My thrilling experience covering Maandamano in Nakuru
I have always told my colleagues that I am an athlete only for them to dismiss me. However, those doubts fizzled away when they witnessed my fast-paced running during the anti-government protests that happened in Nakuru the last two weeks.
Wednesday, July 12, was the first day of the heated protests for Nakuru. It was my first time to cover any kind of protest.
When I received a call from my editor on the eve of Wednesday notifying me that I would be covering the protests, what flashed through my mind was how NTV reporter Brian Obuya was shielding himself from stones flying his way when covering demonstrations in Mathare, Nairobi.
That gave me some chills.
Fast forward to the protest day. As we moved towards Pondamali through Shabaab, it was clear that there was unrest in Nakuru Town West. Launched teargas canisters were sprawled on the routes we plied with breath chocking teargas filling up the atmosphere.
It was hard to hold back from tearing up as the concentration of the teargas did not discern reporters from rioters nor the police. Once launched, we suffered its effects equally.
The situation throughout the day was running battles between anti-riot police and rioters. Bonfires were lit on the roads and youth looted shops at every chance they got.
Contingents of armed police officers were being deployed to different locations depending on the magnitude of the youth and what they were engaging in. At the sight of the police, the youth charged up and started throwing stones at the officers.
At one point, a stone almost landed on my colleague’s head.
We devised tactics of moving about. You would hear everyone saying “Maintain the wall line”. This made me feel like I was in a military movie set.
Running for our safety was something we did often as police were sometimes overwhelmed by youth which placed our safety and security of our equipment in jeopardy.
I recall an incident in Shabaab at around 4 pm on July 19 where police were continuously shooting teargas canisters at close to 300 protesting youth.
There was instantly a cloud of smoke but instead of retreating, the protesters hit past the smoke and started running towards the police.
In a second, all the police had turned in the opposite direction and started running away. What followed was all journalists fleeing for their safety.
Eleven of us ended up in a tiny garage shop, surprised that we had police officers in our midst. The protesters were bitter with the police. Had we not been offered shelter by the mechanic in his shop, we would have faced the wrath of these angry youth.
Infuriated to see that the mechanic offered the police a hideout, the mob headed to tear the iron door down. We could hear them from inside shouting “Masaa ni ya kimbi kimbi na nyinyi mnaficha polisi. Mtakipata pata.,” (We are out here protesting yet you are offering shelter to a police officer. You will face our wrath)
At that moment my blood ran cold. With the force they were pulling the door I thought they would bring it down. Luckily we called the county police commander who sent reinforcement.
My lowest point during the protest was when children were caught in the crossfire between police and protestors.
Hearing them crying at the top of their lungs asking police not to shoot at them broke my heart.
Looking at the lifeless body of the gentleman allegedly shot by police was equally a devastating experience.
This experience truly tore off my training wheels as far as my journalism career is concerned.
But if ever I cover another Maandamano, at least I know what to do and ultimately, how to be safe throughout.