It’s a miracle that I escaped death during coup bid
What you need to know:
As the head of the Kiswahili and Vernacular stations at the Voice of Kenya, I was accustomed to such interruption to my sleep whenever an announcer did not turn up for the early shift and I was required to save the situation.
- All the rebels fled and left me in the studio alone. I was confused, not sure if I should follow them out or stay put. After a few minutes, I ran out of the live studio to the adjoining studio, which was used for the schools broadcasts.
Saturday, July 31, 1982 had been a normal day.
I had been to the airport to see off my sister, Pauline, who was travelling to Canada. After that, I had gone straight to my house at the Government Quarters in Ngara.
I watched some television and eventually retired to bed at about 11pm. The calm of the night was shattered by what sounded like gunfire. The time read 4.30am.
I reassured my wife that the commotion was probably the result of police pursuing criminals.
However, the gunshots persisted and we could not sleep any more. Just before 5am, I heard a tap on my bedroom window.
As the head of the Kiswahili and Vernacular stations at the Voice of Kenya, I was accustomed to such interruption to my sleep whenever an announcer did not turn up for the early shift and I was required to save the situation.
I got out of bed and opened the door to find a driver from work called Wainaina. I was still in my pajamas. “What is it?” I asked. He motioned to someone standing beside him.
MILITARY GUESTS
He was a man of average build in what appeared to be military uniform. The man was pointing a pistol at me. “Are you Mambo Mbotela?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied. “I am giving you three minutes to dress up. We are going with you!” he barked.
As I dressed, I asked my wife to pray for me. I did not know if I would return home alive.
We got into a military Land Rover and headed towards town. By then, my escorts had introduced themselves as soldiers from the Kenya Air Force who had “taken over the government” and they needed me to make that announcement on radio.
On the way, we stopped in the city centre and the men broke into a shop displaying shoes.
They took several pairs. They welcomed me to help myself to the loot but I declined and stayed in the vehicle. Amid all the tension, there was slight amusement when all the shoes turned out to be left-sided.
We arrived at Broadcasting House at 5.20am and headed upstairs to the National Service live studio. Students from the University of Nairobi were also in the building and they shouted “Power!”
The coup leader, Hezekiah Ochuka, quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper, which he handed to me. “Read this immediately!” he said and pointed a gun to my head.
“This is the Voice of Kenya, Nairobi. I am Leonard Mambo Mbotela. The government of President Moi has been overthrown by the armed forces.
All police officers should disarm and all political detainees have been released. Please stay at home and do not loiter in the streets.”
CLINIC YA NYAYO
Initially, Ochuka did not seem to believe that the announcement was actually being transmitted.
So he fetched a small radio to confirm this. When he spotted a vinyl record with the title “Clinic ya Nyayo by Nderitu Munene, he broke it into pieces.
In between regular announcements of the coup, I was playing the only available record in the studio, Tabu Ley’s hit Maze, with the famous lyrics, “I love you, baby touch me.” Ochuka wanted martial music.
I told him that this was only available in the gramophone library, which was locked.
Just before 9am, one of the rebels stormed into the studio, breathless: “We are under attack from the Kenya Army!” he shouted.
All the rebels fled and left me in the studio alone. I was confused, not sure if I should follow them out or stay put. After a few minutes, I ran out of the live studio to the adjoining studio, which was used for the schools broadcasts.
I hid under a table as a gun battle raged in the corridors. After what seemed like an eternity, I emerged from my hiding place and ran out.
There was an army soldier with a gun pointed directly at me. Instinctively, I raised my hands and shouted: “I am Leonard Mambo Mbotela and I work here!”
The officer lowered his gun. “Mambo, count yourself lucky because a moment ago I was going to fire and kill you, yet I have always longed for the day I would meet you,” he said.
Meanwhile, I saw the huge frame of the deputy army commander, Major General Mahmoud Mohammed, emerge in the corridor. “Shoot anyone you find here. They are all maharamia,” he ordered his soldiers.
GET BACK TO WORK!
I explained that I had been abducted by the rebels and ordered to make the announcement of the coup.
Major General Mohammed told me to get back into the studio and announce in English and Kiswahili, that the coup had been crushed.
“This is the Voice of Kenya and I am Leonard Mambo Mbotela. I am here with Major General Mohammed and other officers from the Lang’ata and Kahawa Barracks.
I would like to assure you that the Government of President Daniel arap Moi is firmly in control. Stay calm. Everything is under control. The country is under the protection of the Nyayo forces.”
Broadcasting House was a scene out of hell. Bodies of rebel soldiers and students were strewn all over the corridors.
It is a miracle that I escaped death that Sunday morning.