"I am a pig farmer,” that is how I introduced myself to Jacque Maribe just before a press conference at a Nairobi hotel, a decade or so ago. She was working with K24 at the time and I was a correspondent for the People Daily."
The two were meeting for the first time.
“Interesting,” she responded, maybe taken aback by what seemed like a stinker of a pick-up line. I gave her my card - those days I had one reading 'Pig Farmer'.
“You were serious? So where is the farm?” The conversation started and it has never stopped to date.
It blossomed into a friendship that has seen both of us celebrate highs and go through hell. The common denominator is that we have remained good friends. So strong is our friendship that it has been scripted by blogs, mainstream media pages and social media into a story of love.
Looking at it on face value, one would be convinced, on a balance of probabilities that we indeed were once in love. Google posts results of a kiss, a cake in studio and several other pictures and…who needs context when a Cinderella story, like a Latin American soap opera, fits so well?
Heck, I even hosted Jacque for her baby shower in my house. Of course no one says together with two other friends who were all expectant at the time. Yet that story of love, like the murder case she now faces, is largely based on publicly acceptable facts as opposed to real evidence. The matter is now before court and I cannot discuss it beyond that.
I am standing for Justice to flow endlessly like a mighty river. Justice for one person, does not have to be injustice for the other. Those who committed the crime of killing Monica must be punished and I continuously pray that happens. Jacque, by the way in her affidavit says, “I am praying for Monica’s family peace of mind due to this loss”
Like many other friends who have been going to court and who have kept her company at Lang’ata Women’s prison, I am ready to stand with her to the end. Yes, I work for State House, but I do not stand with Jacque because I have a lofty title acquired over time, but because we share something more meaningful and important than a job title: friendship.
Come to think of it, it is true what has been observed by others, “When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”
That is why I will stand with Jacque, because she has always been my friend and I owe her friendship back.
Some have said that we should slow down. To them I say friendship has no speedometer. Some have told me to do it privately. To them I say, our friendship is like a lamp on top of a hill, it shines on. Some have said, accept she dumbed you and move on. To them I say, friendship is a lifestyle, take time and be a friend to someone, only then can you understand.
Nothing breaks a friend than seeing Jacque, in a capital offence uniform, locked behind bars, and having to hug her goodbye every day knowing all too well she is a beautiful soul, joyous heart and charming company.
By the way, just the other day, I told her – as her very supportive father and mother listened – that people are saying I am trying to win you back.
“Tell them, we share a soul. Something deeper than love, a friendship that words can only spell but not explain,” she responded.
“Remand has made you a poet, yeah…” I urge her on.
“No. It has just taught me that journalism has a bigger duty than just covering events, I have so many stories to tell one day, when all this is over,” she responded.