THEY HAVE NAMES #GarissaAttackVictims

I had vowed not to write anything about this, not to view any pictures, not to talk about it at all; but last night hell broke loose. The walls and chains in my heart, mind and eyes could not hold it anymore…and I broke down inside.

Last evening I attended the vigil held in honor of the #GarissaAttack victims in Kenya. A friend and I had a matchbox. We went lighting up any candles that had burned out or had been blown off by the wind. There were 147 crosses in the area where the vigil was held. A freaking a hundred and forty seven. Count from 1 to 147; then you will realize how heavy that was. Imagine those crosses were on top of graves…graves of innocent lives lost. Graves of victims of circumstances, graves of young people who knew they would live to see the long Easter holiday. Hell, maybe they had already made plans, or called home to say they would be going home for the holidays. Students taken to Garissa University College (a constituent of Moi University) with hope that after completing their studies, they would help their families and siblings. Some of them were the only children born to their families, and like one case I know of, the mother could no longer give birth. 

These were students taken there by JAB (Joints Admission Board), and because they wanted to acquire education, they said yes. Packed up their bags and went. Then one morning, at 5am, some in their sleep, some in class studying, some burning that midnight oil, some saying their morning prayers; the grim reaper visited. He did not even knock, to let them know he was on his way so that they say one last prayer or say goodbye. He just came. He didn’t even wear a mask. He came in a name that people are calling “Al-shabab”. He came with guns, sprayed bullets on people who knew not why their lives were being taken, why they were paying with their lives.

As we sat in a circle last evening, as we were lighting those candles, as I walked across and along those crosses, lighting a candle for every cross that had no candle; I couldn’t help but think. As the embers of those candles went up…I could hear the screams…a hundred and forty seven screams, all at the same time. And for each scream, more cries from friends and relatives, all going up at the same time. My heart wept.

 My spirit broke down.

It could have been you or me. It could have been your work place, that supermarket you love shopping at, that bank that keeps your money. That matatu you love boarding, your car, your neighborhood. I watched a group of three ladies and three young men weep continuously at a cross, holding each other's shoulder, trying to comfort each other...for more than 20 minutes. I can never erase that image from my mind. Pain that tears cannot take away, but we can only cry, we can only donate, we can only do so much. I don’t want to imagine the pain of that parent who has to identify the dismantled boy of their son or daughter at Chiromo mortuary. It is just too much.

What pains me most is that the #WestgateAttack got the government and “high people in high places” more involved than this one. Could it be because this time round none of their “breed” was affected as I said here? I will not go there.

My heart goes out to the souls lost. May they Rest in Eternal Peace…all 147 of them. May god grant their families peace and comfort that we cannot give. They are not just a statistic, they have names.They were someone’s child. THEY HAVE NAMES.  Here are some of their names:

List of students who died in the  #GarissaUniversityAttack #147notjustanumber  (Source: Nation FM)

