Instead of happy memories of my holiday at home, I cried as the KQ flight lifted off the tarmac. I cried because of what I had seen, heard and smelt. I cried because my true love was burning and dying right before my eyes and there was seemingly nothing I could do for her.
I cried as I left my family and dear friends behind.......not knowing what would become of them if the situation worsened. I cried as I heard the chants ring in my heard over and over......no Raila no peace, haki yetu, haki yetu.....I cried as the sounds of gunshots filled my ears and echoed into my soul. I cried as the odor of dead bodies wafted through the open car windows and filled the car as I sped to safety into the leafy suburbs. But my nights were spent awake as I gazed on the intricate wooden pattern that covered the ceiling above, a mosaic put together by simple glue that would separate at the right temperature.........and out there, the temperature had been reached as the mosaic of tribes plundered, burned, hacked and killed each other.
The cool fresh air of the night blew into the room but I couldn't enjoy it, instead the smell of death filled my nostrils and the vision of City Mortuary teeming and surrounded by figures in green fatigues capped with resplendent maroon berets clouded my sight.
And as the first light of a new day brightened the sky, the birds sung merrily with a new voice......but my mind thought of the voiceless. I thought of my niece, nephew and the countless children across the land, they didn't vote but now suffered the consequences; and I cried again.
My heart broke as I saw, heard and smelled my true love fall to her knees and cry for help.
My sleepless nights continue as tears flow down my cheeks.....I love you Kenya, my true Love.
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