I was very sorry to hear yesterday of the death of Rangarirayi Chikadaya (pictured). He was a man of faith, brilliant, selfless, who for a time was a member of our city Church. Many refugees turned to the Church for help, and he was one. But the problem of refugees was huge, and we had to make some tough decisions as to who to help and how (and who was genuine). He was a journalist, who had been badly beaten by police in Zimbabwe. "My face was swollen like a football," he said. He showed me newspaper clippings he had brought along. We helped set him on his feet, and he sang the Church a song of praise one Sunday morning. He went on to do monumental work for others, among other things founding a school. When he saw how poor the students were, he would not charge them. He called me up from the Transkei -- the last time that we spoke -- and told me never to be discouraged, I had had an enduring influence.