Tag

Miracles


Browsing

The Extraordinary Journey of Japhet Kahindi Makanaki

Just weeks ago, the world stood in awe of one of football’s most extraordinary full-circle moments. Years after a baby Lamine Yamal appeared in a UNICEF photoshoot being bathed by Lionel Messi, the two would eventually meet on football’s grandest stage in the FIFA World Cup final, where Yamal and Spain emerged victorious. It was the kind of story that reminds us that some moments seem too remarkable to be mere coincidence, and that God has always been the greatest Author. But miracles are not made in the West alone. Sometimes, they happen in places that seem dry, forgotten and fruitless.

Such is the story of Japhet Kahindi Makanaki, a young boy from Mariango Village in Bamba, Kilifi County, a place that many have long overlooked and written off. Yet from there emerged a story that would stretch across continents and grace some of the biggest sporting stages in the world.

Back in the days when radio was the heartbeat of entertainment and the primary source of news, the young Makanaki would walk more than twenty kilometres to a friend’s village simply to listen to live football commentary on the Kenyan Premier League. The journey was long, tiring and often exhausting, but none of that mattered to him. Missing the voices of legendary commentators such as Leonard Mambo Mbotela, Jack Oyoo Silvester, Ismail Ahmed and many others was never an option because, even as a little boy, he had already fallen deeply in love with the beautiful game and the art of bringing it to life through words.

The following day, he would roll pieces of paper into something that resembled a microphone, climb a tree and recreate the previous day’s match entirely from memory and imagination. Slowly but surely, people began gathering beneath the tree just to listen to the young boy’s imaginary football commentary. What started as an unusual childhood pastime gradually became the talk of the village, and before long, the name Makanaki had become synonymous with football commentary.

When he completed Class Eight, he had earned an opportunity to join Mangu High School. However, circumstances forced his father to enrol him at Chanagande Secondary School, a little-known school tucked away in the remote parts of Kaloleni. While many would have viewed it as a setback, his passion for football commentary refused to diminish. If anything, it only burned brighter. Whenever there was a football match, Makanaki volunteered to commentate, never asking for payment, driven purely by love for the game and the dream that quietly lived inside him.

Then came a day that looked ordinary, yet would become the defining moment of his life. Determined not to miss the secondary school ball games in Kilifi Town, Makanaki sneaked out of school knowing very well that punishment awaited him upon his return. His passion simply would not allow him to stay behind.

When the games were over, he returned to school, where he received eight strokes of the cane and was ordered to uproot a coconut stump as punishment for sneaking out. Looking back, he often says that the strokes came before the blessings from Baraka FM.

Unknown to him, however, someone in the crowd had been paying close attention. Among those covering the school ball games was Josephat Kioko, the Head of Sports at Baraka FM. Deeply impressed by the young student’s remarkable talent, Kioko approached him immediately after he finished commentating the match and told him that his commentary was nothing short of magic.

Not long afterwards, Kioko took the young Makanaki to the Baraka FM studios at Canon Towers. While waiting for his Form Four results, Baraka FM absorbed him into its system. The station also sponsored his university education, enabling him to pursue his studies while continuing to work at Baraka FM.

As if that was not enough, another opportunity soon followed when Radio Salam station manager Adan Harar reached out to him. Not long afterwards came another life-changing phone call from Madam Angie inviting him to join SuperSport. One opportunity led to another, each one preparing him for stages he could never have imagined as a young boy growing up in Mariango.

For six years, Makanaki worked from SuperSport’s studios in Johannesburg, South Africa, where he found himself rubbing shoulders with some of the biggest names in football broadcasting. Along the way, he interacted with Asha Tshabalala, Peter Drury, Michael Owen, Lucas Radebe and many other internationally recognised commentators, presenters and football personalities. He later worked with the Spanish sports media company Mediapro as Kenya’s sports correspondent while also lending his expertise to Homeboyz Radio, further cementing his place as one of Kenya’s most respected sports broadcasters.

His gift was now taking him across the world, opening doors he could never have imagined and allowing him to grace some of the biggest sporting stages on the planet. His work took him to some of football’s most iconic destinations, including Highbury, where he met former Arsenal defender Gaël Clichy. In 2022, he commentated in Kiswahili at the World Martial Arts Championships in South Korea. His career has also seen him cover the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa, the 2022 FIFA World Cup in Qatar, four Africa Cup of Nations tournaments, six CECAFA championships and numerous other international sporting events. The young boy from Mariango would probably never have believed that one day he would fill three passports with stamps from countries he had only ever heard about on the radio, yet that became his reality.

Along the way, Makanaki also became a mentor to many of Kenya’s finest sports commentators, including Geoffrey Mwamburi of Citizen TV, among many others. Today, he serves as the Head of Sports at Swahilipot Hub, where he continues to nurture young talent while still doing what first captured his heart as a little boy.

