Dear Mama,
This is not the very last you shall hear from me, but I want you to know that I will always be there, up in the blue skies watching and smiling. In this life or the next, I will always love you as my mother and I will want no other. I am happy because today I will be remembered as a hero who died in service to their nation fighting against a cruel and unjust regime. Tell Amina that I will always love her and that I am her big brother who has gone to be with the angels. Kiss her for me and promise me that she will know my name and she will sing it to her children, and I will become the legend in our bloodline who went out of his way to open the gates to a better future. And as I go, I will pass my greetings to Baba who I know will be proud of me and the young man I grew up to be in his absence. Let it be written on my tombstone blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of justice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Let it be known that I was a warrior. And my final word is, naomba serikali msiwe kiziwi kwa maoni yetu, ila mtende haki na mtuskize sisi wananchi ambao tuliwapa mamlaka kusimamia nchi yetu!
My brother is a Gen Z. He loves video games and Twitter. He dresses up to dance on TikTok with his friends. He talks about being successful and traveling the world. He plays board games with me. And he loves Sauti Sol. ‘Sura yako’ is his favorite and he loves singing it for mom.
As a child with so many dreams for when my generation is at its prime, I always ask God for happiness like my brother’s. A life filled with passion and wit that makes me everyone’s favorite, just like him.
He is more than just my blood. He is my strength, my power, my shield. Calling him my brother is a blessing my mother says I should never overlook.
One Tuesday evening, my brother came home with a flag around his neck, like how he tied his bandanas. He limped past me and my mother to his room. A few minutes later he joined us while we watched the news. I knew my brother well, he never sat down to watch Citizen TV like that. But also, I knew not to bother him as he looked tired, not to mention he hurt his knee. Mother asked me to go to bed early so they could speak. Before I chose to keep myself out of it, I heard my brother say, ‘I won’t stop, this Thursday tuko kwa streets!’
My brother is perfect at doing the things he loves. One of them is art. I love his drawings, that’s why I was happy to find his sketchbook the next morning on the couch. I wanted to color some of the drawings like I always did. Trying to find the perfect one, I landed on a page that left me intrigued. He had drawn a man getting arrested by two policemen. The handcuffs around the man’s wrists spilled blood on the ground, and the Kenyan flag lay there right next to it.
That Thursday I waited anxiously to show my brother how beautifully I colored his art. I sat in his room with the disturbing silence, waiting patiently. His usual arrival time had already passed hours ago. It became darker and darker outside. I went to find my mother in her room. She was on her knees, praying, with tears running down her cheeks and her hands shaking. I stood there frozen and confused. Deep in my gut, I had a wry feeling of sadness I didn’t understand. I couldn’t find the words to ask what was happening. I just walked out before she noticed I was there and went to sleep with my brother’s sketchbook in my hand. I knew he would be in his room when I woke up. My brother never came back.
I always knew my brother to be a force. So many things about him were easy to read. One thing I would’ve never guessed is that my brother would fight for the whole country. “Your brother has always been a fighter,” my mother said to me after explaining a nightmare I have yet to wake up from.
Now I get to speak about my brother more, for he is no longer with us. His joy and the light in his eyes when he spoke, have both been taken away by the love he had for our country. The placards I see on TV walk the streets with his name on them painted in red. The people carrying flags on TV are angrier, and they speak every day, passionately, about a revolution that my brother and many others have begun.
As a child with many dreams for when my generation is at its prime, I don’t know what to expect anymore. Mother says it’s important I love my country because my brother’s last breath is a legacy. A time that will be spoken about forever, even when I won’t be here too.
‘Was’? No. My brother is and will always be a hero. As a child with many dreams, one thing I’ll never forget to ask God for, is brevity like my brother’s.
Death is a lesson that teaches us the importance of life. And a parent should never see their child die, they say. Mama Jabari cries as the lifeless body of her only son is now carried and wheeled to the morgue. Her face paints all her emotions of pain, grief and disbelief. His battle is over, but the war has only begun and like a soldier, he fought to the very end. With the determination of Mekatilili and advocacy of Tom Mboya, he channeled his patriotism to fight for a better and just nation. Two bullets to the chest and a scratch on the kneecap is all it took to snatch the life of a young, unarmed demonstrator.
It is written that equality never wins and that for whatever is given something must be taken in return. This is the principle that the imbalance of nature stands by.
Today, we have taken one step towards a revolution that will be cemented as one of the greatest moments in the history of our nation. But at what cost?
Today, Aisha will light up this candle as she celebrates her brother who she is told is in a better place. A place that is peaceful, full of sunflowers and loving angels.
So, she whispers this little prayer,
‘This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine’…
‘Shine on your way and be my sunshine, watch me chant your name across borders for you will be remembered, you will be celebrated. We will light up your legacy through generations! My memories with you will shine and guide me even through the darkest.
And I know that as much I will cry about it, I should be grateful because it happened. For it was all for a greater course.
Ee Mungu nguvu yetu, ilete baraka kwetu siku zote tuwe na amani na nguvu kuona siku za usoni bila ndugu yetu’. Amen!
Heavy is the head, no, heavy is the heart that bears the pain of a lost soul in the fight for freedom. Masses will chant your names and one day, just one day it will all pay off. For a better tomorrow, we must toil with our own blood, sweat and tears to have that Rome. And like an Olympic torchbearer the fire that fuels this revolution we will not die, and the innocent lives lost will not be forgotten.
Mimi ni mzalendo daima na nitapeperusha bendera yetu juu. Nchi yetu ya Kenya ninayoipenda niko tayari kuilinda!
Written by: Diana Indigo & Guncho.