Fury over Ojwang's death shows Kenya won't return to dark days

Every so often an event stirs the conscience of a country differently from similar occurrences. This week’s death of blogger and teacher Albert Ojwang is such an occurrence.

As some politicians have argued, with shocking insensitiveness, he is not the first to die in police custody. Yet in previous occasions, there was not the level of fury evident this week.

The story has not only been viral in Kenya, it has even captured the attention of global news organisations, including the Washington Post.

The President issued a statement on the matter and so did most politicians. But it is in the public domain that the anger has been most evident, with violent demos, last seen in the Gen Z protests, back on Nairobi streets. The overwhelming fury and grief on this death arises from several factors. One is just the daringness and raw “mtadoness” of the act.

The police had publicly arrested Ojwang in presence of his relatives and not bothered to hide their identity. It was not one of those abductions and disappearances which is routinely denied.

Twelve hours later, an otherwise healthy 30-year-old was dead with head injuries. What incensed the public most was the casual announcement by the police that suggested Ojwang had committed suicide. It remined the older ones among us of the ridiculous explanation that the police once gave on the death of Minister Robert Ouko.

Ouko had been found dead in Got Alila, Kisumu County with his body burnt, a gunshot wound to the head and his leg broken. The police initially suggested he had committed suicide, but the claim was so ridiculous, especially as to sequence, it was quickly withdrawn. Public grief for Ojwang was also heightened by the viral interview of Ojwang’s father.

This was raw, visceral grief, made more heartbreaking by his story, reflecting the story of millions of poor parents who have toiled to get their only child through school as the sole hope of a better life.

To see this hope dealt a brutal blow so senselessly was gut wrenching. While Ojwang’s death is terrible, and must not go unpunished, it however signals some hope for Kenya.

In Kenya’s darker days, government pathologists would have parroted the government’s line; that era is gone. Johannsen Odour and other less known government pathologists tell it as it is.

Secondly, despite their weaknesses, we still have oversight organs like IPOA. At the very minimum they illuminate the darker corners of police action and minimise the coverup that usually accompanies such criminality. What however gives one most hope is the changed population, particularly the younger lot, that refuses to cow at authority, even when it comes at a risk to their life.

Armed with a phone, they can innovatively keep the story alive and keep the conscience of the nation rightfully disturbed and our leadership rightfully rattled. Ojwang’s death also signals the changed dynamics of people power. This young man was a village teacher, of poor birth and meagre means. But for this changed dynamic, he would have died unknown and uncelebrated beyond poor Kakoth village, Homa Bay.

But armed with his phone and data, he could reach millions and have an impact far larger than his stature. Those who would wish to normalise police brutality must pause, reflect on these realities, and rethink their approach. This must not be just another death contributing to statistics for the human rights organisations. It calls for the Nation to say not again.

While we have many challenges as a nation, we must not go back to the dark days where security services lived in Wild-West style, scarring and killing willy nilly on behalf of the powerful, answerable to nobody for their atrocities.

Fortunately, majority of police are hardworking well-meaning folk but those that are rotten within the ranks cause such a stench that it contaminates the whole force.

Ojwang’s death gives an opportunity to clean these ugly parts of policing and for the leadership in security forces, led by my friend Onesmus Kipchumba Murkomen to say, not under my watch. Let not this young man die in vain. We will otherwise be heading into a dark dangerous place. 

The writer is an advocate of the High Court of Kenya