By Jacob Otieno

It was 1am. I was deep in slumber after a tough day at work as a deputy photo editor. Then my peace was shattered by three successive incoming phone calls from friends and colleagues.

Being an experienced photojournalist, such calls did not surprise me but it was the nature of those particular calls that almost shook me to the core.

The Standard newspaper of March 2, 2006 goes up in flames after hooded men attacked the company.

"Standard is under attack," all three callers stressed. I jumped out of bed and called our crime reporter, Cyrus Ombati, who confirmed what I initially thought were rumours. It was then the reality dawned on me that what we had tirelessly worked on the previous day was up in flames.

I had left my camera in the office but I thought I could borrow one from a friend — freelance journalist Joseph Mathenge. He suggested we use just one camera because we were short of time.

He quickly drove to my residence and picked me up. We drove at a terrific speed to The Standard Group’s Likoni Road printing press to make sure we got pictures of what was happening. Upon arrival, we were shocked to find the place up in smoke as my fellow workmates watched the burning newspapers from the gate.

One of my colleagues informed me that the hooded men with guns (policemen) had just left, but suspected some of them were still around.

Even though the policemen had left, picture ideas swirled in my head. I asked our security men to open the gate for me and went in with Mathenge and few more colleagues from the production section. As I surveyed the scene and took pictures, I recalled the words of my German lecturer:

"A photojournalist must be a conman, a planner and a master of his own game."

I told Mathenge that we had to take photographs without flashlights to avoid attracting the attention of the hooded men.

We took pictures with finesse since we knew the story would make international headlines. We visited several rooms and the printing press discovering the mayhem and destruction the hooded policemen had caused.

That day’s newspapers were scattered all over and the printing press had been severely damaged.

While I was engrossed in my work someone shouted: "Jacob, they are coming back, run!"

Mathenge and I hid our cameras in the production manager’s office and kept our memory cards safely in our pockets.

We walked out of the office block slowly and carefully.

Jacob Otieno.

We soon came across a group of 30 armed men around the big bonfire.

I tried to dash for the gate but four men pursued me. I threw my jacket into a circulation vehicle hoping they would not recognise me without it. The trick did not work! Mathenge and I were caught.

"What were you doing in there?" Before I could respond, a contingent of these hooded fellows surrounded us. I recalled my lecturer’s words once again and gained courage.

"They are not going to get my borrowed camera, memory card or the pictures," I swore to myself.

An officer hit me with a gun butt on my forehead.

"Why are you hitting me, is it because I have said I work for The Standard?"

I insisted I was coming from my office as they continued harassing us. Their leader ordered that we escort them to my alleged office.

"We know you Jacob Otieno and you are a photographer based at the I&M tower. Where is your big camera?"

But I stood my ground. I led them to the assistant production manager’s office and not to the production manager’s office since I knew the discovery of cameras in that office could be detrimental to us.

"Here. I was working here," I said as I sat at the desk.

Within a few minutes the office had been ransacked as they turned it upside down looking for cameras.

After the search yielded nothing, we were released and ordered out of the premises as they continued destroying and burning more papers.

At the gate, I whispered to the production manager that there was a camera hidden in his office.

We then took a company car and headed to our head office in town.

On arrival, I met senior editors who advised me to get into the office and take as many pictures as I could.

The office was in a mess — from the Standard newsroom to the KTN departments. All computers had been taken away and there was broken glass on the ground. It looked like a scene from a Rambo movie. It was heading to 4am when I was informed we were to run an early edition, despite the damaged printing press.

We then got to work as journalists from local and international press arrived to cover the event. At 2pm the first edition was out and we hit the streets with most of the night pictures! We started the second edition and with the hard working team of editorial staff most of us left the office after 11pm. I will never forget that day, March 2, 2006.