Mama Victor (Benna Buluma) lost two sons Bernard (age 24) and Victor (age 22) to police brutality during the 2017 Kenyan post-election violence. She decided to start a support group, the Mothers of Victims and Survivors Network after realizing she was not the only one to experience such tragic losses from extrajudicial executions (EJE) by Kenyan police, Its mandate is to actively document new cases of EJE across Nairobi’s settlements and offer much-needed psycho-social support to each other, in an attempt to foster a joint resilience against an oppressive system. Their activism is taken at great risk as anyone standing up against EJE is considered a threat by police.

Kids from the Mathare Social Justice Center dance crew perform at the launch of the Mothers of Victims and Survivors Network to celebrate its work.

Mathare is one of the largest and poorest urban settlements in Nairobi, Kenya. It is a warren of mostly one room, tin-walled houses without interior water or sanitation. These low income settlements are the communities most impacted by Nairobi’s informal policy of state-sanctioned violence, namely extrajudicial executions (EJE), in the name of seeking safer communities. Families of victims are reclaiming their rights through civic participation, community organizing and active documentation of human rights violations. Other urban settlements where the families in this documentary come from are Eastleigh, Kibera, Dandora, Kayole, Majengo, Kiambiu, Kasarani, and Mukuru.

The Network was started in 2018. It was launched with much jubilation in 2020 by the Network and community members. Mama Victor leads the crowd in song and dance.

Mama Victor remembers Victor by keeping his picture on the wall of her home consisting of one small tin-walled room that often gets flooded by heavy rains. Her surviving family, consisting of her other children, daughters-in-law and grandchildren, were torn apart by the killing of her two sons. As a widow she struggles financially to support her family yet still finds the time and energy to help others in the Network.

“… That time, this place. Something began; a revolution, with him at its heart. With his own bravery to defend others, he dragged us all in to stand up for ourselves.” Mariam Awadhi, Ahmed's mother. Ahmed Majid, age 24, was killed point blank when he challenged a policeman for harshly harassing one of his friends at a youth base. While sitting in their home three generations of the family, Ahmed’s mother Mariam (on left) with her last born daughter; Ahmed’s wife and son, Ahmed’s grandmother, tell the story of what happened. The police, who became fiercely disturbed by his intervention, slapped him to the ground, stepped on his feet so he couldn’t move and in broad daylight, shot him twice in the stomach. Nearby, watching were his grandmother and little sister, who were washing clothes at the time.

The next day after Ahmed’s murder by police, the community of Majengo walked with hands held high in surrender while walking Ahmed’s body to the grave site. The police started firing randomly and using teargas to control the mourning crowd gathered for the funeral.

Cartridge casings were collected after the police fired live bullets to control protestors. Three bystanders were killed by stray bullets and others injured. The police denied that they used live bullets.

This alley with a youth base was where Ahmed was killed. Police are notorious for brutally harassing young men for no good reason, especially when they gather at what they call their ‘bases’ to hang out, watch football and talk.

“He left me with so many things unsaid. And multiple questions still linger about my mind. They constantly gnaw at my soul and I can’t ignore the agony, try as I may.” David Ochola, with his young daughter, tells how his two sons were executed by police, Lemeck (age 17) in 2017 and Victor (age 18) in 2019. How can one live with so much grief? He works hard to support his family. In his spare time he does what he can to help others who have suffered similar tragedies.

The memory of his son Victor is evident in the photos he keeps around the home. David recounts sadly how a permit for the burial was not granted by the police so money collected for the funeral had to be done quietly. A witness of the murder had to leave Nairobi because his life is in danger. Many witnesses have been killed by police once a case is filed and investigated. This has helped to stall most of the cases now waiting in the courts.

David Ochola stands in an alley as his shadow marks the spot where his son Victor was killed by police.

