Kenyan mother remembers ‘Kianjokoma brothers,’ killed in police custody
Wherever we looked, we turned up nothing. The hours stretched on, and my anxiety and fear grew. I just kept wishing over and over they would appear or that we would get through to them by phone. We didn’t search for them in a morgue, as I could not imagine or think of their death.
- 3 years ago
January 14, 2022
Benson and Emmanuel Ndwiga were last seen alive on Aug. 1, 2021. Their deaths while in police custody sparked demonstrations and protests in Embu County that resulted in violence | Photo courtesy of Catherine Wawira
EMBU. KENYA—I mourn the loss of my sons every day. We buried them months ago, but they are still alive in me. I await the trial of their alleged killers with despair in my heart.
A day of tragedy begins as any other
My boys died on Aug. 1, 2021. It was the very day they opened their own business, something they had longed for and worked for.
Benson was a student at Don Bosco Technical Training Institute and Emmanuel was studying law at Kabarak University. They were both on holiday since COVID-19 had affected the school calendar.
They didn’t like staying at home doing nothing. Even while at home, Emmanuel and Benson always found something to keep them busy. They came up with an idea to start selling pork in Kianjokoma town before schools re-opened.
On Aug. 1, full of excitement, they set out for their first day selling pork in Kianjokoma. At around 4 p.m., I called Emmanuel to see how business was doing. He told me sales had picked up and they were making good money. I called them again later and they said they were almost closing down for the day. I had nothing to panic about; both of my boys were disciplined and educated. If they were to be late, there was a very good reason behind it.
However, this was no ordinary Sunday. It reached 10 p.m. and they had still not arrived home. This was unusual, and my instincts told me something wasn’t right. I consoled myself, rationalizing that they could have visited nearby friends after a busy day. Emmanuel and Benson were outgoing, lively and always had time for their friends.
Worry turns to fear
However, the boys weren’t picking up their phones, and that enough was reason to pique my worry.
Their father and I called and called until the phones went dead at almost midnight. We had no option but to wait for daybreak and try to find them then. I didn’t sleep, wondering all night what could have happened.
The next day, we went searching for them in several police stations in Embu. We even went to Manyatta police station—though it turns out police officers from this station were involved in Emmanuel and Benson’s deaths, they did not inform us of anything.
Wherever we looked, we turned up nothing. The hours stretched on, and my anxiety and fear grew. I just kept wishing over and over they would appear or that we would get through to them by phone. We didn’t search for them in a morgue, as I could not imagine or think of their death.
Discovering the truth, mourning her sons
The following day, Aug. 3, escorted by our close friends, my husband and I filled a missing person’s report at Manyatta police station. Another station had referred us there.
After we filed the report, the station’s head asked to see us. They finally informed us that Benson and Emmanuel had died after jumping from a moving police vehicle. Their bodies lay at the morgue of the Embu Level V Hospital.
I felt utterly empty when I heard the news. I cried and cried, eventually losing consciousness. I can’t believe I will never see my sons again.
I recently visited the university to pick up Emmanuel’s clothes and neatly arranged them in his wardrobe at home. He had reared chickens, which I still feed every morning. I make their beds every day to keep feeling connected with them.
I always feel the connection when I see the things they loved. It’s inconceivable that they, in contrast, are gone forever.
Since their death, I have drifted from other people. I no longer attend local women’s meetings, and I feel bad whenever in public. This home was full of life, but now everything feels empty.
Lawyers have offered their services to seek justice. I hope I see it one day. I just pray no other mother undergoes the pain I have.