Against all odds, the young boy from Mariango Village in Bamba has become a respected name on international sporting stages. Yet, perhaps the most remarkable part of his story is that he is still the same little boy who once rolled pieces of paper into a microphone and climbed a tree to commentate imaginary football matches. Only now, the tree has become the world, the audience has grown from curious villagers to millions of football lovers, and the dream that was born in a forgotten village has become a living testament that no beginning is too humble when God decides to write your story.

***

Over a month ago, alhamdulillah, we were honoured to receive the Best Creative Creator award at the BAKE Awards. It is by Allah’s tawfiq and your immense support through your votes, encouragement and unwavering belief in Strokes of My Pen that we achieved this. Thank you for every vote you cast, every kind word you shared, and every moment you made time to read my work. I do not take any of it for granted. Barakallahu feekum!

We often hear stories about Allah’s divine power.

How He saved Nabii Yunus from the belly of the whale, parted the sea for Nabii Musa, made the fire cool for Nabii Ibrahim, and cured Nabii Ayub after decades of illness (aleyhim assalam). Everywhere we turn, we are reminded that Allah can do the impossible.

And yet, a quiet thought sometimes slips in. They were His prophets. Who am I, a simple, flawed human, heavy with sins, small among billions of His creation? Why would Allah turn up for me?

This is the beauty of our Lord, though. He is not only the Lord of prophets. He is the Lord of the pious and the sinner, of the one who falls and the one who returns, of the rich and the poor, of the known and the unseen. And when He decides to do the impossible for you, He simply will. And when it happens, it catches you completely off guard. It leaves you in awe.

This is exactly what happened to me some months back. It was a quiet afternoon, and a friend and I were reminiscing about our younger years, about a conversation we had more than a decade ago. Curious as always, I logged into Facebook to search for that old exchange. I did not find the conversation, but I found something else. A message sent four months earlier by a stranger living in Germany.

I began reading it. It was long, warm, and thoughtful. She had come across one of my articles and said it deeply touched her. She reflected on the topic and shared how she had written about something similar. It felt like one writer speaking to another across continents. I was honoured. Truly honoured. No mutual friends, no shared circles, just words travelling across the world and landing in her heart.

Towards the end of her message, she said she wished to send me a small gift, a token of appreciation and support for my work. We exchanged contacts, and soon after, she noticed my books and expressed interest. We exchanged our books, simply as writers do, with no expectations attached. She stayed up through the night reading mine and sent the most beautiful review. Then she brought up the gift again and asked for my PayPal account. But PayPal had some technical issues.

And then, unexpectedly, only two days after the initial PayPal attempt, she told me that her colleague would be travelling to Mombasa, Kenya, in just two days’ time. At that point, she did not even know I lived in Mombasa, only that I was in Kenya. Subhanallah. She then asked where the colleague could deliver the amanah. I gave her the location of my workplace. Shortly after, she sent me a screenshot from Google Maps showing her colleague’s route. When I first glanced at it, I was confused. The route shown was from my home area to my workplace. How does she know where I live? And then it dawned on me. Her colleague would be staying in the very same locality as my hometown. Goosebumps. Wallahi, goosebumps. Subhanallah! She was in tears, and I was in tears. Mind-blowing, how Allah arranges matters, how rizq travels, how nothing is random.

The week her colleague arrived in Mombasa, I met him. He handed me what I can only describe as a gift from Allah: crisp euro notes, an amount I had never held in my life. I was not just speechless. I was undone. Ya Allah, You did this for me? The flawed me? The sinful me? The broken me?

But this story did not begin here. It began more than a week earlier, while I was still at Umrah.

Remember the Umrah trip, and how I had prepared so extensively for it before everything fell apart? My finances had been aligned, and I was ready for the journey, until I wasn’t. By the time the trip finally happened, I found myself struggling. No one had warned me about the shock of international currencies, and suddenly, what I thought was sufficient wasn’t enough. Every exchange rate felt like a quiet blow. I struggled. I went into debt just to make ends meet. And beneath it all, I carried a quiet shame. I should have prepared better. I should have known better.

But in that sacred land, stripped of pride and plans, I did what I knew best. I made du’a. Sincere, bare, unfiltered, and I ended it with these words:

اللَّهُمَّ أَرِنِي عَجَائِبَ قُدْرَتِكَ فِي دُعَائِي Oh Allah, show me the wonders of Your power in my supplication.

It was not a dramatic du’a. It was not eloquent. It was simply desperate. And indeed, He did.

