Kenyan who led a 'Haki Yetu' anti-racism demo in America

The recent cold-blooded murder of George Floyd, whose breath was slowly, surely and painfully sucked out of his black-skinned neck by a hefty white knee, has not only sparked a global anti-racism outrage but has brought to the limelight some unlikely voices in the fight against racism. 

Floyd died when Derek Chauvin, a white police officer in Minneapolis, pinned his neck to the ground for eight minutes and 46 seconds while he pleaded, “I can’t breathe.”

Following Flyod's murder, some Kenyans in America feel it is time to show solidarity with black American communities. Many say they have suffered racism quietly and it is time to identify with the unending injustices towards a community whose presence in the US resulted from slavery, mostly from Africa, in exchange for a piece of cloth, beads or a mirror.

One day after Floyd's death, demonstrations broke in almost all the 50 states in the US. A demo in downtown Seattle, Washington, garnered social media attention because of its unusual nature. A middle-aged black man goes live on Facebook. He is in a red T-shirt engraved 'PCEA men’s fellowship', a blue face mask and a red NY cap.

He squeezes through the crowd to take the front row. As the others hold placards encrypted with Floyd's name, a lone voice in unfamiliar language shouts “Haki Yetu! Haki Yetu! Haki Yetu! [Our Rights! Our Rights! Our Rights!]”   

For a moment, the crowd goes silent. His face beams with drops of sweat. He stops, turns round to face the crowd and embraces the silent moment. In an unmistakably Kenyan accent, his voice echoes among the crowd, “We can say it in Kiswahili: 'Haki Yetu!'  and the crown repeats 'Haki Yetu!'”

The eager crowd seems to enjoy the moment — they are all alert to this new demo ‘leader’. Like obedient African students, who must sit under a tree for lack of a choice to learn, they quickly learn the new slogan and it fills the air: “Haki Yetu!”

A group of uniformed police stare,  fully covered with anti-riot gear. The corners of their eyes follow the demo leader, who is chanting a slogan in a language they don’t understand. The Kenyan man walks straight to the white police officers, takes a selfie, and on Facebook Live announces, “Hawa ni askari na wanatulinda [These are cops and they are protecting us].”

FROM POVERTY TO WHISTLEBLOWER

The man leading in the 'Haki Yetu' demonstrations goes by the nickname Bishop Ngash, a title bestowed by his friends in Kenya for advocating the rights of others in his hometown of Thika. His real name is Joseph Ng’ang’a Wanjiku.

Ng’ang’a was born in a family of 10 by a single mother in Kiandutu village, a rural slum in Thika characterised by extreme poverty. His mother raised them single-handedly by harvesting grass and selling it to those who have cows in exchange for milk or some maize flour. 

Ng’anga’s story is one of a fighter. “As the middle child in a family of 10, I learned to defend myself within my own family. We did not have enough to eat and I always fought the bigger ones to leave some food for the younger ones.”

Despite poverty, Ng’ang’a was a good student and earned a position in Thika High School, where he had to drop out for lack of school fees.

He worked odd jobs and pursued his education as a private student and earned a high school diploma. He saved enough money and got a loan to purchase a car, which he rented out for hire. 

LUCKY DAY

Ng’ang’s says God works in many ways. Despite his poor background, he knew there was something good on the horizon. “I have never called any man on this earth ‘Daddy’. But I knew I had a God I could call ‘Father’ and He cared for me.”

Ng’ang’a woke up one morning, said a prayer and drove to Thika Town, where he waited for clients to hire his car. He says it was a slow, yet his luckiest day. He got a client who had come home from the US and to run her errands, she needed both a car and a driver for a few weeks while she was on holiday. “I offered her both services,” easygoing Ng’ang’a says amid a burst of laughter. 

It was during the few weeks that he chauffeured his client that he inquired about the possibilities of migrating to America. “My client was very kind to share with me the details of applying for an American visa, and the rest is history,” he says with finality.

Like many immigrants, Ng’ang’a says life in America is not easy. When he arrived in Seattle, Washington, he took up the readily available jobs in health services, where he cared for young men, most of whom had the Down syndrome. 

He says he saw this as a calling and was motivated to study psychology and counselling so he could be more useful to these needy people. He is also pursuing a degree in leadership. To raise college fees, Ng’ang’a uses his car as an Uber.

It is unusual to find the likes of Ng’ang’a in the US. Many Kenyans prefer to stay out of politics and out of trouble. Ng’ang’a, who is also a preacher, has broken the norm and is loud on social media, where he speaks against the anomalies he finds within his Kenyan community in the US.

His bluntness sparks extensive criticism, especially from the clergy, who have excommunicated him. “The PCEA leaders in Seattle have asked me to return the Men’s Fellowship jumper I wore during the Floyd demonstration,” he says.

FLOYD'S DEMONSTRATION

Ng’ang’a says he dragged himself from bed on the morning after Floyd's death to go to his Uber business in Seattle, Washington. “Despite the coronavirus epidemic, I needed to work and Uber service was categorised as an ‘essential service’.”

He had a peek at the news and saw the outbreak of the demos and had a burning desire to join them. “I wanted to join the demonstrators but did not know how, but where there is a will, there is a way.”

The beeping sound of his phone diverted his thoughts. He had an Uber client. Two white lady passengers needed to be transported to downtown Seattle. Along the way, they discussed Floyd and the demonstrations. “I knew this was my chance. The moment I dropped them, I switched off the Uber app, parked my car and joined the large group of demonstrators.”

Ng’ang’a says he was motivated by many issues to join the demonstrations. “The video of a black man under a white man’s knee and his desperate call to his late mother was painful to watch. This could have been me, my brother or my child.” He says he has also witnessed police brutality back home and he did not have a voice. This was his chance.

He felt it was important to let black Americans know they were not alone. “As a black man, I have faced racial discrimination many times. Most white clients cancel their trip request when my black photo pops up on their phones.”  

Ng’ang’a encourages other Kenyans to join this worthy fight. “We have to do this for our children. We are a different generation, we know how to escape from trouble. Our children are more like the native African-American. If we don’t join the fight, they could be tomorrow’s victims,” concludes Ng’ang’a.

Edited by T Jalio