Faith Nyasuguta
When 73-year-old Reuben Waithaka stepped off a plane in Atlanta this past May, he had one mission: to celebrate his grandson’s graduation and wrap him in the love only a grandfather can give.
He had crossed continents – from Nairobi to Alabama – armed with old family photos and three matching African shirts, gifts meant to remind his American-born grandson where he came from.
But just one day after arriving at his son’s house in Calera, Alabama, Reuben disappeared. Now, over two months later, a Kenyan family spread between two continents waits for answers that never come -haunted by questions and holding onto faith that somewhere, Reuben is alive.
8,000 Miles for Family
Reuben Waithaka was no stranger to travel. The retired civil servant from Kenya had been to the US twice before with his wife, Elizabeth Barua – first in June 2017, then again in May 2019. Those trips were joyful. He was healthy, strong, and so content in America that they extended their 2019 stay by months to soak up time with family.
This time was supposed to be no different.
Reuben and Elizabeth left Nairobi on May 13. After a long layover in Frankfurt, Germany, they landed in Atlanta on the afternoon of May 14. Their son, Willington Barua – who has lived in Alabama’s Birmingham area for more than 25 years – picked them up and drove them south to his quiet neighborhood in Calera.
Willington, who runs a trucking company, had moved to Calera for its small-town calm and mild winters – a place where grandparents could watch their grandchildren grow up without big city noise.
But as Reuben stepped off the plane this time, his son noticed something was off. On the flight, Reuben had grown anxious and restless. At the Atlanta airport, he stumbled on an escalator and injured his knee. They rushed him to the ER for scans – but doctors found no broken bones, no stroke, no cause for worry.
Relieved, the family brushed it off. After all, the celebration mattered more. Reuben wanted to see 17-year-old Byron Barua, his grandson, walk across that stage in a cap and gown – the first high school graduate of his generation.
One Morning, One Door, Gone
The next morning, May 15, dawned warm and still. Reuben, dressed in his favorite checkered shirt and khaki pants, stepped outside his son’s home around 11:08 a.m. A doorbell camera captured the moment: Elizabeth beside him, turning to lock the door – and Reuben, without a word, wandering down the street.
He never returned.
Security footage pieced the next hour together like a ghost trail. A neighbor spotted Reuben on the sidewalk and, thinking he was lost, offered him a ride – but dropped him only a few houses away. Soon after, a delivery driver saw him again and gave him a lift “to town.” That trip ended at a Chevron gas station two miles from Willington’s home.
At 11:40 a.m., cameras at the gas station show Reuben limping into the store. He waves politely at a clerk, disappears into the restroom, and slips out the back door. A witness later told police she saw someone matching Reuben’s description crawling under a gate toward a wooded area behind the station. Then – nothing.
An Urgent Search
Within hours, local police, state troopers and volunteers fanned out across Calera’s quiet streets and the dense woods that snake behind the gas station.
Helicopters circled overhead, drones scanned the tree canopy for heat signatures, and dogs sniffed for his scent. They found nothing – no footprints, no discarded clothing, no sign of Reuben sleeping rough in the brush.
When the sun went down, the search lights flickered on. Authorities feared what the family already dreaded: maybe Reuben was more confused than they knew. Maybe he was wandering deeper, far from the last place he was seen.
A Cruel Twist: Undiagnosed Dementia?
It wasn’t until days later that the Barua family began to fear the word that now keeps them awake at night: dementia.
Willington wonders if the signs were there all along. His father had never been diagnosed. He seemed healthy in Kenya, sharp enough to pack those family photos and shirts, thrilled about the trip. But on the flight over, he grew agitated. He needed help staying seated. He fell in the airport.
And now, Willington has learned about “sundowning,” a term he’d never heard before. According to the Mayo Clinic, people in the early stages of Alzheimer’s or dementia can grow more confused, anxious or restless as the day winds down.
His father’s flight landed in late afternoon. By the next morning, the confusion may have grown into something more dangerous – the kind that sends someone out the door and into the world with no idea how to get back.
The Graduation Without Him
Five days after Reuben vanished, Byron Barua put on his graduation gown. He should have been standing next to his grandfather, who brought an old photo of himself and his sons to share – a reminder that their roots run deep.
Instead, Byron’s family held hands before the ceremony and stood in silence for the man missing from their circle. When Byron crossed the stage to receive his diploma, his relatives clapped and cheered – refusing to let grief swallow a moment that Reuben would have loved.
“It was tragic,” Byron says quietly. “But I tried not to let it get to me or bring me down all the way. I pray for him to stay safe.”
A Birthday with No Cake
June 3 marked Reuben Waithaka’s 73rd birthday. Willington had planned something special – a goat roast, a Kenyan tradition for big celebrations. He wanted friends and family from across the US to gather, swap stories and raise a glass to his father’s long life.
There would have been laughter, maybe those matching shirts. But there was no party.
Instead, Elizabeth Barua, Reuben’s wife of decades, packed her suitcase again. On June 20, more than a month after Reuben walked away, she flew back to Kenya. When media outlets called to ask for an interview, she declined to speak. She is simply too broken, her son says.
The Hardest Part
The hardest part, Willington says, isn’t the long nights driving Alabama’s highways or the constant taping of flyers at rest stops and truck stops wherever his trucking routes take him.
It’s the not knowing.
Every time his phone rings, his chest tightens. He picks up – half dreading bad news, half praying for a miracle. Each time, it’s another dead end.
When he drives past a patch of woods, he slows down, peering between the trees. Could his father be in there, hidden from sight? Could he have fallen asleep under the Alabama sun and never woken up?
Family Divided by Distance, United by Hope
Reuben Waithaka leaves behind four children: two in Kenya, two in the US. His daughter Emily Barua lives in Renton, Washington, thousands of miles away from Alabama’s humid summer woods.
She calls Willington often. She calls the police, the FBI, anyone who will listen. She posts Reuben’s photo online. “We just want him back,” she says.
At night, she wonders: did someone hurt him? Is he alive? If he is, how is he surviving with no money, no passport, no idea how to navigate American streets?
How You Can Help
Calera Police urge the public not to approach or transport Reuben if they see him. He may be confused and frightened. Instead, call the police immediately. One phone call could end this nightmare.
If you have any information, please contact Calera Police Department at (205) 668-3505.
A Grandfather’s Story
At the heart of this tragedy is a simple truth: Reuben Waithaka came to America for love – to stand in a crowd of proud parents and grandparents, to hug his grandson as he stepped into the future.
Instead, his family lives in a limbo of hope and heartbreak, halfway between two continents, their patriarch missing among Alabama’s pine trees and backroads.
They keep his photo close. They wear those matching shirts. They pray that someone, somewhere, will spot him – and bring this gentle grandfather home.
If you see him, don’t look away. One tip could reunite a family and prove that even when people vanish, a community’s compassion can make all the difference.
