I have lived long enough to see people grow, gain wealth, became poor, die old while others die before their time. I sometimes regret ever seeing the light of this world, this world is brutal unfriendly and unfair. The most traumatizing thing is that I lived to see my mother humiliated, raped, wounded, dragged on dusty ground and even killed. I saw her scream out of pain, plead for mercy, kneel before men and cried out her heart before being butchered. Blood flow with pressure from her veins sprinkled on the rocky dusty ground and for the first time I saw mud form from blood. When mum got a report from her doctor that the child to be born was a boy, she come home early and broke the news to all of us with joy. That night there was a little argument, my dad wanted the young boy to be a teacher while my mother wanted him to be an engineer. After the argument became hot dad conceded and agreed with mum. Probably today we would be celebrating 20th birth day of my young brother. My mum would prepare a special meal for all of us and let my brother blow some candles but not before he made a wish. We could crack jokes and all of us could bust with laughter. He could be in campus and studying engineering just like mum desired. When the assassinators butchered my mother, they also killed my brother, two months before he could see the light of this world. They killed his dreams and terminated his academic journey before it began. I still remember this nightmare like it happened this morning. My mother did nothing wrong, she was just another good citizen, the only thing she did wrong was to rise up in the morning, go to the polling station and vote for the president of her choice. I regret having woken her that morning to go and practice her democratic right. Our country was peaceful and everyone had the liberty to live, stay, associate and work anywhere within its borders. Then hell got loose. A nation that was once peaceful and united became divided. People from one community rose against those not from their own. Within few days after violence broke, my dad was killed by a bullet while holding peaceful demonstration. I still hate my dad for going to the street to demonstrate against the government. He could have taken us to a refugee camp in the neighboring country just like other people. If they are still married with mum in heaven, I know they are still arguing and the argument is not ending soon. My dad was a university professor who believed in rule of law, he always felt offended when the government went against the constitution. When hell got loose he did quit his job and became a political activist. He became famous within a short time and everyone wanted him to hold the highest office in the country. I was 15 years old. He took me to a political meeting once and mum was really bitter with him. Personally I was a big fun of him and turned to our old black and white television just to hear him talk. He was such a talented speaker. People spoke about him in public and in closest. He was the sent mosses to bring our people from Egypt. What we never knew was that he was making enemies each day. My mum, a house wife always insisted that this was not a good idea. He had a feeling this was not going to end well. Today I wish dad could have listened to her. When elections were held my dad worn with a huge margin, but the incumbent president refused to concede defeat. This was binging of our dark days. Citizens were butchered, blood was shed, and people were wounded. That Wednesday morning I saw them storm into our house and killed my mother. I had seen mother shed tears after my dad died, but I had never heard my mother cry in day light. I saw my pregnant mother fight her assassinators but her efforts bore no fruits. My father’s body was still at the morgue and we were still mourning him. All this time I was hiding in the bush and am yet to forgive myself. I should have been my mother’s savior. I should have picked a log and knocked one of them hard enough to kill and may be my mum and my brother could be alive. I felt a coward to watch them humiliate my mother for no reason. She had not attended even one political rally or demonstration. Her mistake was getting married to dad and voting for him. I promised myself that this was not the end; I will live to fight another day. May be one day I will get a bazooka and revenge the death of my mum and my brother. 20 years have since passed and each day my anger melts away. I have learnt to forgive those who killed my mum and to let my mum and my dad rest in peace. I went through a lot of hardship but thanks to God I got I to my feet after long struggle. No child, country, family or nation deserve to go through what we went through. Let’s appreciate and maintain peace. story by a boy who was born and raised in a war torn country in Africa
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When president Moi banned political parties leaving only one party in 1979, everyone thought Moi was a selfish person who wanted to remain in power forever. Political activists and energetic politicians found this hard to stomach and did everything to ensure re-introduction of Mult-partism. Former cabinet ministers Kenneth Matiba and Charles Rubia and the then political activist Raila Odinga were detained for demanding the introduction of multi-party democracy. Political activist and Kanu rebels used every weapon documented in the constitution to fight for re-introduction of multi-party democracy. During the early 1990s, a wave of democratization swept across the African continent. The wave took many different shapes and forms. International donors through World Bank halted foreign aid while demanding the government to implement reforms. In July 1990 there was mass