A pale breezed brushed off my cheeks.
It was a chilly morning but the day was sort of warming up.
The night had been a tough one.
I only managed to scramble some three slices of bread with some water to still my stomach.
I was very hungry this morning.
So I decided to pass by ‘mathee wa mandazi’ and requested her to get some tea and some pastries which I would pay for in the evening.
She was a bit hesitant though.
This wasn’t a ‘normal’ day.
The bus stage only had a handful of people compared to the numbers that lay wait for transport on a normal day.
The streets were dotted with a few cars and most businesses were shut.
But I expected the day to turn out as is.
I realized that my tea was getting cold as I observed my surroundings.
I held a packet of face masks I had just picked from a supplier, after making a payment for deposit.
In my thinking, masks would be useful for many people who dared venture into the Nairobi city centre.
Today would see a massive demonstration against police brutality.
I desired to participate in it but I guess I didn’t have the luxury of choice.
Instead, I chose to sell masks to pedestrians.
I had been a hawker for the most part of the year.
Though I’m educated, jobs are hard to come by.
Besides, the current economic conditions are quite hostile to businesses, so I resorted to getting products from people who trust me to sell for a profit.
At least this could help me pay for the tea I had just drunk.
So as I arose from my seat, I heard loud bangs and gunshots approaching.
I needed to brace myself for mayhem because I had no choice.
Working class folk would be caught up in the chaos.
Some would want to cover their faces so as not to be seen on tv.
Others would need a way to neutralise the teargas all around us.
So I started on my mission to find customers.
Within no time, a young man who seemed to be running an errand approached me gesturing at his mouth and nose.
His eyes were teary, he was coughing continuously.
I removed one of the masks and handed him.
He didn’t even negotiate.
He removed a fifty shilling note, placed it in my right hand and took off as another teargas cannister exploded about 10 feet away from us.
Within no time, I couldn’t even see my shoes because of the cloudiness.
But I soldiered on. You see, my efforts had borne fruit.
I kept on checking around to see the best spot to position myself.
People love convenience.
So if I stood near an office or business block, I was sure to win some customers.
The air was choking but I just had to do it.
So I briskly walked and stood outside a business complex waiting for my next possible customer.
I gazed to my left then turned to focus on the right.
I could see a crowd running but they were moving away from me.
I realized that there was action going on to my left so I turned.
And as soon as I did, I was silenced with several slaps.
Two police officers clad in fatigue had cornered me and were hitting me hard.
I tried defending myself as I explained that I’m a mask seller.
I noticed the guns they were holding and gestured to them…
“Do not shoot me officer. I am Boniface…’
At this point, they turned as if they were walking away.
But one of them lifted his gun and pulled the trigger…
I saw black…
And that’s when my life came to a standstill.
That’s when everything ended…
Well wishers rushed to the scene.
They carried me to an ambulance, and Iwas rushed to the hospital.
Doctors tried their best but as at now, my fate is sealed.
But one question lingers in my mind…
What did I do to deserve to be shot, officer Klinzy Barasa?
What wrong did I commit, officer Duncan Kiprono?
All I did was what I wake up to do every day…
Sell wares on the streets to make ends meet.
That was my crime.
I didn’t have a stone…
I didn’t have a gun…
I didn’t come with offensive language…
I didn’t threaten anyone…
All I did was to carry masks.
Masks that were to be sold to people in need of them.
A Kenyan who is doing what he needs to do but treated with cruelty.
My days on earth are done.
I wish the two officers well.
But all I ask them is to tell my mother and father what crime I committed to deserve to be shot at.
My words are ended.
Peace to my country Kenya.
One day, we shall be truly free.
Free of pain…
Free of struggles…
Free of corrupt leaders…
Freedom shall come and we shall rejoice.
Peace.
This is a fictional enactment of events leading to the shooting of Mr Boniface Kariuki – an unarmed mask vendor in Nairobi by police officer.
