UBUNTU VILLAGE · COLLECTIVE GRIEF · A WOUND THE WHOLE VILLAGE FEELS
“When the state takes one of us, the whole village grieves — this is not metaphor, it is Ubuntu. Albert Ojwang’s name joins an ancestral line of those whose deaths demanded that the living refuse to look away. A nation’s wound is never private. It is carried by everyone who calls that nation home.”
By: Kimathi, a Kenyan Reporter. This report features insights from Albert O. Ojwang, a well-known Blogger.
Introduction: One Year Later, the Streets Still Speak
It began with silence.
The kind of silence that hangs heavy, before a chant, before a tear gas canister hisses through the air, before the footsteps of thousands turn asphalt into history.
Today, June 25, 2025, Kenyans across more than 30 counties rose in memory, in protest, and pain. Precisely one year since the storming of Parliament during the anti-Finance Bill 2024 riots, the country finds itself back at a crossroads, still demanding justice and still confronting power.
But this time, it’s not just about tax. It’s about trust. And blood.
What Triggered Today’s Protest?
The death of blogger Albert O. Ojwang, while in police custody on June 8, 2025, is the match that reignited a nation’s fury.
- Arrested over allegations of online defamation, Albert died within 24 hours in a cell in Mombasa.
- An autopsy confirmed what many feared: he died from head injuries and neck compression, not self-harm.
This wasn’t just a death. It was a symbol of state violence. And Kenyans, especially the youth, weren’t about to stay silent. The grief that flows through community when the state enacts violence is ancestral — much like what we’ve written about in our piece on what freedom feels like in the body, healing begins when we name the wound together.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_of_Albert_Ojwang
Scenes from the Ground: Where Grief Met Defiance
From Nairobi to Mombasa, Kisumu to Nakuru, and Eldoret to Meru, the turnout was staggering. Young and old, professionals and students, unemployed and retired, all poured into the streets with one message: “We remember. And we won’t stop.”
In Nairobi, roads were sealed off near Parliament and State House. Protesters waving the Kenyan flag sang freedom songs, some holding portraits of those killed in 2024.
But not all was peaceful:
- Tear gas filled the Central Business District, as riot police clashed with marchers.
- In Matuu, at least two people were reportedly shot dead. More injuries were confirmed across counties, including one protester allegedly shot in the mouth.
A Divided Protest: The Rise of “Protectors”
Oddly, it wasn’t just protesters and police on the ground.
A group of young, muscular men with clubs, self-described as “patriots” or “Team Nairobi,” claimed they were there to “protect businesses.” Many Kenyans online believe these groups were sponsored to intimidate demonstrators.
- Their emergence raises questions of militia-style suppression.
- While they claimed they were acting independently, others believe they were working with the state, off the books.
The Government’s Reaction
The government response has been described as a mix of containment and censorship.
- Media blackouts: The Communications Authority ordered a halt to live protest coverage, citing “national security risks.” This left Kenyans relying on social media and VPNs for updates. https://www.citizen.digital/news/communications-authority-orders-stop-to-live-broadcasts-of-june-25-protests-n365216
- Police deployments: Armed anti-riot police flooded streets in full gear, using tear gas, water cannons, and reportedly, live ammunition.
- Warnings and arrests: Several organizers have either been detained or gone into hiding in fear of reprisal.
The public reaction? Outrage. Many saw this not as protection, but as suppression of dissent.
Media Shutdown: A Breathless Silence
Just past midday, live coverage abruptly vanished. Television stations went dark. Citizen TV reported CA’s decree halting live protest coverage, citing Articles 33(2), 34(1) of Kenya’s Constitution and Section 461 of the KICA aljazeera.com, theguardian.com.
Rules meant to safeguard democracy became tools for censorship.
Yet Kenyans are resilient. Some parts of the media remained online, available on YouTube, X, and Telegram. Citizen journalism took center stage: cellphone footage spread across social feeds. Even so, the message was clear: the voice of a nation had been gagged, or so the CA thought.
The Standard Group, refusing to be silenced, vowed to continue streaming. Legal challenges emerged. Among them, the Katiba Institute petitioned the High Court, calling the barricading of roads “unlawful” and arguing that it violated citizens’ rights to protest and move freely.
International Reaction: A Chorus of Concern
Foreign embassies spoke out soon after the violence began. The U.S., U.K., Canada, and others issued a joint statement urging calm, stressing the fundamental right to peaceful protest, and warning against the use of plainclothes officers and hired disruptors.
Human rights groups, from Amnesty International to Katiba Institute, denounced both the censorship and the brutality. They highlighted photos of journalists detained, arbitrary arrests, and chilling use of force against unarmed civilians.
In Mombasa and Kisumu, peaceful gatherings continued well after dusk as clergy, students, and ordinary citizens lit candles and sang hymns. Diplomatic pressure is loud, but in Kenya, it’s voices from within that resonate most.
