Guest guest Posted January 6, 2008 Report Share Posted January 6, 2008 Pardon my crosspostings but at the Kenyan forum http://www./group/wananchi Read on... Kenya diary 'Two years of hard work up in smoke in minutes' Sunday January 6, 2008 Alison , 42, a British teacher, and her Kenyan husband, Steve, 39, fled their home in Kisumu as mobs destroyed their beloved Heshima, an arts centre they set up on the shores of Lake to help disadvantaged children. Throughout last week's bloody events in Kenya, Alison kept a harrowing diary. It tells of how the couple feared for their lives and those of their son Dan, 9, daughter Layla, 7, and newborn Ella, aged just three weeks, as tribal hatred drove them out of Luo-dominated Kisumu because Steve, a former London social worker, is a Kikuyu. Now in Nairobi, they have no idea when, or if, they can return. And with no birth certificate for Ella, they face difficulty leaving the country. Below are edited extracts from Alison's diary. Sunday 30th December We are woken at 6.30am by a frantic banging on our gate. It is Grace [an employee at Heshima] with her family who have arrived by taxi. They are traumatised and dazed and tell us they passed five dead bodies on the road and there are many burnt out and looted buildings. So they are very shaken and arrive, literally, with only what they were wearing. We hear machine gun fire as well as shots of tear gas. Some of the shots are very close by. It feels like we are in a war zone. I keep looking at our walls and gate and start to worry. It would only take one person to get over our wall and open the gate for all the rest. It suddenly feels like a very false sense of security and I began to worry about the safety of my family against mobs that are frustrated and angry and not open to reason. The election result is announced. Our worst fears are confirmed. Kibaki has won. Minutes later our staff phone from the Heshima to tell us that it has been over-run by an angry mob. They have set about destroying it. What they can't steal, like the trampoline and the tree house, they burn. It is such a terrible waste. Our computer has been burnt and our lorry, they tell us. Mattresses, tents, toys, freezers, kitchen equipment etc. have all been stolen. It is heart breaking. Two years of hard work up in smoke in minutes. The dream we had been working towards for 8 years has gone. When I hear the news I try to hold myself together for the children. I go to the bedroom and hug our baby. What sort of world, what sort of life had I brought her into? Steve follows me into the bedroom and we cling to each other in desperation. " They can steal and burn all our possessions but they can't burn our ideas, " we try to reassure ourselves. Monday 31st December It's New Year's Eve - but there's nothing to celebrate. I have given Ella her 6am feed and fallen back to sleep when I am suddenly woken by shouting and banging outside. An angry mob is banging and rattling our gate. I rush the children into the garden. We put them up the mango tree, as there is no other place to hide. Steve phones one of our friends who is a police officer. He promises to send some police around immediately. But I feel my legs give way. What if they don't come? If the crowd get in I am sure they would kill us - we are trapped - there seems no way out. The police arrive and the crowd chased away. I get the children in and explain they have five minutes to pack. I find our passports and our birth certificates. I pack a couple of clothes and some photos and Steve finds our title deeds and tries to hide the computer hard drive in the garden so we may be able to salvage some of our work if we are able to return. We drive to the safety of a hotel five minutes away. But we are scared to leave our rooms. We can't let anyone know our identity. Ella is crying, wanting her 10am feed and as I pick her up I realise her dirty nappy had spoilt her clothes and that I don't have any more to change her into. I had forgotten to pack them. So I undress her, wash her little sleepy suit and hope it will dry soon. I wrap her in a blanket to keep her warm. We are told the police have firm control of the town and I decide to return home to pick up a few more belongings - baby clothes and our degree certificates, photo albums, the vases my grandma's left me, the hard drive hidden in the garden and the dog. But the amount of lifting and the panic of being back in the house, makes my stitches from my caesarean operation start to bleed. I feel lucky I had my baby three weeks ago. If I had gone into labour now she would have died, as there is no way we could have reached the hospital. I love Kisumu. It feels like home. I don't want to leave inspite of it all. Sitting in our hotel room on the top floor I look across the lake and watch the sun setting. It looked so serene and so beautiful, it is hard to imagine that everything is not normal outside. Tuesday 1st December No-one is celebrating New Years Day. We decide not to stay in the same place too long so no-one would find us and move to another hotel. I go to a supermarket to try to get food, but the queue is three hours long, and I still can't stand for that length of time. I drive down the main street on the way back and realise we are still not safe. Every Kikuyu business has been been absolutely destroyed. The Kikuyus are being singled out and targeted systematically. There is no ignoring the fact. We cannot be safe in Kisumu. Everyone in town knows Steve by sight. They know he is a Kikuyu. A friend in the UK has spent the afternoon trying to find us plane tickets to Nairobi and has found us 4 tickets. The only four tickets for the next four days. But we