“Bullets and the Sound of Cobblestones”

Creators of Justice Award 2020 | Second Prize: Essay

Isaac Kilibwa is a lover of poetry, from Kenya. He also tries his hand at fiction and creative non-fiction. He has served as editor and editor in chief at the African Writers Development Trust and is currently working on a poetry collection, Child of People.

Recently, a couple of gangly teenagers from my estate were shot at by the police at seven in the evening. One of them is seventeen and in high school while the other one is a primary school fifteen year old delinquent. Many such incidents take place in Nairobi neighbourhoods where it is normal for the sounds of death to assault the ears of the good citizens. The sound of dynamite ripping the air apart; the sound of bullet shells falling on the streets; the sound of feet running or bodies falling and cobblestones bathed in the crimson life of sacrifice. It is young adults that fall in many instances, millennials having not even breathed for two decades. Those of us born at the start and middle of the nineteen nineties decade are resigned to the fate of unemployment, having witnessed deaths of people we used to play bano with. We still live with our parents, or run start ups that hobble with uncertainty each dawning day. We have become matatu touts just to be able to put together two hundred shillings (approximately two dollars) a day. We have learnt to seek for menial engagements just to be able to bet on football matches and buy phone airtime. See, we have learnt to tore the line. Those of us who were slow to adapt are either dead or incarcerated.

The teenagers on the other hand are still learning the ropes the hard way, and paying dearly for it. They are rounded up in the dead of the nights and shot in their backs by the swart river that runs behind the estate; they are knifed by members of enemy mbogi; they are shot at on such evenings as the one gun shots were heard outside our home. The two young men chose not to heed the presidential decree for a night curfew from seven to five during these trying Covid - 19 times. They were caught up by ti me as they indulged in a smoke Sativa herb and in a spur of the moment, inevitably regrettable decision, they threw stones at police officers on patrol duty. One of the 'Utumishi Kwa Wote' keepers of order suffered a serious head injury and had to seek the urgent services of a clinical officer for first aid. Both of them sustained cuts and bruises when the motorcycle they were traveling on lost control and bucked the off its back like an unbroken horse.

'Utumishi Kwa Wote' is a Kiswahili Police Service motto that translates to 'Service for All.' This, I believe, is meant to be executed without fear or favour and in an as impassioned as state of mind and emotional discipline as is humanly possible. The manner officers of the law are supposed to handle suspects and supposed criminals should also be humane and within the frame work of human rights. Cries have been uttered by the public and human rights activists against police brutality, especially in their bid to enforce curfew regulations and control law breakers. The police have also been cursed passionately for executing extra - judicial murder to suspects who are not given a chance to be proven guilty or innocent of charges such as robbery with violence in a court of law. The peace officers are accused en masse of extorting unbelievably exorbitant bribes in order to release people arrested during curfew, so that these people do not end up in quarantine facilities. Achieng, a neighbour of mine claims that she was arrested during the daytime but for not having a face mask. She could have flown from the arm of the government if not for her daughter who they took and held hostage in order to get to Achieng. She was to part with five thousand shillings for the child and ten for herself which she had no way of providing. Achieng was forced to surrender her smart phone for her freedom.

Outlandish, the cruelty that the public accuses policemen for, even intentionally misleading and blown out of proportion, but true to a bigger degree. Yet the common citizen too has proven stubborn and provocative in more instances than few.  Policemen have been shot in cold blood on their way home after finishing their shifts, tales of policewomen being sexually harassed and even raped in the alleys of the city estates have been the cause for boasting for some in these communities. To assault a policeman and get away with it something thugs in my estate live for, to die for it, legendary. Cosmas, a friend I went to Moi Teachers' college with, was fortunate enough to join the Kenya Police while most of us are still waiting for the government to recruit us. He invited me for a cup of tea once at Dandora which we enjoyed as we caught up on college life and how things change once one leaves school. I happened to mention some of the criminal offences we might have meddled with in our ignorance or plain defiance, and how now perspectives had changed, more so for him, to which he replied that nothing much had changed. He implied that guardians of the law do understand youth and college students and have empathy for the less serious and even more serious situations they find themselves in. In some way, he made me understand responsibility better.

When I went home that evening, I continued the discussion with my brother who is an underground rapper. He was appalled that I let myself be seen being friendly with a policeman. He said that I could get shot by thugs who would think that I was a policeman too. He was furious that I seemed not to take the possible threat against my life seriously.

It is obvious that there is a disconnect which has bred mistrust between the public and the law enforcers. The young adults who assaulted the police were lucky to escape the incident unscathed, but their days are surely numbered if they persist in their blatant disregard and disrespect for authority. The government has tried to put in place measures to integrate the two groups in a bid to facilitate their living together in harmony. Police camps are to be done away with and officers encouraged to coexist with the citizens in the community. The public needs to be sensitized against feelings of apathy and resentfulness towards the police. Institutes such as the IPOA (Independent Policing Oversight Authority) have been put in place to keep the extremity of police fervour in check and to protect the public. It is a long journey towards making this tumultuous relationship work but the foot steps can be heard on the cobblestones walking towards the refuge of hope.

Bano - Marble (slang)

Mbogi - Gang (slang)