Chapter 1: The Year 2005 – The Birth of John and the Nation in Turmoil
The year 2005 dawned over Kenya with a heavy sky and a heavier heart. The air was thick with uncertainty, and the nation stood on the edge of transformation—or collapse. It was a year that would test the strength of Kenya's democracy, the unity of its people, and the endurance of its spirit.
In a small village in Marsabit County, far from the noise of Nairobi's politics, a child named John Mankind was born. His mother, a humble market woman, gave birth to him in a mud-walled house as rain drummed softly on the roof. His father, a herdsman, stood outside, his hands trembling—not from fear, but from hope. They named him Mankind because they believed he would grow to represent the struggle and resilience of humanity itself.
But as John took his first breaths, the country around him was gasping for its own.
The Political Storm
In Nairobi, President Mwai Kibaki faced the greatest challenge of his presidency. The promise of a new constitution—one that had inspired millions during his 2002 campaign—had turned into a bitter national battle. The proposed draft, known as the Wako Draft, was meant to bring reform, decentralize power, and strengthen democracy. Instead, it divided the nation.
The referendum campaign split the ruling National Rainbow Coalition (NARC) into two warring camps. Those supporting the draft rallied under the Banana (Yes) symbol, while the opposition, led by Raila Odinga, William Ruto, and other reformists, marched under the Orange (No) banner.
The streets of Nairobi, Kisumu, and Mombasa became seas of yellow and orange. Political rallies turned into shouting matches. Families argued at dinner tables. Churches and mosques became arenas of persuasion. The referendum was no longer about the constitution—it was about power, betrayal, and identity.
In the villages, people listened to the radio with anxious hearts. The voices of politicians filled the airwaves, each promising a better Kenya. But for most citizens, life remained the same—prices were rising, jobs were scarce, and corruption was everywhere.
When the referendum was finally held on November 21, 2005, the nation held its breath. Days later, the results were announced: 58% of Kenyans had voted "No." The Orange side had triumphed. The dream of a new constitution was crushed.
The aftermath was explosive. On November 23, President Kibaki dissolved his entire cabinet in an unprecedented move. The country was thrown into political chaos. The opposition demanded new elections, accusing the government of betrayal. The once-united NARC coalition was dead, and from its ashes rose a new political force—the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM).
The seeds of future conflict had been planted.
The Turbi Massacre
While politicians fought in Nairobi, tragedy struck in the north. On July 12, 2005, the remote village of Turbi, near the Ethiopian border, woke to the sound of gunfire. Hundreds of armed raiders, believed to be from the Borana community, descended upon the Gabra people in a coordinated attack.
It was a massacre.
By the time the sun rose, 56 people were dead, including 22 children who had been shot in their school uniforms. The attackers burned homes, stole livestock, and left behind a trail of blood and ashes. Survivors fled into the desert, carrying nothing but grief.
The government condemned the attack, but help came too late. The violence was rooted in decades of inter-clan rivalry over pasture and water—resources that had become scarcer with each passing year. Political manipulation and cross-border tensions with Ethiopia's Oromo Liberation Front (OLF) only made things worse.
For weeks, the nation mourned. Newspapers carried haunting images of small coffins lined up in rows. The Turbi massacre became a symbol of Kenya's forgotten people—those who lived and died far from the capital, their suffering drowned out by political noise.
In John's village, the news spread slowly. His father listened to the radio in silence, shaking his head. "Even the children are not safe anymore," he whispered. His mother held John tighter that night, as if to shield him from a world that seemed to have lost its humanity.
The Shadow of Corruption
As the political and ethnic storms raged, another plague continued to eat away at the nation—corruption. The Anglo Leasing scandal, first exposed in 2004, refused to die. It revealed how senior government officials had awarded multi-million-dollar contracts to ghost companies for security projects that never existed.
The scandal embarrassed the government internationally and angered citizens who were already struggling to survive. Donor nations froze aid, demanding accountability. But justice was slow, and the powerful remained untouchable.
For ordinary Kenyans, corruption was not just a headline—it was a daily reality. Bribes were demanded for everything: hospital treatment, school admission, even police protection. The poor paid the highest price.
A Ray of Hope
Amid the turmoil, 2005 also brought moments of progress. In Nairobi, doctors celebrated a medical breakthrough—the birth of Kenya's first baby conceived through In Vitro Fertilization (IVF). It was a moment of pride, a sign that science and hope could still flourish even in difficult times.
The Free Primary Education program, launched two years earlier, continued to change lives. Millions of children who had never seen a classroom were now learning to read and write. In dusty villages and crowded slums, the laughter of schoolchildren became a melody of hope.
John's parents dreamed that one day, their son would join them. His father often said, "He will go to school, even if I have to sell my last goat."
The Nation and the Child
As 2005 drew to a close, Kenya was a nation divided but unbroken. The political battles had left scars, the Turbi massacre had exposed deep wounds, and corruption had eroded trust. Yet, beneath the pain, there was still resilience.
In the small village where John Mankind was born, life went on. The rains returned, the fields turned green, and the people prayed for peace. John's mother would often sit outside their hut at dusk, watching the sunset paint the sky in orange and gold. She would whisper, "You were born in a year of struggle, my son. But you will grow in a time of change."
The year 2005 ended with uncertainty, but also with quiet determination. Kenya had stumbled, but it had not fallen. The people had endured too much to give up now.
And somewhere in the heart of that endurance, a child named John Mankind slept peacefully—unaware that his life, like his country's, would be shaped by struggle, hope, and the unyielding will to rise again.
End of Chapter 1 – The Year 2005: The Birth of John and the Nation in Turmoil