“It was possibly a crime of passion, or mere gun violence: definitely both. How cruel love can become sometimes.” Efaa Kwendo, a very active Network member, stares out her house window. She often feels she and other mothers are barred from getting the justice they so desperately need. Her son, Boss (age 26) was killed by police over an ex-lover’s quarrel. And later her grandson Maxim (age 18) was killed for just being in the street at the wrong time when police were again using excessive force to control what they thought was a security problem. These so called security problems seldom happen in the estates where middle and upper class Kenyans live.

As Efaa’s son Nelson listens to her stories of two losses, her son and later her grandson, he bows his head in deep sorrow as he remembers the day his favorite nephew was killed due to random police violence. The loss of losing one’s loved ones never goes away. It’s good to tell the story, so as not to forget; but it also opens up wounds that never fully heal.

“All I am now capable of is the hope that things will get easier, eventually. I am determined to try one more time.” Felix Obondo survived a grisly bullet wound to the head just below the ear due to random police violence. After months in the hospital and filing multiple complaints with IPOA (Independent Policing Oversight Authority), they have stopped picking up his calls. He can no longer function normally suffering from a loss of hearing and nerve damage.

“No, I shall not remember him like that. He was my hero and our bond was special.” Joyce Adihambo looks longingly at the photo of her son, nicknamed ‘Danii’ (age 22). He managed to survive the police attack but later died on the floor of his mother's home from his injuries. She is a very active member of the Network, especially in her Dandora neighborhood, trying to get justice for other families who have been impacted by police killings.

“He ululated like a madman upon arrival. A lot Like a predator in celebration of his cornerned prey.” In his interview with Wyban Kanyi, Phindacia Wambugi, recounts graphically how his son Kevin (age 22) was stopped on his way home from work and savagely killed by the notorious rogue policeman Rashid in 2017. Kevin (age 22) was killed pleading for his life with his hands in surrender.

Kevin was killed next to the perimeter of the Baitul-Mal mosque in Mathare, by a rogue policeman who mainly operates at a nearby gas station. The dirty piece of sack used to cover Kevin’s face can still be seen next to the mosque.

“The incident made my world shudder. Life has become impossible for me and those I love.” Lameck Otieno uses his crutches as he leaves his one room home in a multi-family compound while his son waits for him. Lameck is a survivor of a stray bullet lodged in his thigh after some military men from the nearby airbase were randomly shooting after a football match. Now on crutches he painfully gets around his neighborhood but can’t really do much. Getting money to pay for his medical bills is a daily struggle for him, his wife, and their two children. His case is pending in the courts; but redress is still a far off hope in a broken justice system.

“Living in the corner of a public hall was never going to augur well with my disappointed wife. Here, there is no measure of privacy, whatsoever.” Leonard Otieno, a polio victim, was on his way home from church when he got caught up in a protest where police were firing randomly in the air to disperse a crowd. One bullet lodged in his good leg. He couldn’t afford the treatment that he needed to remove the bullet and rehabilitate the leg. This has been typical of other survivors where the police have refused to take responsibility for their actions. Now he can’t walk on his own and gets around by using a hand-operated wheel chair. Leonard lost his shoe-making business, his home, and most tragically his family as he had no place for them to live. He now lives without his family in a community hall. Leonard hopes to continue growing his shoe business so he can eventually provide for his family.

“We shall heal and move on, alright. But we shall never forget.” During the 2017 election violence Anne Anyango’s home was violated by police who entered her home and started brutally beating her two sons, Chris 17 and Smith 7, and a neighbor’s son Silas 18. Her sons survived, though they still have injuries sustained in the beating. Her neighbor’s son, Silas, died in the hospital. Mama Chris still displays a Kenyan flag in her home, but she wonders if she will vote in the next election.

Silas’ mother looks to her neighbor’s Anne Anyango’s home across the street, where her son was beaten to death by police. Post-Mortem from the Kenya Police confirms the death of Silas was ‘Due to blunt force trauma’.

“I thought: ‘This is not about to happen to me again!’ I did not know what to think or feel at the time.” Susan Muthoni, 20, nicknamed Mso, was very intense as she shared her young life’s story, marred by the killings of two husbands (Kahara, age 18, in 2017 and Garvey, age 19, Christmas time 2018) by rogue police. She was left to raise her young son on her own, her reputation and dreams trashed. She has been very courageous in speaking out about these injustices even though her life has been threatened by police.

