Who Will Catch Us As We Fall (28 page)

It was during the last month of the first semester at the University of Nairobi that Michael and Jai joined their first student protest.

They discovered the details from a girl in the outdoor cafeteria, as she moved in and out of the narrow aisles between tables, clutching flyers to her chest. She stopped at their table, sliding into the bench seat. Ignoring Jai, she directed her words at Michael, speaking in Swahili.

‘There's a demonstration planned three days from now – we're going to protest the proposed fee increment the government is planning.'

‘I haven't heard of anything.' Michael tore a sizable chunk from his chapati and dipped it into his beef stew. He rolled it up neatly and tilted his head sideways to take a generous bite.

‘They haven't announced it yet but we have a very reliable source who tells us that the fees are going up from fourteen thousand shillings a semester to twenty-two thousand.'

‘Where is it taking place?' Jai asked.

‘You speak Swahili.' It was a surprised statement, spoken in English.

‘You speak English?' His voice was just as skeptical and he spoke with such a straight face that the only thing telling her he was joking was Michael's laughter.

Slightly discomfited by the strange paradox – a
muhindi
who spoke like one of them – she hesitated but told him anyway. ‘It's in the city center' – leaving the flyer on the table. ‘The details are all in there, got to go!' and she flew off to the next table.

‘Do you want to go?' Michael asked as Jai picked up the flyer. It had the date, time and meeting place and, at the bottom, in thick black ink, it said
Comrade Power.

He tested the words silently and then, to Michael, ‘Yes, of course. It's at ten o'clock on Thursday.'

‘But what would your mother say!' Michael asked in mock horror.

Ever since Jai had joined the university his mother had not stopped complaining. From his slightly too-wild hair, which hung in mild curls at his neck, to the books he had begun borrowing from the university library, marked up with small scraps of paper, to his absences at the dining table in the evenings, she accused him of being inattentive and selfish, lost in crazy thoughts that none of them had the capacity to understand.

It was in part her anger, her disdain for his actions that drove him further from home and deeper into the small, leather-bound books of history that he found in the libraries and in his classes. Now, excited to have finally been called into action, he shrugged at his friend. ‘She'll never find out.'

‘These protests are known for becoming violent.' Michael had turned serious. ‘It's a breeding ground for looting, stone fights and a war with policemen.'

‘Are you saying you don't want to go?'

‘I'm saying we ought to be careful.'

‘You're afraid I'm going to take charge of the whole thing, aren't you?' Jai accused his friend wryly.

‘At least for this one,' Michael said, tilting his plate and wiping up the remainder of his stew with the ends of his chapati,
‘let's stick to being spectators.'

They had been hoping for a light rain or even a relieving cover of cloud that Thursday morning, but the sun bore down from the sky, which was as cloudless and blue as ever. The light T-shirt Jai wore already felt heavy and he put a hand over his eyes, squinting.

He had expected it to be more orderly and was slightly disappointed to see that the students were not better organized, or even attentive. They did not seem to share the building excitement that caused his words and muscles to move at an alarming pace. Instead, most of them were spread out across a wide area of the main campus, laughing and conversing amongst themselves, as if it were just an ordinary day. Some were seated at the edges of flower beds, others lounging on the field – though a large circle was slowly being formed around the high steps as one man climbed to the top with a megaphone and threw his fist in the air.

‘Comrade Power!' he shouted, stretching out the first word,
Cooom-rade
,
and sending out the last with a sharp burst from his mouth.

‘Yes!' came the reply.

‘
Cooom-rade POWER!
' A swell of noise, a host of closed fists rising in unison. Jai joined in but Michael stayed silent. It was one thing to shout it out alone but to do it amongst so many other voices Jai felt the conviction more strongly, rising up in his chest and warming his cheeks.

‘Let's get closer,' he urged Michael, pushing his way to the front of the crowd despite his promise to remain an observer. Michael had no choice but to follow until they were standing on the lowest step, facing the young leader.

