Young Kenyan protesters hold a Kenyan flag over the body of a fellow youth killed by the police during peaceful protests in Nairobi, Kenya, on 25th June 2024. (Photo: Festo Lang)

Originally published: The Elephant  on August 12, 2024 by Renny Kipkorir (more by The Elephant)  |  (Posted Aug 15, 2024)

Human Rights, Inequality, Movements, ProtestAfrica, KenyaNewswire

Vox Populi, Vox Dei.” Alcuin of York.

June 25 2024, will forever be etched into the annals of Kenya’s history. It was the day agitated Kenyan youth stormed parliament to end the executive capture of the house that was supposed to be representing and protecting them. It took the blood of many patriots to reach our goal; unarmed protesters dreaming of a better tomorrow and carrying only the Kenyan flag and cell phones to record history were gunned down by mercenaries and snipers. One of the smartest brains ever to walk Parliament Road, that of IT and mathematics specialist David Chege, would be splattered on the pavement for all Kenyans to see on live television. David had been in the final stages of preparing for his departure for Germany in search of greener pastures.

For a second, the country stood still, shaking in disbelief as David’s soul left his body, marking an immortal moment, a symbol of resistance in this dark time captured by Kenyan photojournalist Festo Lang. Four young heroes stood over David’s body holding the Kenyan flag and singing the national anthem amidst a haze of teargas, unfazed by the live bullets whizzing past them. This was the first emblematic moment of the leaderless revolution, a moment that speaks loudly to power, telling it that we are like the Hydra of Lerna, that for every head it chops off, four will rise in its place.

The air they breathed was no longer 21 per cent oxygen but 98 per cent teargas. But not for a second did any of them flinch or choke. We Kenyans, as the rest of the world has come to agree, are made differently. A few dozen kilometres away, in Nyeri Town, another comrade stands in solidarity, inhaling a teargas canister hurled at him by the anti-riot police as if he were vaping, his spirit urging the four to stand strong and breathe in the “oxygen” the president had prescribed for the day. The four stood courageously, unfazed. It was not blood that was flowing in their veins any more, but pure adrenaline.

X: @essvissa, Art is resistance, 8th July 2024.

As usual, the members of parliament safely tucked away inside their fortress surrounded by armed guards were oblivious to what was happening in the country. They voted and passed the punitive tax bill, oblivious to the pleas of Kenyans online and claiming that the images and videos of the protests circulating on social media were doctored, generated by artificial intelligence.

To understand the bravado of the four young mashujaa, you must first understand the history of Kenya. It is a democracy born out of political activism, social movement, and cunning guerilla warfare. From the post-World War II decades when the Mau Mau brought pressure to bear on the Sir Evelyn Barring-led colonial administration that culminated in British surrender and Kenya’s independence in 1963, to the multiparty democracy struggles that forced Daniel arap Moi to yield in 1992, different generations of Kenyans have demonstrated fearless resilience and commitment to fighting for their rights.

The Kenyan flag held aloft by the four patriots in Lang’s photograph is a sign of our unity, the coming together of all Kenyans. Black in the flag is the colour of our skin, the skin of David Chege, of the four heroes, and of the other patriots moving in the hazy background. Red stands for the blood that was shed during our struggle for independence and for the blood flowing from David Chege’s open skull. We are because someone laid down their life for us.

In the Bible, blood is often associated with life and justice. Leviticus 17:11 says, “For the life of a creature is in the blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement for yourselves on the altar; it is the bloo