Kisumu Woman Rep aspirant recounts near-death experience at funeral amid rising political violence

Linda Ogweno had spent nearly eight hours at a funeral service in Nyamasaria, Kisumu County, when she decided it was time to leave.

It was around 6pm on Mashujaa Day. What had begun as an ordinary day ended with the Kisumu Woman Representative aspirant on her knees, begging a crowd armed with machetes not to kill her.

Moments earlier, Linda had stood before mourners and declared her support for ‘Wantam’, a political slogan that ran contrary to the ‘Tutam’ chants voiced by several leaders who had spoken before her.

Now, as a mob surged towards her while she was making her way out of Nyamasaria Primary School, where the funeral service was being held, Linda says she was convinced she might not make it home alive.

Begging for her life

“I literally just knelt on the ground. I started screaming, ‘Please don’t beat me, please don’t kill me,’” she says.

Linda says the incident is just one of many examples of how increasingly difficult it has become for women and dissenting political voices in Kisumu’s political landscape to be seen, heard and allowed to campaign in peace.

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She had initially planned to attend the county government’s Mashujaa Day celebrations, but after a friend informed her about the funeral, she opted to attend that instead.

The gathering brought together teachers, county employees and officials from the Kenya National Union of Teachers. As the day progressed, however, more political figures arrived, and the crowd steadily grew.

When politicians were finally invited to address mourners, Linda says she sensed tension before she even spoke.

According to her, the master of ceremonies singled her out before handing her the microphone.

“Before he gave me the microphone, he said, ‘Linda, now you have to say what you said. What you said, you have to say it here.’ He didn’t do that to the other aspirants,” she says.

She interpreted the comment as an attempt to provoke her because of her political position.

After introducing herself and making her remarks, she concluded with the slogan ‘Wantam’.

Some members of the audience cheered, she says. Others did not, she adds.

Memories of machetes

Soon afterwards, she decided to leave.

Having attended the funeral on foot and without a vehicle, she says she wanted to avoid the commotion that often follows the departure of politicians, when youths move from one leader to another seeking handouts.

She never reached the gate.

As she stopped to speak to a young man from her neighbourhood, she noticed a large group running towards her.

She quickly assessed her options. She could not outrun the crowd outside the school. Going back into the venue appeared equally difficult.

Within moments, she was on the ground.

Linda says some members of the crowd tried to stop the attack while others dragged her back towards the venue. Some attempted to grab her handbag while others assaulted her.

She recalls hearing people ask why she had attended the gathering to support ‘Wantam’.

“They managed to pull me back to the venue. When I went back, I was traumatised. I was shaking,” she says.

What remains etched in her memory is the sight of the machetes.

“When I flash back to that moment when I saw the machete, for me, death flashed on my face. Even now, I still remember it,” she says.

Deeper problem

Linda says that experience points to a deeper problem.

She argues that political competition in Kisumu has become increasingly hostile and expensive, making it difficult for aspirants without financial resources to keep pace.

She notes that young people, ranging from teenagers aged 16 to those in their early 20s, have come to view political gatherings as opportunities to demand money from political leaders.

Refusing can provoke hostility, she says, and complying offers no guarantee of safety, as further demands often follow depending on an aspirant’s perceived financial standing.

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She blames ‘elite politicians’ for introducing and promoting the handout culture. She raises concerns that the culture is making the political ground increasingly difficult for women and young aspirants to navigate.

She says they are deterred by the fear of being attacked for failing to hand out money they simply do not have.

“The people who planted this culture have watched it grow to a point where it is now beyond their control. They can no longer address it because they are the very people who created it,” she says.

But these experiences have taught her to be more careful.

She now studies exit routes before attending public gatherings, arranges transport in advance and, at times, relies on trusted local contacts to help her navigate unfamiliar areas.

The change she envisions

Nevertheless, Linda, a social entrepreneur, political trainer and gender champion, remains focused on the ultimate prize.

She holds a bachelor’s degree in mathematics and chemistry from the University of Nairobi and a master’s degree in entrepreneurship from Maseno University.

She wants to leave a mark on national governance by rooting out corruption that takes advantage of parents.

She cites the rising cost of education as one example, arguing that arrangements involving essentials such as uniforms and crockery force parents to purchase them through schools at prices that are often more than double the market rate.

She also wants to push for health insurance coverage for prisoners, address barriers to access to justice, strengthen protection for survivors of gender-based violence (GBV) and create employment opportunities for young people.

One of her concerns is the absence of a dedicated GBV centre in Kisumu County, which she believes leaves survivors without adequate support services.

“Kisumu has no functioning GBV centre. How many years after devolution? The entire county. Not even one,” she says.

She also argues that more investment is needed in community resource centres and programmes that can help young people access meaningful employment rather than relying on political handouts.

“Things like community resource centres. Because for young people, we must create employment opportunities or help them find jobs. Here in Kisumu, how many companies are operating? Yet politicians will come and give handouts. If somebody truly wanted to do something for the community, they would be able to do it,” she says.

For now, she says, she remains grateful that she survived.

And hopeful that politics can eventually become safer for those seeking to participate in it.

“Yes, we have these challenges, but I believe if we come together, we can solve them faster and have a better country.”

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