Premium

Covering violent 92, 97 multiparty elections was no walk in the park

Soaked in the blood of the dead stranger, we reported the incident at Kericho Police Station then I filed my story. I was later accused of publishing false and malicious stories aimed at planting seeds of discord among peace-loving Kenyans. I was charged at a Kericho court - the case never proceeded.

That day we booked in at the Kericho Tea Hotel. A senior staff at the hotel saved our lives. He ran into my room at 10.30pm, panting and looking terrified. He told me that the warriors were coming for me. He took my photographer, the driver and I into some isolated structure and hid us till the wee hours when he gave us a car to drive us to Kisumu. We left our vehicle at the hotel. That night, the warriors went into rooms, waking up guests in search of the media team. That was the atmosphere under which we covered the prelude to the 1992 General Election.

Kanu controlled the security apparatus. However, resilience was growing rapidly among the youth in opposition strongholds. By the time the 1992 elections came, the opposition had grown in strength. The elections found me in Kisumu. I was Bureau Chief for the Nation Media Group in charge of Western, Nyanza and North Rift regions. I covered some of the most electrifying and colourful political rallies ever. 1992 remains one of the hottest years, politically and socially in the history of Kenya. The country was reeling from a spate of ethnic and politically instigated violence. Hundreds had been killed and thousands displaced in Western Kenya and parts of Rift Valley.

Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, Raila Odinga's father, was vying for the presidency. He had a strong chance of becoming Kenya's third president until another opposition leader, Kenneth Matiba, entered the race. Matiba, who was a member of Jaramogi's Ford party, vowed not to step down for Jaramogi. "I will run and let the people decide" became his mantra. Ford split into two. Jaramogi remained with Ford Kenya while Matiba walked away with Ford Asili. Mwai Kibaki formed the Democratic Party of Kenya. Kibaki had earlier dismissed any one attempting to oust Kanu, as "a fool trying to cut down a Mugumo tree using a razor blade."

He believed Kanu was invincible

Jaramogi, like India's Mahatma Ghandi, was small in stature, but filled with mystical influence over his followers. His political rallies were massive. Opposition luminaries such as Michael Kijana Wamalwa, Dr Mukhisa Kituyi, and James Orengo would light up rallies with song, dance and poetry. Politicians rarely insulted opponents directly as they do today. They tore into each other using figures of speech, poetry and song.

Jaramogi's first rally was held at the Kisumu Stadium. Thousands of supporters turned up. Buses filled with people were lined up in front of the dais where Jaramogi and his team sat. They were supposed to act as a security shield. However, the crowds that filled up every inch of the football field and race track kept pushing. Inch by inch, the buses moved on their sides, threatening to crash into the VIP stand. Suddenly, Prof Ouma Muga burst into song of praise for the Ford Kenya leadership. He then turned the song into a plea for the people to sit down quietly. It was an amazing phenomenon, watching thousands dance themselves into sitting positions.

Silence enveloped the stadium

At some rallies, crowds would spontaneously break into song and dance; "Ford Mayienga yiengang'o, Ford mayienga yiengo Moi, Ford mayienga yiengo Kanu... (Ford is shaking and terrifying Moi and Kanu). At times they would sing, "Odinga somo golo Moi ayeee Odinga somo golo Moi, hallelujah (Odinga is learning how to defeat Moi). The crowds would be driven into a frenzy. In the sweltering heat, chilly weather or under a downpour, they wouldn't move an inch until Jaramogi had spoken.

Moi's rallies were also well organised with heavy security and colourful display of State power. Troops of choirs and traditional dances would sing praises of the Head of State while the police band played Kanu praise songs. Rarely did supporters of different groups fight. Most violence at rallies was instigated by the security apparatus.

I will never forget the chilling and frightening moments when I covered political violence and killings in western Kenya. Mortuaries were overwhelmed by the dead. The pungent stench of decomposing corpses filled mortuaries in Kisumu and Bungoma. One mzungu reporter broke down as we counted corpses at the Bungoma District Hospital mortuary where a woman had her stomach slashed open and her unborn child speared. The level of brutality must have terrified the devil himself.

At one time I covered a highly charged rally in Kericho. Jaramogi used to travel in a red Peugeot 405. Other vehicles would follow closely. I drove behind with my photographer. Suddenly, some armed rowdy youth appeared and surrounded the convoy. We were cornered. I have no idea what happened but from the escorting vehicles, stones and missiles started flying into the charging youth. It was a vicious and swift counter attack. In less than two minutes the attackers had scampered and scattered. The road was cleared for Jaramogi to proceed with his tour.

Two years later, while covering Jaramogi's son's campaign tour of Lugari Constituency, some policemen erected a roadblock outside the Pan Paper Mills in Webuye, in an attempt to stop Raila from proceeding with his journey. My car was a few paces behind Raila's. I thought I was watching a movie scene in slow motion. Raila's security men disembarked from their vehicles. With lightning speed, they disarmed the policemen, cleared the road and drove off at high speed. They left the policemen dazed with empty guns. The cartridges had been thrown in the grass. The story of this incident couldn't be published. It died. We couldn't embarrass the State.

