Jean was a true pearl sent from heaven above not only to Norman Dodman but also to the world she lived in and those she impacted like me my late husband and,many others.God gives and takes

Many people who know me since childhood are convinced that my upper lip is as stiff as a panel of plywood. It rarely quivers even when subjected to extreme amounts of physical or emotional stress. This is just the way I was brought up at home, right through Kitale Primary boarding school, and those character-defining years at Lenana School. But even against this background, people say I often challenged the very edge of the stoicism boundary.  

My father died after a long painful illness when I was eighteen. It was during Easter holidays and I had gone out on an errand, returning home half an hour later to find he had drawn his last breath. I burst out into deep juddering sobs. Once I recovered, I never cried over him again. My mother died eight years ago after a brave fight with stomach cancer.  When I arrived at our farm the morning after, grief overwhelmed me and I shed hot tears of deep loss and mental anguish. We got busy arranging the funeral, and it was not until I was at her graveside with my brothers and sisters lowering her down that the tears took hold again and streamed freely down my face. Last week I learnt of the recent passing of Jean Dodman and since then I have broken these personal records of mine, modest though they might seem to some.

While Achie and the kids had gone to bed that Wednesday night, I lingered downstairs in the study working on a project that necessitated a search of the internet for a case study I had been involved with years ago. That’s when I came across the news of her passing. It took me by surprise that I was so out of touch with the community that I had completely missed the news of her death as well as her well-documented funeral and memorial events. A dam of emotions burst through spontaneously and I cried my eyes out, until I ran out of tears an hour or so later. The fact that I was alone with no witnesses must have lowered my inhibitions. The next morning I told Achie the news in my calm factual manner. Out of nowhere I broke down again, weeping convulsively and shocking my poor wife into closing the door of the study to spare the kids from this unexpected meltdown. I thought I was done crying, but a couple of days later I found myself weeping silently in the study yet again. I came to the conclusion that I loved Jean Dodman very very much.

As a Lenana School rabble I was among the refugees who found welcome, if all too brief, relief at her house every Thursday night, walking the couple of miles from James House all the way to Block Three where Reverend Dodman was the housemaster of Lugard. Crammed into Jean Dodman’s living room, we rabbles recovered our dignity, a quality that was sorely tested daily by routine as well as unexpected events that served to remind us of our lowly station in life, over copious mugs of tea and the best home baked cookies you could ever find anywhere. The Bible reading and prayers by Rev Dodman were not unwelcome, but were at the time kind of a by-product of these pleasant evenings if you know what I mean.

I enjoyed singing and Jean taught me my first three chords on the guitar. Soon I was strumming along to accompany the choruses we sang at her house. My guitar learning was turbo charged by Philip Mundy who arrived from England with several new guitars to teach us music. Playing music never won anyone house colours, let alone prestigious school colours so I could pick and choose guitars to practice with, even going home with them over the holidays. I know for certain Mark Gacii took his inspiration, and lessons if I am not wrong, for playing the piano and organ from Jean Dodman. Soon we formed a decent enough group to lead the singing during Christian Union meetings. This consisted of Mark on keyboards, David Kabibi and myself on guitars, Dan Olago on percussion, Jonathan Cauri and Kerry Muloma leading vocals. Our voices were at various stages of breaking, but we sang in key with great enjoyment and enthusiasm. We became a permanent fixture during CU rallies and events involving other schools (by which I mean Kenya High mainly) and soon found ourselves pushing the envelope with several original compositions which went down well with the audiences as far as we could tell. Occasionally we smuggled in a secular song like Jimmy Cliff’s “I can see clearly now” into the chapel and blurred the boundaries between us and that barely real, somewhat mythical school band Changes Connection (Double C), drafting in Ndwiga the maestro to bolster our stage presence for some of the largest rallies we played at. I must say that though she never appeared with us on stage, Jean was at the very heart of it all having started us off by teaching us the first songs and chords and choruses which we sang throatily every week in her living room. She remained our most enthusiastic cheerleader to the end of our school days. Music bubbled in her soul and bound us together. I was seldom in her presence without an acoustic guitar and it never took long before she suggested we sang a new song, or an old favourite.

We left Lenana and most of the Nairobi based guys coalesced around the Core Group run by the Navigators, while I went back to the soil, so to speak, and served almost two years with hard labour on my mother’s farm. I rejoined them in university (“on campus” as we used to say). We formed a group called Shangwe with the old suspects at the core: Dan Olago bubbling hot on percussion, keeping the pots and pans on fire; Gash (Mark Gacii – he is one of the country’s leading surgeons now so no matter what you do please don’t call him that) skilfully caressing the keyboards, teasing out those subtle soul stirring harmonies; David Kabibi and myself strumming, thumping, slapping and plucking the guitar strings with verve and drive; we were joined here by Alan “the truth” Mbogo on bass and he boosted the group with his electric vitality and sparkly humour. He had been educated at Nairobi School, but we forgave him. Significantly, the vivacious and melodious duo of Emily Miheso and Bertha Amisi led vocals together with Cauri, and brought nuance and sophistication to the otherwise direct approach of most of us. I am not being sexist here because Cauri was a very civilised and civilising guy in his own right. Safe to say, Jean Dodman was the godmother of Shangwe. Rev Dodman had retired from Lenana and joined Nairobi Baptist Church. Shangwe visited their beautiful home regularly where Jean spoilt us with sumptuous lunches. Her roast pork and crackling were simply legendary. On full stomachs, we took out the guitars and sang her our latest songs. She always sparkled, always energised us, always made us feel good. And just when we thought our happiness could not possibly reach another level, she brought out the home baked cookies that always had me, for one, drooling with sheer delight. A Bible reading, a few words and a prayer from Rev Dodman was the natural way to wind things down. We always left there buoyed, spirited and animated.