riot in the whole country and the pressure became too much for Mzee, he therefore allowed multi-party democracy. This was the beginning of trouble in our country. Parties began to mushroom and before the dust could settle the parties began to split. People from the same ethnic community began to form political movements while sidelining those not from their community. In 2000 everyone was bitter with the then president Moi since he had endorsed and funded Uhuru Kenyatta to run for presidency. All key personalities and politicians came together and said Kibaki tosha with the aim of killing KANU. Kibaki became the third president of Kenya and Kenya became a united nation for once. In 2010 a new constitution was promulgated and gave weight to freedom of individuals to form and associate with any political movement. Political parties were born and before they could mature they were strangled. Kenya became a tribal nation and people began to think and act along tribal lines. Ethnic community began to vote national leaders from their community. Ethnic mergers were formed and named political parties to help individuals ascend to power. When Kibaki left office in 2013 the country was divided and far from healing. And then came president Uhuru, everyone thought this was a new dawn for the country to heal and reconcile. Deep wounds of 2007 were left uncovered and everyone buried their heads in the sand and assumed everything was Ok. The ICC left the nation divided and bitter instead of better. Ethnic communities stood with their accused political leaders and when all was laid to bed new political outfits were designed to ferry individuals to power. Today Kenya is divided more than ever before, the two main political players, jubilee and NASA, have held Kenya hostage. NASA has great following from western Kenya, Nyanza and partly coast while Jubilee commands great following majorly from central region and Rift valley. According to the new directive, by the NASA CEO Mr. Norman Magaya, Kenya is going to be more divided along ethnic and economic lines. NASA supporters are going to boycott certain products and services offered by president Uhuru, William Ruto and their close associates President Moi probably saw this coming, a day when Kenya was going to be divided along tribal lines in the name of political parties. May be Kenya was not mature enough for multi-party democracy. The problems we are facing today have been raised up by many parties. Those who died during riots and those who were detained did it in vain and their families suffered for no reason if multi-party democracy does not unite Kenyans. Most 3rd world countries in Africa are suffering from the same problem as ours and its time we critically analyze our problems and accept the bitter truth. images courtesy of google
My experience with MatatusI travel a lot by public means and this given me a relative experience with this popular mode of transport. Today I was travelling from Nairobi to Nakuru and I happen to sit in the middle seat next to the driver. This is not my most preferred seating position; today I didn’t have the luxury of choice as I was it was on a Friday. Everyone who travels via road at least knows how crazy weekends are. The lady who sat next to me seemed more like a media personality or may be an anti-corruption officer. She was very quick to ignite a conversation between the driver and her. Since I was in the middle seat I sat quietly listening without giving my opinions and suggestions. Conversation getting hotterThe conversation started with how much matatu owners earns daily as compared to how they used to earn some years back before the government opened up the market. Previously due to tax related issues; matatu were owned by the rich in the society and the few poor people who could hustle their way to owning one could only own an old one. Today the old matatus are very few. Kshs 26 billion annually goes to wrong pocketsThe lady seemed wise and within no time the conversation was escalating to a whole new level. Police make a lot of money from the matatu industry and according to a report published by the star newspaper the traffic police pockets about 26 billion every year. According to Africa Uncensored the traffic police pockets Kshs 14.2 million a day in Nairobi alone. Every month in the 47 counties they collect up to 2.13 billion and this therefore amount to Kshs 26 billion annually. When the lady brought about this issue the driver seemed a little uncomfortable and he seemed cautious, probably he too, was questioning the credentials of the lady. The driver seemed a little bit resistant in answering the questions but the lady seemed too persistent to let any question go unanswered. What kshs 26 billion could doAccording to the driver, the police pockets more than Kshs 300 per vehicle and this makes the hike the fare a little bit to ensure that their daily catch remains constant. This therefore implies that if the traffic police could stop asking the matatu investors for that Kshs 50 or Kshs 100 every day the fare would go down significantly. Again if the figures above are anything to go by; the Kshs 26billion traffic police take home every year could be used to do a mega project. Have you ever imagined what Kshs 26 billion could do to your life? Ok then now figures out what kind of development that kind of money could do. It could construct a level 5 hospital with standard equipment or even build a road of more than 1200 kilometers as the cost of tarmac road per kilometer in Kenya is Kshs 20million. This means that if that money was channeled appropriately, then there could be no need of borrowing to construct roads and other important infrastructure. Who can kill corruption?Corruption is the cancer in the