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Strength and Sorrow: Reflections on the ones we lost
I experienced profound grief when I lost my elder sister, Nyangi.
Part of the process of grieving – and of compiling stories for this memoir – was about seeking permission to tell my own story.
I had been afraid to share my own grief, choosing instead to focus on the pain of others. I was afraid to look within to understand what memories of Nyangi and my dearly departed I held onto, as part of my grieving process. I was afraid to go into those unfamiliar depths.
But as I began collecting stories about death and dying from family, friends and absolute strangers, I could no longer pretend to be a detached observer.
Death was my main character. Death was my teacher. It was the villain in all my stories, and I was lashing back with tales of resilience and hope.
I relived grief with every story of loss I told in this collection. In most cases, it was grief that I did not know I had been holding under a tight lid. Pains that I forgot about erupted, and I remembered what I thought I had left in the past. There were many people I was still mourning.
My expression of empathy in the face of another’s sorrow allowed me to look into my own sorrow.
Observing the strength, resilience, or brokenness of others, led me to discover how my own experiences had shaped my outlook on life and death. And on living.
Part of the process of grieving – and of compiling stories for this memoir – was about seeking permission to tell my own story.
I had been afraid to share my own grief, choosing instead to focus on the pain of others. I was afraid to look within to understand what memories of Nyangi and my dearly departed I held onto, as part of my grieving process. I was afraid to go into those unfamiliar depths.
But as I began collecting stories about death and dying from family, friends and absolute strangers, I could no longer pretend to be a detached observer.
Death was my main character. Death was my teacher. It was the villain in all my stories, and I was lashing back with tales of resilience and hope.
I relived grief with every story of loss I told in this collection. In most cases, it was grief that I did not know I had been holding under a tight lid. Pains that I forgot about erupted, and I remembered what I thought I had left in the past. There were many people I was still mourning.
My expression of empathy in the face of another’s sorrow allowed me to look into my own sorrow.
Observing the strength, resilience, or brokenness of others, led me to discover how my own experiences had shaped my outlook on life and death. And on living.
218 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 15, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
November 25, 2025
"I have been to funeral ceremonies where men and women who had become invisible to their families, had to die before they could be loved again."
Oyunga bled on paper and to anyone who has a loved one etched in their soul their memories rise upon the reading of each page of this book, and that's the depth of grief, it doesn't have to be loud, present or announce it's arrival, it settles beside you, in you- like your body and soul remembers how fickle this life is.
True, in Dholuo we say "piny osiko to oksikie," or as my grandmother says " Nga'mo tho emaoyueyo," and sometimes when things are tough my Mother reminds me "rumo kitam," and so I read this book yesterday while at the hospital🤦🏾♀️ (not the ideal place I would have envisioned) where I had to undergo many tests and was uncertain of what it'd reveal- and I couldn't help but wonder what it'd feel like to be remembered by the people I love, versus to be forgotten over time by them...🤍and I remembered my Sister saying that she'd not be worried because at least we have a Writer in the family, and she knows that stories are immortal, so she hopes I'd tell the world about her...
And to Oyunga Pala thank you for sharing Nyangi's light with us, for giving us a moment and more to remember the ones we've lost- the souls that traveled on ahead of us, the ones who come to mind when our children enter our lives.
Oyunga bled on paper and to anyone who has a loved one etched in their soul their memories rise upon the reading of each page of this book, and that's the depth of grief, it doesn't have to be loud, present or announce it's arrival, it settles beside you, in you- like your body and soul remembers how fickle this life is.
True, in Dholuo we say "piny osiko to oksikie," or as my grandmother says " Nga'mo tho emaoyueyo," and sometimes when things are tough my Mother reminds me "rumo kitam," and so I read this book yesterday while at the hospital🤦🏾♀️ (not the ideal place I would have envisioned) where I had to undergo many tests and was uncertain of what it'd reveal- and I couldn't help but wonder what it'd feel like to be remembered by the people I love, versus to be forgotten over time by them...🤍and I remembered my Sister saying that she'd not be worried because at least we have a Writer in the family, and she knows that stories are immortal, so she hopes I'd tell the world about her...
And to Oyunga Pala thank you for sharing Nyangi's light with us, for giving us a moment and more to remember the ones we've lost- the souls that traveled on ahead of us, the ones who come to mind when our children enter our lives.
December 30, 2025
I first came across Oyunga Pala's writing many moons ago in his Saturday Nation's column, I had heard my elder brothers talk about his writing and got curious and now that I think about it at that age my appreciation of the writing might have been hindered by the limits of age, now time has passed, the sun has shined the rains came and gone many times and I had a better appreciation of this collection.
It is a collection of Oyunga Pala's reflections on grief spanning close family, friends as well as prominent figures, across different cultures from the quiet Dutch burial rituals to the more communal Luo tribe funeral rituals. What stood out at least for me was the stark contrast in writing between OPs writing about close family members and that of prominent figures the likes of Benjamin Ayimba, for the prominent figures it was mostly reportage, a collection of facts but for the family members there was soul, a personal connection to mwenda zake that imbued the story, the person came to life and you got the feeling their lives had purpose and touched people. This was especially true for OP's sister Nyangi who is the main character in this book and how she lived her life, her death and how OP dealt with it. She was a larger than life personality whom I first came across in Biko's writing about her. It is how I came to know of this book. Eternal rest be granted to her and all who have gone before us. Highly recommended.
It is a collection of Oyunga Pala's reflections on grief spanning close family, friends as well as prominent figures, across different cultures from the quiet Dutch burial rituals to the more communal Luo tribe funeral rituals. What stood out at least for me was the stark contrast in writing between OPs writing about close family members and that of prominent figures the likes of Benjamin Ayimba, for the prominent figures it was mostly reportage, a collection of facts but for the family members there was soul, a personal connection to mwenda zake that imbued the story, the person came to life and you got the feeling their lives had purpose and touched people. This was especially true for OP's sister Nyangi who is the main character in this book and how she lived her life, her death and how OP dealt with it. She was a larger than life personality whom I first came across in Biko's writing about her. It is how I came to know of this book. Eternal rest be granted to her and all who have gone before us. Highly recommended.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews