A night to remember (2012) JAAHG (1) -...
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"A night to remember, a night to forget" By Shiraz Durrani November 23, 1997. ABSTRACT: A creative representation of thoughts ofKarimi Nduthu , as recalled from events and conversations with Karimi by Shiraz Durrani. Politics of the bleeding leg Have never felt such a long, cold, cruel night. Times were when I wanted the night never to end. The warmth of another body next to your skin, arms and legs intertwined. What warmth, what life, even though ice forms on the leaves outside. It is not the makaa in the dyingjiko that keeps the body warm. Human warmth, hotter than the heat from the sun. And now, this night. Cold. So cold. Penetrating to the very bone through the twisted ankle. Maybe I could have avoided injuring the ankle if I had not jumped the way I did. But was there really a choice? Better to have a broken leg then be caught by the blood-thirsty hounds going by the name of police Was there really no time to take a blanket or a shuka ... Was it really worth it? The whole sequence of events. Politics and this bleeding leg. What a connection. But it was worth it. Yes. All -I, the comrades in arms, the whole country, all, everybody can really hold their heads high in the air. No longer passive victims of the thugs in ties holding hands of thugs in guns. Derailing railways . .. only goods, not passengers. But death is death. Even engine drivers are human . Is it right to cause death? No. So why are hundreds killed by the army and police and the youth wingers. Is it right for them to kill hundreds? But this is no time for regrets , for reflections. The deed is done. The battle has begun. The hounds are looking for us over the whole country. How are A and E faring? No better than I, I guess. Only hope they did not injure their ankles. Very few things are more painful than broken ankles. Months of planning for the railway job -gari la moshi- have ended on this cold night under open skies. The night is getting even longer, even colder. I can't sleep for fear of the dogs running into me. Have to be alert. When was the last meal we had? Ah, the smell of uji . . warmth descending the gullet, settling in stomach, spreading to every corner ofbody. Listen! What was that? Dogs? The lights on the road never die. Like a river rapidly emptying into the sea. One car after another ... Some with white lights, some yellow, and then the dreaded blue flashing ones. Looking for three "terrorists". Why are three unarmed, hungry, cold, almost naked bodies so dangerous that whole police stations have emptied to look for them? That is the secret. If three people can cause so much panic among the most advanced police force in Africa what can 30 do? 300? 3000? 3 million? Surely there are more than 3 million who feel the same as I. Shiraz Durrani is author of Information and Liberation: Writings on the Politics of Information and Lib eration (2008) and Kimaathi : Mau Mau 's First Prime Minister of Kenya (1986). He resides in London . Journal of the Afro-American Historical and Genealogical Society volume 28 115 A night to remember, a night to forget It was a lucky escape, that. What if we had been caught in the house. But then we are not so bad. Years of training paid off. Who was it first noticed movement outside the door? It was A. Yes and then the hammer. . . and the jump out of the window. Ah, the ankle. No matter, ankle can pain all it wants. It is almost morning. The night of horror is getting over. Still very cold. A cup of tea? How lucky are they who wake up to cups of tea. Instead of cold, icy drops of water from grass which is also the bed. Perhaps that car seems the right one for getting a lift.
Transcript of A night to remember (2012) JAAHG (1) -...
"A night to remember, a night to forget"
By Shiraz Durrani
November 23, 1997.
ABSTRACT: A creative representation of thoughts ofKarimi Nduthu , as recalled from events andconversations with Karimi by Shiraz Durrani.
Politics of the bleeding leg
Have never felt such a long, cold, cruel night. Times were when I wanted the night never to end. Thewarmth of another body next to your skin, arms and legs intertwined. What warmth, what life, eventhough ice forms on the leaves outside. It is not the makaa in the dyingjiko that keeps the body warm.Human warmth, hotter than the heat from the sun. And now, this night. Cold. So cold. Penetrating to thevery bone through the twisted ankle. Maybe I could have avoidedinjuring the ankle if I had not jumped the way I did. But was there really a choice? Better tohave a broken leg then be caught by the blood-thirsty hounds going by the name of police Wasthere really no time to take a blanket or a shuka ...
Was it really worth it? The whole sequence of events. Politics and this bleeding leg. What a connection.But it was worth it. Yes. All -I, the comrades in arms, the whole country, all, everybody can really holdtheir heads high in the air. No longer passive victims of the thugs in ties holding hands of thugs in guns.Derailing railways . .. only goods, not passengers. But death is death. Even engine drivers are human .Is it right to cause death? No. So why are hundreds killed by the army and police and the youth wingers.Is it right for them to kill hundreds?
