Don’t Cry Wolf

Jan 24th, 2009 - This is not a story of crying “wolf” one to many times. This is a story of just crying “wolf”. This is the most disturbing incident that we have encountered so far.

I usually like to put a little humor into my blogs, unfortunately this one has little. If I wasn’t clumsy, it would have had none at all.

We are headed back to Kisumu after our trip to Uganda. We’ve just made it through immigration for both Uganda and Kenya at Busia. We hit the stage area and are hit immediately by all the matatu drivers that want to help us get to Kisumu. Various people in our group are talking to various drivers. Suddenly I hear that Nick has made a deal an selected a ride for us. Seems the guy was a little nicer than the others and his English better.

Of course we can’t take off until the matatu is full, so we climb in and wait. We select our preferred sitting, the back of the van as there is less chance of additional people getting crammed into our rows. Of course a sitting matatu with passengers is bait for the hawkers selling their wears and some there are several trying to get us to purchase something for a great price. We show some interest as we are hungry and have nothing else to do.

Here is where the story gets scary. Seconds after Morgan warns Joyce to watch her stuff, as she is sitting by the open window, I hear Joyce yell “Hey that boy stole something from my purse!”. The chaos starts. I leap forward and shove the money taker out of the way as I try to scurry out of the van. I end up tripping on the way out and tumble head first out of the van. Morgan leaps out behind me while Nick has already pulled himself head first out his window.

Nick is right behind the thief in close pursuit, Morgan is in the mix someplace. I’m dusting myself off and putting my sandal back on. I get onto my feet finally and take off. After a couple of steps I realize I have no idea which way the kid went or what he looks like. So I start to follow the crowd. I look around and head off in what looks like the main direction that people are heading. I look around to assess what is going on and see lots of people headed in several directions. I circle around through what now has become a mob scene with people shouting and running in all kinds of directions. People are excites, riled up and in hot pursuit. I can’t figure out what direction to head so I go back to the matatu to see what is going on. I have a brief exchange with Joyce to find out more details about what happened. This is really the first time that I know that Nick and Morgan are out and in pursuit also. After an emotional exchange I head off again. I’m I little blurry on this next part. By this time I can tell what direction I need to take and head off. I get part way and hear a gunshot. I think I spot Nick and Morgan amongst the mob. This is not a crowd, this is a mob scene. People are worked up and want something to happen. It’s disturbing seeing how hostile they become so quickly.

It’s not looking good so I head back to the van and ask Joyce how much or what was taken. She is unsure. Not much if anything she says. The van driver and fare collector says we should just forget about it, get in the van and move on. I go after Nick and Morgan to bring them back, thinking this is sound advice. The mob is headed down the main street, all in the same direction, and I can feel the tension and the emotions of the crowd. I’m working my way up through the mob looking for my kids when I hear another gun shot. I’ve heard enough stories about thieves shot at the scene and my heart beats out of my chest. I’m thinking that a kid has just been shot of a few dollars, if that. I continue on up to the head of the mod and start to hear the yells and see the heat in people’s eyes. I spot Nick and Morgan at the front, trailing very close behind the suspect that is being lead down the road by 2 men with strong grips on the kid. Morgan dart’s off and I see she is grabbing rocks out of the hands of people in the mob. I realize at this time my kids are working to protect the kid from anymore harm. The thought of retrieving them and heading back to the van leaves me and I start pulling rocks out of hands myself as I work my way to the front so I too can prevent more harm to the kid.

Fortunately we are headed for the police station and an officer is up front. Later on I learn from Nick that 4 shots in total had been fired. They were by the officer trying to maintain control and keep the crowd back. I can see that the mob had gotten their hands on the kid and Nick told me that he was kicked and had rocks thrown at him throughout the trip to the station.

Nick, it turns out was on the kids tail and in front of the pack the whole time, unaware of the mob scene forming behind him. After the kid was caught, it was found that he had 200 shillings (about $2.50 US) in his hand. Joyce could not even say if this came from her purse.

While the call of ‘wolf’ was real, the kid did indeed have his hand in Joyce’s purse, the response was very disturbing. Of course you act in the moment, a quick moment, and you don’t think of, nor can you know, how the events will play out. You hear that something is taken, and you need don’t have time to assess what was taken otherwise the thief will be gone. And the mob does not care. They see an opportunity to pursue, to catch, to beat, to kill. No consideration for the truth, for the punishment fitting the crime.

We are disturbed, even haunted, by the course of events. From the small act of Joyce yelling ‘thief’, a kid almost died.



This is beyond our understanding. Why do these people respond in this way? What is it in their culture, history, background, that leads them to think this is the appropriate response? It’s very easy to see how the violence after the elections in 2007 flamed out of control and so many died. How can this country move very far forward if these types of things happen.

While the police did protect the suspect and we saw no beating by them, our experience with them did not leave me to comfortable about their ability. First, let me say that they didn’t just want to release the kid as they said he would be lynched. And as we were leaving they did put him into a truck, which he walked to under his own power, and tell us they were taking him to the hospital. Of course this was after they left him lying on the ground for 45 minutes without looking at him, tending his wounds or offering him water.

At our time at the police station, we gave our statements. It seemed to take them some time to figure out the story, that Joyce, who was not one of the first three of us that came in with the suspect, was the one that was robbed. That her purse was not actually taken. They took our statements, Joyce’s, Morgan’s and mine. They never took Nick’s statement, who actual chased and caught the kid. They never asked any of us to explicitly ID the kid, to state that he was the one. I wouldn’t want to have to rely on them to investigate any crime.

That night I awoke at 12:30 am. My mind was not at ease, my thoughts of how close this incident came to death left me feeling ill, wondering how we would have coped with that outcome. It’s the only time I remember that I could contribute a specific incident to making me feel like my skin was crawling on me and no position felt right.

My final take on this episode leads me to the conclusion that it is better to protect yourself so that you do not have to cry ‘wolf’ in Kenya as the outcome is chaos.

Pray for this boy and this country,
Paul