government of Kenya and if the economy of this great nation has to grow then we need to take Kenya to the theater and do away with the cancer once and for good. In case the operation fails to do us any good then we need to take Kenya for some chemotherapy. When it comes to corruption there are no smaller fish, they quickly graduate to bigger fish and within no time they grow wings and no one can tame them. We need a leader who is ready and willing to take Kenya to theater room, take this great nation for chemotherapy again and again until no traces of cancer of corruption are seen. For long we have ignored the matatu industry and despised it as insignicant corruption, I feel it’s time we open our two eyes and call a spade a spade. MY VISIT TO KABARAK I made the grand entry into the facility on a Wednesday morning dressed in stripped shirt tucked in to a khaki trouser with my laptop bag held in my left hand. As I passed through the security check, on the security house was a notice that uniquely identified Kabarak from other universities. The notice read “no smoking, no drugs and dress professionally”. Having studied in a public university I was bewildered on the definition of dressing professionally. In my school I had seen beautiful girls rolling in miniskirts and breast busters to class and even during church services. I kept thinking about it as I made my way through the beautiful pavements built in between the classy designed structures until I got into the office. RULES AND REGULATIONSAfter normal protocol and introduction I was briefed on the rules and regulations that seemed endless. The rules seemed too harsh for a staff that it left me wondering the nature and the intensity of rules the students sit under. I was really confused and my biggest worry was if I was going to cope up with the them. Kabarak University was going to be my home now. I was assigned the computer laboratory as my first work station which gave me an opportunity to interact with both the students and the lecturers. The students seemed classy judging from their dressing styles, i make friends quite first and within no time I had made one. I had heard so many rumors about Kabarak and now I had the opportunity to rule them out as lies or facts. I therefore took the opportunity to ask my new friend who happened to be a student. DRESS CODEAfter conversing for a while, I noticed restlessness in most people and within no time everyone was out of the lab and heading to a certain direction. I was really confused and I made an effort to enquire. I therefore closed the lab and I too headed to the same direction, only to find myself in a large room with tall walls which happened to be the school chapel. It was compulsory for all students and staff to converge every Wednesday between 11am to 1pm for a church service that was led majorly by the school chaplain. During this time no one is supposed to exit the perimeter of the facility. Ladies are supposed to dress in either dresses or skirts below the knee. Trousers are not supposed to be worn during the service. Men are encouraged to dress in descent suits. After the church service, the congregation would later move in small crowds and notably of the same sex heading to either mess or cafeterias located outside the school compound. LEARNING ENVIRONMENTThe university is located in a serein environment, suitable for learning. The pavements and the roads are well maintained with most roads being tarmacked. Trees are planted with order in almost every corner of the facility. The singing of the birds is a common thing. Grass gardens are well maintained and trimmed often. The university boost of fully equipped school of music one of the very few in the eastern and central Africa. Very close to music school is school of law and school of medicine. EXPENSIVE BUT WORTH0Life in Kabarak is quite expensive and absolutely not for the poor probably for the middle class and of course the rich. In university like Kenyatta, a hostel room goes for between kshs 2200 and kshs 3500, without a middleman but at Kabarak the same room goes for between kshs 18,000 and kshs 21,500. Most students therefore opt to rent houses instead of being housed by the school. The school fees also are relatively high and not friendly for poor people, however it’s worthy every penny. For you to survive as a resident student at Kabarak you have to cough some good amount of money probably not less than 100k every semester, for those taking degree programs. TEAM MAFISIMale students are not supposed to go near the female hostels and the vice versa is true. There are designated zones for dating as the administration states. To minimize and probably avoid the menace of team mafisi, the compound is well lit during the night. The team mafisi therefore opt to rent rooms instead of living within the premises. Skipping classes is highly discouraged with high penalty. Since the biblical age women have been at the center of death of great men in the society. Samson one of the great men who ever lived was killed and a woman named Delilah was at the center of it all. Strong and great men who seem untouchable are susceptible to downfall through women. I know endless list of people who took their lives because of women; for some women cheated on them while other felt that the lovers of their lives didn’t love them with the intensity they desired. In Kenya a number of political big wigs and successful business men found their way in to the grave through women. A good number of this prominent people were very careful and plotted cautiously their every move. Unfortunately at some point they became careless with women and fell into traps through women. DEATH OF SENATOR MUTULA KILONZO |
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