When the state of emergency was declared in 1954, native Kenyans were ordered by the colonial government to leave their farms. Many went to live in the Village (Gīchagi) for security purposes. As the Mau Mau war of independence raged on, fear spread everywhere in the country. My father, who was a freedom fighter, was detained for seven years. My mother had to leave our farm with her four young children, three sons, one of them a baby, and a daughter and went to live in the village.
In the village, the government had put up round-shaped houses close to each other, arranged in lines. The materials used to build these houses included poles, sticks (mbito), tracks (mīitīrīro), grass for thatching the roofs, wood (mbaū) for the doors and windows (each house had one door and two windows), and mud (ndoro) for the walls. A large trench, ten feet deep and ten feet wide, was dug around the area the houses were built on. The trench was enclosed the a barbed-wire fence. The width of the trench made it impossible for anyone to jump over it. At the bottom of the trench were sharp spikes which impaled anyone unfortunate enough to fall into it. There was only one entrance into the village, and there were armed guards at the entrance, while others were perched on high watchtowers. To scare the residents, the armed guards would randomly shoot in the air. The residents of the village were barred from getting into contact with or feeding the freedom fighters hiding in forests, holes, and caves. The protective measures placed around the village prevented the freedom fighters from invading the village and killing the people who were loyal to the colonial government.
Once we left for the village, many of the houses in farms were destroyed to prevent the freedom fighters from living in the house or eating the produce. We had to leave our farm when the maize was just about ready to be harvested, and that year, we had a great yield since each stalk had two cobs. The maize was destroyed and used to feed the cows and goats. We left the farm with only the bare necessities; plates, cups, pots, clay pots, and blankets. Beds were left behind, and in the village, we slept on the floor.
The houses in the village had already been built by the colonial government before we got there. In Gītūmbī village, two families had to share a single home – houses with single mothers had two mothers sharing a house, and houses with couples had two coupled families sharing a house. In the village, families with single mothers outnumbered those with couples since many men had been detained. There were more mothers and children than men in the village.
The curfew ran from 3:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. when people left for roll call to start work. and anyone found outside during curfew hours was shot by white guards who watched the village from high towers. Those found outside the house, regardless of age, were considered a danger to the community.
Inside the houses, the families would use opposite corners as their private space, where they cooked and slept. Despite having a single door into the home, the families strictly kept to their side, and there was no trespassing or intermingling.
At times the villagers were screened to find out who was participating in the Mau Mau activities. The armed white guards would take that opportunity to demonstrate what would happen to someone who did not confess to taking the Mau Mau oath. They would shoot at a bird in the air, and when the bird dropped dead where the people were sitting, this would be the end of the demonstration – the meaning was clear, those who took the oath would be executed.
Each day started out the same way for the villagers – people would gather outside the chief’s office for roll call before they dispersed to go work in the fields. They would work till 2:00 p.m. before rushing back home before the curfew started. Women would collect sticks and carry them back home on their backs, while the younger kids stayed behind and played in the village. The older boys would join the shepherds who took the animals outside the village. During the working hours, I would get food for my family, fetch firewood, and a gallon of water. I would come home with sweet potatoes for myself, my mother and my sister, since our little brother was still breastfeeding at the time. One medium piece of wood and the can of water was enough for our entire family.
There were heath workers in the village, and they always looked clean. The women wore grey dresses and black shoes while the men had on khaki shorts, jackets, khaki colored socks and red shoes. The only native officers in the village were the assistant chief and the chief. The white officers, in order of rank, included: the district officer (DO), district commissioner (DC), provincial commissioner (PC), and the Governor. All were white men.
We had no electricity, so we used the fire to light up the house as the food cooked and kept the fanning the flames until we slept. We didn’t wash our clothes or bathe because water was scarce and there was hardly enough for cooking and washing dishes, let alone for clothes and showers. Each family got a gallon of water per day.
Thaita Primary School (TPS) was started by the Anglican Church. The walls were built with poles, sticks and dirt, and the roof was made up of cut tins. My older brother was a student at the school before we moved from the farm to the village. TPS was moved closer to Gītūmbī village, and a new school called Mūgwathī Primary School (MPS), which was sponsored by the Catholic Church, was built near Kiswskīara village.
All the kids in the village went to school, but there was no day care for the children who had not attained the age required for enrolment. My old brother was already in school before we relocated to the village. I was still too young to enroll in school, and I would watch him head to school in his uniform. One day I followed him to school. I had a shirt on and no shorts, and all the boys came and surrounded me to see the boy who was in school without a pen. I quickly headed home after the encounter.
