Jonathan's letters

Dear Esther,

Kusur bakma.

“Bandits walimaliza mama nikaambiwa niende mwili tu. Polisi hawakushughulika kutafuta wauaji.”

“Ngombe ziliibiwa kutoka hapa, polisi waliendea tena wakaziuza kwa sababu hatukuwalipa kuturudishia mali yetu.”

You told me all this as we sat next to your mother’s grave, as you showed me where she, your father, and neighbours were all killed when the bandits came.

I couldn’t get through explaining any right without you objecting and explaining how there’s no regard for that right in Kambi. For each of the five rights I tried explaining to you, you had a personal experience of each and every one of them being violated in your life and within the community around you. Isn't it astonishing? Either I have a strong propensity for explaining rights that are consistently violated, or there is a complete disregard for people's basic rights in Kambi. But even if it's the former, why are these rights being violated without any sound rationale?

The more you told me about the gender-based violence, murders, theft, nepotism, bribery, and all the other grave injustices that happened around you, the more it shattered me in ways I didn't even know were possible. Children going out to play in fields, being taken from their community without compensation, and losing their lives to land mines simply because someone failed to put up a fence marking no-go zones? It's a heartbreaking and infuriating reality.I completely understand why you were enraged every time I tried telling you there’s hope. I’d have torn this world apart, seeking justice against all the unjust, unconscionable, ungodly, inhumane acts done to me by the very people the law empowers to protect me

I understand you. Your pain, your anger, your frustration, your hopelessness. It’s the same thing I felt when my people were brutally murdered, our women raped, farmers dispossessed of their land, and children forced to be soldiers by the same forces we hoped our children would join. The same forces that our fathers fought for and supported, turned their backs on us and dehumanized us. So, I do Esther, I completely understand you.

I don’t think any words on this earth could bring you solace and bring back what’s lost. But like I promised you: I will try! I will fight to get justice for the voiceless, for those disenfranchised by rogue police, for parents who tragically lost their children to the mines, and for all who are not martyrs but victims of tyrannical regimes. If death is the only obstacle in my pursuit of justice, then I will be ready to die—not as a martyr to a greater cause, but as a victim of tyranny who tried to tame the tyranny of barons.

From my broken heart to yours,

Kiri

Dear Joseph,

I have been thinking about what you said and it’s true: You and I are both born into societies that know nothing but war, revenge, fear, and hopelessness.

Surprisingly, I don’t see that in you. In you, I saw a brother with a fire in his soul. A fire that has placed a desire in him to bring it all to an end: the wars, the violence, the oppression, the fear, the distrust, and every single thing that has traumatized his people for generations. That’s what I saw in you, Jose. A fire that would only die, when justice, equity, peace, and liberty reign in the society around you.

So, from my broken heart to yours, keep on marching soldier. The fight must go on. Hold on to faith, let go of doubt, be the captain of your soul, and steer it to where the fire in you takes you. I believe in you. You will be the change that your people need.

Godspeed!