Arunga: It's dangerous to be a young person in Kenya

A young man with dreadlocks.

Photo credit: Pool

What you need to know:

  • If you have dreadlocks in this country,  you must be a thug, the kind who robs and kills people. So you can also be killed

It isn’t safe to be anything in Kenya anymore.

If you are an older person, the National Hospital Insurance Fund (NHIF) you’ve been paying for for years might stop being accessible to you when a pyramid scheme is discovered.

Either that, or after years of service, you can’t access your pension. That you’re supposed to get the vaccine earlier than anyone else is a moot point, because you may not be able to get it anyway.

If you’re a young person, the government is constantly making promises to you about the jobs they’re going to get you – especially around elections – and rarely does something come out of these promises, unless you know the governor yourself.

Maybe you’ve decided to start your own business, but the number of permits you need [that you don’t actually need] can get overwhelming. Not to mention the bribe-hungry city council officials who fully use the liberties their office has to swing by your premises every so often.

If you’re a member of the pseudo middle class, you’re not safe either. You’re basically one medical emergency away from poverty – and skipping brunch every so often won’t help you, nor will your gated community or your private insurance that will run out after they refuse to pay for a procedure, which was in the fine print when you signed up at their office in town.

And when they do decide to eat the rich? They’ll come for you and your car that you haven’t finished paying for because you’re what rich looks like to them.

And if you’re not middle class? You’re a free bait for anyone who cares to make even the flimsiest of cases against you. If you’re a mama fua or a househelp, no one actually cares enough to pay you minimum wage.

If you’re an askari, your life is supposedly the first line of defence against anyone trying to get into the household – and they definitely don’t pay you enough for that.

If you’re a casual worker, the path to consistency is a hard one, particularly during a pandemic where jobs are scarce and there are not that many manual labour jobs to go around. You might even be walking home under that huge expressway, and a piece of it comes plunging down – but your life will be just another debit on the side of profit. Just a number and a small line in a newspaper.

If you have dreadlocks in this country? Of course, you’re not a descendant of the Mau Mau, those who nobly fought for our country. No. You must be a thug, the kind who robs and kills people. So you can also be killed.

And if you have a tattoo? Oh you must definitely be a thief and a miscreant deserving of every bullet shot into you, every hit from that policeman’s club. That, or you’re stealing cattle on a farm somewhere. Maybe the cops won’t get you, but the people will. The tattoos are proof – you are marked. There is no way someone like you could be earning a living, legitimately.

If you don’t have dreadlocks or tattoos, but you are a young man, with shaggy hair, with promise in his eyes, walking around a little past curfew with your brother, then you deserve to die with immediate effect. And nothing you say will convince any so-called officer of the law any differently.

Because death is what comes to those who break curfew in this country – unless you’re a senator.

In fact, if you’re a politician in this country, you’re one of the lucky ones. You have drivers. You have escorts. You can go where and do what you want. No one can hold you in – not the law, not the police with their open hands, and not your own conscience that goes silent every time another young man is shot to the ground for nothing.

So I retract my earlier statement. The safest place to be in this country is on top – of the pile of lies, greed and corruption that rules this nation.

May those who murdered Benson and Emmanuel, Mureithi, Mwangi, Spoiler and Nico never rest.