‘We want peace, we want peace.' He bobbed his palms up and down, encouraging the crowd to chant along with him. ‘Peace, peace, peace.' As his voice tapered and the shouting died down, an expectant hush fell over the students. They waited for him to continue.

He addressed them gravely. ‘Let us say – we are not going to interfere with any businesses in the CBD.'

‘Yes!' the crowd shouted back.

‘Let us say – we are not going to vandalize anybody's property.'

‘Yes!'

‘Let us say – we are
not
going to interfere with
anybody
in the CBD. Everyone in the CBD is safe.'

‘Yes!'

‘But what do we insist upon?' The man leaned down, repeating it louder. ‘What do we insist on? If the government is not going to succumb to our demands, then no rest! No peace!'

‘No rest! No peace!'

He turned toward the building behind him, came down as far as the last step and the crowd parted for him. He looked up, where several students were leaning out of the windows to watch the commotion. He shouted at them, ‘We're calling upon all of you now – the cowards up there who have not joined us today – we are doing this for you!' Back to facing the group, he sprang theatrically from a flower bed to the grass and out onto the paved street, making his way to the main road. ‘It is now,
ama
now!' he yelled through the megaphone and the crowd moved with him, like a slow animal rising from sleep – a furious background to his words.

‘
Cooom-rade POWER
!'

That morning, a slow drove of students made their way down University Avenue, two streets long and close to thirty people wide. Occasionally, someone pulled loose from the crowd to pick up stones or discarded tree branches, fanning flags of green leaves as they marched onward.

Five men led the protests, whistles in their mouths and animal-skin drums held close – one even hoisted a radio on to his shoulders and it played a cheerful song that people danced to and sung merrily as they walked, paralyzing the morning commuters. Some drivers honked and shouted and swore but most sat fearfully in their locked cars, searching for alternative routes.

Some students carried hastily made banners drawn up that morning on the university quad, constructed out of manila paper and Sharpies, shouting out slogans as they marched.

‘Quality and affordable education for all Kenyans!'

‘You cannot condemn a people unheard!'

‘
Cooom-rade POWER
!'

‘What does that mean?' Jai asked Michael.

He heard a girl's voice. ‘It's the motto of the Students of Nairobi Union. Steven, the one who is leading the protest, came up with it during his first riot as chairman, and now it's become our anthem.'

Somehow, the girl from the cafeteria had found them, had fallen back in the crowd and placed herself in the center of the two boys. ‘I'm surprised you came.' She spoke as if to both of them but looked at only one.

‘I'm a student here too,' Jai reminded her. ‘I don't want my fees to be raised for no reason other than to feed some already fat bellies.'

‘But don't mummy and daddy pay for you with the profits from the big family business?'

‘Just because my parents can afford to pay for my education doesn't mean I don't value money. I'm tired of you making generalizations about the way I am.' Gone was the friendly expression and he lifted his fist to shout with the rest of the students, ‘
Cooom-rade POWER
!'

She was reproached by his tone. ‘It's just that we don't get a lot of
muhindis
interested in joining our protests. I'm Ivy, by the way.'

‘Then perhaps you should be friendlier to us
muhindis
, Ivy.'

Smiling, she began to weave her way back to the front, finding it easy, because of her tiny size, to push past the thickly packed rioters. She called over her shoulder, ‘Come and find me after this is over and I'll introduce you to Steven.'

They marched throughout the morning as the sun gradually rose to its peak. By the time they reached the Central Business District, it was noon and most students had pulled off their shirts and wrapped them around their heads, shoulders or waists.

It was here that most of the city's stores and restaurants were situated and, as the protesters approached, Jai saw most shop owners frantically turn keys in locks and pull down the metal grilles guarding their doors, keeping their noses pressed to the windows and telephones in their laps, just in case things should start to go wrong.

