Monday, July 7, is Saba Saba Day. A day that commemorates Kenya’s historical struggle for democracy. In 1990, politicians, activists, and citizens marched towards Kamukunji Grounds, demanding the introduction of multipartyism. At the time, President Daniel arap Moi was in power. Martin Shikuku, James Orengo, Philip Gachoka, and Rumba Kinuthia led the march, while their colleagues, the key masterminds behind it, Kenneth Matiba, Charles Rubia, and Raila Odinga, had been arrested.  As is usual in Kenya, the police engaged the crowd, and there were running battles. It is estimated that between 20 and 39 people died in the ensuing clash. 

Thirty-five years later, a similar spirit has reawakened in a new generation. First reignited by Raila Odinga’s post-2022 elections call for ‘maandamano’, the protest movement has since evolved beyond partisan lines, taking on a life of its own. Gen Z, upset by the provisions of the Finance Bill 2024, took to the streets, saying they were leaderless and partyless. By all accounts, no key politicians were funding the movement, although there is strong evidence that civil society activists, such as Boniface Mwangi, were mobilising it. Another striking feature of these demonstrations was the presence of middle-class protesters who were said to arrive at the protest venues using Uber cabs and to visit popular eating joints to have meals during the protests. They were also mostly peaceful unless infiltrated by looters and other goons. This was, for all intents and purposes, a reinvention of civil disobedience—disciplined, principled, and deeply dignified. It was a departure from previous maandamano organised chiefly by Raila Odinga and mainly galvanising people from the slums to cause mayhem. 

But the police have consistently misread the room and, just like on Saba Saba Day, quashed any attempts to criticise the government. They have bungled it from the start. The first mistake was to respond to peaceful protests by using violence. Rex Masai’s death on June 20th during protests sparked further demonstrations. This was because he was shot with live bullets by a police officer who was later identified but never brought to justice. Online activists called for seven days of rage, and Masai’s death was a major catalyst for the storming of Parliament on June 25th, where the Finance Bill was going through the Committee of the Whole reading and was later passed. 

Police shot at protestors who stormed Parliament, and some of them were caught on camera. Again, there were so many casualties that hospitals like Kenyatta were overwhelmed. Twenty-two people died and 300 were injured, while at least 21 are said to have disappeared. The government was again caught off guard, both in its responses to the public and in the handling of the matter. Activist Hanifa Farsafi raised over Ksh 30 million for the treatment and burial expenses of the deceased.  The police started a culture of monitoring online posts, abducting those perceived to be the masterminds and torturing them before releasing them in remote areas blindfolded. This ‘coordinated State crackdown’ was usually carried out by what are now referred to as the ‘Subaru Boys’, as most abductions are carried out in Subaru vehicles. Additionally, they are reportedly officials from the Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI). The abductions continue to date, with the latest being that of Albert Ojwang’ in June this year, who was later taken dead to Mbagathi Hospital after allegedly being beaten up by paid inmates in his cell. 

In the protests against police brutality following Ojwang’s death, hawker Boniface Kariuki was shot by a police officer at close range. He died after brain surgery at Kenyatta National Hospital. 

The disturbing pattern emerging in Kenya is one marked by abductions triggered by online expression, reports of torture, and a staggering disregard for human life. The police appear less as protectors of the public and more as enforcers of silence. What is even more surprising is not just the cluelessness but also the sheer careless handling of these matters. For example, in the case of Ojwang’, it appears that the Deputy Inspector General (DIG) Eliud Lagat reported being maligned online and ordered the arrest of Ojwang’ from Homa Bay. Questions arise as to why Ojwang’ had to be transported to Nairobi when he could have been arraigned in Homa Bay. According to the statement by police officer James Mukhwana, the DIG also asked that Ojwang’ be beaten up in the police cells by fellow inmates, who eventually killed him. While the DIG likely intended to discipline Ojwang’ for his publications, the officer in charge took it several steps further, not bothering to ensure that the beating did not cross the line into brutality and fatal misconduct. The fact that he was chosen for this task also suggests that he had previously been involved in and was receptive to such assignments. DIG Lagat continues to walk free, despite having stepped down to allow for investigations. There are indications that he will be reinstated, while his junior officers will face jail time. 

The police officer who shot Kariuki, Klinzy Barasa Masinde, is back online, making videos on TikTok. He has not been arrested since the Cabinet Secretary for Interior Security and National Administration, Kipchumba Murkomen, has categorically stated that the government would protect police officers. In a similar vein, the police officer who shot Masai, though known, was never caught and has been spotted working in subsequent protests. 

Perhaps the most alarming case is that of Ndiangui Kinyagia, who posted a timetable for the June 25th protests this year, which included, on the agenda, hanging the president. He disappeared from his home. DCI officers visited his home on the same day to confiscate his devices. His family sought the assistance of the Law Society of Kenya, which promptly filed a habeas corpus petition in court, demanding that the police produce him, dead or alive. There were also online calls for his release. The presiding judge asked the DCI boss, Amin Mohammed, who had stated that they were looking for him, to also appear personally in court and produce Ndiangui. On the material day, Ndiangui appeared in court, saying he had been in hiding. But there were tell-tale signs that he was probably in DCI custody. His head was shaved, and he appeared eager to cover it up with his hooded sweatshirt. This last case has sown confusion amongst online activities, with some condemning Ndiangui for staging his abduction and others speculating he had been abducted and was asked to keep quiet. Meanwhile, government bloggers are having a field day defending the police. 

In response to these escalating abuses, enraged citizens have resorted to burning down police stations, a stark expression of broken trust. Over time, the Kenyan police force has steadily eroded public confidence and is no longer seen as a protector of the people. Rebuilding that trust will require not only structural reform but also time, transparency, and genuine accountability.