Worlds Apart: A memorial for a good friend

There is a spot off of the Harmony Corridor that, as of Saturday,  if I drive by in the future, I will hurt.  It's the spot that I pulled over to cry after Kendall called me to let me know that our good friend Nkosinathi Manana had passed away on Saint Patrick's day.

Nathi was one of the first friends that we made here in Colorado.  A fellow grad student in the civil engineering department, Kendall and Nathi both began their career at CSU the fall of 2008 and were assigned the same office space.  A quick comradeship began between the two of them, as Kendall (always the teacher) saw an opportunity to teach his new South African friend about everything American... or really, the only thing that matters in America in the fall- college football.

So Nathi joined us almost every Saturday, learning about football as Kendall showed him, demoing the positions, past plays, and theories with anything that was around including (but was never limited to) paper, chips and salsa, the dogs, and beer cans.  Nathi would watch, shuddering, tisking and whistling in disbelief whenever there was a tackle.  "These guys are crazy, man.  You Americans are just crazy for liking a sport that hurts people."  he would tell us in his soft spoken, awed voice.

On Fridays after work, I would meet Nathi and Kendall at a local bicycle bar called Road 34.  It always took place after their Productivity Meetings.  It took me several months before I was finally let in on the joke that the "Productivity Meetings" were really just a few of their friends from grad school getting beers at the bar on campus in the middle of the day to talk about what happened that week in classes, with their research, and other non-related issues.  Until the confession, I always wondered why something that sounded so serious as a "Productivity Meeting" led these two to be so goofy.

To say that Kendall took Nathi under his wing would be an understatement.  Kendall made sure that Nathi was experiencing the best of Colorado, and often provided guidance as to what the appropriate dress should be when experiencing the best of Colorado.  Camping trips and brewery tours were among Nathi's favorites, even when it was freezing cold according to Nathi (or 50 degrees according the the thermostat).  I believe that we gave very good advice on how to shop for a winter coat- Nathi wore it almost 6 months of the year.

And while Kendall taught Nathi many things, I also know that he shared many foreign things with us.  It was good for me to have a friend with worldly experiences.  Nathi was born in Swaziland (a land locked country in South Africa) and had gone to England to study for his undergraduate degree.  I never did hear why he choose Colorado State for his masters, other than that he wanted to learn about irrigation systems which would be very valuable when searching for a job back in Swaziland. 

I loved to hear Nathi talk about Africa.  It amazed me how different a world it seemed, and yet Nathi would just wave his hand and dismiss the differences without any thought.  I remember a Saturday (post football) sitting on the couch with Nathi and our dog Layla, flipping through the channels.  I landed on the Animal Planets "Africa's Most Deadly".  As the announcer described the number of deaths and dangers that crocodiles posed along Africa's major rivers, Nathi tisked and threw his hands up in disgust.  "Yes, yes!" he told me, "But everyone knows that a crocodile must swim down river first and if you have a dog with you, it will always try to capture the dog over you."  I hugged Layla a little bit and thought,"Not everyone knew that.  But I do now."

Nathi was a great sport, and although could be a bit timid, always let us talk him into things.  We introduced him to kickball, telling him that his love of soccer would be all he would need to succeed.  Turns out that we were wrong; he also needed to know a little bit about baseball- like after you kick the ball, you need to run around the bases. Embarrassing? Maybe a little bit, but Nathi didn't let it seem so.  His laugh at his mistake was the loudest out of everyone's on the team. 

When I was planning Kendall's 30th birthday tailgate for the Iowa State/Nebraska game this past fall, Nathi was one of the first ones that I called.  "I'm very excited about this, Katy."  he told me "I can't wait to see Iowa State and see them play these Cornhuskers."  So he was thrown into a car with three other friends for a virgin road trip across the Midwest to surprise Kendall.  Although I did not hear it myself, while driving through Nebraska on I-80, Nathi was said to have told his fellow passengers, "It's like looking out the window of a plane during an international flight over the ocean.  You can look out the window if you want to, but it all looks the same hour after hour, so why bother."  Dry humor at it's best.

That car ride was the worst part of the trip for Nathi.  His smile was 10 miles wide for the tailgate and football game. He kept thanking me for inviting him, but I had to tell him to stop.  That it was his presence that was part of the gift for Kendall.  That memory of that weekend and the fact that Nathi was in every picture, it means so much now, more than ever.  

Nathi left Fort Collins in December.  On the eve of his departure, we threw a party at a bowling alley and gave him a snow globe to take with him.  "No one in Swaziland will understand this.  It will give me a chance to tell stories about all of you and how cold it is here,"  he told us. 

As I gave him a hug, he told me goodbye.  I made it a point to tell him that this was not goodbye, that Kendall and I planned to come visit him some day in Swaziland.  He laughed, showing that big, white grin of his and nodded.  "Yes, Katy.  You should come.  You are always welcomed and I look forward to that day."

I have given a poem entitled "Bits and Pieces" as a parting gift on many occasions that I've said goodbye to friends who I am not sure when our paths will cross again. It's a poem that speaks about how people come in and out of your life and how each person leaves a mark.  It talks of God's master plan, and how all we can do is to pray to understand and "to accept the bits and pieces in humility and wonder,  and never question and never regret."  I can not remember if I shared this with Nathi at his departure; but because I don't remember, I don't think I did.  I must have been convinced that I would see him again, regardless of how many worlds apart he may have seemed to be.

I have this poem by my desk, as a silent reminder of all the people who have touched my life.  Today, it is staring me down, screaming at me that I should be grateful for the times that I shared with our friend.  But today, as I did yesterday as I watched Kendall call mutual friends to break the news, I feel cheated.  It has taken two days, my tears have long since dried, but I feel like I am now just beginning to let the news settle within me to where it feels like this might actually be real. 

And, although it hurts today to even think about it, I do believe in God's master plan.  I'm not sure why God decided to give Nathi an ulcer, unbeknown to everyone close to him and severe enough to lead to death.  I'm not sure why, but I am slowly learning in this life that it is not worth my time to question why or to doubt.  It is better worth my time to remember and to understand that I was given a gift - I did have the time with Nathi, that I got to experience such a genuine laugh and smile. 

Oh Nathi... the worlds that hold us apart now seem much more final.  I need to remind myself that is only the case only if I let it.  You are missed, my friend, but you will be remembered.