They had been victims of many crimes during riots such as these, petty thieves looking to take advantage of the chaotic nature of the situation, hiding themselves within the massive crowd and sneaking into shops, helping themselves to whatever they wanted.

The smaller kiosks, which did not have such security measures, were more vulnerable and Jai, caught too far back to help, saw a woman scrambling to close the door of her shop. She was dragged out by four or five boys and thrown to the curb, left to watch as they raided her store – milk packets, coke bottles, bubblegum, some even pushing carrots and
sukuma wiki
into their backpacks – rejoining the group and saying, ‘
Asante
,
Mama
,
for supporting our cause,' and then shouting out absurdly, as if what they had done in no way contradicted what they were fighting for, ‘Justice! Justice! Justice!'

Steven Kimani was a small man with light skin and pleasant features. The broadness of his shoulders was exactly matched by the distance kept between his two feet, so that he looked like a tricky boxer readying himself for a fight.

‘New comrades!' He shook their hands firmly and slowly, taking his time to look them in the eye and speaking as if these were words he had rehearsed and repeated countless times before. ‘I'm proud of you, thank you for coming. Thank you for fighting. I hope you will be coming with us all the way to Jogo House, where we will be presenting a memorandum to the cabinet secretary.'

It was peaceful as yet. The anti-riot police had not arrived and so they were taking a break in the sweltering heat, lolling about on the traffic islands, on café chairs of now abandoned restaurants, or some simply lying down on the deserted main road. Jai watched as a student picked up two chairs and turned around, heading back in the direction of the campus.

‘Many business owners have left the CBD for fear that we are going to be looting,' Steven was saying. ‘But all we want is a peaceful demonstration, to fight for our right to affordable education because it is what the government promised us. But they are planning on increasing the fees, which as you know are already very expensive.'

‘I saw some students raiding a woman's kiosk,' Jai told him. ‘Another one just walked away with outdoor furniture from a coffee shop over there. I think the shop owners have a right to be anxious.'

Steven followed Jai's finger, two metal chairs tucked beneath the man's armpits and scraping along the road. ‘There are over two thousand students at this rally and only one of me.' He turned back to Jai. ‘It is a shame that some people are so weak in the face of temptation but most of us guys know what we are here for and don't allow ourselves to become distracted.'

It was easy to understand why people would want to follow such a man. He spoke with sturdy fluency and one felt comforted by him, encouraged to be as confident and assured. Steven never allowed his gaze to wander as he spoke, intent on catching every expression, every word, so that one emerged from the conversation feeling special and changed, and with a peculiar feeling that you owed him something back.

‘Well, you are their leader,' Michael spoke up, refusing to be sucked into the man's obvious play. ‘You should make sure that others don't suffer any violations of their rights while you are fighting for yours.'

A twisted smile bordering on a sneer, but Steven's voice remained courteous. ‘I'll keep that in mind,' he said as he shook their hands once more and started to move down the road, shouting into his megaphone, ‘
Cooom-rade POWER! Cooom-rade POWER
!'

He picked up students as he went, dusting them off and encouraging them to reach for their signs and twigs, to slip rocks into their pockets. Soon, it would be time to face the police.

Jai couldn't be sure which side initiated it. It was difficult to see through the rising clouds of tear gas, difficult to concentrate with the rotten stench from the heated ground below. The crowd, gripped by a sudden hysteria, had begun to scatter and many students ran in a backward direction, seeking the shelter of trees and buildings, some even crawling under parked cars and setting off alarms.

Steven and Ivy, with a group gathering behind them, charged toward the defense line of anti-riot police. Someone shouted, ‘They want to draw lines like it's a battlefield? Let's give them a war.'

This elicited a cheer amid the quick
bang!
of warning shots fired into the air by the police, the tear-gas canisters launched upward, largely ignored. One landed beside Michael's foot and he pulled Jai behind the cover of a parked Land Cruiser. Jai pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around his mouth and nose, encouraging Michael to do the same.