NAIROBI, Kenya – Another storm is brewing. As the countdown to fresh protests begins, the air in Nairobi hangs thick — not just with tension, but with the haunting echoes of last year’s pain.
This isn’t merely a political moment; it’s a reopening of wounds, a collective remembering of an unforgettable cost that our communities paid, a cost borne in blood, tears, and shattered trust.
When the news first trickled in last year – whispers of young lives extinguished, of bodies battered, of futures abruptly curtailed – a cold dread settled over our homes.
We heard stories from Nairobi, from other towns, and from our very own midst: a son gone, a daughter maimed, a friend disappeared.
It was unthinkable, the sheer brutality visited upon ordinary Kenyans, often just young people, standing up for their rights. The initial shock gave way to a deep, collective grief.
Funerals became grim assemblies of sorrow and quiet fury, where families, neighbors, and strangers alike mourned not just individuals, but the erosion of a promise that our lives, our very existence, mattered.
The suddenness of it all, the sheer injustice of healthy bodies returning in coffins or on stretchers, left an indelible mark on our collective soul.
The cost was layered, reaching far beyond the physical wounds. For those who survived the crackdowns, the physical scars were often just the beginning.
Broken bones mended slowly, but limbs might never regain full function. For countless others, the deeper wounds were invisible, etched onto their minds.
The constant replay of sirens, the choking sensation of tear gas, the memory of seeing someone one fall – these became persistent nightmares, triggering anxiety that makes daily life a struggle.
Parents speak of children who became withdrawn, fearful of crowds, their innocence shattered by scenes of violence they should never have witnessed.
The mental and emotional toll on our youth, the very backbone of our future, is a burden we will carry for years to come.
Beyond the personal anguish, the economic devastation deepened the pain. In many homes, the deceased were young breadwinners, promising students, or budding entrepreneurs. T
heir sudden absence plunged families already on the brink into deeper destitution.
Medical bills for injuries piled up, further draining meager savings. Funerals, too, demanded resources that families often didn’t have, forcing communities to rally together, pooling what little they had.
The cycle of poverty tightened its grip, a direct consequence of the state’s heavy-handed response. This economic cost, so often overlooked is a lived reality for countless households across Kenya, a constant reminder of what was lost.
The most bitter pill to swallow, however, has been the profound lack of accountability. After every injury, every death, came the familiar promises of “investigations” by oversight bodies like IPOA. Yet, a year later, many of these cases remain unresolved.
Evidence seemingly vanishes, official narratives shift like sand, and those responsible for unleashing violence often continue to operate with impunity.
This deliberate opacity, this refusal to acknowledge wrongdoing, feels like a deep betrayal.
It is this perceived indifference, this apparent lack of empathy from those in power, that deepens the wounds of injustice, further eroding the already fragile trust between the people and the very institutions meant to serve and protect them.
Still, at this unforgettable cost, far from breaking our spirit, has forged a new, hardened resolve.
The grief, the anger, the yearning for justice – these emotions now fuel a quiet, unwavering determination.
The sacrifices of last year were too profound to be forgotten, too painful to be in vain. The collective memory of what was lost serves as a moral compass, guiding our steps, reminding us why we must continue to demand a more just, more humane Kenya.
It is a shared burden, a collective lament, but also a powerful wellspring of courage. We have paid a high price for demanding our rights, for speaking truth to power. But that price has also cemented our resolve.
We will continue to remember, to demand accountability, and to strive for a future where no Kenyan has to pay such a devastating cost for simply seeking a better, fairer nation.
The scars may remain, but so too will our unwavering commitment to justice.
