As I lay in bed on the night of June 12th, 2024, scrolling through X, I stumbled upon a tweet by a user named Amerix. The tweet sharply criticized the government for the taxes it was already imposing on citizens. Being new to the job market, I felt an immediate connection to the sentiment and liked the tweet, resonating with its frustration. Little did I know that this single tweet by Amerix would mark the beginning of a revolution led by the Kenyan youth.
In the days that followed, Amerix flooded X with tweets that further fanned the flames of discontent. He posted phone numbers of various Members of Parliament, urging Kenyans to call and text them, demanding they reject the Finance Bill 2024. Though I had heard about the bill in passing, I hadn't paid much attention to it until now. The leak of the MPs' phone numbers piqued my curiosity, driving me to learn more about the bill that was causing such an uproar.
Knowing the struggle of coping with the existing taxes and being new to the workforce, I understood that Finance Bill 2024 would add even more burden and this pushed me to take immediate action. I searched for a copy of the bill and read it, determined to understand the full extent of its implications. Unfortunately, I realized that the window for public comment had already closed on June 10th at 5 pm.
Nevertheless, my curiosity had been sparked, and I knew I couldn't ignore the issue. This was no longer just a series of tweets; it was the beginning of a movement, and I found myself swept up in its momentum.
Users of X began posting their respective MPs' responses to texts urging them to reject the bill. As expected, most responses dismissed our concerns with condescension. This sparked a deep frustration within me. "Who do these MPs think they are?" I asked myself. The anger bubbling inside me fueled my determination. "I will show them," I resolved.
Without hesitation, I searched for my MP's phone number and sent a text, voicing my opposition to Finance Bill 2024. I gathered phone numbers of other MPs, texting them as well, pretending to be a member of their constituencies. Each message was a small act of defiance, a way to make my voice and the voices of many other heard.
The feeling of taking action, even in such a small way, was empowering. It wasn't just about a single bill anymore; it was about standing up to a system that seemed to have forgotten the people it was supposed to represent and serve. And so, with each text, I felt a growing sense of solidarity with my fellow Kenyans. The arrogance that came with some of the MPs' responses led to a turning point. On the evening of June 16th, 2024, an X user tweeted, "Why can't we all show up in town on the 18th of June and have a peaceful protest so that these MPs see we mean business in rejecting this bill?" The tweet resonated deeply, garnering countless impressions and agreement from others. Soon, the idea of a peaceful protest took on a life of its own.
What began as a single suggestion quickly became a movement. The X timeline was soon flooded with posters detailing the peaceful demonstration. Users tweeted about dress codes, meet-up points, and volunteered to print T-shirts with messages rejecting the bill. Others offered to create placards and distribute water. As I watched these plans unfold, a realization hit me: "Holy shit! It's actually happening. People are actually angry enough to take to the streets." Despite this, I told myself I would wait until the protest day to see if people were truly as fired up as they seemed online.
Like wildfire, the call for protest spread across other social media platforms. A day before the scheduled protest, content about the Finance Bill and the upcoming demonstration was shared to millions of people. The momentum was unstoppable, and it was clear that this might be more than just an online outcry—it was a collective movement ready to take to the streets. What I did not know was that this first demonstration would spark a string of demonstrations that would bring about fear, joy and sadness collectively to many in the country.
I remember waking up at 8:10 am on that fateful Tuesday. I hurriedly said my morning prayers, asking God for protection for everyone going to the protest. I grabbed my phone and opened the X app, shouting to my mom in the other room, “I am off chicken duty today!” My timeline was flooded with tweets about people heading to town and amplifying the #RejectFinanceBill2024 hashtag with content related to the finance bill.
True to what had been discussed online, protesters carried banners, wore black shirts with messages rejecting the finance bill, and had vuvuzelas, water, and whistles, all while exercising peaceful protesting. The protest was soon dubbed the “Gen Z” protest.
As people started gathering in the Central Business District, the police began arresting anyone who had carried banners or had worn a black shirt with the #RejectFinanceBill slogan on it. These events were broadcast live on TV and shared across social media. Yet, the more people were arrested, the more determined they became to show up for the protest. "Because I did not borrow permission from work, I will just become a keyboard warrior today, but the Thursday demonstration I must attend," I told myself. I continued to follow the protest’s progress on various platforms, tweeting about the protest and its main agenda on my X account.