are worried about tomorrow. So much could go wrong. We could be stopped on the road and the car set on fire, and everything stolen; the plane may not come; they may not accept our e-ticket without the print out; there may be trouble in Nairobi so we may not reach our friends. But we have no choice, we have to go. Wednesday 2nd January It's Dan's birthday. He is nine, and I had planned a party for him at Heshima with story telling and games. Now he will spend the day on the run instead. A friend picks us up. We were worried to take a taxi to the airport in case the driver betrays us in some way. It's horrible all this fear and mistrust of people we have loved and worked with up till this last week! There are no road blocks and the journey is surprisingly smooth. But there's chaos at the airport. Hundreds of people all trying to get seats on planes out. People keep coming up to congratulate us and at first I wonder why. Then they ask to see the baby and I am reminded that we have new life in the middle of so many murders and deaths. Yes, we are still lucky. In Nairobi I find I can finally cry! We are safe. Or at least as safe as everyone else in this city. Then we hear the shocking news of the people being burnt in the church in Eldoret. It feels like the start of the ethnic cleansing that happened in Rwanda. We all want it to stop before it's too late. Steve looks so tired. " Why do they hate us so much? " he asks. " I can't get rid of this label, 'Kikuyu' - it's what I am. But why can't people also see me first and foremost as Kenyan? " Thursday 3rd January The British High Commission phones me about Ella's emergency travel documents. She doesn't have a birth certificate or any official documents and so getting a passport is difficult. However I have her vaccination records and the antenatal records before having her, which may help. I hope! They will let me know their decision on Monday. It's hard to know what will happen next. I don't know what will be best for my children. They are withdrawn and suffering. If school can open next week, and if we still have a home we can return to, perhaps they should to go back to a routine. It may help them to feel safe. But, if things continue to deteriorate. I think they should go to their grandparents in Spain. There are so many " ifs " I can't make plans. This awful mess shows how much Heshima is still needed in breaking down the dreadful " labels " . If we can, we want to build Heshima back up . But first there are desperate people to feed in Kisumu. Now we sit helplessly to see what will happen next. · If you would like to help please send donations to Heshima's head office at 26, Meadow Road, Barking, IG11 9QS, Essex. heshima.org.uk --- End forwarded message --- --- End forwarded message --- Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted January 6, 2008 Report Share Posted January 6, 2008 Pardon my crosspostings but at the Kenyan forum http://www./group/wananchi Read on... Kenya diary 'Two years of hard work up in smoke in minutes' Sunday January 6, 2008 Alison , 42, a British teacher, and her Kenyan husband, Steve, 39, fled their home in Kisumu as mobs destroyed their beloved Heshima, an arts centre they set up on the shores of Lake to help disadvantaged children. Throughout last week's bloody events in Kenya, Alison kept a harrowing diary. It tells of how the couple feared for their lives and those of their son Dan, 9, daughter Layla, 7, and newborn Ella, aged just three weeks, as tribal hatred drove them out of Luo-dominated Kisumu because Steve, a former London social worker, is a Kikuyu. Now in Nairobi, they have no idea when, or if, they can return. And with no birth certificate for Ella, they face difficulty leaving the country. Below are edited extracts from Alison's diary. Sunday 30th December We are woken at 6.30am by a frantic banging on our gate. It is Grace [an employee at Heshima] with her family who have arrived by taxi. They are traumatised and dazed and tell us they passed five dead bodies on the road and there are many burnt out and looted buildings. So they are very shaken and arrive, literally, with only what they were wearing. We hear machine gun fire as well as shots of tear gas. Some of the shots are very close by. It feels like we are in a war zone. I keep looking at our walls and gate and start to worry. It would only take one person to get over our wall and open the gate for all the rest. It suddenly feels like a very false sense of security and I began to worry about the safety of my family against mobs that are frustrated and angry and not open to reason. The election result is announced. Our worst fears are confirmed. Kibaki has won. Minutes later our staff phone from the Heshima to tell us that it has been over-run by an angry mob. They have set about destroying it. What they can't steal, like the trampoline and the tree house, they burn. It is such a terrible waste. Our computer has been burnt and our lorry, they tell us. Mattresses, tents, toys, freezers, kitchen equipment etc. have all been stolen. It is heart breaking. Two years of hard work up in smoke in minutes. The dream we had been working towards for 8 years has gone. When I hear the news I try to hold myself together for the children. I go to the bedroom and hug our baby. What sort of world, what sort of life had I brought her into? Steve follows me into the bedroom and we cling to each other in desperation. " They can steal and burn all our possessions but they can't burn our ideas, " we try to reassure ourselves. Monday 31st December It's New Year's Eve - but there's nothing to celebrate. I have given Ella her 6am feed and fallen back to sleep when I am suddenly