One week after my return, the message from the stranger in Germany appeared. When I later told her how Allah had used her as the means through which that du’a was answered, we both cried. Even then, I knew this was not about who I am, but about who He is, As-Sami’ The All-Hearing, Al-Qadeer The All-Powerful, Al-Mujeeb The Ever-Responsive, Al-Kareem The Most Generous. He heard the whisper I made in a moment of vulnerability, and He responded in a way I could never have arranged.

Reflecting on this incident still brings tears to my eyes because the lessons within it are profound.

First, the timing. The lady had sent the message four months before I ever saw it. Four whole months. I rarely open my Facebook account, let alone the inbox. Yet subhanallah, Allah guided me there, and I saw that message after all that time. Again, what are the odds? That a colleague would casually mention he was travelling to Mombasa, of all times, just then, rather than any other?

I cannot help but think about the concept of rizq. That provision was already written for me. It existed. It was on its way. But Allah chose to release it at the exact moment I was struggling, when debt felt heavy, when shame lingered quietly in my chest. It makes me reflect on how often we grieve over what we think are unanswered du’as. Perhaps they are not unanswered. Perhaps they are already written. It is only a matter of time.

This humbled me in ways I cannot fully articulate. As much as I have always known that Allah can do the impossible, I never truly thought He would do it for me. For someone still striving, still flawed, still struggling to be a better Muslimah. Yet He showed up for me in the most unexpected way. Not because of who I am, but because of who He is. And here is the part that still leaves me in awe: this same rizq could have come through a freelance gig, a work bonus, a regular reader, someone within my circles, or even someone from my country. Any reasonable channel. But instead, He used someone who had read one blog post, just one. A stranger across continents. Almost as if to say: so you know this is from Me, so you know this is My power.

Something else dawned on me in that moment. That rizq was already written for me, but maybe the only thing left to unlock it was for me to raise my hands and ask. Not with polished words. Not with entitlement. But with sincerity and vulnerability. اللهم أرني عجائب قدرتك في دعائي. And He did.

And just like that, Allah lifted me from the debt that had weighed so heavily on my heart. Even now, it brings tears to my eyes. That Allah heard me, responded to me, the me who is still striving, still imperfect, still far from the ideal Muslimah I hope to become. And yet, He responded in the most beautiful, deliberate way. I do not share this story from a place of pride, nor to suggest I am deserving in any special way. I share it with humility. Because if Allah can show me the wonders of His power, then who are we to limit what He can do for us?

This Ramadhan, open your heart fully before Him.

Ask boldly, ask vulnerably, ask for what feels impossible. Do not shrink your du’as to match your fears. Do not measure Allah’s power against human logic. He is Al-Qadeer, The All-Powerful. He is Al-Mujeeb, the One who responds. And if the response does not come in the way or time you expect, remember He is already arranging matters, already moving pieces, already writing a story you cannot yet see. Perhaps tonight, revise your du’a list. Revamp it. If you don’t have a list yet, it’s never too late. Start as you are, wherever you are.

Let your duas reflect who Allah is, not the limits of what you think is possible.

May Allah reward this wonderful soul who became a reason through which Allah answered my du’a in the most beautiful way. May Allah reward her with abundance in this life and the next, and may it be a means through which she is elevated in status. May she also earn rewards for anyone else who might be inspired by this story.

But this story is not just about her. It is also about the many other ways in which Allah has shown up for me through countless people along my journey. To friends, readers, family, mentors, and anyone who has gone out of their way to support me. Your encouragement, generosity, prayers, and contributions have meant more than words can express. I am deeply grateful for each and every one of you. May Allah bless you all, multiply your rewards, and grant you goodness in this life and the next. Ameen.


Last Ramadhan, we had an exclusive Ramadhan newsletter, available for a small charge. It was a humble effort, and I poured my heart into it, but I realized that it wasn’t reaching as many people as I had hoped.

This year, I want to do things differently. The special Ramadhan content will be open to everyone. If you feel moved to give, you may contribute whatever works best for you (The poster for contribution is attached below). And if you cannot, that is completely okay. Your duas are far more important than anything else. Please remember me and my family in your prayers this Ramadan.

A couple of quick reminders: I do collect zakat and share it with deserving parties (I have a looong list). If you would like to give your zakat, please feel free to reach out to me at 0704731560. If you send anything, kindly text me to clarify that it is Zakat. Your contribution could be the reason someone feels relief, hope, or receives sustenance this Ramadhan.

And for those who love gentle, reflective reading, my books are available and recommended for Ramadhan. The Striving Soul (1250/=) and Reflection and Resurgence (1500/=) are written to be companions for quiet reflection and healing.

Ramadhan Mubarak, my beloved readers! May this month bring peace, reflection, and countless blessings to your hearts. May it soften the hardest places within us and make our hearts feel lighter and nearer to Allah. Ameen.

Powered by WordPress