 
1. Jessica Cherono
2. Mlindiro Peter Magio
3. Prisca Auma Wayodi
4. Dorcas Kagusina Julius
5. Alex MueriMuchiro
6. Kevin Ouma Odongo
7. Selpha Wanda
8. Samuel Mutiso Musau
9. Mildred Nyendo Wakholi
10. Franciscah Ndungwa Joseph
11. Duncan Mwitu Baini
12. Abel Muthwana Watola
13. Virginia Simiyu
14. Peter Masinde
15. Gideon Kipkurui
16. Faith Kendi Gituma
17. Marion Musenya
18. Isaac Bushen Kosgei
19. Jeff Macharia
20. Stephen Mutua
21. Joy Chepkorir Kibor
22. Onyinkwa Susan Kwamboka
23. Emily Namaemba
24. Priscilla Kathure
25. Ivy Beatrice Wanjiku Kihia
26. Miriam Hawa
27. Veronica Felix
28. Jane Nyambura Mogera
29. Judith Chepkemoi
30. Everlyne Lodengo
31. Caroline Njoki
32. Aquila Mulekye Mulei
33. Gideon Bryson
34. Elidah Obiero Atieno
35. Purity Kawira Kaunyangi
36. Ruth Nakhanu
37. Caroline Mukami Ndumia
38. Syrus Sila Mutuko
39. Lucy Nyambura
40. Victor Mbogo
41. Jackson Kipketer
42. Beatrice Njeri Thinka
43. Ebby Alice Omari
44. Joyce Wakiuru Waweru
45. Annetter Miller
46. Oliver Maina
47. Peter Odhiambo Omondi
48. Duncan Mwendwa Kalekye
49. Joash Obare Mosiria
50. Newton Karani
51. Beth Njambi Gakenya
52. Aggrey Momanyi
53. James Ochonde
54. Faith Chepchirchir Komen
55. Ann Ongwae
56. Lucy Waithira Irungu
57. Jacinta Njeri Mwangi
58. Caroline Koech
59. Harriet Chemoita Andole
60. Alice Mbete Mulu
61. Angela Nyokabi Githakwa
62. Bilha Njeri Gitau
63. Philemon Thakaramoi Madaa
64. Philomena Kasyoka Munyoki
65. Caroline Mukami Ndumia
66. Catherine Mbithe Mutuku
67. Branton Wakhungu Anyanza
68. Amos Wanyonyi Mwangangi
69. Emma Mutahi
70. Mumo Kilonzo
71. Dennis Ouma Onyango
72. Mary Wanjiru Muchiri
73. Keneddy Ouma Echesa
74. Agnes Mwende Muthama
75. Alice Anyango Oduor
76. Stella Wamalwa Nyongesa
77. Monica Ngwasi
78. Susan Akinyi Othwila
79. Caroline Karimi
80. Mildred Chitechi
81. Edina Muthoni Michael
82. Joly Kananya
83. Thomas Nyaiburi
84. Moses Njuguna
85. Clinton Nyang’au Keffa
86. Salome Wambui Kinuthia
87. Jane Kanorio
88. Faith Kinyala
89. Dianna Musambi
90. Hanna Nduta
91. Laban Kumba Kangeni
92. Joseph Ngacha Nderitu
93. Romana Sambu Chelagat
94. Christopher Nyakundi
95. Odhiambo Okoth Christopher
96. Fredrick Okoth Odhiambo
97. Eric Ondari Nyabuto
98. Tony Opiyo Ochieng
99. Eliud Wafula Musambai
100. Elizabeth Musinai Namarome
101. Carolyne Njoki Gathito
102. Kevin Langat
103. Samuel Michere Gakuru
104. Jacob Makokha
105. Tobias Simiyu
106. Lydia Akoth Obondi
107. Isaia Chebukto
108. Milton Namai Mukhwana
109. Adhola Ochiel
110. Sheila Cherop
111. Doreen Gakii
112. Susan Nduta Wangare

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TO HELL WITH YOUR DONATIONS.

“Let’s go to Africa, salvage our slaves,

Let’s donate money, make names for ourselves,

Call local and international media,

Let Africa rejoice, here is their redeemer.”

Well, to hell with your donations!

Oh come fellow slaves, come let us rejoice,

Let us sing, dance, write and recite poems,

Let them take pictures and videos of us,

Playing around with our hopes and dreams.

But I refuse to. I refuse to join in the applause.

See, today I am here, raising my hands to feed my stomach,

With new shoes and new clothes, bales of flour and cooking oil,

With smiles and great high spirits.

Tomorrow, back to the same shack, taking beer and spirits,

The shoes you gave will be sold; my feet know not how to be sole-d;

The clothes will be sold, for my body knows not how to be clothed.

So go, go back to your filthy rich homes, rich and filthy homes, be out of my sight

Out of sight, out of mind, you make me wish I was blind.

Every donation you make, I feel you dancing on my grave.

Without you I will still I see myself together,

Through the holes of my tattered sweater.

I will sew myself together,

Mend my broken and torn life together.

To your face I say; to hell with your donations!

But then again don’t go,

Keep donating food, money and clothes; dig a well.

We’ll take and sell, use to pay bills and settle debts  as well.

But what would be better,

Is if you would make us better,

Empower us with skills and knowledge,

Show us how to make the clothes, how to grow the food,

Then we will make money.

But till then; to hell with your donations!

Befado

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AN ARREST ( MY FIRST EXPERIENCE)

Ever been arrested? Either for the right or wrong reasons? Well if you have never, I beat you to it. Last evening to be precise. You may wonder why I’m so happy to write about it, just wait and see.

So, it’s Saturday evening, Skater Boy and I have come from training in Thika, we are now in Nairobi. We go at a hotel to have an afternoon snack as we watch a game. Here my already bad day got worse. See, I’m an arsenal fan and I had so much faith in Wenger’s boys for this game. Skater boy is a Manchester united fan (yeah makes the perfect couple). If you all watched that game you know too well how it went down. So, as we linger in there a bit longer as I drown my sorrows in food (we ladies know that food works so well, despite the source of sorrow). 

By the time we leave, it’s a bit dark. We decide to head to Central Park, which is at the center of Nairobi. The flood light at the center of the park is shining bright and the place looks too tempting. Wrong thought. Skater Boy and I are quite crazy, you see, so we agree to stand below the light and we start dancing. (Blame this on the “dance like no one is watching you”). It is a park, right? And people are walking past the park hurrying home. Us; no we had to. The day had been long and hard and laughter and fresh air was all we could think of.

We all know that all movies and books/novels list chasing each other across a field as a moment of…well, you know; a perfect moment.

