Should I stop writing today, this story will run in my history as the greatest story I ever heard and wrote. This will be one crafted piece that I will keep reading all the days of my life because it not only challenges me but also changes my perspective of life and God.
I knew Raphael TIngate Katoi (as he calls himself on ) back in 2015 at KkrewBs. He had just given his testimony that day. I remember walking down at HIlton near Galitos in Moi Avenue when I caught up with him. He was in his crutches. He was slowly walking alone. I greeted him and a chit chat ensued. I told him that I wanted to do his testimony and he was much moved. We exchanged contacts and promised to call him.
Since that day, whenever we met in Kkrew, I would remind him that I will give him a call. I finally did, after years of procrastination and I told him that there was a reason why for more than a year I never did his story. I affirmed that God has a reason. His timing was just perfect.
I was shocked when he told me that his real name was Dennis Waweru and not Tingate Rafael Katoi. I asked the meaning of these names and he told me that Katoi means he is a small child of God, He named himself Rafael after attending a fellowship service and the speaker said that the name means, “It is God who heals’ and Tingate means ‘Tinga Gate’ (close the gate) a word he has been saying for the longest time in his life – you will know why in a few.
So guys welcome to another series of #KkrewTestimony. We welcome you to share your stories as well so as to impact others and to declare what the Lord has done to you. The following is a testimony that moved me, pierced me, overwhelmed me and almost made me fall into tears after a 2 hour conversation with Dennis Waweru aka Katoi. Please read it to the end.
“My name is Dennis Waweru, I was born and raised in Mukuru kwa Reuben, a ghetto in Nairobi county. I am the first born in a family of three. Am from a single parent family, my mother, but was raised and brought up by my grandma whom I called mum. I have schooled in 8 different primary schools. I was a music composer, a dancer and a rapper and was brought up from a very good Christian background.
I was rooted. Church was my thing. I so much loved going to church and working in church. I used to clean the church every Saturday or very early on Sunday. With my friends, we used to dance in gigs around the hood. The extra coin I earned paid my fees in primary school. I wanted so much to be a music producer. It was my lifelong dream, a passion that I strived to achieve.
I had no funds to go to high school so a year after clearing my primary school studies, I went to search for a Music Production school. I had saved a little from the gigs we used to perform in high school and so I paid a deposit for my tuition fees. I was excited that I could pursue my lifelong dream.
I remember back in 2009, my friends and I had gone for Sakata auditions at the Go Down Art center. It was a Saturday and we had so much hoped that we would get the slot. On Sunday, I woke up at 5:00am to clean and arrange the seats at church awaiting congregants. I sat at the back bench as usual. It was during the service that my foot unusually stretched pushing the guy seated to my front. This caused a massive distraction and I had to move out. I felt that I couldn’t control my right foot. I limped home and decided to take a nap.
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I was living with my younger brother then. Since I was feeling weird, I decided to sleep so that I would not be late for my class the following day at the Music Production school. I was shocked to wake up on Tuesday evening, immobile. The only thing I could move were my eyes. I cried. I was in shock. I wondered what had happened to my body.
It was unfortunate that my condition moved no one. Yes, both my family and the church I used to serve in ignored me. I was no longer the dancer, the young boy with dreams and aspirations of becoming a music producer but an incapacitated bed-ridden soul who might never see the light of day. I was bed-ridden for about 3 months when a neighbor decided to tell my friend Pinto (one that we used to dance with) about my condition.
Pinto was in high school, he came to see me, he carried me to the chemist since I could not walk and they ran tests on me. I was given Malaria pills and taken back home. My health deteriorated, it got worse because I never had food at most times. I had a neighbor, a friend who pitied me and checked on me. Pinto would come see me frequently and we would share the food his mother gave him. Pitying me, the neighbor friend, Githinji took me in. I was bed ridden for another three months.
There was this Tanzanian woman who occasionally came to our church and he had noticed how active I was. This time round, she never saw me in church and inquired where I was. She was told of my situation and she came to see me. She was to travel back to Tanzania but she decided to take me to the hospital the following Monday. She financed my transport, admission and consultancy fees and left me under the care of my uncle.
