In the 1990s, the clamour for an expanded democratic space and agitation against the regime of President Daniel Toroitich arap Moi hit fever pitch with violent confrontations on the streets amidst choking tear gas.
This is in contrast to the situation today where politicians engage in verbal bargains over sumptuous meals in five-star hotels.
At the time, a negotiating table was nowhere in sight and President Moi enjoyed total power under the one-party dictatorship.
These circumstances compelled anti-establishment crusaders to use streetwise and life-threatening avenues to get an audience with the Moi administration.
Images of veteran politician Martin Shikuku daring the police to shoot him during the outlawed “Saba Saba” rally at Nairobi’s Kamkunji grounds on July 7, 1991, Senate Minority Leader James Orengo protecting himself with bare hands against baton lashes from the police on the same day or Reverend Timothy Njoya being floored and whipped on Parliament Road remain vivid to many.
POLICE STATE
The three are just among scores of Kenyans, including politicians, university lecturers, lawyers, members of the civil society and church leaders, who put up a spirited fight against what they regarded authoritarian rule.
“Moi literally placed this country in a police state. Those of us who had dissenting views were hunted down, taken to his torture chambers in the basement of Nyayo House where we were terrorised like beasts,” recalls Koigi wa Wamwere, one of the torture victims who eventually fled to exile in Oslo, Norway.
Koigi, who returned to the country following Moi’s exit from power, equates the Moi regime, which perpetuated the detention without trial, to “slave owners who used to round up poor Kenyans and torment them helplessly and endlessly”.
Unlike Koigi, who still talks with marked rage in his voice, others like Orange Democratic Movement (ODM) leader Raila Odinga seem to have forgiven Moi.
The former prime minister is alive to the fact that Moi inherited a fairly polarised political landscape when he became President in 1978.
HUNGER STRIKE
He opines that the late president made concerted efforts “to hold the country together as he struggled to unite the people, often with mixed results”.
“Moi and I reconciled after the political differences of the 1980s and early 90s, and we were able to work together to bring more reforms to the country,” said Mr Odinga in his Monday’s message of condolence to family.
Moi and Odinga were not the best of friends in the 1980s. The latter was on several occasions detained for a period stretching to nine years, including over his alleged role in the 1982 attempted coup.
Meru Governor Kiraitu Murungi revealed recently that at one point, Odinga refused to eat for seven days in protest at the mistreatment he and other inmates were being subjected to and for fear of being poisoned by State officials.
This was at Shimo la Tewa prison at the Coast when, as a youthful lawyer, Mr Murungi pleaded with his client Odinga to break the hunger strike because “he was playing into Moi’s net”, who would allegedly be too glad to see him dead.
SPREADING LOVE
During the struggle, a battery of lawyers – including Murungi, Orengo, Paul Muite, John Khaminwa and Narc Kenya leader Martha Karua – worked hard to represent politicians detained by Moi.
Muite, for instance, recalls with nostalgia how his junior staff would buy snacks, including chicken wings, peanuts, and soft drinks for the group.
Ties among the so-called second liberation crusaders equally involved immediate members of their families, especially their spouses.
Muite recalls, for instance, how they regularly came to the aid of Odinga’s wife, Ida.
“I also remember an incident when my wife received a call about Orengo’s arrest. She rushed to the police station with a Thermos flask of hot porridge and my sweater to keep him warm. She then alerted the rest of us,” Muite told this writer in an earlier interview.
The list of those who were placed in detention, clobbered senseless by Kanu ragtag gangs like “Jeshi La Mzee” under their self-proclaimed commander, ex-minister Fred Omulo Gumo, fled to exile or got killed in the process, is endless.
Among victims of the regime’s brutality were university student leaders, with University of Nairobi’s Mwandawiro Mghanga, who was detained for 111 days without trial over his alleged role in the 1982 coup attempt, standing out.
PURSUING UNITY
Mghanga, who hailed from Taita Taveta, was arrested in 1985 and detained at Buru Buru police station where he was tortured.
He was pursuing a master’s degree at the time and was said to have inspected a guard of honour mounted by students.
Wafula Buke, who served as a student leader for just nine days, is another survivor of the Nyayo House torture chamber, an experience that nearly killed him.
But their colleagues, Titus Adungosi and Solomon Muruli from Busia and Kakamega counties, were not as lucky.
Adungosi, one of the pioneer student leaders, was jailed for 10 years for protesting against Moi’s rule, while Muruli was burnt to ashes inside his hostel room under mysterious circumstances. He was a strong critic of the government.
Other victims include politicians Kenneth Matiba and Charles Rubia. They both suffered from stroke in circumstances members of their families have associated to their wrongful confinement.
The pain of yesteryears notwithstanding, Ford Kenya leader Moses Wetang’ula, who first entered Parliament courtesy of a nomination by Moi, calls for understanding: “Some of Moi’s transgressions should be forgiven because we need to move forward in unity.”
ANCESTOR
Rev Njoya is in agreement, noting that Moi yielded to his 1986 plea for pluralism and went ahead to concede to his candidate’s loss in the 2002 polls, eventually handing over peacefully.
“I know that Africans worship their ancestors of whom Moi has become one. His body is not a totem. With that disclaimer, if Moi is in Heaven, let him sit on God’s right side and keep the left side seat for me.
That is how Mandela and De Clerk shared the Nobel Prize after forgiveness,” says Rev Njoya.