Victor Onyango, M.A.

This book has been painful reading, seeing Ramogi Achieng Oneko sacrifice his life, freedom, and career to save his Kapenguria cell-mate Jomo Kenyatta multiple times, only for the latter to cut him loose immediately after independence, round him up on flimsy grounds and jail him for six straight years on trumped up charges. We harbor no bitterness in our hearts remembering the sacrifices our forefathers made for the sake of the country, only to end up being mocked and treated like lepers for doing a thankless job. When tensions arose among the three Kikuyu comrades in Kapenguria (Bildad Kaggia, Kung'u Karumba and Fred Kubai) who ganged up against the greedy and narcissistic tendencies of Jomo Kenyatta while in prison, it's Achieng Oneko Kenyatta ran to for protection and mediation. When a juvenile Kariuki Chotara (you remember him?) was smuggled into Kenyatta's cell-block at night by the colonial authorities with a knife in hand to assassinate Kenyatta, it was Achieng Oneko who hatched a plot with the wardens to save his life and warn London on the dangers of such a risky endeavour. Yet when the prison gates were finally opened and Jomo Kenyatta became president, Oneko would immediately become one of the first culprits of Kenyatta's treachery - turning on a comrade they shared a cell with for nine years, paying for his sacrifice with incarceration and family ruin. This is the collective pain we must confront as a country, not because we want to cultivate hatred nor seek revenge. But because memory is the only inheritance betrayed people can pass on to their grandchildren as an advance warning to learn from our mistakes. As the children and descendants of those who sacrificed for this country, our grandparents taught us to put Kenya first. To stand with others in their hour of need. To sacrifice for unity. To fight for justice even when the rewards go elsewhere. And too often, when the dust settles we're left standing alone - mocked, abandoned, and treated as though our sacrifices never mattered. But we must not become bitter. Indeed, our grandfathers would be proud of us if we became wiser, instead. Let us honor Ramogi Achieng Oneko and all our founding fathers by remembering that good hearts must never mean blind hearts, and that forgiveness must never demand that we erase history. We can embrace national unity without surrendering our memory. We can forgive without becoming naive. We can work with everyone without forgetting the patterns that have brought us pain before. Our fathers put this country first. They paid the price. Some lost their freedom. Some lost their lives. Some watched those they had protected rise to power and later turn against them. We owe them more than songs and commemoration. We owe them vigilance. We must, therefore, move forward with an open heart - but with eyes wide open. Let us remember the hands we have held, the battles we have fought for others, and the sacrifices that were never acknowledged. Above all, let us remember that a people who repeatedly forget their history will eventually become victims of the same history. We approach these painful realities with clean hearts, teaching ourselves not to harbor no bitterness, but also promising ourselves that never again will we suffer from the politics of amnesia. We hold these truths to be self-evident; that if we truly want to honour Ramogi Achieng Oneko, then we must ensure that the descendants of sacrifice are never again led blindly into the arms of those who have made treachery a political inheritance. I recommend this book to all those who've been genuinely asking themselves when the rains started beating Kenya. One day the rains will come, and the grass will grow.