Sobering Journey

I travelled up to Kimilili in western Kenya last Friday to spend the weekend with Pastor Kevin Wanjala and his family, and to preach at one of his churches on Sunday. Despite having visited Kimilili many times before, it was my first time driving in that direction since returning to Kenya at the end of January, and therefore the first time since the violence at the beginning of the year. To get to Kimilili, I pass through Nakuru and Eldoret, both names that appeared in the news all too often at that time. About half an hour from Nakuru, we began to pass destroyed buildings, generally missing at least the roof. In the case of mud houses, all that remained was the floor. What was particularly surreal was that it wasn’t every building. There were those that remained in tact – presumably belonging to Kalenjin, the destroyed ones having been occupied by Kikuyu. I wondered how many of the people who were around at the side of the road had themselves been involved in the violence, either as perpetrators or as victims. Every now again, we passed groups of white tents, some with Kenya Red Cross vehicles outside, others with UNHCR emblazoned in blue across them: IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) camps. To lose your home and possibly have witnessed friends and relatives being brutally killed must have been traumatic enough. To still be in these crude camps 6 months on ………..It’s hard to begin to imagine the sense of loss. So often, we hear in the news of violence, catastrophes and tragedies. Then the news moves on, whilst those affected continue to live with the aftermath of what has happened. At one point, we passed two army trucks. Sitting in the back of the first one were soldiers, brandishing their rifles (a sight not uncommon here, be that military, police or security guards). It was only on passing the truck at the front that I realised what the vehicles were about, as sitting in this one were civilians – IDPs, presumably either being relocated from one camp to another, or possibly being returned ‘home’, whatever state their home was now in. It wasn’t all gloom however. There were places where people had evidently returned and were trying to rebuild their lives – fresh piles of bricks as people worked on reconstructing their buildings and livelihoods.
I didn’t see any evident signs of destruction in Kimilili itself, but many of those in the church who fled the area at the beginning of the year have yet to return – if they ever will. Kevin and Lyn took in approximately 50 displaced families during the course of the troubles, erecting a big tent in the compound of their mud house, and stretching their resources to the limit. “It was terrible”, said Kevin, referring to the time that displaced people arrived in Kimilili from nearby Mount Elgon seeking refuge, threatening leaflets then being distributed by the Sabaot Land Defence Army throughout the town. It appears to be life as usual there now, the maize in the fields growing tall and starting to show signs of a good harvest to come, but there is a lot of hurt under the surface, and when it comes down to it, nothing has been resolved.