Remembering Maneno
By Brian Singer

 

I often find myself thinking about Maneno — but especially now, as Project Zawadi expands to thirteen additional schools. Maneno was deeply involved in the early years of our Model Schools work. He would have been fully engaged in this next chapter — encouraging teachers, checking on progress, and making sure the details were handled well.

Maneno could do almost anything. He was our construction coordinator, but that description barely captures him. He was steady. Practical. Dependable. In many ways, he became the quiet center of our office.

When COVID reached our communities, Maneno responded with action. He purchased large buckets, installed spigots on them, added signage, and placed them where people could wash their hands. He put up posters explaining how to prevent the spread of the virus. It wasn’t dramatic work — but it mattered. He did what needed to be done.

What I remember just as clearly is something smaller.

One day at Busore Primary School, during a visit to check on construction progress, a young child was crying in frustration after being teased and knocked into the dirt. Maneno immediately got down to the child’s level, picked him up, brushed him off, calmed him, and quietly coached him on how to handle the situation.

That was our construction coordinator.

He never separated the work from the people. 

Whenever we had an office celebration, Maneno would be the one preparing and grilling the goat beside the office. He took pride in it. He made sure everyone was fed. Those were good days.

In the evenings, we often played pool. I still laugh remembering the time he told me he let me win because I was his boss. We joked about that for years.

We asked a few community members and colleagues to share their memories of Maneno.

Benard Maziba, our Apprenticeship Coordinator, reflected,
“He took time to explain things clearly during site visits and always made sure the community understood what was being done and why. He worked calmly, listened carefully, and engaged with both staff and community members in a respectful way.”

Judith Merinyo, former Country Manager of Project Zawadi cited Maneno’s dedication.
“He demonstrated the strength to lead and the humility to learn from anyone willing to guide him. Above all, his kindness made him a trusted mentor and a big brother to many within the office.” 

Adam Musa (pictured here), a friend of Maneno’s, shared about Maneno’s character.
“He was a great guy,…He was a guy who believed in what he is doing … a person who was loved by the community…a simple guy and easy to reach.”

Masunga Kibora, a chairperson from Tiring’ati village, worked closely with Maneno. He explained,
“Maneno was a kind-hearted, funny person who truly belonged to the people. He had a natural gift for bringing others together and for restoring peace whenever misunderstandings or conflicts arose within the community. He was often the one people turned to when dialogue and understanding were needed. Maneno was a role model in our Nyamuswa community… He deeply loved our children, and whenever he was asked to represent the community, he did so with humility, responsibility, and great respect. The people of Nyamuswa will remember him forever. We are grateful to God for the gift of his life and for the love, service, and unity he brought to our community during his time with us.”

 

Reading these reflections reminds me how widely he was known and trusted. He was not loud. He did not seek recognition. But he showed up — consistently and faithfully — and people felt that.

When Maneno became sick and we were told clearly that his illness was terminal, I remember him telling me how disappointed he was. Not angry. Not bitter. Disappointed. He said he was really enjoying his life and the work he was doing in the community.

That hurt to hear. I told him I was disappointed too.

There were many things I might have said in that moment, but they didn’t need to be said. We both knew the work would continue. It just wouldn’t be with him standing beside us.

As we continue this work, I often find myself thinking of him — especially when I’m visiting schools or seeing new projects take shape. I wish he were here to see it.

Maneno mattered. He still does. We remember him with gratitude and respect.