Down memory lane: Why elections have always been a nail biting affair

Karen residents queue at St Mary's Primary School during the 1988 mlolongo elections. [File, Standard]

He stepped on my thigh and pushed the muzzle of his rifle onto my chest. His armed colleague cocked his gun and stood at the door. “Kaa chini wee mjinga (sit down you fool)” he commanded pushing his gun deeper into my flesh. I sat still, fuming but helpless. The local chief produced five membership cards of the ruling party and ordered my father to part with 50 shillings, ‘or else’. 

My father, a tall dark muscular man sat still. He didn’t utter a word. He quietly observed the intruders before gently asking them; “Is this the best way to go about recruiting party members?” he received a slap for his question. Two-armed administration policemen had barged into our one room house in Nakuru’s Kivumbini estate. They were accompanied by the local chief. Their mission? To forcefully recruit us into the membership of the ruling political party then.