Irony of insecure Kenyans seeking refuge in prison

[Photo:File]

As the wave of attacks, which some quarters have described as ‘baffling’, at the Coast unfolded, it brought to the fore the uncertainty of everyday life.

As the stories continue to flow, and as calls rose to find the culprits, one report caught my attention, a report that residents of Hindi had sought refuge at a local prison.

Granted, a government-run prison is a generally secure place, but rarely do you get people walk in freely and beg to stay.

Growing up, I went to a school next to a prison. As as we walked by it, the walls were a source of fascination. We could not help wondering what lay behind them.

bewildered residents

On some occasions we saw prison warders and prisoners doing some chore in the prison farm across the school, and we would stop and stare at these people who lived behind the imposing fence.

The people of Hindi might not be within the imposing walls, but prison it is. If they were to meet with the real prison residents, I wonder how the conversation would go.

As the two sets of people exchange news and what brought them in, the inmate would go: “What brought you here?” The bewildered resident would quietly reply: “We got attacked.”

The inmate would, of course, be at a loss as to why the victim was the one in prison.

“Where are those who attacked you, shouldn’t they be the ones in prison?”

The resident would be stumped. Even he would see the irony. While big men with more bodyguards than the local police station buzz in aboard choppers from Nairobi, his attackers are still out there.

You can almost see the inmate’s puzzled look at the irony of the victim in prison.

As he evaluates a situation quite different from the one he left when he got arrested, a hardcore prisoner would probably yearn to be back out there.

bully hissing

In an environment where those he robbed or assaulted could head to prison and the only thing he would be worried about were ultimatums to stop or else...

It reminds one of a meek parent with a truant child. All threats and no action. We have all seen those.

One day while at a doctor’s waiting room, a young boy made everyone miserable, harassing their children.

His guardian, seated at a corner, would occasionally look up and mutter: “Daddy wacha.” And the young brat would go on without a care in the world.

All I could wish for him was the day he reports to school, and there is no one to call him ‘daddy’. Just the local bully hissing in his ears,”Kuja hapa Kijana, I own you.”