Freed by State, imprisoned by traditions

By Michael Oriedo

The lanky man speaks sorrowfully as he recollects events that have made him a prisoner for the rest of his life.

Fifty-three-year-old Mathew Inziani left Kamiti Maximum Prison about a decade ago only to return home and find his family had mourned and ‘buried’ him.

However, despite ascertaining that he is alive, the family still holds that he died and has consequently ostracised him.

"I cannot visit them. Whenever we meet coincidentally, they either change route or just wave at me from far," says Inziani.

Mathew Inziani who has been rejected by his family. A cleansing ceremony cannot be done because all the elders who performed a ritual to symbolise his death are dead. Photo/Benjamin Sakwa/ Standard

His woes began in 1978 when he was a house help for a foreigner in Nairobi. His boss prohibited him from bringing visitors to the compound.

"I was living at a servants quarter. He refused to allow my family members to visit me and wouldn’t give me some days off," he says.

When life became unbearable, he quit the job. However, his decision infuriated his employer who declined to pay him.

Inziani says he decided to demand for his pay by using force. "My boss then reported to the police that I had robbed him. I was consequently arrested and charged with robbery with violence," he recalls.

Big relief

A court later sentenced him to death. However, he appealed against the verdict. "My lawyer filed an appeal at the High Court but I was unsuccessful," recalls Inziani who was then at Kamiti Maximum Prison.

Still not contented with the judgment, he went to the Court of Appeal. But, as the case dragged on, the then President Daniel Moi commuted his sentence to life imprisonment in 1982.

The president’s gesture shocked him, says Inziani, because he had hoped to win his appeal. His appeal was dismissed and, therefore, the President’s move came as a relief.

"I had missed execution on two occasions. The first time I had stayed in prison for barely six months. Jailers picked 14 inmates from our cell and executed them," he says. The second chance came in 1980. Then, prison authorities were certain that he would be among the inmates to be executed.

"They had dug a grave and made a coffin for me. It had my prison numbers: Kamiti 333 CON. Luckily, I was not among those on the dreaded list," he says. "It was a harrowing experience. Whenever we saw prison officials with sheets of paper, we thought our hour had come," he adds.

This agony ended when the president commuted his sentence to life imprisonment. Inziani stayed in prison until 2001 when prison authorities reviewed his conduct and the president subsequently pardoned him.

"I was then very happy to be free. I travelled from Kamiti to Nairobi where a Good Samaritan offered me fare to my ancestral home in Museno, Kakamega District," he recounts.

However, when he arrived at his parents’ home, he realised something was amiss. "Everybody wailed and took to their heels when they saw me. I could not fathom what was happening. My brother afterwards returned with a machete and drove me away," he recounts.

Later, Inziani learned that the family had presumed he had been executed and they had performed burial rituals for him.

"When I lost my appeal at the High Court, they assumed that I would be executed. They dug a grave and buried a banana stem since they could not get my body," he narrates sadly.

Therefore, when he appeared after his 23-year sojourn in prison, he was an apparition to them. They consequently banished him from the family.

No help

Inziani sought help from the Kakamega Provincial Probation Department and the provincial administration but all was fruitless.

"I went with an officer from the probation department to my parent’s home in 2002 but we were told that the banana stem had decayed and, therefore, could not be exhumed," he says. "That meant that I could not return home," he adds.

His brother, Lucas Muchanji, says the family requested elders to carry out the ritual in 1979 after they presumed Inziani had been executed.

"He returned when all those who performed the ritual had died. Traditions stipulate that they are the ones to perform a similar ceremony in case the person believed to be dead returns. But now, all of them are dead," he says. Muchanji adds that though they are concerned as a family, they are bound by the tradition and that they cannot circumvent it to allow their first-born brother back home. "There is little we can do because it is our custom. It forbids us from interacting with him or allowing him to live with us," he says.

Inziani, who lives at a house in Kakamega District offered to him by a well-wisher, says the tradition orphaned him.

"When I came from jail, I found my father had died. My mother led my brothers in disowning me. I have no place to call home. The only piece of land I had was sold to cater for legal fees during my trial," he says.

While at Kamiti Prison, he trained in carpentry and got grade one.

"I was very good in carpentry and upholstery, some of the furniture I designed won in different competitions but I have not been able to fully utilise my skills ever since I was released for lack of resources," he laments.

Though life has been unbearable for him, he has managed to stay away from crime.

"I do masonry and other odd jobs for people to survive. Crime is not an alternative for me," says the father of one. He urges society to discard customs that suppress its members.