The Blood Of Our Youth Demands Memory

THE BLOOD OF OUR YOUTH DEMANDS MEMORY

“wakenya, wakenya, wakenya” Let me call you three times maybe then you will remember. They say there are three sides to a story, each side gets to tell its version and then there is the truth. The truth is that June 25th,2024 was not just a dark day, it is a day etched into Kenya’s history by blood, a wound curved deep into the soul of our nation

As days pass the world forgets we must not.

We live under a government that hears the cries of its people but doesn’t listen. A government that governs not for many but for the wealthy few, self-centered. Deaf to reason and blind to justice. Kenyans were tired. The Finance Bill became a trigger to a fire that had long been smoldering beneath the surface.

When the youth stand up, something shifts.

We came out in numbers from all the corners of the country hoping to make a change, hoping to cement this day in history as one where the youth came together and fought for our country. It is a day to remember, but not in the way we hoped. At first it was all fun and games. The streets danced, TikTok videos were made, laughter echoed as we walked peacefully to occupy parliament. But the disparity between the lives of the elite social class and the ordinary Kenyan citizen was glaring. So deep that many of them didn’t even understand why so many Kenyans were on the streets. As is the curse of bad governance the bill was passed. Kenyans roared. The march to occupy parliament was no longer a plea it was a cry, fuelled by anger, frustrations and desperation. And then everything went dark. The police, entrusted to protect the common mwananchi, turned their guns on unarmed Kenyan youth. A youth armed with water bottles, masks, props and faith in a system that betrayed them. They gunned down the souls who had come to demand a better future.

As I began my article, I said each side gets to tell its version. There is a version told by a side so scared they had to use underground tunnels to flee. Because apparently a water bottle and a face mask can cause so much harm. Don’t you think? As days went by the number of deaths kept rising. The days that followed were days of rage. People were angry. People were demanding justice and accountability. Guess what we got? shifts in blame. Fabricated stories and a public gaslighting that told us “No it is not what you think.”

A bizarre Kenya was born. A once peaceful nation now had more abductions of young people than ever before. People were attacked and shot dead in and around their own homes. Children died from stray police bullets. Bodies started showing up in random places like quarries.

We live in a time where we must carefully watch what we say. It isn’t safe anymore

Our political class had to assert dominance and they left no one behind in their wake of destruction. Not women. Not children. We thought that time would heal, that it couldn’t possibly get worse we were wrong.

Barely a year later, the elite is back to doing what it does best amassing corruption scandals and playing politics. As the dust settles and Kenyans find their own way of dealing with the horror of June 25th,2024 and everything that followed, some have made peace with it. Others remain numb, confused and hurt. But I urge you remember.

That day was not just a tragedy. It was a warning. If we turn our heads now that warning becomes a prophecy. That horror becomes routine.

Many Kenyans were lost in those days of rage. Say their names. Keep them close to your heart. Remind yourself lest we forget. Because those who choose to forget injustice only clear the path for its return.

The blood on the streets is calling. It calls you to take action. To fight for justice. To defend the rights of every single Kenyan. But above all, the blood on the streets is calling you to remember.