The Irony of Celebrating Peace

Peace!

 Being the country-side girl I am, from rural Eastern Kenya, I grew up not knowing either war or fear. As most of you may agree, growing up in the country-side is always fun due to the peace that reigns in those regions, well, at least most of the regions in Kenya, because as we know some parts of the country can be very volatile due to ethnic clashes among others. 

Growing up in the country-side is fun, the only fear you experience is that of darkness, chameleons, millipedes, and centipedes…well, this is not real fear because, for me, it would end as soon as I held the millipede by the neck and strangled it to death. But I feared chameleons, their ugly and bulging eyes that threatened to pop out of their sockets every time they saw me, coupled with their constant colour change especially when they stepped on the bark of a tree or on the soil. But did you know chameleons can be gorgeous, yes they can be very pretty, just like a bouquet of well assorted flowers; imagine a chameleon that steps on a bunch of yellow, pink, blue, and green flowers! You don’t want to know how such a chameleon can be colourful. That notwithstanding, I dread chameleons; do you remember the story about this old chameleon that stuck on a very beautiful girl’s head and refused to go away as it held on to the girl’s long and curly hair? Well I guess you know that when a chameleon sticks on your dark, long, and wavy hair, your uncle will have to shave it off. Now you know why as a young girl, growing up in the countryside, I feared chameleons. I also hated the fact that Cain disappeared into the darkness after disagreeing with God; hence, every day when darkness set in, I feared walking in the dark to avoid meeting with the gigantic and black Cain because I believed that he could strike me with his long sword! 

Darkness, chameleons, and millipedes aside, life was peaceful in the country-side. I knew not a word like war, terror, and militia to name but a few.  I knew not Mungiki, Alshabaab, Boko Haram, Alqaeda, and other threats to peace. Guns only became real to me as we sat for the Kenya Certificate of Primary Education examinations; I remember this day with nostalgia, not just because it was the day that marked the beginning of the person I am in terms of being a learned friend, but because it was also the first time I got to hold a gun. The policemen who had been deployed to our examination centre were very friendly; would you believe that they not only allowed us to touch the guns but also take photos with them holding the guns…ooh, how sweet memories flood my thoughts every time I hold my small, green, tattered album to see the photos I took those days!  Believe it or not, before this first encounter with guns, I only knew that guns existed in movies. Being the strict parent he is my dad would never allow us to watch movies, believe me when I tell you that we even had to watch TV with a pen and paper in our hands, just so we could write any vocabularies to use in those English essays. Surely dad, it did not have to be that serious…anyway I came out of it just fine…and watch this pace as I rewrite history. 

The world I lived in was a peace haven; so peaceful was it that the reality of clashes and election violence seemed like mere stories. The year 2007 came and I was old enough to feel the tension in the country. The reality of how dangerous this was going to be dawned on me when we got a new neighbor who had relocated from Eldoret. The country was burning, day in day out television channels showed demolished houses, many of which were razed down by fire. The sight of mass exodus as people ran away from the volatile regions, leaving behind everything they had worked to achieve for years, made me realize just how precious peace is. The effect was no different when I reported back to school in 2008 and found out that the only students who had reported back to school were from Meru region.  

No sooner had I gotten over the trauma of neighbors hacking each other to death, the word terrorism sneaked into my dictionary of life. People were being killed through improvised grenades in Wajir and Nairobi. The president could not stand to watch his citizens being killed like chicken and as a result Operation Linda Nchi was born; the KDF was determined to secure our country from what now had become a regular assault by Alshabaab. What followed after KDF’s entry into Somalia was a series of attacks and sacrifice of the lives of innocent men, women, and children. To this day, we live in deep fear; the other day our nation was on high alert as news spread like wild fire that there was a threat to attack major malls in Nairobi and Mombasa. I remember clearly on 9.21 when I decided to stay indoors after I received a security alert message via Whatsapp! Around the same time, our leaders and youths were preparing to celebrate the International day of Peace. I am very sure that majority of our leaders had actually been invited to various events to deliver keynote speeches on this day of peace. 

Personally, I was invited to attend the celebrations in one of Kenya’s public universities, which was organized by emerging leaders of the country. But even so, despite the invitation, I was reluctant to attend the celebrations. I felt there was nothing to celebrate; so many people were dying in the world over, with the recent example of war-torn Gaza and Ebola-struck West Africa.  I stand to be corrected if I am wrong by saying that majority of us do not know peace. How would I have peace, of mind and heart, when there are no jobs yet the cost of living keeps on sky-rocketing here in Kenya? How can a woman in Awasi celebrate peace if she has to trade her body for water? How can needy university students celebrate peace if they have to take to the streets in demonstrations for their Helb loans to be disbursed? Tell me; how I can celebrate peace if I go to the matatu stage and find our ma-three charging double the fare, from sh. 70 to sh. 150? Isn’t it ironical that we keep on celebrating the International Day of Peace world over, yet we barely experience the peace itself? 

