Some Saturday ago a friend of mine went to church as she always does. As she was finding her seat, she spotted a familiar face, someone she recognized from back home. Naturally, she walked over to say hello. The lady looked at her with polite confusion at first. You know that look people give when they are trying to place you but cannot quite succeed.

“I’m from the same hometown as you,” my friend offered. “I used to see you around. I am so and so’s daughter.”

“Oh really!” eyes lighting up.

“Yes.”

“Aah, I remember you now. It’s been such a long time. For a minute there I couldn’t recognize you.”

They laughed lightly, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then returned to their respective seats as the service began.

After the benediction, as people spilled out into the church compound to catch up, greet visitors, and take lunch, the same lady approached my friend again. It seemed natural enough. Perhaps she wanted to continue their earlier conversation.

She asked about life. About work. About what my friend was doing in Siaya when she did not even live there. My friend responded kindly, smiling the kind of polite smile you give acquaintances from home. The conversation was sprinkled with exaggerated surprise at milestones and those small bursts of laughter people offer when they hear of someone else’s progress.

Then came the shift.

The lady gently held my friend by the arm and began steering her away from the crowd, toward a quieter corner. I must confess something here: I cannot stand when people do this. If you have something to say, say it. Do not lower your voice mysteriously. Do not drag me into corners as though we are about to negotiate state secrets. Whispered conversations rarely carry good news.

My friend immediately sensed that something confidential was coming.

“I actually don’t have fare to get home,” the lady said softly, and rather abruptly. “Could you please send me something?”

Shock flashed across my friend’s face. Then disbelief. Then almost laughter, the kind that tickles your ribs when something is so unexpected you think it must be a joke. She swallowed it. Laughter would have taken the situation somewhere else entirely.

Calmly, she explained that she had come to church with only her tithe and a small amount for sweets and snacks. The tithe had already been paid during the service. What remained was barely enough for her own transport home. The lady insisted. She spoke of the difficulty she had faced just getting to church that morning. She repeated that she had no way of returning.

My friend repeated, just as gently, that she had nothing extra to give. The little she had left was for her own fare.

When the insistence became uncomfortable, she carefully removed the lady’s hand from her arm, apologized for not being able to help, and walked away.

To this day, she cannot quite process the boldness of it all. The sheer confidence of asking someone who you did not even recognize minutes earlier for money. What was the plan, really? What would have happened if my friend had not attended that church that day? What if she had not walked over to reintroduce herself?

Perhaps the woman lost her fare. Perhaps her phone was stolen. Life happens. But in moments like that, you call family. You call close friends. You reach out to people who know you beyond a vague hometown familiarity. Asking money from someone you just “remembered” after being reminded whose daughter she is?

The audacity.

✍🏽Reagan.