On Wednesday, Kenya’s Gen Z marked one year since June 25, 2024, when many of their compatriots lost their lives to police brutality while protesting against the Finance Bill, 2024. The protests began as usual, with a crowd gathering in the Central Business District (CBD) by 9:00 a.m. This crowd marched straight to the Central Police Station along Moi Avenue, where they requested to see the wall against which Albert Ojwang’ hit his head and died. Ojwang’, a teacher, was arrested in his hometown of Homa Bay early June and transported to Nairobi on charges of false publication.

As with all protests, that early momentum catalysed a wave of action not just in Nairobi and its environs, but across 27 counties. Other young people started pouring out from different parts of the city. Thika Road, Kiambu Road, and Waiyaki Way are major arteries feeding into the city. They had swarms of people. If these crowds had not been stopped from entering the city to join the other protesters, it would have been a bloodbath. The push for the state house never really succeeded, and in the evening, many turned back home. Similar scenes were witnessed in other towns, though some managed to be peaceful. 

A striking and unprecedented phenomenon emerged during the preparation phase of the protests, particularly on Twitter, where much of the online mobilisation was taking shape. Young people began posting their eulogies, drafting wills, and even contacting morticians to reserve spaces in morgues. According to at least one mortician, some went so far as to send deposits. These acts were not theatrical; they were solemn declarations of readiness to sacrifice their lives for the cause.

 For this generation, protest is not just an expression of dissent; it is a confrontation with mortality, a radical commitment to justice that has blurred the line between activism and martyrdom. As one stated on x.com, someone has to be at the frontlines ready to breach the walls, as was the case in Parliament, and he chose to be the one to take the bullet and fall. In choosing to face death head-on, these young Kenyans have redefined what it means to resist.

This will to die is a dangerous paradox. On the one hand, it reveals the despair and disillusionment of Gen Z with the current system.  On the other hand is a deep-seated aversion to living a life stripped of dignity, agency, and hope. For these protesters, the fear is not death, but the slow suffocation of existing in a system that denies them opportunities, ignores their voices, and criminalises their dreams.

Symbolic in these protests was the quiet but powerful presence of an old man who had once fought in the Mau Mau uprising against British colonial rule. He was seen as handing over the baton from a generation that had once fought colonial injustice to a new generation now fighting systemic betrayal by their own. This was no longer just a protest. It was a relay. A historical continuum. And in that moment, the liberation struggle found new legs—and new lungs.

As we head into the 2027 general elections, the question is not whether Gen Z will be willing to die for the cause, but how many.