The scale and nonviolent discipline of the protests may mark a change in Kenya's history of demonstrations. The turnout of that first protest motivated many to come out for the next one on Thursday, June 20th. As I woke up on that fateful Thursday of the protest I told myself "I am doing this for my dad and many more who cannot afford cancer treatment," as I got out of bed. After my usual morning routine, I left for the CBD, coordinating with my friend who was also attending the protest. Upon arrival, the air was filled with a tingling smell that made me sneeze. I alighted the bus and saw a crowd gathering, so I joined them while waiting for my friend. The crowd was fiery, charged, and invigorated, ready for the day. My friend arrived within 20 minutes, and the running began.
We marched towards the police officers, chanting “We come in peace,” trying to head towards Parliament. Each advance was met with tear gas, scattering us in different directions. After the effects of the gas subsided, we regrouped and tried again. I remember one protestor telling a police officer, “We are here not only to fight for our rights but also yours. You are one of the civil servants who take home the lowest of salaries, and you still defend this government that pays you peanuts by tear-gassing us.”
Despite our repeated attempts, we couldn't reach Parliament, but our spirits remained unbroken. We even helped police who thirsted for water and conversed with them, an act never seen before in Kenya. We gathered along Kenyatta Avenue, awaiting the first vote on the bill. Protesters followed the live proceedings from Parliament, hoping their presence would influence their MPs. When a protester announced, “Guys, the vote was 204-Yes and 115-No,” my heart sank. I felt despair. "All this for nothing," I thought. However, as I scrolled through X, I learned that the bill could still be rejected in the second reading, restoring a bit of hope.
The bill passing the first reading did not kill our spirit. Protesters decided to party in the streets, singing and dancing before going home. Little did we know that night would see a mother and father robbed of their son, marking the beginning of protestors getting killed. Rex Maasai was the young man that was shot dead by the police and when I got home I got to learn about this sad news. The video of his shooting spread across social media platforms, igniting further outrage
The days following the protest were marked by demands for accountability from the government regarding Rex Maasai's death. This incident galvanized even larger numbers to come out on Tuesday, June 25th, a day now petitioned to be named Mashujaa Day. Close to 30 people lost their lives on this day alone, shocking the nation. Parliament was accessed by citizens, a section burned, the mace (symbol of power) stolen, snipers deployed, and protests erupted in 35 out of 47 counties. What made the situation escalate to this point is because unethical politicians hired goons to pose as protesters who smeared the reputation of the peaceful protest and caused chaos. These hired goons looted, destroyed property and caused havoc jeopardizing the demonstration's main goal which was peaceful protesting. Even with all these happenings, the MPs still decided to pass the bill during the second reading.
One remarkable event was when a group of protesters entering Parliament, saw a differently-abled MP who had voted yes and was trying to flee the chaos, helped the MP by carrying him across the street to safety. This act of kindness amplified our peaceful mantra, yet the police remained violently relentless. Many went home injured and disappointed by the government's response. That evening the president had a brief address where he announced that he was not going to sign the Finance Bill into law and that he would return it back to parliament. Even with the Finance bill being brought back to parliament, people still decided to protest on Thursday. The protest was characterized by the same brutality as seen on Tuesday.
The president's addresses to the youth and the nation have only alienated him further from the people who once supported him. Each address shows he still isn't fully listening to the youth. As I write this, Kenyan youth have vowed to protest every Tuesday and Thursday with a new agenda and the hashtag #RutoMustGo, demanding accountability for police brutality, auditing the national debt, tackling corruption, and most importantly, the president's resignation. Citizens are demanding his resignation due to his failure to uphold the Kenyan Constitution, particularly the right to demonstrate and picket. They accuse him of deploying the police force against peaceful protesters. But the big question remains: will the peaceful protests be free of police brutality as the president has promised?
In conclusion, there has been a historical shift in protests in Kenya. A country once characterized by violent demonstrations, marked by stone-throwing and tire-burning, has seen a new dawn ushered in by Gen Z. This new generation of activists, armed not with weapons but with phones, water bottles, and hearts full of dreams and aspirations for a better Kenya, has embraced non-violence as their strategy. Civil disobedience has been portrayed in a planned and methodical approach. The non-violence approach in the protests has showcased the power of solidarity and peaceful resistance. Personally, the demonstrations have reinforced the teaching of how powerful social media can be and the impact it has if used correctly. Kenyan youth have also learned and are still learning the power of civic engagement and collective action. The demonstrations have proven that active participation in democracy goes beyond voting and that more civic actions need to be done post-voting.
