It’s extremely difficult to pen down this tribute.
So difficult so that, I almost gave up on it.
But because it’s for a soul that I valued, I will struggle to do it.
We were born and brought up with Dickson Murimi Muriithi almost the same time. Literally, we are neighbours in the village.
We went to different primary schools. Dicki, as I fondly referred to him, went to Urumandi Primary School while I went to Difathas Primary School.
Now, for those who don’t know where these are, they are the only two public primary schools close to my rural village home of Difathas, Kirinyaga County.
Dicki was my dad’s pupil and one of his favourite when Mzee used to teach at Urumandi.
Dicki was 2 years ahead of me.
We never interacted much during those days.
Then, Dicki excelled and proceeded to Kerugoya Boys. I followed suit later and joined Kianyaga Boys.
Again, we never interacted much then.
I first started developing a special interest in Dicki when he scored and A- at Kerugoya Boys and was the first to be invited to teach at the nearby Gachatha Day Secondary School, waiting for his campus admission letter.
It is then that I knew one could leave a secondary school and then go back to teach one the following year.
Dicki inspired my early days as a teacher.
But I never came to be so close to Dicki until I found him at the University of Nairobi. He was in his Third Year while I was a Fresher.
It is then that I got to understand him even better.
Dicki welcomed me to campus, showed me around, put me under his arms, fed me and took care of me like a younger brother.
Since then, we became very close friends.
And even when Dicki graduated and was tarmacking for a job, he would come calling every now and then. We would share a meal at my room in Hall 11, have conversations that lasted long into the night and comfort each other that one day, all will be well.
Eventually, he got a job in Embu, concentrated with it and within no time, he had changed his fortunes and become a trendsetter.
Barely three years into the hustle, Dicki had worked miracles, combining his education with his business acumen to make a fortune.
Yet, with all that, Dicki remained humble, cheerful and very easy. Once in a while, we would share a drink and laugh about how far we had come.
Two days before he met the tragic accident last Sunday, we had agreed to meet and chat a bit since I was in the village. Unfortunately, that was never to be. I now regret why that meeting never materialized.
All in all, Difathas has lost a son. Kenya has lost part of it’s future.
It’s so sad to mourn a soul, barely 30 years old, with an Economics Degree from The University of Nairobi, at such a time when our country needs such most. Go well bro. Till we meet again.