Thirty three years ago, my world and my life changed irreversibly. My family found themselves exiled in their own land. Others turned away from us. We were shunned by this land we call home.
My father was dead. The cruel hand of injustice had struck him down, brutally assassinating a brilliant son of Kenya, Josiah Mwangi Kariuki. I was only 11 years old when he died. Too tender an age for a girl to lose her daddy. I spent so little precious years with him yet i still know that he is engraved in my own being. I know that he lived and shaped me even in that short time that he graced my life.
I remember how he used to call me “Mumy” with so much affection. I never understood why he called me mummy until later on in life. As a child all i knew was that was my special name. I learnt later that i was named after his mother who had died when they were in separate detention camps during the mau mau uprising.
I remember him now, as i saw him as a child. I leave out what i have been told and unlock his in print in my life as a young girl. He was fairly handsome and tall. He had a deep resounding voice.
My father’s assassination was not the only attempt on his life. For a period of time my father was constantly watched. One of the things i have always wanted to get is my father’s voice…or even video. I hope that during my search i will stumble to it. So that i would be able to hear his voice again, to see him speak…to see him move.
Now it is the time to accord J. M Kariuki his due achievements. Now is the time to to ridden in the history of this Nation. Now is the time to wash away the stains of injustice. Now is the time to live a free life. Now is the time for justice.
N/B Some section of the story has been left out
This story was acquired from a video story narrated by J.M Kariuki’s daughter Rosemary Kariuki about the assassination of her father.
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