History shows Gen Z demos will continue to push for real change

We were brass youth in the 1970s and ‘80s, protesting against stuff we detested. It was partly a coming of age experience, but also a realistic confrontation with the lived reality. But then, as now, the state did not listen. It clobbered us.  

They dismissed us as confused privileged youth. Someone even issued a shoot to kill order, like another one has just done. We were budding romantic idealists at the University of Nairobi. We believed in better lived experiences than we witnessed in our country and beyond. We did not limit ourselves to local issues. 

We flattered ourselves with the thought that we were globalists. We addressed broad issues, from Nairobi to Moscow, Washington, Tehran and Kabul. It was the high noon of the Cold War. And we, the comrades, considered ourselves progressives. We fought on the side of Lenin, Marx and Engels. Our progressive teachers joined us in our struggle. We considered it a class struggle. 

Anyang’ Nyong’o, Willy Mutunga, Micere Mugo, Katama Mkangi, Mukaru Ng’ang’a, Michael Chege, Wilberforce Osotsi, and others I forget, joined us in our Kamkunjis at the Great Court of the university. The issues well established, and consensus built, we would explode into the streets of Nairobi.  

Our placards screamed out our disquiet: “Down with Imperialism!; Azania is our Commitment!; Apartheid Must Go!; Jail the Corrupt!” We marched into teargas and into the menacing police reservist called Patrick Shaw, who also doubled up as a teacher at Starehe Boys Centre. We confronted the dreaded, later disgraced, Joginder Sokhi Singh of the Kenya Police.  

My first personal experience in these streets was on October 5, 1979. We assembled in the women’s hall called the Box. Rumba Kinuthia, Mukhisa Kituyi and Otieno Kajwang addressed us from a balcony to one of the rooms. We were scandalised that the Kanu government had barred George Anyona, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, and other ex-KPU leaders from contesting that year’s elections. We had woken up to a newspaper headline: “Anyona and ex-KPU barred.” 

We saw justice

We were livid. We added to the elections other pressing issues. We wanted Ngugi wa Thiong’o back in his teaching job in the Department of Literature. We were also unhappy about international imperialism and allied capitalist offensives against humankind across the globe. We decried corruption, driven by people in government.  

Never mind the granular details. Suffice it to say that we saw injustice. We would not stand by as evil and wickedness reigned. On October 1979, they closed the university. We were sent home. Never mind, too, that the new academic year was only two weeks old. They said we should go home to vote in the November 8, 1979 general elections, “and have an early Christmas.” 

We returned in January 1980, to continue with the business. And each time they would clobber us, teargas us, and shut down the university. They would say what happened at the UON will not be allowed. “It will not happen again!” 

But it happened again, and again. It climaxed in the unfortunate student complications with the August 1, 1982 coup attempt. The university was closed for 14 months. When it was reopened it was decentralised. They said, “Student demos will not be allowed again.” But they only got worse.  

Now, as we were demonstrating in October 1979, a baby had been born near Eldoret, on March 12 of the same year. He was given the name Kipchumba. His father, Murkomen, was a squatter. The world smiled at the boy. He has flowered into a successful, wealthy politician. He now heads the security docket. He was seven months old during our demo. He knew nothing about our struggles.  

Another child, named Abraham Kithure, was seven years old, and Primary Class Two. He, too, knew nothing about these things. The sun has also smiled at him. He is now a prominent state honcho.

Together with President William Ruto, they are repeating the mistakes made by those who were in these corridors before. The difference is that they are dealing with youth already in the streets, not isolated university students.  

These youth lack the privilege of hope that we had. They have nothing to lose, except their frustrations. It’s a pity those who clobbered us, thinking they owned the country are now all dead. They would tell Kenya’s top three that it is all futile. The Gen Z demos will continue, unless you address the issues. Heavy handedness will fail like, just as in the past.