But this is no time for regrets , for reflections. The deed is done. The battle has begun. The hounds arelooking for us over the whole country. How are A and E faring? No better than I, I guess. Only hopethey did not injure their ankles. Very few things are more painful than broken ankles. Months ofplanning for the railway job -gari la moshi- have ended on this cold night under open skies.
The night is getting even longer, even colder. I can't sleep for fear of the dogs running into me. Have tobe alert. When was the last meal we had? Ah, the smell of uji . . warmth descending the gullet, settlingin stomach, spreading to every corner ofbody. Listen!
What was that? Dogs? The lights on the road never die. Like a river rapidly emptying into thesea. One car after another ... Some with white lights, some yellow, and then the dreaded blueflashing ones. Looking for three "terrorists". Why are three unarmed, hungry, cold, almostnaked bodies so dangerous that whole police stations have emptied to look for them? That isthe secret. If three people can cause so much panic among the most advanced police force inAfrica what can 30 do? 300? 3000? 3 million? Surely there are more than 3 million who feelthe same as I.
Shiraz Durrani is author of Information and Liberation: Writings on the Politics of Information and Liberation (2008) and Kimaathi : Mau Mau 's First Prime Minister of Kenya (1986). He resides in London .
Journal of the Afro-American Historical and Genealogical Society volume 28
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A night to remember, a night to forget
It was a lucky escape, that. What if we had been caught in the house. But then we are not so bad. Yearsof training paid off. Who was it first noticed movement outside the door? It was A. Yes and then thehammer. . . and the jump out of the window. Ah, the ankle. No matter, ankle can pain all it wants.
It is almost morning. The night of horror is getting over. Still very cold. A cup of tea? How lucky arethey who wake up to cups of tea. Instead of cold, icy drops of water from grass which is also the bed.Perhaps that car seems the right one for getting a lift.
of training paid off. Who was it first noticed movement outside the door? It was A. Yes and then thehammer. . . and the jump out of the window. Ah, the ankle. No matter, ankle can pain all it wants.
It is almost morning. The night of horror is getting over. Still very cold. A cup of tea? How lucky arethey who wake up to cups of tea. Instead of cold, icy drops of water from grass which is also the bed.Perhaps that car seems the right one for getting a lift.
Hello ... matatu? Yes, it is stopping. What a lucky break. Ha, ha, right under the nose of the wholepolice force ... escape.
Escape?
"Haramu! Shetani!" So you were hiding the whole night out in the open, while we combedevery village. Terrorist! Communist! Call your Mwakenya to save you now. You are headedstraight to graveyard , you bastard. Hiding from us? Railway sabotage? Who gave you thecourage? Wait until you feel the salted kibokos ... Ha, waiting for a matatu, were you? Ha,ha, you must laugh with us . . . what luck. Falling into the lap of the police. Whole night ofsearch did not disclose your miserable face, but the day breaks and you limp straight into thelion's mouth. There is surely a promotion in this turn of events. Worth a few 116hilling, thismiserable body with broken leg.
The loud crash of the rungu hitting the broken ankle shatters the early morning silence.
Before the hammer strikes ... 4.00 a.m. Long day of hard work. Preparations for meeting comrades tomorrow. It is an early morningmeeting. All papers are ready. Now for a few hours of sleep, before the work continues in the morning.But the mind refuses to sleep, though body is tired ... so tired. What prospects for peaceful change? Willgun factories be the only solution? Years of hard work, hiding, running, and the years in solitary cells ofKamiti Prison. Better to die on your feet ... What did Kimaathi feel when he was hanged? Regrets that allsacrifice of blood led to no more than "forgive and forget" betrayal? Or pride that sheer determination,organisation and sacrifice in forests and towns dislodged colonialism.
Regrets, perhaps, that the roots of exploitation had not been destroyed from the soil of the land yet. Thebody dies, Kimaathi is no more, but his example, sacrifice and ideas continue to inspire youth eventoday. The example will never die, even if history is banned ... even if his remains are hidden ... even ifno monuments to his memory exist.
Without warning, the door is knocked down. Civilian-clothed armed special branch thugsrush into the house. All lights go off, ·but they know what they want, they know where theirvictim is. Neighbours are locked in, street is still, nobody dares move. Agents of repressionhave descended like evil spirits. They cannot allow the small body of Karimi to live the lifeof resistance, life of struggle. It was not enough
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A night to remember, a night to forget
to beat his broken knee, not enough to lock him up in solitary cell of Kamiti . This spirit ofresistance cannot be contained in four walls of prison. The ultimate sacrifice has to be made.
Here they come ... the moment I imagined years ago, in prison, on a lonely, cold night, the moment ishere ... any way to escape? What about the papers and letters ... no, nothing of value to them here. TheKimaathi book will mean nothing to them. The discipline, the nidhamu has ensured nothingincriminating remains. Yet what is there to hide? Let them see all the wealth of work that goes on in thisroom, in this head. Let them know that we are not all dumb sheep . . . but even sheep protest ... theanimal does not dies without struggle. So what is there to hide? Change is inevitable, change, like deathis inevitable; death like change is inevitable . Better to die on your feet ...
