Kenya, Will You Marry Me?

22. Not without mother and son!

205 22 Not without mother and son! T his is not a still picture. She moves even now. A woman in Mt. Elgon checks in her handkerchief knot to carefully see if her voter’s card is still in there. Another one does it in Kiabuu, in Kisumu and Mombasa. In Elgon, she rubs against her identity card and she feels glad. She does not want to speak as she votes. She fears that someone will come to bribe her with tribe. She is not voting for a person. She is there voting for a country; one nation. She is voting for food. She is voting for her children’s freedom. She thinks she is voting for life and blood to continue flowing in her limbs from her heart. She is in there, voting for land for her descendants. She is in there, voting for a job for her daughter, for justice and peace. They dipped your little finger in violet ink. The mark is still there but her fingers have no life. Her voice is gone. She is cold. There is no one to hush her baby. Lullabies are stolen in mid-air. Mother of Naivasha, your seven month old son has been demented by Kenya. They killed you because you are from this Kenya, a Kenyan. You had married a man from the other Kenya, a Kenyan. When did they put politics in our beds? Kenya is made to hate her own children. Her children are fed on political venom. This is not ethnic. This is not tribal; this is political poison. Our national and provincial languages are full of peace. My heart is rent. This time, it is you on the cross of the ground where they raped you. They strangled you! They threw you into your door and you fell just past it. It is you nailed to the ground with blows. It is you unprotected. Who will hold you and hold Naivasha, Mother? Why Mami has our Motherland done this to us? Our little son cannot hold you. He screams with fear. He knows you loved him and that they have hurt you. He has seen it. And you lie with your eyes open and dead. Black eyes. 206 Kenya, will you marry me? Tell those who argue that there was a wave of violence coming to engulf Nairobi so that Naivasha had to die, tell them that they lie. We still have police helicopters. We have what it takes to stop chaos without protecting State House first. SMSes instead flew from phone to phone calling for fundraising and signing in young men to kill. My friend, you contributed to money for weapons because in the future you would like to go to Parliament. De Gado tried to stop them. We know that. But his voice was unheard and his life endangered. It was you who sat on top who let violence out. Young men with clear minds tried to stop it. The Mother of Naivasha did not die alone. Mothers everywhere died and many were raped. Their daughters too were raped and killed. Babies died and cried everywhere without lullabies. May you find questions facing you before you close your eyes at night. May you hear the howling screams of people who voted in peace each time you open an envelope. Everytime you un-purse your lips, may the envelope with the list of names of all the people who died, fall out screaming before you. May they remind you that justice and reconciliation begin in truth! Look at her and hear my words. Mother of Naivasha, you seem to hold up the little finger even in death. Voted. You exercised your civic duty. Who will redeem the vote? I am devastated Mami. Strong woman grieve Kenya. On your bed in your little room, I can see your husbands gray checked shirt. They took him first, wa Naivasha. 207 Not without mother and son! Let me hug your baby, My son. Your are Kenya’s most aggrieved orphan; the orphan of misrule. You are Kenya, orphaned. It was not disease or starvation that made you so. It was the vote. May the people rise. Mr President, are you here with us in the same country? This is not a photograph, it is a life that lives and is fixed in our brain as if nailed in there with nails made of fire...