Activism Alliance

A traffic police officer based in Eldoret killed a Member of Parliament after a confrontation. The dispute involved a woman who had allegedly infected Andrew Moache, the traffic officer, with HIV/AIDS.

At the time of the incident, the newly elected MP, David Kimutai Too, was inside a vehicle with Eunice Chepkwony, the woman Andrew was confronting. Andrew also suspected that the MP was having a romantic relationship with Eunice.

During the confrontation, the MP drew a gun and shot at the police officer, prompting Andrew to draw his own weapon and return fire. Eunice, who was also a police officer, attempted to draw her gun and shoot Andrew, but he shot her first. Both the MP and Eunice died at the scene.

Andrew was later charged in court and sentenced to 10 years in prison for manslaughter by Justice David Maraga.The court ruled that Andrew acted in self-defense and did not intend to kill the MP.

The MP had only served for one month after being elected in 2008 under the ODM party.

EAT THE MONEY. VOTE WITH YOUR CONSCIENCE.
Election season is coming. And with it comes the familiar parade — handshakes, convoy dust, branded caps, envelopes “for tea,” and sudden generosity from leaders who have been silent for four years.
Let’s have an honest conversation.

When politicians bring money during campaigns, it is rarely charity. It is an investment. They are not giving — they are buying. And what they are buying is your silence for the next five years.
Here is the truth many fear to say publicly:

If someone has looted public funds and returns a tiny fraction during campaigns, that is not generosity. That is recycling stolen money.
So what should citizens do?

First — understand this clearly: campaign handouts do not obligate your vote. Your vote is secret. No one stands with you in the ballot booth. No one can see your choice. The Constitution protects that secrecy.

Second — never exchange your future for short-term relief. Two thousand shillings can disappear in two days. Bad leadership can cost you five years of poor roads, broken hospitals, unpaid bursaries, collapsed businesses, and joblessness for your children.
If a politician insists on distributing money, ask yourself:

Where did it come from?
Why now?
Why not during drought?
Why not when hospitals lacked medicine?
Vote wisely.

Evaluate candidates on:

✔️ Track record — What have they actually done?
✔️ Integrity — Are they transparent with public funds?
✔️ Accessibility — Do they engage citizens beyond campaign season?
✔️ Policy — Do they understand budgets, laws, and oversight?

Democracy is not for sale. Your dignity is not for sale. Your children’s future is not for sale.

If they choose to spend recklessly during campaigns, that is their decision. But your vote must be guided by conscience, not coins.
Remember: leaders fear informed voters more than they fear opponents.

Take what they give if you must — but never give away your power cheaply.

The ballot is stronger than the envelope.

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WAMÚGUMO — The Giant Who Walked Among Us

History is not only written in colonial archives or government files. Sometimes it lives in the memories of elders, in homesteads, in ridges, and in stories repeated across generations. One such story is that of Wangibu wa Wanyang’arua — widely known as Wamúgumo.
Wamúgumo lived in Tetu, in present-day Nyeri County, beneath the shadow of Mount Kenya. His name is associated with the sacred mugumo (fig) tree — a powerful spiritual symbol in Kikuyu tradition, often linked to prayer, covenant, and communion with God (Ngai). To be identified with the mugumo tree was to be connected to something deeper than ordinary life.

Accounts describe Wamúgumo as extraordinarily tall — said to be close to eight feet — with a hardened, textured skin likened to the bark of the mũiri tree. Whether every physical detail has grown in the telling, what remains consistent across narratives is that he was a man of unusual size and strength.

During the colonial period, Wamúgumo reportedly worked in Ovori under Lord Delamere, one of the most prominent British settlers who owned vast tracts of former Kikuyu and Maasai land. His role was not clerical or domestic — it was physical. He handled cattle.

When livestock were being inoculated, he is said to have restrained full-grown cows single-handedly. His strength impressed European supervisors. Oral accounts state that when food rations were distributed, he would receive an entire bag of flour for himself and consume it within days, often accompanied by large quantities of meat.

He was also reportedly taken to assist game wardens during hunts, where he carried animal carcasses to vehicles — sometimes two at a time. After loading one, he would calmly ask for another to be shot. These stories consistently emphasize endurance, appetite, and raw power.

By the mid-1940s, after leaving settler employment, Wamúgumo is said to have worked in Nyeri District at the homestead of Chief Nderi, a well-known colonial-era chief remembered for having 28 wives. According to family accounts preserved by descendants, a large container would be placed outside Wamúgumo’s hut. Each of the chief’s wives contributed food into it over several days. When the collection period ended, he would consume the contents alone. It is said that no one approached him while he ate.

His work ethic was equally legendary. He reportedly began tilling land as early as 4 a.m., and by the time he finished, fields appeared as though many men had worked them. His output was described as equivalent to that of fifteen laborers.

But beyond the physical stories lies another defining trait: dignity.
Oral tradition holds that Wamúgumo refused to kneel before colonial authority at a time when such gestures were often demanded as signs of submission. Whether in administrative settings or public encounters, he is remembered as a man who would not bow unnecessarily before another man. That stance — quiet but firm — became central to his legacy.

Importantly, this is not a distant myth from centuries ago. Elders born in the early 1930s have recounted seeing him personally. His story has been documented by writers within extended family circles who were moved to preserve the memory. That continuity of testimony gives weight to the narrative.

Wamúgumo represents more than physical strength. He represents a period in Kenya’s history when indigenous identity, labor, and dignity existed under immense pressure from colonial systems. His life sits at the intersection of folklore and lived memory — a reminder that extraordinary individuals often emerge in ordinary rural settings.
Whether viewed as a legendary giant, a symbol of resilience, or a historical personality amplified by oral tradition, Wamúgumo remains part of Central Kenya’s living heritage.

History is not always small. Sometimes it stands tall — and refuses to kneel.

The culture of societal poverty is political manipulation!

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