After finishing high school in 2012, I found myself struggling to survive in an economy designed to keep the poor in chains. Like many young people, I hoped to uplift my family from the suffering imposed by the neoliberal system. In 2015, I started working as a tout in the chaotic and exploitative matatu industry, plying the Githurai 45 route from the rapidly growing suburb of Ruiru to Nairobi’s Central Business District.
After three years in the industry, I realized that my economic struggles would not be solved by working as a tout. The challenges were grotesque. I was constantly harassed and arrested by county askaris and the police. The matatu business is one of Kenya’s most corrupt industries, with state officers openly collecting bribes from the wee hours of the morning at roundabouts and roadblocks, never caring whether the casual workers they extort have even made a profit or had breakfast. You either pay, or you suffer the consequences. The rampant arbitrary arrests and ignorance of the law by the participants in the industry put young workers at risk of spending much of their youth in prison, fueling my realization that the police and justice system exist to protect the rich while oppressing the poor.
It was through this experience that I developed a deep yearning to fight for change. The same youths I worked with who were parents, siblings, and friends continue to suffer under the weight of systemic poverty. As I searched for alternative work, I found myself in the unstable world of small-time hustling, selling whatever I could to survive. But in 2018, everything changed.
Turning a New Leaf Through Community Organizing
I met Edgar, popularly known as Liberator, who introduced me to community organizing under the banner of the Githurai Human Rights Network. I began working with community groups to raise consciousness about human rights, accountability, and the constitution. Through Liberator, I later met Garang Mzalendo, both of whom were radio presenters at Ghetto Radio, hosting the popular Changamka Show, which combined social justice with reggae music. Their work inspired me, and my focus sharpened, culminating in the formation of the Githurai Social Justice Centre (GSJC), which later became part of the Social Justice Movement Working Group.
As GSJC grew, I became deeply involved in organizing across Nairobi’s informal settlements. My revolutionary mission became clearer I had a duty to fight for justice and freedom for the people. But community organizing is not without its challenges. The work is unpaid, yet human rights defenders carry the immense burden of documenting injustices, from extrajudicial killings to gender-based violence. The emotional and psychological toll is heavy. The lack of psychosocial support for organizers meant that I was absorbing all the trauma without an outlet.
Effects and Overcoming Mental Health and Substance Abuse
As the work of defending my community intensified, I unknowingly sacrificed my well-being. I started using drugs such as khat (Miraa) and alcohol (Chang’aa) to keep up with the demands of organizing. The situation worsened when my house was demolished and I was forcefully evicted leaving me homeless. With no community support and a growing sense of despair, I became trapped in alcohol abuse. What started as a way to escape my struggles, quickly consumed my life.
I spent my days drinking in local chang’aa dens, often skipping meals, and losing touch with my responsibilities. My young family suffered and my wife, child and family members became ashamed of me, while the community dismissed me as a lost cause. Human rights defenders are often vilified, perceived as nuisances rather than defenders of the people. My struggles reinforced that perception, further isolating me.
One thing I had always believed was that change begins with me. I had wasted years drowning in alcohol, and I knew that if I remained in the same toxic environment, nothing would change. I had to make a choice to either continue on my self-destructive path or reclaim my life. I decided to leave Githurai and return to my rural home in Embu.
Figure 4 Sabasaba March For Ourlives Protests In 2019
Turning a New Leaf Through the Community Kitchen and Organizing the Embu Community Justice Centre
Leaving Nairobi was not just about escaping substance abuse; it was about creating a new environment where I could rebuild myself. As a cadre of the Social Justice Movement and an adherent of the Revolutionary Socialist League, I knew that only militant discipline would get me back on track.
Figure 5 Political Education Session in our Community Kitchen Centre (2023)
In Embu, I sought out new ways to sustain myself while remaining committed to the struggle. I started a community kitchen, which became a means of survival and a new space for organizing. The kitchen provided a platform to engage with farmers and rural workers about their struggles, helping me realize that the same oppressive structures in urban informal settlements existed in rural areas. Farmers were being exploited, the government was failing them, and their struggles were no different from those of the urban poor.
“A soldier without political ideology is a potential criminal – Thomas Sankara”
Through these conversations, I saw the need to organize. The Embu Community Justice Centre was born out of this realization, providing farmers and workers with a platform to collectively fight for their rights. By advocating for cooperatives, trade unions, and revolutionary consciousness, we began laying the foundation for an alternative system that prioritizes people over profit.
Conclusion
My journey from substance abuse to organizing a new justice center was not easy, but it was necessary. The capitalist system is designed to break us, to push us into despair and self-destruction. But the fight for justice is not just about confronting the state—it is about confronting the conditions that weaken our people, including mental health struggles and substance abuse.
Community organizing is not just political; it is deeply personal. By rebuilding myself, I was able to rebuild my commitment to the struggle. My experience has shown me that revolutionary discipline, collective care, and political consciousness are essential for sustaining both individuals and movements. The fight continues, not just in Nairobi, but in every corner of the country where people refuse to accept oppression as their fate. For a free, just, and organized society—one community at a time.
Aluta Continua and forward to land, food and freedom!
