Vox Populi, Vox Dei.” Alcuin of York.
June 25 2024, will forever be etched into the annals of Kenya’s history. It was the day agitated Kenyan youth stormed parliament to end the executive capture of the house that was supposed to be representing and protecting them. It took the blood of many patriots to reach our goal; unarmed protesters dreaming of a better tomorrow and carrying only the Kenyan flag and cell phones to record history were gunned down by mercenaries and snipers. One of the smartest brains ever to walk Parliament Road, that of IT and mathematics specialist David Chege, would be splattered on the pavement for all Kenyans to see on live television. David had been in the final stages of preparing for his departure for Germany in search of greener pastures.
For a second, the country stood still, shaking in disbelief as David’s soul left his body, marking an immortal moment, a symbol of resistance in this dark time captured by Kenyan photojournalist Festo Lang. Four young heroes stood over David’s body holding the Kenyan flag and singing the national anthem amidst a haze of teargas, unfazed by the live bullets whizzing past them. This was the first emblematic moment of the leaderless revolution, a moment that speaks loudly to power, telling it that we are like the Hydra of Lerna, that for every head it chops off, four will rise in its place.
The air they breathed was no longer 21 per cent oxygen but 98 per cent teargas. But not for a second did any of them flinch or choke. We Kenyans, as the rest of the world has come to agree, are made differently. A few dozen kilometres away, in Nyeri Town, another comrade stands in solidarity, inhaling a teargas canister hurled at him by the anti-riot police as if he were vaping, his spirit urging the four to stand strong and breathe in the “oxygen” the president had prescribed for the day. The four stood courageously, unfazed. It was not blood that was flowing in their veins any more, but pure adrenaline.
X: @essvissa, Art is resistance, 8th July 2024.
As usual, the members of parliament safely tucked away inside their fortress surrounded by armed guards were oblivious to what was happening in the country. They voted and passed the punitive tax bill, oblivious to the pleas of Kenyans online and claiming that the images and videos of the protests circulating on social media were doctored, generated by artificial intelligence.
To understand the bravado of the four young mashujaa, you must first understand the history of Kenya. It is a democracy born out of political activism, social movement, and cunning guerilla warfare. From the post-World War II decades when the Mau Mau brought pressure to bear on the Sir Evelyn Barring-led colonial administration that culminated in British surrender and Kenya’s independence in 1963, to the multiparty democracy struggles that forced Daniel arap Moi to yield in 1992, different generations of Kenyans have demonstrated fearless resilience and commitment to fighting for their rights.
The Kenyan flag held aloft by the four patriots in Lang’s photograph is a sign of our unity, the coming together of all Kenyans. Black in the flag is the colour of our skin, the skin of David Chege, of the four heroes, and of the other patriots moving in the hazy background. Red stands for the blood that was shed during our struggle for independence and for the blood flowing from David Chege’s open skull. We are because someone laid down their life for us.
In the Bible, blood is often associated with life and justice. Leviticus 17:11 says, “For the life of a creature is in the blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement for yourselves on the altar; it is the blood that makes atonement for one’s life. ” In Genesis 4:10, after Cain had killed his brother Abel, “The Lord said, ’What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” Blood speaks and blood remembers; that is why we never forget our fallen heroes. To soothe our souls, we drape their bodies in the Kenyan flag.
Green stands for our vast, beautiful landscape and our biodiversity, perfectly exemplified by the tree standing over the five heroes. The white stripes signify peace, a concord the unarmed peaceful demonstrators displayed to the world on that Tuesday. The shield on the flag is our defender and we shall always stand up for it in defence of our freedom.
Fellow criminals SAY THEIR NAMES.
Youth is symbolic of the movement that has been dubbed “The Gen Z revolution”, a demographic cohort born after the millennials between 1997 and 2012. Throughout history, young protesters have stood up against the status quo to bring about change. A good example is the youth-led protests in South Africa that culminated in the release of Nelson Mandela in 1990 after 27 years in prison and the end of the brutal apartheid regime. As the older generation grows weary, they pass the baton to their children to uphold what is right. After all, as Lady Mystery says, “There is no power but what the people allow you to take.” Unlike true leaders, many politicians are like black holes and if we allow them to take, they will take and take until there is nothing left.
The image of David Chege’s dead body laying amidst spent teargas canisters is a stark reminder that police brutality remains a behemothic devil that Kenyans must fight. The Gen Z movement has shown Kenya that we can slay the demon of tribalism. Never again will the political discourse be that of “mtu wetu”. Civic education and the forthcoming emancipated Generation Alpha will put the final nail in the coffin and, hopefully, police brutality will be buried with it. A paradigm shift has occurred—Kenyans have become more aware.
As David Chege rests eternally together with the many other patriots whose young lives have been taken by rogue police officers, we demand justice. We shall not forget their sacrifices, their blood shall forever water the seed of our liberation. As we lower them to their graves, their coffins wrapped in Kenyan flags, we are not burying them. Instead, we are planting them. From the soil, many more freedom fighters shall sprout. Through their death and their sacrifice for the Kenyan flag, a new life giving greater meaning to the flag emerges. They have entered immortality.