At the end of the 19th century, Britain, Germany,
France and other European nations set about dividing and sharing Africa to
their own ominous tastes in the iconoclastic Berlin Conference. Britain, though
their Imperial British East Africa Company had their sites firmly on a rich
plain of land we now know as Kenya.
As had been the case in other extensions of their colonial
enterprise, such as South Africa, the British flipped life in Kenya right on
its head. In no less than three decades Nairobi had become a fast growing city
in demand of labour. The extortionate hut taxes in the villages were enough to
impel different tribes in Kenya to seek employment in the city.
Harry Thuku, touted as among the first men in Kenya to have
a working knowledge of the English language and leader of the Kenya’s first
political organisation, the East African Association, was arrested in 1922
March 14th for his growing political influence among the Kenyans.
While in detention, members and sympathisers of the EAA staged
vigil-cum-protest outside Kingsway Police Station, demanding the release of
their leader. For two days, the Africans did not report for work, with pickets
out to make sure no one broke the strike.
The second night of Thuku’s arrest saw the beginning of a
series of unprecedented events in Gikuyu history. Over 200 women took oath, in
essence, binding them to execute a specific plan of action. Oath-taking was
forbidden for Gikuyu women as they were considered mentally unfit and bodily
unable to endure the ordeal, but on this night they would change the course of
history.
The following morning, 6 men, one of whom rumoured to be a
young Jomo Kenyatta, were elected to negotiate the release of Thuku. When the
men returned, it was clear that Thuku was not to be released, and the crowd, in
the upwards of 6000 in number, grew even more recalcitrant and shook with
exasperation.
Enter Muthoni Nyanjiru. Having had enough like much of the
crowd, Muthoni went a step further in her frustration, got ahold of her calico
dress, raised it over her shoulders and shouted:
“Take my dress and
give me your trousers! You men are cowards! What are you waiting for? Our
leader is in there! Let’s go get him!!”
What Muthoni had just performed was an old Gikuyu insult. Guturamira ng’ania was a rarely
employed move only performed as a last resort when women could no longer
recognise the authority of men when all went awry. It was a most powerful
symbol of defiance a woman could use against a patriarchal system.
The same tactic would be employed by Africa's first female Nobel Laureate, Wangari Maathai, and her colleagues some seventy years later at Freedom Corner.
This act inspired ululations as hundreds and possibly
thousands of other women cheered in support of Muthoni. She led a push forward
towards the police lines, immediately leading to about forty askaris raising
their guns while standing between them and Thuku’s cell; the prisoner at the
time a helpless onlooker from his prison cell window.
When a section of the crowd made a break for Thuku’s cell,
the first shot was fired. This was followed by a hail of bullets relentlessly
emptied into the crowd. Opposite the police station was Norfolk Hotel where
white settlers wined and dined. Of this capricious bunch, those who were armed
joined the police and began shooting at the crowd from behind.
When the dust had settled, at least 200 peopled laid dead,
Muthoni among them. even more were injured and suffered fatal injuries that
they would succumb to. The official government figure claimed only 21
fatalities and 28 injuries, but all lies have short legs and media propaganda
could not, for too long, hide the truth about the morning of arguably the
biggest pre-Mau Mau pogrom effected by British imperial forces.
This article first appeared on Joburg Post*
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