I brushed a pale, refreshing brush from my cheeks.
It was a chilly morning, but it was warmer that day.
The night was tough.
I was still able to scramble three slices of bread with some water for the stomach.
I was very hungry this morning.
So I decided to pass by “Mathee Wa Mandazi” and asked her to get some tea and some pastries to pay for in the evening.
She hesitated a little.
This was not a “normal” day.
There were only a handful of people on the bus stage, compared to the numbers waiting for transport on a regular day.
The streets were dotted with several cars, and most businesses were closed.
But I was hoping that day would remain the same.
As I observed my surroundings, I noticed that my tea was getting cold.
After paying the deposit I had a packet of face masks that I had just picked from the supplier.
In my opinion, masks are useful for many people who have challenged Nairobi city centre.
Today we will see a massive demonstration of police brutality.
I wanted to participate in it, but I don’t think I had the luxury of choice.
Instead, I decided to sell masks to pedestrians.
I was a hawker for most of the year.
I’m educated, but it’s difficult to work.
What’s more, the current economic situation is so hostile to businesses that I have resorted to getting products from people I trust to sell for profit.
At least this helps me pay for the tea I’ve just got drunk.
So, as I arose from my seat, I heard a loud bangs and a gunshot approaching.
I had to decorate myself for the mayhem because I had no choice.
Working class people get caught up in confusion.
Some people want to cover their faces so they don’t get seen on TV.
Others need a way to neutralize the tear gas around us.
So I started my mission to find customers.
Soon, the young man who seemed to be running errands approached me as he gestured to his mouth and nose.
His eyes were tears and he was constantly coughing.
I removed one of the masks and handed it to him.
He didn’t even negotiate.
He removed the 50 shilling notebook and took off as another tear gas canister exploded about 10 feet away from us.
Soon, I couldn’t even see my shoes because of the cloudiness.
But I became a soldier. You know, my efforts were producing fruit.
I kept checking to see the best place to position myself.
People love convenience.
So, if I was standing near an office or business block, I was sure I would get some customers.
The air was choking, but I had to do it.
So I was actively walking and standing outside of my business complex waiting for my next possible client.
I stared at my left and started to focus on my right.
I could see the crowd running but they were away from me.
I noticed that there was an action on my left, so I turned around.
And as soon as I did, I was silent with some slaps.
Two police officers, exhausted, cornered me and hit me hard.
I explained that I was a mask seller, so I tried to protect myself.
I noticed the gun they were holding and gestured to them…
“Don’t shoot me. I’m Boniface…”
At this point they turned around as if they were leaving.
But one of them lifted his gun and pulled the trigger…
I saw the black…
And that’s when my life stopped.
That’s when it’s all over…
Well, my wish rushed to the scene.
They took me to the ambulance and I ran to the hospital.
The doctor did his best, but as I do now, my destiny is sealed.
But one question remains in my mind…
What did I do to be worthy of being shot, Officer Klintzee Barasa?
Officer Duncan Cyprono, what’s wrong with me?
All I did was wake up to do it every day…
Sell ​​products on the street to achieve your goals.
That was my crime.
I didn’t have a stone…
I didn’t have a gun…
I didn’t have an offensive language…
I didn’t threaten anyone…
All I did was carry a mask.
Masks sold to those in need.
Kenyans do what he has to do, but are treated with cruelty.
My days on earth are over.
I really wish for two officers.
But all I ask them is to tell my mother and father the crime I deserve to be shot.
My words are over.
Peace to my country, Kenya.
One day, we are truly free.
No pain…
There’s no struggle…
There’s no corrupt leader…
Freedom comes and we are pleased.
peace.
This is the fictional institute of events leading to Boniface’s shooting. Kariuki – Nairobi unarmed mask vendor by police officer Klinzy Barasa
