’s food is already insufficient.

The mother initially refuses:

“In fact, as you told us, you shook your head.”

The old man nods and starts walking away. The moment of decision is prolonged by internal questioning:

• “There was something strange about the old man.”

• “Why had he chosen our house and not any other?”

These unanswered questions create narrative suspense without melodrama. The tension lies in moral uncertainty.

Later, after she gives away the food and the children return to school hungry, the mother collapses in guilt and exhaustion. Then:

“A loud knock brought you back to reality.”

The identity of the visitor is delayed. Because of her myopia, she cannot immediately recognise who is at the door. The detail about recognising people “by the clothes they wore” prolongs the suspense. Only when he speaks does clarity arrive:

“Sammy!”

The relief is built structurally through delay. The pacing mirrors emotional experience — fear before recognition, silence before abundance.

4. Direct Dialogue

Dialogue is brief and unembellished. Its simplicity increases authenticity.

The old man’s opening:

“Habari.”

His request is modest:

“May I ask, do you have anything I can eat? I have come all the way from Nakuru… I have not eaten in two days.”

The tone is polite, almost restrained. There is no theatrical pleading. This restraint heightens the moral tension.

Sammy’s arrival is equally direct:

“Mother! I need help. I have a lot of luggage…”

He is unaware of the emotional storm he interrupts. His normalcy contrasts sharply with the mother’s tears.

The repeated children’s question:

“Mother, anything?”

carries more emotional weight because it is understated. No one dramatizes hunger. It is expressed in ordinary speech.

In the present timeline, the digital exchange is equally concise:

“Thank you, sir… I have never shopped like this before.”

And the narrator’s response:

“Amen!”

The economy of dialogue keeps the narrative grounded. The power lies in timing, not embellishment.

5. Symbolism Emerging from Concrete Detail

The chapter does not declare symbols explicitly. Meaning arises from repeated objects and actions.

The Old Man in Tattered Clothes

He is described plainly — “an old man in tattered clothes,” with cracked lips. Yet his prayer introduces transcendence. He adds a “strange line” — that what they were waiting for may come “tenfold.” The immediacy of Sammy’s return after this prayer invites interpretation. The text does not confirm who he is. The ambiguity sustains symbolic depth without didacticism.

Water

Water is the first thing offered. It costs nothing. It precedes the request for food. It functions as the threshold between caution and sacrifice.

Meat

Meat becomes the sensory emblem of restoration. The narrator writes:

“I have never forgotten the taste of that juicy meat — over thirty years later.”

The specificity of taste carries memory across decades. It explains why, in the present, he instructs the woman:

“Please buy some meat for the children.”

The past experience directly informs present action. Meat is no longer just food; it is remembered dignity and abundance.

6. Structural Parallelism Between Past and Present

The chapter uses mirrored actions:

• In the past: a knock at the door; a request for food.

• In the present: a digital message; a request for help.

In the past: the mother gives the last meal.
In the present: the son sends groceries and additional money.

In the past: blessing follows sacrifice.
In the present: he replies, “Amen!”

The language reinforces this parallel structure without explicitly stating it. The movement from physical door to digital screen shows continuity of moral choice across time.

In sum, the language remains restrained, concrete, and anchored in lived detail. The emotional weight comes from specificity — cracked lips, welded jiko, gunny bags, sufuria, juicy meat — rather than from abstract moralizing. The chapter’s power lies in how memory is carried through objects, dialogue, and pacing, shaping action decades later.

Themes

1. Generosity in the Midst of Scarcity

The central moral tension of the chapter revolves around giving when there is nothing left to give.

The narrator states plainly:

“We had no food at all. Not a single morsel.”

The ugali prepared from maize flour given by a neighbour is the only meal available. It is not surplus. It is survival food meant for children about to return to school. When the old man asks for something to eat, the mother’s first instinct is refusal:

“Your first instinct was to say no.”

This detail matters. The text does not portray generosity as automatic. It shows hesitation, calculation, and maternal protection. The decision to call him back comes after internal struggle — “Something told you to call him back.” She serves him the food, and he “gobbled all of it, and even licked the plate.” The completeness of his consumption reinforces the magnitude of the sacrifice: nothing remains.

In the present timeline, Kombani’s action mirrors this earlier moment. He does not send cash blindly; he structures the help carefully:

“I sent the woman a message telling her to go to the nearest supermarket, and that I would pay for her shopping.”

