Horrific scenes at forsaken Garissa University

An image of Garissa university on 6th April 2015 showing a bullet riddled wall and shattered glasses. this follows a terrorists attack that saw the deaths of more than 147 people. [Photo by: mbugua kibera/STANDARD]

Kenya: The silence along the corridor is deafening. It is ironic since at this time of the year there is usually intense activity; students moving up and down preparing for exams as the semester comes to a close.

Instead of the tapping feet of hurrying students in the corridors, there is an emptiness, filled only by a foul smell and broken glass. It is the stench of death following the massacre of 142 students and six others at the Garissa University College nearly two weeks ago.

Some clothes flap on the clothes line as the mid-morning wind blows. Slippers and shoes are strewn along the corridors.

A peep through the window shows some unmade beds. The terrorists had attacked the sleeping students at dawn.

Police officers keep vigil, their heavy guns cocked.

A florescent bulb is still on inside one of the hostels.

Two shirts, a toothbrush and footprints in a half-built toilet show the desperation with which the students tried to take off from the fierce gunfire that reigned at the university for hours before security officers subdued the terrorists.

At the fence, pieces from torn clothes cling to the barbed wire. They must have been left behind by fleeing students.

A small gate leading to the hostels is open. Locals we talk to say it is not always manned by security guards. A university guard confirms the same.

“The students arrive at different times so it has been difficult to manage this gate. It has always been open and never manned. Officers are at the main gate,” says the guard.

Plumbers are working on the sewer pipes which are clogged, unable to drain the bloody water to the main sewer as fast as they would wish.

At the main door of the ill-fated hostel, broken glass is spilled all over. The walls are riddled with bullet holes. On the left hand side the notice board still has messages pinned on it. One of the notices had called all staff working in the catering department for a meeting on the day the terrorists hit.

‘Kindly let us meet in the dining hall at 9am on Thursday, April 2 for a meeting with the Deputy Principal Academic and Students’ Affairs’. It is signed by the registrar, Dr Isaack Mohamed. The other notice is a list of students who had received their bursaries from the Higher Education Loans Board (Helb).

As I quickly go through the list, I notice the name of Tony Opiyo whose family called me on Saturday, after they got my number from a colleague, asking if I had seen somebody by that name at the military camp where survivors were being held.

did not make it

He had been awarded Sh4,000 out of the total Sh184,000 Helb disbursed to 296 students at the institution.

Unfortunately, Opiyo did not make it.

“We found him yesterday at Chiromo mortuary. We can do nothing but plan his burial. I don’t know what to do because we don’t have any money,” Robert Ochieng, his father later informed me.

One of the doors got quite a big share of the bullets. A police officer tells us that the terrorists opened fire there to halt students who were attempting to flee. Blood stained gloves, white face masks and new brooms are also abandoned at the door.

On the floor of the hostel where most of the students were killed after being rounded up, there are still traces of blood despite the floor having been cleaned by National Youth Service officers and university staff who had reported to work.

“Some of the bodies were picked from there,” an Administration Police officer says angrily, pointing at the spot using his gun.

Area Criminal Investigation Officer Musa Yego shows us around but warns against going into the rooms. The main doors are locked and chained in what he says is to protect the students’ belongings.

Yego says they had collected about 100 mobile phones and several laptop computers from the hostels.

How to handle them seemed complex as earlier plans to have them put in one place and then to put a notice in the papers to have them collected were shelved.

crucial documents

What of the property of those who passed away? What if their relatives never come to collect crucial documents like  identity cards and certificates? That is the big question as some of the survivors have sworn never to go back to Garissa.

They have to think how best to handle the students’ property.

Yego is new in the county and this is the first attack that has been carried out since his arrival.

The heavily built man, about 6.2 feet, was sweating profusely. The empty bottles of mineral water beside him showed that things are not going right. There is a lot of heat in Garissa, thanks to the current dry spell in the area.

“We have to close the hostels and make a decision,” says Yego as the interview comes to an end.

As we exit, some kind of routine has returned at the gates. The AP officers are no longer there. Guards from a private company have taken over.

There is no one left outside apart from two men who are reading a notice announcing the closure of the institute.