Rev Timothy Njoya: I was the second person in Nairobi to have a personal computer

By Jacqueline Mahugu | 6yrs ago | 6 min read

Reverend Timothy Njoya, 76, is a man who shoots straight from the hip Njoya is hip and he knows it. He has what the young folks call the ‘granddaddy swag’, and he wears it well.

“You all hurt my feelings. I could satisfy all your sexual desires and not break a sweat,” he echoed to the room full of shocked women.

This was during a conference where women were complaining about marrying old men who couldn’t rise to the occasion. He was part of the audience, and the old man just had to raise his hand to tell his truth. And as shock gave way to laughter, he took his seat and focused on the agenda.

Njoya is hip and he knows it. He has what the young folks call the ‘granddaddy swag’, and he wears it well. On his Twitter account (@timothnjoya) with an impressive following of 17,000, he reels off hilarious posts that have his peers stunned and the younger crowd in guffaws.

“I was the second person in Nairobi to have a personal computer after GM Kariuki (the late politician) in 1992. Nobody taught me how to use things like Excel and Word. I taught myself,” he responds when I ask how he got so tech savvy. He is not boasting. He is merely stating a fact, and just as quickly he moves on.

We are standing in his compound, and it is evident that his larger than life personality translates even in the way he lives. His brightly coloured gate is labelled Karinyo Rock Garden. That is the name of his home. A little walk inwards reveals a museum and an archives room dubbed ‘Research and Documentation Centre’. There are also some beautiful works of art hanging from the roof.

“When the wind blows, they create some beautiful music. Each produces a different sound.”

THE HAND WITH A HOLE

Dressed in a simple blue shirt and white trousers completed by a Crucifix chain and a priestly collar, he cuts a warm figure. Peppering his talk with deep laughs and direct eye contact, you would easily dismiss him for a man who has spent his life behind the pulpit and colouring within the lines. But then you would be a fool.

Reverend Timothy Njoya has earned the right to be considered one of the greatest human rights activists Kenya has ever known, and if his left hand could speak, it would tell a story.

His palm bears a hole, and the skin on the back of his hand has a mottled appearance.

“This hand was reconstructed with tendons from my thigh and skin grafts from my stomach other areas.”

We are now standing in his impressive library, one lined with books I later learnt are imports from Universities like Princeton. Besides Njoya, no one else is allowed into the room, and I am honoured to get a glimpse.

THE SERMON AND THE BEATING

Waving his arm, he explains what happened on that Labour Day of 1997, the day he almost lost his hand.

Those days, I had a preaching slot on Voice of Kenya (now KBC) at 6am. It was a public holiday, so I had a captive audience. President Kenyatta was going to address the Nation later in the day. My sermon said that

Harambee was the doctrine of the Kikuyu middle class. I also said that when Jesus was here, he expected the people he healed to participate, like he told the man on the mat to get up and walk and affirmed the dignity of the woman with the issue of blood that her faith had healed her and to go in peace.

I remember saying, ‘Unlike those people, Kenyans’ independence had never been affirmed and we were not free yet. We are still being managed and carried on a mat by the Government. It is high time labourers know that they produce the economy of this country. They are paying taxes, so they should be free and we should be told that today’.”

That evening, nine men came to his home. They beat him up and chopped off three of his fingers – the thumb, little finger and ring finger completely. They had to be reattached by a team of doctors.

“I was lucky to survive that was just the first of my many brushes with death.”

OF ‘DEAR’

Now seated in his expansive office, I wonder aloud about Mrs. Njoya. He says that she is in the house and quickly picks up the phone and dials her number. “Dear, Jackie wants to see you…” the conversation quickly dissolves into a quick series of rushed words and nods.

He then informs me that his wife will definitely not be talking to press. And that is that.

“I met her in prison in 1966. I had gone to preach at the Lang’ata Women’s Prison, while she was doing research on inmates for the National Council of Churches of Kenya.

‘Women’s bureaucracy cannot work!’ were the first words I said when we met up in the office with the prison staff.”

Those words clearly didn’t impress Leah.

“What I had meant to say was that I had made the inmates co-operate by treating them like human beings. But Leah, turned to face me and said, ‘Don’t be proud. That happened because of the technique you used. If I went to a man’s prison and did the same I would get the same results.’ What a way to humble a man, and I fell in love right then,” he says with a chuckle.

“I had found a girl who would prevent me from going to hell. I did not even know her name then, but I knew I had found my lifelong partner.”

They parted ways and he embarked on finding out everything he could about this girl who had stolen her heart.

Long story short, the lovebirds tied the knot in 1968 and were blessed with five children.

THE QUINTESSENTIAL HOUSEHUSBAND

Househusband, according to Wikipedia, refers to a father who is the main caregiver of the children and is the homemaker of the household.

Njoya describes himself as a househusband. “My wife is the family’s breadwinner. At the beginning, her income was 10 times mine and by the time I was retiring it was over 200 times more than mine. I was great at what I did, as a man and as a husband and a preacher, but she was much better at managing the family and more intelligent. Supposing I stereotyped her and insisted on being the breadwinner myself, what do you think would have happened?” he asks.

THE CRY THERAPY

Njoya is a man with no regrets, and he goes out of his way to ensure he does not offend individuals.

“I have never insulted or cursed anyone. I have built a room in my house for prayer, to express anger and mourning. It is also my study room. If I offend my wife, I will not quarrel, I go there to cry. Literally cry tears. The same thing when I am angry. That is why I am mentally healthy because that is therapy.”

FREE SPIRIT

He has a liberal way of doing everything and has never spanked his children or denied them anything as punishment. He did not allow teachers to spank his children in school either. And when he goes in Islamic towns, he will pray in the mosque too.

He looks at his phenomenal achievements modestly. “Other than being saved, I’m most proud of being able to mobilise Kenyans to do something. I think I am an ideas man. People listen to me not because of who I am but because of my ideas. I am able to preach and teach, which all really mobilization is. I know how to mobilise people and resources but I don’t know how to institutionalise.

He now spends his days preaching, talking to people wherever they find him, be it while shopping or after church on Sunday in PCEA Kinoo. He also reads a lot, and recently wrote a book that whipped up public interest with the provocative title, Divinity of the Clitoris