A Look Back: What Happened on June 25, 2024?
One year ago, parliament was stormed by angry Kenyans during demonstrations against the 2024 Finance Bill, which included steep taxes on essentials like fuel, bread, and data.
- More than 30 people were reportedly killed.
- No major political figure was held accountable.
- Families are still waiting for closure, justice, or even a public apology.
Today’s protest is not just a commemoration; it’s a reminder of promises broken.
International Voices Chime In
The U.S. Embassy and other Western missions released cautious statements urging restraint and respect for human rights.
Yet, activists say words aren’t enough. Many want foreign powers to re-evaluate their support for a government increasingly accused of brutality and corruption.
Kenyans Speak: What This Protest Really Means
“I watched Albert’s story and I thought, that could’ve been me,” said 22-year-old Joan, a university student marching in Thika.
“We are not violent. We are desperate,” shouted a protester in Kisumu, tears running down his cheeks as tear gas clouded the air.
“This is no longer a protest. It’s a prayer,” an older woman in Nakuru whispered, laying down flowers at a memorial site.
From placards to prayers, the sentiment was the same: Kenyans are tired of mourning their own at the hands of those they trust to protect them.
What Now? The Road Ahead
The anniversary of June 25 holds more than memory; it’s now a crossroads for Kenya’s future.
What must be done:
- Police and Corrections Reform — Independent oversight for custodial deaths; accountability for those responsible for Ojwang’s death, and the protesters shot during today’s protests.
- Media Freedom — Repeal the CA order banning live coverage; ensure journalists aren’t arrested or intimidated.
- Youth and Economic Relief — Address the unemployment and cost-of-living crisis; reverse or mitigate policies that penalize people below the poverty threshold; government negotiation with youth leaders; genuine commitment to reform over repression.
President Ruto cares about remembering but also about demanding.
Candlelight Over Conflict
Even as the sun set on this volatile day, hope flickered in many towns:
- Candlelit vigils were held in Nyeri, Machakos, and Eldoret.
- Clergy, students, and parents joined hands in prayer for a better Kenya.
- Some sang hymns. Others stood in silence. But all carried a memory and a warning.
The Government’s Stance on June 25 Protests: A Show of Strength, But Few Signs of Change
As Kenya marks one year since the deadly anti-Finance Bill protests of 2024, the streets are once again filled with anger, grief, and purpose. But while citizens light candles and carry placards, the government responds with a firm message: order must be maintained at all costs.
From the State House to the Ministry of Interior, the government’s position on the June 25 protests has been consistent: citizens have the right to protest, but only if they do so peacefully. Any gatherings deemed disruptive or threatening to public order have been met with overwhelming police presence, tear gas, and, in some cases, live ammunition.
Interior Cabinet Secretary Kithure Kindiki warned early in the week that security forces would act decisively to “protect life and property.” The Communications Authority followed suit, issuing a directive banning live media coverage of the protests, citing national security and public cohesion. The decision has left many Kenyans relying on social media and VPNs to follow developments, a move widely condemned by civil society groups as an attempt to silence dissent.
While the government says it is acting within the law, many Kenyans feel it is using legality as a shield to avoid accountability. The death of blogger Albert Ojwang in police custody, which sparked fresh outrage, was only briefly acknowledged, without any official statement from key ministries beyond confirming arrests. Yet, the broader issue of police brutality, economic suffering, and shrinking civic space remains largely unaddressed.
For the government, the message is control: don’t protest violently, don’t disrupt business, and don’t question the police too loudly. For the people, the message received is different: your grief is valid, but inconvenient.
And so, the protests continue, not just as defiance, but as a plea for a government that listens, not just governs.
Conclusion: A Nation at a Crossroads
June 25, 2025, was not just a protest; it was a pivotal moment.
It was a scream. A plea. A eulogy. A mirror held up to those in power.
For the organizers who return to these streets year after year, grief and endurance are inseparable — a tension we unpack in Grief, Liberation, and the Long Game, on why ancestral activism was never built to mirror burnout culture, but to sustain the fight across generations.
And as the smoke clears and the hashtags fade, the question remains: Will Kenya heed its people’s voices before history repeats itself again?
Related Reading
- ‣ Colonialism and Global Health Policy
- ‣ Reparations and Healing: A Public Health Argument
- ‣ Juneteenth 2026: What Freedom Feels Like in the Body
Community is the medicine.
Ubuntu Village stands with communities in Kenya, Uganda, and Nigeria who resist state violence with love and collective action. Your gift sustains this witness.
About the Author: Kimathi
Kimathi is a Nairobi-based writer and cultural observer contributing to Ubuntu Village’s Africa desk. His work documents the lives, subcultures, and overlooked stories of everyday Kenyans — from the nganya matatu scene to the night workers who carry the city while it sleeps. He writes from the inside out, with the city in his bones.
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