My condition got very worse, I went to a comma for four days. I remember waking up to tied hands and feet because my whole body was vibrating. I couldn’t speak nor eat. I was diagnosed with a spinal injury and cerebral malaria. I was confused. I cried myself to sleep at most times as nobody came to see me. At first I never doubted God for I knew He was in control. My strong faith pushed me through. This is where I named myself Katoi, meaning the child of God.
I was the only one who had my own bed in the ward I was in. Other people were sharing beds. It happened that in one night, everyone died but me. This happened three times and the nurses said maybe I was the one taking their lives away. They moved me to another ward and on one night, the same thing happened. I started doubting God. I had stayed in hospital for 4 weeks now and nobody came to see me.
I remember asking God why, why did all these had to happen to me and I had devoted my life to Him. I would wake up at 5:00am to clean the church, I would dance and sing for him and give my all. I started doubting His existence. I would cry myself to sleep daily.
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God heard my cry and He sent this born again nurse to my rescue. She was there for me, she brought me everything I asked from her. She taught me from Psalm 18 that says
1 I will love thee, O Lord, my strength.
2 The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.
3 I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be saved from mine enemies.
One day, as I was deep asleep, I felt a load on me, I turned. Something was not right. It was cold and I felt I was in an unfamiliar environment. I was wrapped, I opened the wrapper and I found myself naked. I had a tag on my toe. I was in a morgue, in a body bag. I saw someone coming from the front door and upon seeing me he fled in fear. I was taken back to the ward. I was told that I was pronounced dead two nights ago. I had spent 5 months in hospital.
I was on medication for another 3 months and I had gotten better. Though I couldn’t walk, I had much to thank God for. Even when doctors pronounced me dead, He had plans for me. I was about to get discharged. They tried calling my uncle’s number which was mostly offline but luckily one day they found him reachable. They told him that they could have him arrested for neglecting a patient. This instilled fear on him but after I called him again, he promised to come for me. He silently came for me in the evening and we left.
At the gate, I felt life was different, I felt as if I had taken a breath of life again. A matatu hooted and I fell face down on the ground. I was so much used to silence in the hospital that they had to block my ears on my journey home. I had my diagnosis and my prescriptions ready to buy medication but my family never acted on this. They took my prescription and I expected them to get my medication to no avail. I knew that I was to get better little did I know that I was to about to face another long period of gloom.
My health deteriorated, I couldn’t sleep with my brother anymore because I was a nuisance so I slept in my sister’s room that was closer to the gate. I got bedridden for 2 years and at most times I would tell people to close the gate hence the name Tingate (Tinga Gate – a sheng’ word for close the gate). Music kept me going. I sang a lot. I prayed a lot and one day my friend Pinto came for me. He took me in.
Pinto was in form three, he had now rented a house, an empty room for his own. He took care of me, he used to make beads and sell them during the weekend to cater for food and rent. He would carry me to church and help me whenever my immobile self wouldn’t take me. He became this amazing friend that God gave me. I used to write music, we would write music and he would go record. The new church which we were going helped me buy a wheelchair.
I felt I had renewed strength. I would now move, I would now perform and do what I love.
It was during Pitson’s show at Kenya Cinema dubbed FOG (Friends of God) that the God of the impossible had His mighty hand upon me. Pinto and I were performing. I was on a wheelchair. I got so immersed in the song that I woke up, my miracle had happened. I could now walk but not immediately, I still used my wheelchair but later on moved to use crutches.
I have seen God work in my life; our songs play on radio, we have won several Awards Including the Mukuru Awards, I moved from Mukuru and He gave me a guardian angel, Pinto who I live with to date in Kiambu. Though hard, I learnt to forgive and forget off the neglect I got from those close to me. One thing that I would love to tell everyone who hears my story is this, do not look up to man for help, even those close to you might never be there when you desperately need them, look up to God, He never disappoints”
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Dennis has been bedridden for 6 months before hospital, 8 months in hospital and 2 years out of hospital. He served, he gave his all to God and in all that he still believed God was with Him, acting in faith, he even called himself ‘Raphael’ to mean God heals. How many of us get pricked by issues and forget who God is? That He exists and is in control?
Today, Dennis lives with his friend Pinto and they live from their music and run a shoe and bead work business. Find them on Facebook page at C.O.G Artwork (C.O.G means Children of God) check their products and support them. Again how many of you can be friends like Pinto? One that has been with him through thick and thin, even when the whole world neglected him?