His giving is cautious but deliberate. After receiving confirmation, he goes further:

“Please buy some meat for the children.”

This addition is not incidental. It echoes the childhood memory of meat bought after Sammy’s return. The chapter shows that generosity learned in deprivation becomes generosity practiced in stability.

2. Faith and Divine Providence

Faith in this chapter is not abstract doctrine. It is embedded in lived experience.

After eating, the old man “asked to hold your hand” and prayed “a long passionate prayer asking for God’s blessings to come to the house.” The mother later recalls that he added a specific line:

“may what we were waiting for come tenfold.”

The sequence that follows is narratively tight. Soon after the children leave for school, Sammy knocks at the door with “gunny bags… filled with food that would last us for many months” and “a wad of notes.” The timing creates a cause-and-effect structure without explicitly declaring it miraculous. The text allows readers to draw connections.

Importantly, faith coexists with emotional turmoil. After giving away the food, the mother “lay in bed, sobbing with guilt.” She is not triumphant. She is afraid. The narrative does not simplify faith into certainty. It presents it as action taken amid fear.

In the present, Kombani’s response to the Twitter message is simple:

“Amen!”

The echo is deliberate. The same language of blessing carries across decades, linking past providence with present generosity.

3. Moral Testing and Uncertainty

The old man’s choice of house raises quiet suspicion:

“Why had he chosen our house and not any other?”

The narrator notes that neighbouring houses had doors open. Logically, they were easier options. This unexplained selection introduces the possibility of moral testing. The mother senses that “there was something strange about the old man.”

The text does not confirm whether he is divine, symbolic, or simply human. That ambiguity strengthens the theme. The moral weight lies not in who he is, but in the decision she makes.

In the present, Kombani also faces moral uncertainty. He acknowledges that “social media is awash with cases… discovered to be from opportunists.” He cannot confirm whether the woman is genuinely distressed. The risk of being deceived mirrors the earlier risk of giving away essential food.

In both timelines, the characters act despite incomplete information. The chapter suggests that moral action often requires moving without certainty.

4. Memory as Ethical Compass

Memory functions not merely as recollection but as instruction.

The narrator writes:

“I have never forgotten the taste of that juicy meat — over thirty years later.”

The sensory specificity — taste — shows how deeply the event is embedded. This memory directly shapes his present behaviour. He does not just pay for groceries; he insists on meat for the children.

The line:

“It was important to me that she buy meat for the children…”

connects past to present explicitly. The adult decision is informed by childhood experience. The chapter implies that formative hardship becomes a moral guide. Memory is not nostalgic; it is operational.

5. Dignity in Poverty

Although the family experiences severe deprivation, the text portrays order, responsibility, and emotional restraint.

Even without food, the children prepare to return to school. Missing lunch is described as “not unusual.” There is disappointment, but also resignation. The mother quickly washes dishes “because you knew we would arrive for lunch very soon.” She attempts to preserve normalcy and shield the children from the full emotional weight of her sacrifice.

When Sammy arrives with abundance, the reaction is not boastful. The children still ask in the evening:

“Mother, anything?”

The transformation from lack to abundance is revealed gradually, through Karis discovering “a large sufuria full of meat and rice.”

The poverty depicted here is material, not moral. The household retains discipline, hospitality, and faith despite scarcity.

6. Reciprocity and Continuity of Blessing

The structure of the chapter creates a cycle:

• A stranger asks for help.

• A mother gives sacrificially.

• Blessing follows.

• Decades later, the son becomes the giver.

The final exchange on Twitter mirrors the earlier blessing:

“Wherever you are, God continue to bless you.”

The narrative ends not with the woman’s gratitude but with the narrator’s reflection on the remembered meat. The emphasis is not on recognition but on continuity. What was received is now redistributed.

The chapter suggests that generosity is not an isolated act. It travels across time, shaping future choices.

7. Technology as Modern Channel for Timeless Values

The opening paragraphs reference Twitter, mobile notifications, and digital messaging. The narrator even pauses to explain technological change: “There have been many technological advancements…”

This explanation situates the present in a new medium. Yet the moral scenario remains identical to the past: someone in need reaches out; someone with capacity must decide.

In the past, the knock is physical. In the present, it is digital.

In both cases, the response is personal, deliberate, and consequential.

Overall, the themes are developed through parallel structure, repeated dialogue, and precise sensory detail. The chapter does not preach. It shows decisions, consequences, memory, and continuity. The moral argument emerges from lived experience rather than authorial declaration.