I know I sound like a pathetic and hopeless citizen, but even so, I won’t deny it. Every day I get frustrated by the challenges that deny me the joy of having some peace. Believe me, I am not at all against this day of peace celebrations; however, there’s a disturbing concern that refuses to let go off my heart. The concern of what we achieve by spending lots of money and hours in celebrating a mere day instead of channeling those resources towards the building of peace itself. Our brothers and sisters, our children and grandchildren, have become so intolerant to diversity. But how would they learn about peace yet there is nothing like that in our schools’ curriculum? 

Dialogue after dialogue, conference after conference, celebrations after celebrations yet we never come up with tangible solutions. I challenge us all to work towards attaining that peace that we so much want to celebrate. They say peace is a state of the mind, and I challenge you to help your brother achieve it through your own little way. I look forward to a day when I shall walk in the dark without fearing to be attacked, a day I shall look at my neighbor from a different tribe without suspicion, a day I shall go to shop in a mall without thinking about a repeat of the scene at Westgate Terror attack…this day, I shall walk in the streets and declare that I am celebrating peace! 

Peace to you all!

An article by Sarah Makena

Co-founder Ukabila Zi Society

Just when shall we lose our tribal cocoons?

Tribal Cocoon

It’s been a long time, over 2 months since I penned an article. If it were a homecoming, I am sure you could have sung one of those ‘hodi…karibu’ songs from your place. What I do not know is where to start or what to say before what. A lot has happened; the much hyped SabaSaba rally  came and went, the presidential escort BMW was stolen and recovered…somewhere deep in Uganda, and the highlight of the series of dramas happening in Kenya was when Baba wa Taifa, Nyayo if you like, mkulima nambari moja, mwalimu nambari moja etc, turned 90. The irony of nature’s rewarding ability or do we call it nature’s forgiving heart? Oh, how I missed updating you on all these happenings! Anyway, I am back.
 

I thought that I had preached enough about the venom that is tribalism, before taking my well-deserved leave from writing. What grabs my attention and refuses to let go, is just how unconsciously and carelessly we keep spewing this poison. The cocoons that we conveniently run in to when we realize we have nothing else to be proud of but our sir names. It’s until the day Red Cross shall stop its services in Mandera, that we shall realize there’s a problem. Luckily, Abass does not give up that easily; however, we pushed him way far this time round. Sadly the Mandera killings do not seem to surprise anyone any more. It may be a matter of national concern, but we have seriously not thought about the misery of our brothers at the far north. 

In the Northern Kenya, two tribes do not seem to realize that there exists a word like peace in the dictionary of life. Needless to say, inter-clan clashes have become the norm; and if you are born in this part of Kenya, then you have to be literally born with a bullet in your palm, if not a gun. The thought of suffering women and children pierces my already troubled heart. Every so often, I read from the bible of Ukabila Zi Society, which preaches against negative ethnicity, and yes, it dawns on me just how unreal and impractical the verses could be. Well, this is my feeling because I still do not seem to understand why two tribes in the most remote part of Kenya could be fighting. These people do not seem to realize just how trivial an ideal it is to keep on holding on to their tribes. 

Exit Mandera clashes, enter Awasi women’s story! It’s a heart-breaking story of these women’s daily struggle to find water amidst the fear of being attacked and sexually harassed. For a moment, I thought that we would jam all the communication lines, media and other available channels as we called upon the Awasi leaders to account for their leadership responsibilities. Sadly, this was not to be…once again, I was disappointed as fellow Kenyans took the easier route, that of sliding back to their tribal cocoons! Easily as it has become, they called Julie all sort of names accusing her of hating on their tribe. As we were busy insulting this lady, who thought it best to highlight the plight of Awasi women, we forgot that she was just but a reporter, reporting the plight of these women as they had spoken to her, as usual we stoned the messenger!  For some, Julie had attacked a “tribe.” We failed miserably to stand up for our sisters in Awasi who exchange their bodies for water; instead, we sought to smear mud on Julie who has no water problems…very sad!

To all those tribal fanatics out there, “Kenya Ni Jina, Nchi Ni Mimi Na Wewe!”

An article by Sarah Makena
Co-founder: Ukabila Zi Society