Editor’s Note: All Presbyterians were horrified to hear of the deaths of longtime missionary (now retired) Lois Anderson and her daughter, Zelda White, after a carjacking in Kenya in January. (See the news report in the OUTLOOK issue of Feb. 19 and on this Web site under “Recent News Articles”.) Lois’ husband, William B. Anderson, has written a first-person account of that day, and its aftermath.
On that day, Lois and I were bringing our lovely Christmas holiday in Kenya to a close. In four days, we were to fly to Rome, then home. This was a visit to one of our closest friends in Kenya, Humphrey Ruhanga. He lived on the edge of Nairobi, in the village of Uthiru. We parked on a slip road beside the highway to wait for Humphrey.
Then a car swung in and parked in front of us, and out of it poured four men with Kalashnikovs. They ordered us out. Lois and Zelda, our second daughter, sat in front. Behind, I sat with Alexander, my grandson, and Sylvia, our first daughter. We went a space behind the car.
Lois seemed stuck: she said she had been hit around the hips. The gang with Kalashnikovs shot down Zelda from the back: the bullet cut her spine and passed through her heart. Another shot hit Lois, cutting through her heart arteries. Both Zelda and Lois died instantly. The bandits piled into our car and pulled out. Sylvia, desperately fearing her son, Alexander, was still in the back seat, opened a back door. A suitcase slid out. Alexander was 25 feet away — with me.
A crowd soon gathered. We begged the use of a cell phone; all denied having such, or refused to help out. After some time, Sylvia was able to borrow one and inform the outside world that two ladies had been shot: we needed a quick ambulance for them to the Nairobi hospital. It took much too long to locate a phone, and the ambulance we were assured was “on its way” — but we waited in the midst of a large, curious crowd. The two bodies were carefully laid in front of us: neither moved nor spoke. After a half hour a well-dressed and well-educated lady joined us, sticking with us, offering her cell phone.
A TV team arrived, filming the grisly scene, for the world to see. They never once asked us for any information, or offered any help. Humphrey Ruhanga, our prospective host, arrived, threw himself on the ground between Lois and Zelda, and started praying. A long police van pulled up, and offered to take the bodies. Humphrey’s son-in-law drove up and took the three of us, Sylvia, Alexander and myself, and our “new friend” to the hospital. We quickly heard: both had died practically instantly of gunshots. We handed the two to a funeral home office attached to the hospital. The lady who accompanied us immediately led us in a lovely consoling prayer.
After this, we began to inform our family and friends — in the United States, Pakistan — everywhere. When the closest in the family arrived, we all decided together to hold the funeral service at St. Andrew’s Church, the large Presbyterian church near the center of Nairobi. We asked St. Paul’s United Theological College if we might bury the two together in their cemetery. Lois and I had lived and taught there for 12 years — 1959-1971. Zelda had completed her three-year course there last December. We were welcomed, and both church and seminary did all they could for our comfort.
The funeral service, at was attended by more than 1,000 persons. Many were Americans from the embassy, as Zelda’s husband, Craig White, holds a position, and was well-known — as indeed was Zelda herself. United States Ambassador Michael Rennenberger spoke as well, both excellently and aptly.
Themes in the service were the memories of the departed. Lois — “Mama Lois” was the number one most friendly and welcoming person to everyone, an enormous asset for our ministry in Kenya and Sudan. She remembered everyone’s names. Zelda was a unique person, devoutly Christian, and at St. Paul’s she had helped numerous penniless students, with school fees. In order to remember Lois — who had served at St. Paul’s 12 years, and Zelda who had been concerned with needy students from unfortunate parts of Kenya — and Sudan – we decided to set up a Scholarship Fund. Already the Embassy has raised some, as did the church at the funeral. (Details of the fund’s management are yet to be worked out.)
In their memory, we can help needy students in the future.
