By Koigi wamwere

Kanu political leadership set the trigger of the August 1,1982 coup two months before.

This was on June 9, 1982 when Parliament introduced Section 2A into the Constitution, outlawing multiparty democracy.

Before that day, MPs were summoned to a Kanu Parliamentary Group meeting where President Moi reprimanded the lawmakers as King Henry the Eighth of England had reprimanded Sir Thomas More for refusing to speak in support of his third marriage.

"Every MP must condemn the formation of another party in this country. In fact, we know those who are silent are also planning to oppose the change of constitution, some by keeping away from Parliament," Moi is said to have told the MPs.

At one point during the meeting, the MPs were warned that those who vote the wrong way or absent themselves from Parliament during either the debate or the vote would be detained.

When detention was opposed, an editorial in one newspaper spoke for the Government: "It will not do for them (detainees) to plead that they should be sent to hell for a thousand years only, and then be allowed out. They sold their bodies and souls to the devil for a leg of mutton — uncooked, signed, sealed and delivered — and now they belong, permanently, to the devil and his representatives, not to Kenya."

Under such a threat, I have never seen Parliament as grave, fearful and submissive as on the morning of June 9, 1982, when we met to make Kenya a de jure one-party State. Almost everyone was sad. We all said we were signing a death warrant for democracy and peace.

By making it impossible to form another party, members felt they were making a peaceful change of government impossible and beckoning a military coup.

Despite this, MPs were so fearful they were willing to entomb democracy and the country just to keep out of prison. I have never hated Parliament as I did that day and I have never hated myself more for being cowardly.

Unfortunately, people out of Parliament were no better. Everyone was a perfect prisoner of fear that forced us to do a wrong thing despite our better judgment.

On the evening of June 8, 1982, I even overheard the then Vice President, Mwai Kibaki, who seconded the Motion of changing the Constitution, say as someone wishing his own execution to pass fast: "Oh, the sooner this passes the better!"

When the debate came to Parliament, I sought the Speaker’s eye three times. I wanted to oppose the change of Constitution. Each time I rose, House Speaker Fred Mati would look at me and then look the other way. In 15 minutes, Parliament had changed the Constitution, buried democracy and plunged the country into total darkness by putting out the last candle of hope and light.

Later that evening, I asked Speaker Mati why he had refused to notice me during the debate. Without looking me in the face he said: "Some people are like moths. They like to throw themselves into the fire. One death today was enough."

On the morning of August 1, 1982, we awoke to the voice of Kenya’s most popular newscaster, Mambo Mbotela, announcing that the Air Force had overthrown President Moi and had taken over Government. I felt exhilarated. The radio announcement warned that all people should stay indoors, but my hatred for dictatorship was so intense that I felt neither fear nor bound to obey the order to stay inside. As I dressed, my wife talked me out of going out.

I was undeterred. If this was freedom, I was determined to see it. In the meantime I asked my wife what she thought about it. She said: "I am apprehensive."

I asked whether she thought the coup would stick. "No", she said. I did not like it but she was right. The following week, there were claims I had taken part in the coup. Yes, despite its ethnic bias that I learnt about later, I had wished the coup success. But I knew nothing about it before it happened. To my enemies however, the rushed coup was a godsend. They said I was in it. Mohammed Warsama, a journalist, falsely wrote in the defunct Express that on the morning of the coup, I was at Nanyuki Air Force Base distributing uniforms to rebel soldiers. In those times, however, the truth was irrelevant and I knew they would come for me sooner or later.

On the fifth day, they came for me. The following day, I was taken to Kamiti Maximum Security Prison to commence my second detention and nightmare that denied me a voice for the next 15 years when I came out of Kamiti prison for the last time.

Retrospectively, our historical lesson is: Those who make peaceful change impossible make violent change inevitable.

Dictatorship that outlawed democracy and peaceful means of changing it, and detained innocent people, deserved to be overthrown and coup makers honoured despite their failure and ideological imperfections.