woken by shouting and banging outside. An angry mob is banging and rattling our gate. I rush the children into the garden. We put them up the mango tree, as there is no other place to hide. Steve phones one of our friends who is a police officer. He promises to send some police around immediately. But I feel my legs give way. What if they don't come? If the crowd get in I am sure they would kill us - we are trapped - there seems no way out. The police arrive and the crowd chased away. I get the children in and explain they have five minutes to pack. I find our passports and our birth certificates. I pack a couple of clothes and some photos and Steve finds our title deeds and tries to hide the computer hard drive in the garden so we may be able to salvage some of our work if we are able to return. We drive to the safety of a hotel five minutes away. But we are scared to leave our rooms. We can't let anyone know our identity. Ella is crying, wanting her 10am feed and as I pick her up I realise her dirty nappy had spoilt her clothes and that I don't have any more to change her into. I had forgotten to pack them. So I undress her, wash her little sleepy suit and hope it will dry soon. I wrap her in a blanket to keep her warm. We are told the police have firm control of the town and I decide to return home to pick up a few more belongings - baby clothes and our degree certificates, photo albums, the vases my grandma's left me, the hard drive hidden in the garden and the dog. But the amount of lifting and the panic of being back in the house, makes my stitches from my caesarean operation start to bleed. I feel lucky I had my baby three weeks ago. If I had gone into labour now she would have died, as there is no way we could have reached the hospital. I love Kisumu. It feels like home. I don't want to leave inspite of it all. Sitting in our hotel room on the top floor I look across the lake and watch the sun setting. It looked so serene and so beautiful, it is hard to imagine that everything is not normal outside. Tuesday 1st December No-one is celebrating New Years Day. We decide not to stay in the same place too long so no-one would find us and move to another hotel. I go to a supermarket to try to get food, but the queue is three hours long, and I still can't stand for that length of time. I drive down the main street on the way back and realise we are still not safe. Every Kikuyu business has been been absolutely destroyed. The Kikuyus are being singled out and targeted systematically. There is no ignoring the fact. We cannot be safe in Kisumu. Everyone in town knows Steve by sight. They know he is a Kikuyu. A friend in the UK has spent the afternoon trying to find us plane tickets to Nairobi and has found us 4 tickets. The only four tickets for the next four days. But we are worried about tomorrow. So much could go wrong. We could be stopped on the road and the car set on fire, and everything stolen; the plane may not come; they may not accept our e-ticket without the print out; there may be trouble in Nairobi so we may not reach our friends. But we have no choice, we have to go. Wednesday 2nd January It's Dan's birthday. He is nine, and I had planned a party for him at Heshima with story telling and games. Now he will spend the day on the run instead. A friend picks us up. We were worried to take a taxi to the airport in case the driver betrays us in some way. It's horrible all this fear and mistrust of people we have loved and worked with up till this last week! There are no road blocks and the journey is surprisingly smooth. But there's chaos at the airport. Hundreds of people all trying to get seats on planes out. People keep coming up to congratulate us and at first I wonder why. Then they ask to see the baby and I am reminded that we have new life in the middle of so many murders and deaths. Yes, we are still lucky. In Nairobi I find I can finally cry! We are safe. Or at least as safe as everyone else in this city. Then we hear the shocking news of the people being burnt in the church in Eldoret. It feels like the start of the ethnic cleansing that happened in Rwanda. We all want it to stop before it's too late. Steve looks so tired. " Why do they hate us so much? " he asks. " I can't get rid of this label, 'Kikuyu' - it's what I am. But why can't people also see me first and foremost as Kenyan? " Thursday 3rd January The British High Commission phones me about Ella's emergency travel documents. She doesn't have a birth certificate or any official documents and so getting a passport is difficult. However I have her vaccination records and the antenatal records before having her, which may help. I hope! They will let me know their decision on Monday. It's hard to know what will happen next. I don't know what will be best for my children. They are withdrawn and suffering. If school can open next week, and if we still have a home we can return to, perhaps they should to go back to a routine. It may help them to feel safe. But, if things continue to deteriorate. I think they should go to their grandparents in Spain. There are so many " ifs " I can't make plans. This awful mess shows how much Heshima is still needed in breaking down the dreadful " labels " . If we can, we want to build Heshima back up . But first there are desperate people to feed in Kisumu. Now we sit helplessly to see what will happen next. · If you would like to help please send donations to Heshima's head office at 26, Meadow Road, Barking, IG11 9QS, Essex. heshima.org.uk --- End forwarded message --- --- End forwarded message --- Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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