African Woman and Child Feature Service

Londiani is a name that brings horrifying memories to Zainabu Nduta, who witnessed untold terror and bloodshed, after the disputed December elections were announced. 

But, Nduta says that despite what she went through, she is now firmly focused on rebuilding her life. 

She is well aware that it is not going to be easy, but she hopes the reconstructive programmes the government has planned for displaced persons like her, will help. 

Like many other people, Nduta hopes that the process of identifying the needy cases will be transparent and that women are going to participate fully in decision making process during this period. 

Nduta, who estimates her age at 100 years, says she has seen it all following the violence. Her 12 children and a chain of grandchildren have had to lean on her for support. 

Her misery comes from the fact that she has been displaced from a place she has known as home for close to eight decades. 

With her husband who she speaks of fondly, they build about 12 rental houses and bought land. The proceeds from the rent and crop harvests were used to educate their children and help them fulfill other obligations. But all these went up in flames. 

Nduta is bitter that she is an old woman, who has no interest in politics. Yet what she witnessed was not the first time: it happened to her in 1992 and 2002, only this time it on scale beyond comprehension. 

“During KANU’s rule, the 1992 ethnic clashes took place. Some tribes demanding land from others, I was caught up in it, but fled to Nakuru with some of my children,” says Nduta. 

At that time, they only burnt the farms and left the houses standing. 

“They keep asking us to give them their land back, but I ask myself, which land? My business and the houses I rent were bought through contributions to various Societies.  These were organizations that helped us to invest wisely,” explains Nduta. 

In 2002, she says things were also not good, but the violence did not escalate, and so they did not flee. 

“You can understand now that tensions have characterized every election, and I have stayed here because Londiani is home.” 

She scoffed at her daughter’s when they told her they were leaving the area. 

“I was certain that the tension was nothing to worry about, but when someone called to warn my daughter that unless we gone in ten minutes, we would be slaughtered, I felt the fear.” 

Nduta tried to stay on, but when things got worse, she too left with the help of Red Cross, following her children and grandchildren. 

Now in a camp in Nakuru, Nduta constantly whines how she is not ready to live a life of depending on other people, something she abhors. She used to get rent from houses and take care of herself. Now they are no more. 

What she went through this time around has made her vow never to go back to Londiani again, even if things were to go back to normal. 

“Many people at my age pass on their days comfortably, waiting for their names to be called into the next life. I do not know what to ask for, a piece of land, or peace of mind,” she says. 

“But even as I look at these problems as one big mountain, I know that somewhere within these old bones of mine lies an ounce of strength, and I shall rise above my predicament,” she equips with a broad smile.