Acknowledgment, not denial, is the step to healing and justice

In the past year, our country has witnessed one of the most painful chapters in its democratic journey. From the onset of the Gen Z protests in June 2024, the streets became the voice of a young, vibrant generation demanding a better, freer future. Youths, armed only with flags, bottles of water and their phones, marched with courage, with hope in their eyes and fire in their hearts. But too many of them paid the ultimate price.

At VOCAL Africa, we have walked alongside the families of those who have been killed, abducted or disappeared during this painful time. It has been an agonising journey. One filled with tears, unanswered questions and deep, raw grief. Since the very first day the youth rose to demand change, our team has documented violations, pursued legal avenues and stood hand in hand with those left behind by this State-sanctioned brutality. This is not a task we chose lightly; it is a duty we owe to justice and to our country.

Nothing could have prepared us for the heartbreak of watching parents bury their children. Not from disease or accident, but from bullets and batons. These young people were not criminals nor were they threats to our nation’s security. They were freedom fighters. They were students, artists, workers. Kenyans whose only “crime” was to demand accountability, fairness and a country that works for all.

Since the brutal killing of Rex Maasai, I have personally joined families during postmortems, candlelight vigils and burials. Everyone, the pain is just as sharp as the first. I’ve stood shoulder to shoulder with fellow human rights defenders like Hanifa Adan, Boniface Mwangi, Nerima Wako and Shakira Wafula. Together, we’ve tried to offer support to grieving families. Not just legal or logistical, but the human kind: Sitting with them, listening to their stories, wiping their tears.

Yet, despite all the open evidence including the dead bodies, the missing who are still unaccounted for, the postmortem reports and eyewitness accounts, not a single police officer has been held to account. Not one. Even with overwhelming supporting evidence, including the BBC’s exposé 'Blood Parliament', the wheels of justice have refused to turn. Instead, we’re told to look away. To forget. To “move on.”

Now, the President tells us, “All the people who disappeared or who were abducted… all of them have been brought back to their families.”

I submit to Mr President, that that is simply not true. We have worked closely with families whose children disappeared and never returned. Others were released after being tortured and psychologically shattered. Many are still grappling with trauma and some are too afraid to speak publicly about what was done to them. The President’s statement erases their pain, invalidates their experience and dishonours the memory of those who never came back.

Kenyans must try to imagine what it feels like to sit with a mother clutching her son’s blood-stained clothes. To hear her ask why no one will speak her child’s name in Parliament? To watch her cling to fading photos, desperate that her son not be remembered as a “treasonous thug” but as the patriot he was.

Healing cannot begin when pain is dismissed. Justice cannot be served when facts are denied. Families cannot “move on” when their loved ones’ deaths are reduced to footnotes or worse, to fiction. Kenya cannot chart a new course if we refuse to acknowledge the wounds still bleeding beneath the surface.

To leaders who say that “Kenya has moved on,” I ask: Moved on to what? A country where justice is selective? Where truth is inconvenient? Where the powerful speak of healing while  victims are still burying their dead? Justice will prevail but it must begin with the truth.

Mr Hussein is the CEO of VOCAL Africa