A Year On

A year has passed since that dreadful day in September.

(Photos Courtesy of Google).

It was around 12.30 to 12.40 when my mom and I were having lunch. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and I was preparing myself to go visit a friend who was recovering from a surgery at M.P Shah Hospital is Westlands. I had worn a striped purple and white shirt, my skinny jeans and sneakers.

We left the house and my mother drove towards M.P Shah but she thought about passing through the Westgate road. As we reached the roundabout we were stopped by police and asked to use an alternative route since they were fighting robbers along that road. We faithfully complied believing that the robbers will of course be judged and punished by our “Mboys.”

As we continued on with our journey, ambulances, security cars and personal vehicles passed us. My mother avoided them. She said it could have been the thugs or the police in hot pursuit and there was always the possibility of a stray bullet. When we arrived at the hospital it was chaos. People with injuries were being rushed in so we could not use the main gate.

We parked outside and walked through the main gate where we met the disgruntled faces of people. Some in shock, others shouting, others crying, others making calls about how their loved ones were shot, others checking every patient who passed hoping to see a familiar face, while other just stood and watched. I got a bad feeling about what was happening. This did not look like any ordinary robbery; I became unsettled.

We were guided to my friend’s room by her best friend who had been with her. My mother sat as I looked at my friend and happy she was still the happy person I knew. After a few minutes I became restless. For one I feared hospitals then (at least am trying these days) and two I still had a bad feeling about the day.

I told my mom I wanted to leave; at least my friend was not in any real danger and she had family around her. As we left my mom said she had wanted to visit Westgate to withdraw her money, but since we did not know the situation she opted to go to Yaya Centre instead.

When we arrived at Yaya Centre the security was intense. We just went to the bank got what my mom wanted and left. When we arrived home we watched the T.V to see if the robbers were apprehended or ‘dealt’ with. We were shocked. A friend of mine texted and asked if I was O.K, I said yes.

When I went back to school, other students were troubled, some could not trace their relatives (since it was rumored the terrorist were holding hostages), others were in shock because they had been to the mall on that fateful day, while others prayed and asked people to be strong.

I do not understand why Kenya has become what it is 50 years after independence. If you are not killed by the police, it is thugs who are trigger happy, or you can be killed by a mob of Kenyans who want to rid the country of thugs, or terrorists who have no moral obligation.

The thing I love about Kenyans is their sense of duty and responsibility. We are going through so much, but Kenyans move on. We bury our dead, sympathize with their loved ones and move on TOGETHER. If the Westgate attack was to shake us, in my opinion, IT FAILED.

I thank God that my mother, my friends, family, and I are OK. It is by the grace of God. If you lost a loved one I am deeply sorry, but I am sure they are in a better place now and that God is protecting them. I know if they could talk to you right now they would ask you to live your life, but never forget the precious moments you shared with them. They will always be with you.

What we should do, is continue sharing the LOVE. WE ARE ONE.