Photographs from the burial services for Kahara and Garvey, Mso's two husbands.

“Nothing will change that truth. And we shall not be silenced.” Sitting in her home, Rose (left) looks longingly at the photo of her son Nixon. She works with Stella in a team focused on putting a drastic halt to police violence in Kenya’s informal settlements.

“The police gunned down our sons, one after the other, piling them behind a nearby bathroom. It was cold indiscriminate butchery.” Police hunted down and brutally executed eight young men in this dead-end alley. The ‘Mukuru Seven’ is the most tragic story of all those told by the 18 interviewed families. On April 19, 2016 eight young men met at their ‘base’ to talk about ways to collect garbage in the community, do something good and earn some money. One of the Mukuru community chiefs decided that this was a dangerous meeting of criminals, so he called the police to take care of this group. All eight young men were executed in a place without escape. One of the witnesses to the crime was knifed to death shortly after the case was investigated. Ironically the eighth young man killed was the son of the chief who called the police. This was a clear case of criminalizing poverty and young men. There still has been no justice in this case.

“The police gunned down our sons, one after the other, piling them behind a nearby bathroom. It was cold indiscriminate butchery.” Police hunted down and brutally executed eight young men in this dead-end alley. The ‘Mukuru Seven’ is the most tragic story of all those told by the 18 interviewed families. On April 19, 2016 eight young men met at their ‘base’ to talk about ways to collect garbage in the community, do something good and earn some money. One of the Mukuru community chiefs decided that this was a dangerous meeting of criminals, so he called the police to take care of this group. All eight young men were executed in a place without escape. One of the witnesses to the crime was knifed to death shortly after the case was investigated. Ironically the eighth young man killed was the son of the chief who called the police. This was a clear case of criminalizing poverty and young men. There still has been no justice in this case.

“He had so many plans for the future – most of them academically oriented.” Esther Wangui (left) is consoled by Mama Victor (right) as she recounts the story of how her 19 year old son Stephen, who had gone off to work, had been killed when he got caught up in a protest where police were using live bullets to disperse the protestors. In the interview she and her daughter told stories of what a good student he was and how, even when he was on school holiday, he would try to find work to help support the family.

“In Sylvester (Onyii), I saw myself and all the things I am capable of.” Elias looks for signs of his brother in the window as many have told him he looks like Sylvester. Elias tells the story of how Sylvester disappeared from his job as a matatu driver in 2015 and has not been heard from since. He is one of many cases of ‘enforced disappearances’. His mother Josephine Akoth thinks about her oldest son Sylvester every day and wonders if he will ever come back. As with most families, the loss of a bread winner can create severe strains on a family. Josephine struggles with depression.

“… I hated God’s wantonness, His cruelty and I hated myself, too much. How was I going to look at my reflection in the mirror? The world began to feel so empty and I was all alone in it.” Luci Wambui, nickname Wambo, lost the love of her life, her husband Chris, to the notorious rogue policeman Rashid. Her one room home is a shrine to her late husband. Chris loved footfall and was a good provider of her family. He was soon to be a happy father when he was executed. Wambo gave birth to their daughter less than a month after his death.

Her husband put up this Bob Marley poster with the saying “You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.” The Network members are now those strong women fighting for justice.

For most families their hopes and dreams rest with their children and grandchildren. But keeping a family together after such tragedies is difficult, emotionally and financially. Mama Victor comforts her granddaughter, Vicky, named after her son.

Mso struggles as she deals with loss of two husbands in less than two years and works to raise her young son. Her courageous struggle for survival and activism with Kenyan Mothers of Victims and Survivors Network symbolizes the movement’s goal to move from darkness into the light of justice.

The Network families are always looking for ways to keep alive the memories of their loved ones as they fight for redress and justice in the courts. One way has been to plant trees in their honor.