This will be short.
Yesterday, media houses had a field day with the Nancy Baraza story. This quote from The Standard stood out to me.
Declared a liar, a woman whose outlandish actions and runaway rage brought the Judiciary into disrepute and social rogue who brandished gun at an unarmed guard, Deputy Chief Justice Nancy Baraza’s fate appears sealed.
Social media went amok as well.
And if it wasn’t that, it was the olympic coverage. That Kemboi can sure dance his ass off.
This was what we talked about all day.
In the evening I had a passionate debate with some folks. We all agreed that the culture in Kenya needs to change. The youth need to be better educated. They need to be motivated. They need to be more involved in decision-making capabilities. We agreed on these ideas.
Our point of contention was that I believed that in addition to all the above, someone needed to die.
Someone who believed in our country needed to die for their belief, for their country. I am of the opinion that this is the huge hole in the patriotism we have as Kenyans. We don’t value our blood, that red on the flag is essentially worthless to us right now. It’s the blood of our fathers and grandfathers, aunties and great grandmothers. The blood they shed for our freedoms and our liberties and our land. But have we shed blood? As children of the fifth monkey, I think not.
They argued that I was out of line. Kenyans don’t have to die. We can change without senseless death. Because when we do die, it changes nothing.
Which is precisely the problem, I retorted. It’s senseless and pointless because we don’t die for anything we believe in; and so we don’t value our deaths.
They said we do value Kenyan lives. We’re just not educated enough to have the appropriate reaction.
I disagreed. And I still do. Because Kenyans die everyday due to injustice, brutality and terrorism and yet we are so quick to forget. So quick to tarmac over the Nakumatt after it burns down and kills so many and turn it into a parking lot. So quick to drop manslaughter cases on prominent persons, yet so unwilling to let this Baraza thing go.
THIS is the problem. Now, I don’t think that any person on the wrong, regardless of their wrong, should be pardoned. But if we can forget that a University student was brutalized and murdered by a government official a few months ago on Waiyaki Way while we refuse to forget that Baraza pinched someone’s nose, what’s the point?
What have we really accomplished when we forget the death?
“But we don’t forget!”
Yesterday was the 14th anniversary of Black Friday. Hundreds of Kenyans lost their lives to a terrorist attack.
Discussing that shit all day.
What if Black Friday was what we talked about instead. What if we dedicated one day out the year to the color that covers a third of our flag, our sacrifice and ultimately the cost of injustice and impunity?
What if we weren’t so quick to forget?
The fact that question is a “what if” scares me.