A heroine not honored at home.
As a young boy back in the days in my urban hood as we were fond of calling it, I would sit down and watch news with all the silence required and much interest to know whom the sharp axe of the former president has fallen on. In my vivid memory on one particular day there was no political casualty or head of Parastatal fired. This fate full day the news was different. It was more of a movie. The police combined with the “fanya fujo uwone” the GSU guys were raining a holy war on a lady. She was beaten and her hair pulled from one direction to the other. At first I thought she was a criminal, one of the clients of Osama or any other ruthless dictator whose mission was to disturb the government of the man whom every week will ensure I get a tiny packet of milk.
I was mad! Very mad and even whispered a thanksgiving prayer telling God to give the General service unit guys strength to continue too swing their well cut “rungus” on any one who may try to provoke the mood of the man whose government gave me milk while crossing my tiny fingers that this event wont make the free flow of milk stopped. In the midst of my prayer God in His on magnificent way visited me and reminded me of the Sunday school memory verse we were taught that previous Sunday. And the worst was that my Sunday school teacher was my mother. Immediately my innocent prayer was cut short. I started to picture the lady been beaten as my mum. I was terrified. Would my mum have with stand the impact, quality and quantity of beating this lady was receiving?
Immediately I lifted my hand up as it was the laid down rules and regulations in our house of not speaking during news hour. The sole inventor and custodian of the law granted me a few second to air my innocent ignorance. I asked whom the lady was and why she was been beaten? The television was switched of and history classes began. I was told she is Wangari Muta Maathai. She is an environmentalist, a lady devoted to fight for our depleting forests and in that instance she was trying to fight the government which had grabbed the Uhuru park in plans of erecting a building which will have the statue of my milk provider.
Since then her face became familiar in the news running up and down been chased by the police over and over again. Their times I would wonder what type of person would receive such beating s just because she is fighting for the conservation of our environment – mostly the trees.
In her I saw a true nationalist the likes of Mandela, a heroine, a patriotic leader, a true custodian of good governance. Later she joined politics and to me she became a politician with a vision and a purpose. She cared for the people who voted for her through giving them the gift of enjoying nature and its benefits.
The international world crowned her with a prestigious honor of being the Nobel peace prize. Kenya was immediately placed in the international map. But to the disgrace of our government we gave her a position of an assistant minister. A position through her passion and qualification she was above. In our country she became an ordinary person while internationally she was a voice, a respected lady, a true icon and even if the kibaki’s government gave her a state burial nothing will change that this government failed to honor a true Kenyan leader. And the good book says that, ‘truly a prophet is not honored in his/her home. She was not honored but the truth is that her memory and the good work that she shed her blood for, will forever be entrenched in the anal of our history and generations to come will enjoy the environment she fought so hard to protect. May God rest her soul in eternal peace. And in honor of the humming bird let’s all play our part and conserve our environment to prevent us and our future generations from paying the price of messing up with the nature God has given us.