The Dodmans retired again from NBC and relocated back to the UK to be closer with family. But this was not the end and we kept in touch. By God’s grace, I was expatriated to London in 1995. I had barely settled down when Pinto Kali came by London for a few days and, never having driven anywhere outside Kenya, we decided to hire a car, buy the A to Z, and drive up to Liverpool to visit Jean and Norman. Our map reading skills were better than we could have expected and we arrived safely without coming to blows over missed turnings and whatnot.

Over the years Achie, the kids and I enjoyed making that same trip up to Liverpool. Jean always left the same uplifting impression on us. We also enjoyed having the Dodmans visit with us in London, where they introduced us to All Souls Langham Place on the Sunday. We took them to watch Riverdance on the west end, which was, to tell the plain truth, outside their comfort zone but they did not complain and Achie and I were just so thankful to be able to share time and experiences with them.

Jean was one of the few people with whom I just un-paused the conversation without fuss from where we last left off irrespective of how long the period had been since we last saw each other or spoke on the phone. Sometimes you can’t tell how truly you love someone until they are gone for good. How I desperately wish I could see her again. But I know she is waiting cheerfully on the other side and we will pick up where we left off, and continue the conversation and singing someday when I cross over too.

I grew at Nairobi Baptist Church.

From Sunday school with great help from Granny Jean.

I knew her through my Dad.(Gilbert Emonyi)

Tiny as i was i found it interesting to go for sunday school every sunday.

I had to push mummy and Dad to have me in church on time.

Reason1.  Being not to miss the nice music from granny jean

             2. Not to miss the chocolates cookies and wonderful juice.

SONG TO BE REMEMBERED: How sweet it is to be a christian.

Grace
I came to know Jesus in 1976 while studying in Lenana School. In form three I taught Sunday school briefly and Jean was of course my mentor, coach and cheer leader. She really believed in me and affirmed me in ways that no one else had done. Sadly in form three, I turned away from following Jesus and I recall some friends telling me how heartbroken she was. I was touched by how she cared for me. After form six God graciously led me in a spiritual renewal wherein I recommitted my life to the Lord. I shyly reconnected with the Dodmans at an ex students barbecue they threw in their home. Jean (and Norman) was extraordinary in her grace and accepted me just like the biblical father accepted his prodigal son. She made it clear to me that her home her heart was open to me. I have never forgotten the freedom and love I experienced.

Hospitality
Years later when I joined the Navigators, my housemates and me, all Old Yorkist’s, were regular visitors at their home next to the Navigators office. We enjoyed the drill. First came water and juice, followed by soup (I loved the cream of onion), followed by the main meal (I loved the roast potatoes and beef slices served with delicious seasoned vegetables and gravy), followed by the dessert (I think we called it pudding and of course trifle was the favorite) all washed down with tea or coffee! And Jean would always insist you had a second helping! Jean continued to open her heart even after I got married. It was such a joy to visit with my family and experience loving hospitality. She and Norman even visited our home to bless us before we made a move to Mombasa. I also fondly recall visiting them in Liverpool in October of 1994 and feeling so spoilt! And I felt part of the family too.

Humility
Jean really loved the bible. I was quite amazed when I stumbled upon a ‘secret’ in the late 80s and early 90s. I discovered that she was reading the New Testament and doing her quiet time using the Greek text! And I also stumbled upon another secret. She was Norman’s greatest fan and critic! Every time he stood up to preach (and did we not love it when he did), if Jean was in the service, he knew that she would not only listen to the word, but also give him personal constructive feedback. Jean really epitomized the meekness and humility of Jesus.

Some years back, when Rev and Mrs Dodman were still in Kenya, we visited their home near the Navigators with three or four of my Lenana School mates.

During the visit, we were (as usual) treated to refreshments and had a wonderful time sharing and appreciating how deeply the Dodmans had influenced our lives. In fact, they were responsible for my choosing to become part of the Nairobi Baptist Church family.

The Dodmans had a way of impacting people without even realising they were doing so! As one friend, Anyika, observed during that visit, once they confirmed our willingness to accept their offer of refreshments, they each left through different doors without a word to each other. Shortly after, one appeared with squash and the other with water! To clueless young men, this was an amazing example of non-verbal communication at its best!

I remember Susu Jean for her faithfulness in praying for me and for my family, for loving hospitality and for her ability (shared with Rev Dodman) to remember people after such long periods of time! She had a really sweet personality and smile and a ready laugh.

I last saw Susu Jean in October 1995 when I visited their home with Tito Alai on my way back from visiting friends, Richard and Christine Karagania, in Australia. With that memory is one of a group of young boys in Lenana sitting in the Dodman's compound taking tea and cookies and listening to wisdom from the Bible as both Rev and Mrs Dodman shared with us.

Since then we have communicated on and off on email through Rev Dodman and without fail, the emails were full of loving concern, prayers for us and affirmations of God's love and faithfulness. 

Till we meet again Mrs D., till we meet at Jesus' feet.