The roadblock incident occurred in 1994. One of Ford Kenya's members of Parliament, Apili Wawire, defected to Kanu, forcing the Electoral Commission of Kenya (ECK) to call for a by-election in his Lugari Constituency. Moi and opposition leaders pitched camp in western Kenya. It became a do or die race. I diligently covered all rallies organised by the opposition and Kanu.

One morning, I drove in the Moi entourage. He suddenly stopped at Moi's Bridge and stepped out of his limousine to address the crowd that had gathered. Later on, while addressing a campaign rally in Lumakanda, he called me to the dais. The president held my hand and introduced me to the crowd. Moi had a firm and powerful grip. He told the rally; "Juzi tu huyu kijana alikua akiniimbia nyimbo za sifa. Sasa anafanya kazi na gazeti ya ukabila kuniharibia jina." He paused then asked me, "Hii watu unaona ni wangapi?"

"Ni wengi mtukufu Rais," I responded, "Sio wengi, ni maelfu. Enda andika hiyo," he hissed.

I went back to my corner behind the president. Two presidential guards approached me and said: "Mzee amesema tukushike. Tutakufuata hadi border ya Webuye na Kakamega. Tukikuflash ujue tumekuachilia."

When the rally ended, I jumped into my car. I told a BBC reporter I had given a ride to tighten her seat belt. I drove off at high speed with sirens blaring behind me. At the Webuye-Kakamega border, they flashed their lights behind me and turned back. I had the sneaky feeling the local cops would be up to some mischief. I drove to a drinking joint in Bungoma that was patronised by top cops. I greeted them and ordered a drink for each and some nyama choma. Then local cops burst in and said I was under arrest. Unfortunately for them, I was in the midst of their bosses. They were given marching orders.

I drove back to my base in Kisumu after midnight. The following day, however, over 50 armed policemen came to arrest me at the Nation Bureau. I called lawyer Olago Aluoch who picked me up and drove me to the Nyanza Provincial Police Headquarters. As I alighted from the lawyer's vehicle, an officer pulled him aside as if to whisper something to him. With this distraction, I was bundled into a different vehicle, blindfolded and driven to Kakamega police station. For days I refused to eat or drink water. Eventually, Western Provincial Commissioner Yusuf Haji came to my rescue: "I am ordering your release but please go slow on the government and the president." He ordered that I be taken back to Kisumu. I had known Haji for years and had covered his father when I reported for KNA in Garissa.

Divisions in 1997 elections

The 1997 General Election found the opposition still divided. They were too fragmented to defeat Kanu. Moi rode and survived on opposition disunity. Charity Ngilu with her Social Democratic Party had joined 14 other presidential candidates, including Raila, Wamalwa, Kibaki, Prof Wangari Mathai and Martin Shikuku. Moi won narrowly. When the vote was cast on December 29, 1997, Kanu won 107 out of 210 parliamentary seats. Moi nominated 12 others.

The 1997 campaigns were marked with violence and bloody clashes in Mombasa's Likoni area. A violent group launched a hate campaign asking upcountry people to leave the coast region. Moi appointed a commission of inquiry into the violent killings.

In 1997, I was in charge of the Nation news desk at the Nation Centre. However, I would lead my teams in the field by covering rallies in Nairobi, Narok and Kajiado. I found myself in various morgues. The Nation had given us strict instructions to physically count the dead and confirm their gender. We never had trauma counselling, so every evening, we would gather around our only trauma counsellor, alcohol. We drunk our sorrows and fears away.

End of Kanu era

In 2001, I was appointed Public Relations Manager of the Kenya Domestic Observer Programme (K-DOP). K-DOP, which was funded by various institutions, brought together the National Council of Churches of Kenya (NCCK), the Catholic Church, Supreme Council of Kenya Muslims (Supkem), Institute of Education in Democracy (IED), the Hindu Council of Kenya and the Media Institute. For the first time in the history of Kenya, the three major religions walked together.

We deployed 20,000 citizens as poll observers across the eight provinces, 70 districts, 210 constituencies and 2,112 wards. Our role was to ensure free and fair elections were held.

Moi's announcement on July 30, 2002 of Uhuru Kenyatta as his preferred successor sparked a wave of resistance and upheaval within Kanu.

In 2002, we covered rallies, not for the media but for our own internal reports. The Central Depository Unit recorded a series of electoral killings and violent acts. It reported that electoral violence had claimed approximately 203 lives between January and August 2002.

Our role at K-DOP has been described by scholars as extensive, intensive and systematic. Our personnel covered every level of the electoral process. They scrutinised the registration of voters and candidates through to the campaigns, the voting and the counting to the public declaration of results and installation in office of the MPs and the President. My colleagues and I authored a report titled, When Kenyans Spoke, which documented the journey Kenyans had travelled into pluralism and eventual defeat of Kanu.

The great hope and optimism that greeted Kibaki's election quickly fizzled out. The political betrayals that characterised the government of Kenya's third president peeled off the bandages that had covered the ethnic wounds of 1991, 1992 and 1997. They exploded into deadly violence that engulfed the country after the 2007 General Election. The country has never healed. I pray that the scenes I witnessed, including the stranger dying in my arms along the Kisumu-Kericho highway, do not ever occur again in Kenya.