If you walked in on General Francis Ogolla unannounced, the intensity of his concentration on whatever occupied his attention at that moment, was striking. A brace of gentle furrows between his brows, and the ferocity of his elegantly bespectacled gaze eloquently advertised the mans smoldering, incessantly active bandwidth.
Yet the general was never distracted in reverie, or carried away, lost in thought to the extent that he lost touch with his immediate surrounding.
Like a jungle cat, he was ever firmly attuned to his environment, ready to produce a smile and a firm handshake, rise and salute, amble languidly or march briskly in surprisingly long strides, in keeping with the moment's cue.
Speaking of cues, soldiers are generally recognised for their impeccable sense of occasion, perhaps because it is drilled irrevocably into them from their youngest years. Early in the morning, they will be forbiddingly rugged and feral in their fatigues out in the field, snarling viciously and yelling wildly, or kitted out in ceremonial splendour and perfectly comported in geometric felicity at parade, and then spend the afternoon joyfully showcasing sporting virtuosity on the courts and pitches, before transmogrifying into genteel and debonair savants in black tie in the evening, before demurely tucking in, decked out in crisp bedclothes by lights out, all in a day.
That said, Ogolla never looked out of place wherever he went. Not only was he always perfectly at ease, he knew precisely what to say to everyone, and was gifted at managing the awkwardness which inevitably afflicts encounters at his level. He practised a form of self-sufficiency that was charismatic.
It was difficult not to be impressed by Ogolla's physique, not just because of his lean, tall frame, and straight alert carriage, but also because of the way he wore his ever impeccable attire and moved and occupied space. He epitomised the cliche, upright military bearing, without being stiff or encumbered with self-consciousness.
What he had in abundance - absolute embaras de richesse - was spectacular physical grace, which conferred insuperable sartorial perfection. Seated or standing, walking or running, Ogolla was ever vital, lithe and impeccably turned out, whether in a business suit or KDF uniforms. In his presence, many looked, and perhaps felt like unreconstructed Lilliputian thugs despite being their very best efforts.
To motivate generations of youngsters to channel the tidal surge of rising adolescent sap away from nascent delinquency and into worthy co-curricular endeavour, many a school master has delivered themselves of the hackneyed aphorism, mens sana in corpore sano: a healthy mind in a healthy body. In the general's case, you could judge the book by its cover and reach the perfect verdict. Ogolla's physical grace, power and sheer wholesomeness was a replication of his highly developed mind, insatiable curiosity, nimble and irrepressible intellect, and joyful pursuit of new knowledge.
I had the privilege of being with him in lounges and spaces which require waiting, like aircraft cabins on both long and short voyages. For precisely such times, I always carry an ample supply of reading material, and especially difficult tedious texts, to occupy myself and make the inevitable waiting endurable. I know a few people who rarely sleep on flights. The general was one of them. His light would be on, and he would be upright and still, immersed in his reading, with occasional breaks to stretch his limbs.
The simple question, What are you reading?, initiated an interaction which opened the doors into the general's rich intellectual world. Shortly after our first meeting, he informed me that he had taken a break from learned treatises on the technical, strategic and operational aspects of war and peace, and found a bottomless treasure of knowledge in the many biographies and memoirs published in the name of Kenyan leaders. So voracious was his appetite that he would always have a different book in his hands on every flight, and would frequently use layovers to buy a new one. He disclosed recently that he had developed a habit of reading two books over the same time. On our last trip together, he was reading Francis Muthaura's memoirs, A Moving Horizon.
The tributes that greeted the news of Gen. Ogollas demise are not our customary stock of mendacious platitudes; they are wonderfully complimentary and heartfelt. He was a brilliant humanitarian, a gifted commander, exemplary soldier, and a splendid man. His life and work no
