Greetings, friends:
This week’s newsletter is continuing the tradition of inviting members of our community to write From The Curator’s Desk, and for this edition, I’m happy to hand it over to writer Ngito Makena, whose piece below is part of a project telling the stories of Nairobi titled ‘Humans of Nairobi/ Story za Nai’, published by Baraza Media Lab.
Please send your guest writing pitches for this section to chris@barazalab.com if you’re interested in being our guest curator on the newsletter, and you have something of interest to share to our community — a trend you’ve noticed or something you’d like us to think about.
~ Christine
There’s a lot of ways to be with each other, and the Kenyan protests in June and July — started by the a rejection of the Finance Bill 2024, but also encompassing all the other issues we face, from lack of proper and affordable healthcare, education, staggering levels of corruption, steep taxation, and many more — served as a testament to what it truly means to be with each other.
solidarity
/ˌsɒlɪˈdarɪti/
noun
noun: solidarity; singular proper noun: Solidarity; noun: Solidarity
- unity or agreement of feeling or action, especially among individuals with a common interest; mutual support within a group.
The solidarity. The sheer solidarity that Kenyans showed each other is what held us, and continues to hold us into the future of this fight. People showed up and gave their all to this fight, some, including with their lives. The common Nairobian mwananchi played their beautiful part in all this. For a city that’s known for its individualism, fast paced environment and get rich or die trying culture, my goodness, tuliungana.
We held each other’s hands while we ran, making sure no one was left behind and shouting, “Msikimbie haraka, tuchungane!” to ensure that no one got trampled while scrambling for safety from teargas, water cannons, live bullets and rubber ones. Doctors were on the streets with solutions that would make the burn from the teargas and water cannons better. Nairobi business owners put buckets of clean water outside their business premises and offered a safe spot from the police.
The courage was infectious too. Getting into CBD during maandamano days was an anxious affair. You’d alight the matatu or nduthi and be welcomed by the lingering sting of teargas, or shots ringing out. But you’d see people just as scared as you in the middle of the road chanting, waving their flags in front of police armed with deadly weapons. They’d be rebranding street names to those of our fallen heroes, climbing onto high places to dance, cheer and laugh. They would see the police coming and not move a muscle. And that, that gave you the courage to wave your flag too, to sing the anthem too, to cheer whenever teargas and shots rang out, to show our unity and fearlessness.
Hawkers would motivate us, telling us how important this fight is and we have their support. Parents would wake up early in the morning to pray for us before we hit the streets. Matatu operators and motorbike riders would defy police orders and ferry people home, hooting in support as they passed.
When the police and masked armed men (we couldn’t tell who was who) came out to shoot, beat, abduct and burn us to death, we stood with the dead. There were vigils for shujaaz like Beasley Kogi, a 22-year-old whose last tweet read, “Daima mimi mkenya, mwananchi mzalendooooooooooo” … on the day he was killed fighting for his country.
Our youth respectfully wrapped the bodies with Kenyan flags, moved them away from the road, held flags over their bodies and stood there, fists up in the air, even as police tried to scare them away. They stood there, the corpse of one of their own at their feet, terrified but firm in ensuring that no one is alone, even in death. We showed up for their families, wrapped in the eternity of grief.
Watu wa Nai walisimama pamoja. Tuko tayari kulinda nchi yetu, kuijenga, tumeungana mikono pamoja kazini… and this work will set this country free.
In the meantime, here’s:
What I’m Reading: I’m picking up Children of Virtue and Vengeance by Tomi Adeyemi today. I read Tomi’s previous book, Children of Blood and Bone, on a bus to Nairobi from Meru. It made me want to summarize the whole book to the Unique Shuttle driver, because I just had to break it down with someone as soon as I finished it.
What I’m Watching: Sex And The City (for the first time). I’m rewatching ‘Breaking Bad’ in between and compiling a list of all of Walt’s crimes & atrocities… there are many.
I’m also enjoying some YouTube vlogs by Clynton Kenya. I’m hooked on silent vlogs at the moment and this vlogger does them so well.
What I’m Listening to: Upepo by Dj Mura, Hiribae & Dipa Konnektion and Incredible Sauce by Giggs ft. Dave.
My best,
Ngito Makena | Writer
Makena is an experienced creative writer, and translator in English/ Swahili/ Kimeru as well as a transcriber and rapporteur who’s open to work. You can reach her on ngitomakenas@gmail.com or +254 726 884 840.