To many, the pandemic is a disaster. It has seen a rise in domestic violence, it has seen most families fall apart, it has shown Kenyans the brutality of the police force and it has the world’s economy in recession. However, for me, it’s been more of an eye-opener. I finally had enough time to clean out my glasses and see the world through clearer lenses. I got to listen to my friends, well virtually but it counts right? And through their eyes, I saw of the brutality that has been happening in my own backyard.
The lockdown issued by the government was met with mixed reactions across the country, for some it was the break they needed to slow down the fast 2020, for others it was the vacation away from work deadlines and bosses breathing down their necks, for some students it was happy holidays with their parents at home, for others it was the beginning of a headache and depressing phase, while for some it was the beginning of an endless round in the boxing ring. Within the first month, one of my friends was not only homeless but had to find a place to house her three siblings and mother after being kicked out by her biological father.
Living in a country where victims of gender-based violence are stigmatized and the oppressors are feared, one of the hardest things she had to endure was not only bearing the blows and kicks rained on her but also opening up to friends and asking for help as the darkness loomed bringing the curfew with it. I am honestly not sure what broke my heart between listening to her story about how they forwent meals because in her own words “no one had the money for that” and hearing how they were not allowed to walk out of the house, watch TV, talk amongst themselves or receive phone calls.
However, this story also enabled me to see how charitable Kenyans are. University students stood up and gave what they could from the little they had saved before the schools were closed, strangers who didn’t know the victim sacrificed and raised money in a week to buy food for the family and ensured their safety as far away from the oppressor as possible.
We are who we are because of who our parents are, it is because of the harsh conditions that our parents grew in that made them “make it” to the social and economic class they are in. It is also because of our parent’s beliefs that we have attended the schools we have been into, that we live in the neighborhoods that we are in, that we look at the world in the way we do. Because this is what we have been taught since we were little until we get to a certain point where we finally see life through our own eyes. Influenced by our own experiences, our friend’s experiences, and how we perceive the news churned by our media houses we charter our own personal journeys. It is not until this moment that we figure out how much impact our parents and upbringing have on us as children, but as adults, we shoulder the entire burden and feel the weight. Maybe that explains why we are a generation that hides behind dank memes and pseudo accounts, a generation of depression and anxiety attacks, a generation that thrives in cyberbullying, drowns in drugs, hides in filters, and buried in layers of make-up.
©Audi Kawira
The writer is a University student who is passionate about pointing out the specks in our own eyes, dedicated to reminding the broken that Humanity is still Alive, Browbeaten but Alive in this century despite the chaos.