June has been a revolutionary month in Kenya. What started as an online fury train against the Finance Bill 2024 blew up into a revolt in 35 out of the 47 counties in the country. What started as an outcry against the punitive taxes imposed on bread and sanitary towels turned out to be an outcry against the whole government in totality. At the beginning of the month, who knew that Kenyans would occupy Parliament at the end of it all? Who knew that Kenyans would bypass the police officers, break the fence, rush to the Parliament kitchen, serve themselves some food, sit at the Speaker’s seat, steal the mace, and then leave? Well, that was something to write home about.

But is it the first time Africans are occupying a place? No. Not in the Kenyan space. Nor is it in the African space.

Harry Thuku & Muthoni Nyanjiru in Kenya

In Kenya, we witnessed this in 1923, following the arrest of Harry Thuku. Harry Thuku was the leader of the only multi-ethnic party then, the East Africa Association. The colonialists had, however, made it illegal for Africans to have a political party, and thus Harry Thuku was locked in for it, at the Kingsway Police Station (now Central Police Station).

The next day, his followers congregated outside the police station, championing for his release. To control the situation, the police told the crowd to calm down, for Harry Thuku would be released the next day. The men and women, therefore, patiently waited outside the police gates overnight, for the next day to finally bring Harry Thuku home.

When they went looking for answers the next day, they were turned away, after being told that Harry Thuku would have to be taken to court for trial. The court was said to be in Shungwaya. This meant that they wouldn’t see Harry Thuku in a very long time.

The men lost hope and started walking away. The women, on the other hand, were very resolute, and stood firm in their places. Seeing the men retreat, one woman known as Muthoni Nyanjiru, rushed to the front of the men, took off her dress and told them, “Take this dress and give me your trousers, because it seems like you aren’t really men.” 

That statement alone incensed the men, and so, they turned back and re-joined the crowd to demand Thuku’s release. The police, having not rested too for the past day, were so incensed about the sudden rejuvenation of the protestors, and so, they simply decided to open fire on the crowd. Some European settlers at the nearby Norfolk Hotel also joined in with their game-hunting guns.

This act caused chaos, and as everyone ran to save their lives, some lost theirs, including Muthoni wa Nyanjiru, the freedom fighter. It is estimated that a huge number of people died, but it is never unclear how many. Surprisingly, despite her bravery, the road was named after Harry Thuku and not after her. This is despite the sacrifice she made.

The Sharpeville Massacre in South Africa

 As with all colonial governments in Africa at the time, the South African government divided the cities along racial lines. The blacks, particularly, were restricted with regard to the places they could visit. This, they did, by introducing pass laws in the 1950s. Africans over the age of 16 were required to carry passbooks ( contained an identity card, employment details from a labour bureau, name of employer and their address, and finally, their personal details) everywhere they went.

Enter the 1960s, and the passbooks began being used as a harassment tool. Africans would be aimlessly arrested and detained on the pretext that they hadn’t walked with their passbooks.

Seeing how much of a problem this had become, the African political parties at the time, the Pan-Africanist Congress (PAC) and the African National Congress (ANC) decided to hold protests against the pass laws. PAC’s protest was to be held on 21st March 1960, while ANC’s would be 10 days later, on 31st March 1960.

PAC, in preparation, started distributing pamphlets of the protest and even approached people in person to urge them not to go to work on the particular protest days. They also ordered bus drivers not to drive on their ordinary routes.

Therefore, on the morning of the day, at least 10,000 people had arrived outside the Sharpeville Police Station, offering themselves to be arrested for not carrying their passbooks. At the time, there were only 20 policemen at the station, and the only thing separating them and the protesters was the wire mesh fence.

By noon, the number of the protesters had gotten to 20,000. The 20 policemen were no longer a match for them, and so, they decided to bring in more police reinforcement; 130 in number, including four armoured cars and even Sabre jets in the air.

The protestors responded to this by throwing stones at them. One police officer, at this time, tried arresting a protestor, but the rest of the crowd moved forward to rescue him. The Police Commander G. D. Pienaar, seeing this, ordered the police to shoot. And that’s when all hell broke loose.

The police began aimlessly firing at the crowd with their revolvers, rifles and stun guns. As the first victims fell, many others tried to turn around and run, but this only went to cause a stampede, and in the process, more were shot in the back and fell. This happened for two continuous minutes. By the end of it all, hundreds of bodies were lying on the ground.

It is estimated that around 70 people were killed; 10 of them being children. On the other hand, around 200 people were injured; 20 of them being children. The wounded people filled the native hospital, and depleted all the African blood that was present, that the whites had to be asked to donate some. As for the dead people, they were buried together.

The following week, the blacks returned to the streets for more protests, leading to the arrest of more than 18,000 people. This incensed them further, and so, they decided to shift from passive resistance to armed resistance. They eventually won the battle 30 years later.

Special thanks to Keith Angana for the article.

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