The panga ... was it a panga or a hammer. The arm is cut. As the arm tries to defend the head, the brain ...it is the brain that they are after, it is the brain they want to smash, not the ankle, not the arm, theirobjection is to the brain ... it is the thoughts in the brain that have to be stopped with a hammer blow ... Itis the brain that directs the arm. It must be stopped, stopped for ever. But just one minute, one minutemore, one more thought, one more act of resistance, before the hammer strikes.
But the hammer has no thoughts, knows no resistance. It knows only to strike heads, brains. Then
objection is to the brain ... it is the thoughts in the brain that have to be stopped with a hammer blow ... Itis the brain that directs the arm. It must be stopped, stopped for ever. But just one minute, one minutemore, one more thought, one more act of resistance, before the hammer strikes.
But the hammer has no thoughts, knows no resistance. It knows only to strike heads, brains. Thenend. Stillness of death. Silence, silence, no more ...
Simama imara. Never be silent. Even in death.
Further reading
Karimi Nduthu: a life in struggle. 1998. London & Jamaica, NY: Vita Books & Mau Mau Research
Centre.
*
In March, Karimi Nduthu, Secretary General of the RPP [ReleasePolitical Prisoners, Kenya], was killed in suspicious circumstances.According to eye-witnesses, the police investigating the incidentsearched the house, removing Karimi Nduthu's papers, computer,books and typewriter
- Amnesty International Report 1997 -Kenya. Available at:
http://www. unhcr. org/refworld/pub lisher .AMNESTY ,KEN,3ae6a9fa4c, 0.html [Accessed: 29-08-12].
Journal of the Afro-American Historical and Genealogical Society volume 28117
Journal of the Afro-American Historical andGenealogical Society
Volume 27(2009)
THEME: "MAKING GLOBAL CONNECTIONS:
A LEGACY OF ADVANCEMENT, STRUGGLE AND KNOWLEDGE"TABLE OF CONTENTS
Tribute to lda Mary Lewis
The Use of Genealogy as a Learning Tool for Families and Professionals 1William Foster, Jr. and Pamela Payne Foster
Review-Sugar of the Crop: My Journey to Find Children of Slaves by Sana Butler 8
The Life and Times ofTrennor Thomas Beckwith (1893-1957): Post AdjutantBeckwith 11
Barbara Barksdale
Review-The Death Care Industry African American Cemeteries and Funeral Homesby Roberta Hughes Wright and Wilbur B. Hughes Ill 14
Benjamin Banneker in the Family Tree: An Interview with Robert Hill Williams 15Roland Barksdale-Hall
Review-The Death Care Industry African American Cemeteries and Funeral Homesby Roberta Hughes Wright and Wilbur B. Hughes Ill 14
Benjamin Banneker in the Family Tree: An Interview with Robert Hill Williams 15Roland Barksdale-Hall
Timeline for Benjamin Banneker 16Salvador B. Waller
The Jones-Cato Family ofChambersburg, Pennsylvania 18C. Bernard Ruffin
Race and Ethnic Relations in the United States during World War 11 49Alicia Sparrow
The Testimony ofWilliam Hunter Dammond (1873-1956):The First African American Graduate of the University of Pittsburgh 57
Roland Barksdale-Hall
Diligent Search:The Long Quest for the U.S. Post Office Records ofDavid H. Driver. 63
Janis Minor Forte
Journal of the Afro-American Historical andGenealogical Society
Volume 28(2010)
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Falsification of African Consciousness:Creation of the Negro Personality in America 67
Anthony B. Mitchell
Research MethodologyAfricans and Their Descendants in 1880 Dallas County, Alabama 73
Karim T. Aldridge Rand
Oral History ResearchFrom Political Prisoner to Manager of Johannesburg Public Library Manager:An Interview with Bonjiwe Nkabinde 109
Jocelyn Poole
African Connections in Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc 114Kenneth M. Jennings
Creative Representation"A night to remember, a night to forget" 115
Shiraz Durrani
AddressUnity in America: Protecting Our Legacy 118
Martha Bruce
Bibliographical EssayFrom Dreams of Enslaved Ancestors to Africatown, Alabama, U.S.A 124
Roland Barksdale-Hall
From Genealogy to History:An Interview with Author and Historian Roland Barksdale-Hall. 128
Deborah Newman Ham
Book Reviews 129
From Genealogy to History:An Interview with Author and Historian Roland Barksdale-Hall. 128
Deborah Newman Ham
Book Reviews 129