When I joined school, we had no papers or pencils. We had our lessons outside, and we would write the work on the well swept ground. The teacher walked around checking if our work was right. When we had lessons inside the class, the teacher would write on the black painted wall using a white chalk, and if a student had to write something, they had to go up to the board. The students, both boys and girls, had hair cut to the scalp to prevent hair lice, and their uniforms had to be washed once a week. Students did not wear shoes. I loved my uniform because it made me look very presentable. Boys wore a shirt and shorts, while the girls had on a blouse and a tunic. I got to wash my uniform on the weekends, and would fold it and use it as a pillow to keep it wrinkle-free.
We carried our lunches in a small bag (kondo kanini), which usually consisted of gītheri (a mixture of dry corn and beans boiled until soft, and salted), or irio (dry corn and beans boiled till soft then bananas or potatoes and greens added and the mashed after boiling some more), or ngwacī (sweet potatoes boiled until soft), or ndūma (arrowroot boiled till soft), or ngima (thick porridge, boiled water and corn flour mixed and cooked for about ten minutes), and water in a bottle to drink. We hung our food bags on a post in an empty hall.
Our school buildings had walls made of poles, sticks and dirt and the roof was made of corrugated metal sheets. The building was three-quarters high, with a space between the walls and the roof to let in light. There was no electricity in the school. We used green leaves (maigoya) as toilet paper, and there was no water to wash our hands. We had to be in school by 7:00 a.m. to sweep classes and the yard, where we sprinkled water to reduce the dust that rose from the dirt floors. We had to bring water from home to school to sprinkle in the dust. Our lessons started at 8:30 a.m., and lunch was from 12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m. Classes ended before 3:00 p.m. because of the curfew. When the state of emergency was lifted, classes ended at 5:30 p.m. Because of the high number of students, those in Standard One were only in school half of the day, and the Standard Twos came in to use the same classrooms in the afternoon. Living in villages made it easier for families to send their children to school.
The missionary schools were attended by the children of the people who first became Christians (athomi) and some children of non-Christian or primitive (acenji) who had been handed over to the missionaries to take them away from their families because their fathers despised them. Athomi were the elite and loyalists of the white colonial government, who were later handed over the freedom of Kenya and positions in the government of Kenya. Since athomi were educated and the acenji were stuck in their old way of life and traditions, the majority of the freedom fighters were from the acenji group because they were apprehensive about white men stealing their land.
In the village at Kambī (administrative offices station) where all villagers met one day per week, people gave testimonies of how they were involved in Mau Mau activities. There was a person with a sisal bag over his head to hide his or her identity, and his work was to point out people in the crowd who he knew were members of the Mau Mau. Each individual pointed out had to come forward and testify, and whoever denied the offense was beaten to death and their bodies would be left lying there. However, sometimes others just lost consciousness, and when they gained consciousness in the cold night or the next day, it seemed like they had resurrected.
We didn’t visit family, friends or neighbors in the village. We lived in the village for seven years, and our dad was detained before we moved there and was released back home as it was closing down. We had no recollection of what he looked like, and our mother had to show us who he was, and we trusted that she knew him well and that my father did remember what she looked like when he left. After living in the village, we had no farm to return to. The houses in Gītumbī village were destroyed and the land given to other individuals during land demarcation. Plots of land in a second village, Kiawakara, were supposed to be given to those who had missed clan land, but they ended up in the hands of people who already had land. My father missed the opportunity to get a piece of the clan land.
The land demarcation and village system left many people homeless and poverty stricken, and this trickled down many generations later. My nuclear family is in its sixth generation, and my great grandchild was born on August 6, 2020, in a one room rental space. The land ownership created boundaries, and bred hatred and hunger. Before land demarcation, if people became hungry they would go into any land and get a maize cob, light a fire, roast the maize, eat and leave peels there and they wouldn’t be labeled a thief. One could eat ripe bananas until they were full, leave peels there and continue the journey. You could eat sugarcane and leave the peels there as you went on your way. If the farm owner found you eating, you were safe since you were not taking anything home with you. Only if you were caught carrying anything off the farm would you be considered a thief.
The village system created hunger since people were not allowed to work in their farms, and they were never paid for the community work they actually did. With little to no food and poor quality of food, people began getting sick. With very little water accessed, many did not bathe or wash clothes, breeding lice, bedbugs (ngūngūni), and jiggers (ndutu). This infestation became a problem that is still plaguing people some communities today. Communities in some part of Kenya still suffer from these infestations, and some cannot walk properly because of the jiggers, and some adults and children actually die from jigger infestation. I remember how painful it was to pull them from deep between the toes (search jiggers in Kenya on YouTube). I remember itching through the night because of bedbug bites, and how school children had to cut their hair to the scalp to prevent lice. Hair lice were black in color, like hair, and it was hard to see them. The lice on our clothes were light brown and easy to see, so we killed them easily.
My story reflects the life I have lived and God’s victory in my journey through the dark days in my childhood to my seventies.
Your home is valueble for me. Thanks!…