Muthoni Kariuki Blog

The Death of the Unknown Revolutionary

Posted by Social Matters , Friday, December 7, 2012 1:00 AM

It should have been breaking news! But at 1pm among the news that was broadcast to millions, maybe not, after all, it was supposed to be a working nation, thousands maybe, though to be fair every where around, in workplaces, hotels, homes, banks and even schools had installed really big screens so that everyone had a chance to know, not hear because the volume was always turned low. But they repeated it in the seven o’clock news as well as at nine that evening. It sounded like the police had gunned down another criminal, but he wasn’t a criminal, so they said, he was a young man who had just completed his studies at a local public University, a political scientist he had become. The news reporter, though they didn’t seem to have much to say about him, they did mention he was a political activist whom fellow university students claimed to have rubbed the ruling class the wrong way. But what could a twenty five year old young man from an unknown village have done to be gunned down in cold blood right in the centre of the city after addressing university students not to riot over lack power but to do it for ‘POWER’ they had to change a nation. “Death threats again!” Maka exclaimed at his good friend of over four years. Maka and Ochieng had met at the University as freshers (First years). On that first day as they were registering to be students of what was thought to be a great university, a great friendship was formed. Ochieng was a passionate politician and Maka joined his bandwagon right from the beginning. His cause was largely unknown in the country, let alone in the University. Mismanagement of students’ funds in the University, that’s where it all began. Each year the students at the public institution were required to pay a small sum of two hundred shillings, which when multiplied by the thousands of students that the higher institution claimed to have, translated into millions that a students’ body mismanaged, with no one to audit how the money was spent. He felt incensed, as he began a campaign to educate the students on their rights, especially when it came to demanding an audited report on how their money was spent. The more he fought against them, the more he realized there was a greater power that he was fighting against. The student leaders had the support of the ruling class, that’s how they managed to drive around in state of the art vehicles and maintain their expensive lifestyles. An intricate web of corruption where if you break off the chain at any point it would rattle up to the top, they warned him nicely. It was a government set on destroying its people. Ignorance is bliss indeed, especially if you are on the receiving end. It was through the ignorance of the people, a weakness that the leaders had readily and willingly exploited. Money meant for equipping hospitals, fighting malaria and HIV/aids was divided in terms of billions to the key players in the government, children crammed in tiny classrooms and in some areas under trees, yet the money that could have made their lives better ended up in the hands of the few, no questions asked. How could they ask what they did not know? Their ignorance resulted in their poverty. And they were all in it. It was like they sat down just like the Europeans had done in the scramble and partition of Africa in Berlin more than a century earlier. There were no enemies, the government and opposition leaders, added to the religious leaders of the day, and some of the most powerful and vocal non governmental organizations were all united in greed. Divide and rule, but dine together at the end of the day. Their children attended some of the most expensive schools in the country, together. A chip of the old block, a sort of modern day slavery, where the unsuspecting countrymen and women were sold off to a life of misery, disease, poverty, and endless wars. In a continent blessed with unparallel natural resources that had caused its owners so much misery. The weapons used were more powerful that biological and nuclear weapons, they knew ‘in unity of the masses, they were bound to fail but in division their cause of greed was bound to succeed.’ Negative ethnicity was their choice of weapon and wonders it worked. The commander in chief had amassed a personal wealth of close to a billion, not shillings that could not be workable, his wealth could best be measured in dollars. “They need to know.” Ochieng defended his actions. “And if there are people heartless enough to do these things, there need to be some one who has a heart enough help people.” “They will kill you.” “The brave hardly live for long…” He adapted the saying. And if he lived for long, he knew only silence would buy him time but what an empty life it would be. The force he was up against made David’s Goliath seem more of a dwarf. His only weapon knowledge, the people needed to know that they had so much power in their hands. That they were being used by the political class and that it was their ignorance that kept them poor. He started with his university, maybe if the country’s best mind could see what was really going on, and then questions would be raised. His meetings rarely attracted a crowd comparable to weight of the issues he wanted to discuss. But he went on, someone had to know. “Dude, you have got to shut up.” Maka warned finally. “The people at the top will cut you off.” Thousands of innocent civilians in a great continent had lost their lives in needless ethnic and civil wars. Thousands of African youths were unemployed with nothing to do, yet contracts were easily awarded to the friends of the government. So many youths were abusing drugs which were supplied by the very people that were meant to safe guard their future. Added to the endless number of people who died because of lack of proper and adequate medical care. Keeping quiet was never an option. Nobody was listening but he kept on talking, maybe one day they would stop and listen. The war he was waging seemed futile, nobody knew him, he would die an unsung hero. Maka wanted to join in the fight but he was scared for his life. They had both received emails from unknown sources; they had reported to the policemen that their lives were in danger. “You will not win.” A policeman warned them in rather concerned tone. “The people you are fighting against determine everything that happens in this country. Even the police are powerless when their forces are concerned. Just let it go. They determine who breathes and who is food for the worms” There was no stopping Ochieng, even when his campus girlfriend left him because of the strange men following her at some point, threatening her family at gun point. The emails, then came the phone calls, the calls became men accosting him every where. Though he was scared, he found the strength to go on. It was for the good of the nation. Even though when he died nobody apart from his family mourned for him. “The threats keep coming but we almost have a breakthrough my good friend.” He emailed Maka promising to lay low. “The students have taken note of all that I have said and they are asking questions. They have invited me to speak on the evils of politics in Africa.” Little did he know that would be the last speech he would give? After the meeting he headed out into town with Maka in his brand new Toyota. They stopped and both alighted to enter the supermarket because Ochieng felt his throat was dry. He never came out, the gunmen, two, followed him to the very end of the aisle and one shot him severally in the head and chest, in full glare of the customers and eye witnesses as well as the numerous CCTV cameras. The gunmen walked out briskly, faces uncovered into a waiting vehicle and drove off, and the case would later be closed off because of the lack of evidence and eye witnesses. His death made no sense to the people, though most sympathized with the tragic death of a young man who seemed to have everything going for him. No stories of bravery would be published about him. School going children would probably never hear about him. The press did mention that the death could have been politically motivated but even them they could not fully understand what had just happened. The public would never attend his funeral en-masse. Neither would they ever remember it was for their plight that he had lost his lives. Maybe if they knew, they would have filled up the streets. His heroism would remain: uncelebrated. His legacy would lie on in the hearts of the few students that demonstrated his death in various public universities, though even those did not last. He was one in a million, a needle in a hay stack in a country that was accustomed to violent crimes. His death was not in vain maybe one day the country would look back and realize where the struggle all began. In future when the oppressed became liberated, they might remember the young man who gave his life for the very struggle. The unknown revolutionary!!! Mary. M.Kariuki