Well, not in this one. We challenge each other to the nearest pathway and the winner gets to buy the loser some ice-cream (I was hoping to loose, but he beat me to it). At the end of the finish line that is the path, we find some people, cuffs at hand, waiting for us; talk about a bad victory reception. Just imagine Usain Bolt finding such a party at the finish line….sad.

So that is how we got arrested. We cooperated and they did not cuff us (thank God Skater Boy did not get very aggressive, you see, he is also a professional boxer). So we are taken under a tree where we find about 50 other Kenyans, some in cuffs. SB (Skater Boy) and I find ourselves a bench and we await the vehicle supposed to take us to a police station. We are all told that we were arrested for being in the park at “ungodly hours”. We are informed that people are not supposed to trespass the park past six; as he speaks, people are still passing by, but it seems like they had arrested enough people.

They tell us we will be taken to a police cell, expecting the men to resist so that they find a reason for arrest. Strangely enough, we all agree and we state that if the arrest is legal, we would like to record statements. They panic. See, these men introduced themselves as policemen warning us that they will fine us all. A lady at the back starts crying saying that her guy is not Kenyan, that he does not know the rules in Kenya. SB and I laugh. We take out our phones and start recording everything. We knew those guys were people extorting money from naïve and innocent Kenyans.

We pass by Kenyatta avenue round-about and our fears are confirmed. See, if you are to be taken to the police station/ county council cells, you do not turn right, as we did, and headed to Uhuru Park. Several of us started asking which police station we were being taken to and all we got was a “kuna wengine huku, mtakujiwa na lorry hapa” (there are other people here, a police lorry is coming to pick you up).

So we get to a place and find other 50 like so Kenyans sitting there, also waiting for the police lorry to come. Now, the retards that SB and I are, we go around greeting people asking them why they are there; all this time recording (thank you Sony Xperia for having a larger internal memory space). So by now it’s around 8 pm and no uniformed policeman has come. The leader of the gang tells us that they are willing to help anyone who does not want to go to jail. Here you see Kenyans who do not value their hard earned cash. Why do I say this? Some were giving bribes as much as 20, 000 to be let free. SB and I are still recording all this.

One of the “police men” suspects that we are doing this and asks us to sit in a secluded place. Thank God for friends who have friends in high places. I get the number of one of the anchors in Citizen TV and explain our situation and where we are being held; in a gated store area at Freedom Corner. The reporter gives Nairobi OCPD my number and he calls me. I explain the same thing and in a few minutes uniformed policemen are at the gate. Our other police panic and order us to get out, while those who want to “get assistance” to remain behind. We decide to go with the group that wants to be taken to jail.

Now we are two groups, half remained to “get assistance” and half of us knew our arrest was false and we wanted to get justice (and finish our recording). We demand to be taken to a police station. Instead of being taken to a police station, they start taking us upwards, towards All Saints Cathedral, several of our group run away and the fake police leave them. Now, funny is the conversation I heard between the uniformed police and the “police” who arrested us. This was actually a deal between the two!!! The other police even had walkie talkies that communicated with the actual police. Sad.

All this time I am informing the OCPD where we are being taken, and he gives an order for all of us to be released. Half of the group being “taken to jail” is let go. SB and I choose to remain behind. SB and I tell the remaining group not to give any bribes; our escorts hear us and we are pulled out of the crowd. At this point, we have gone round Uhuru Park and we are at Parliament road.  One of the “police” gets us aside to question us; why we were arrested, if we want any assistance. We tell our tale. He tells us he is forgiving us because we look innocent; we laugh.

He tells us to disappear and not get caught again, but we were not going to let him go that easily. We demand to see his police badge and he suddenly gets busy and his arms start shaking. SB and I look at each other and smile. He gets tensed up and gets his wallet out. He starts explaining to us that he is busy calling and we tell him we are patient. Now its a few minutes to nine. The uniformed police are busy taking bribes from other people in the group we were picked out from. The guy starts explaining how I don’t know who was killed where in the park, who was sleeping where and gibberish. We remind him that we are waiting to see his badge; he pulls out a number of cards and picks one out, one with his blood type, no name and no police number.

SB and I laugh and tell him that we know what they are doing and that he should let everyone go if he wants to be safe. Realizing that he has been busted, he gives an order to his people to let our group to go. They do. As we are leaving; His arms are still shaking. I tell him to be careful, some Kenyans are watching and they are talking. Our recordings are with us, a reminder of what innocent Kenyans go through.

It’s now 10 pm; SB and I walk into a hotel for coffee. Now his Manchester united game is over; and we never watched it. But they won, damn!! oh and I lost my precious ear rings in the process :-(

Now I am left to wonder; how many other people walk around masquerading as police men, extorting money from innocent Kenyans, as much as 10 to 20 thousand per person (real police men included)? And us Kenyans, when will we know our rights? Stop giving bribes for crimes you did not commit!!

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