Giliam Munyao lost her firstborn son, Rex Masai, last June. He was the first casualty of the protests that swept through Nairobi. He had a job waiting for him in the United Kingdom.
That opportunity died with him. Now, nearly a year later, the Kenyan government has announced a significant sum of money as compensation for the families of the dozens of youths killed.
Munyao calls it a big joke. She is not alone in that view. The government’s offer is a lump sum.
It is a number. A figure meant to close a chapter.
But for Munyao, the money is not compensation. It is a consolation token. A way to be told to take it and shut up.
She said as much in an interview. The government, she argued, has been contemptuous of human life. There is no structured mechanism for negotiation.
No real engagement. Just an announcement.
A number. Take it or leave it. Munyao is raising two other children.
Rex was supposed to help. His death shattered the family’s plan.
She wonders now what she can invest in to bring up his siblings. What sum of money replaces a son who was about to fly to the UK for work? What number accounts for a future that is simply gone?
The government has dragged its feet, she said. The families have waited. They have asked for accountability.
They have asked for a process. Instead, they got an offer.
A figure that feels like an afterthought. Rex Masai was the first to die. That fact carries weight.
His mother’s anger carries weight. She is not asking for charity.
She is asking for a system. A way to sit down and talk about what is owed. A recognition that a human life is not a line item in a budget.
But that is not what happened. The government’s approach, as Munyao describes it, was to announce a number and expect gratitude. To treat the families as obstacles rather than partners in a negotiation.
To offer money and call it justice. The protests of June 2024 turned violent.
Dozens of young Kenyans died. Their families have spent the year trying to pick up the pieces. They have sought accountability.
They have found disappointment. Munyao’s frustration is specific.
It is not abstract. It is about a son who was alive and is now dead. It is about two younger children who need to be raised.
It is about a government that, in her view, has not treated the loss with the seriousness it demands. The compensation offer was made. It was announced publicly.
But the families were not consulted. The mechanism was not built with them.
The money arrived as a gesture, not as part of a process. And for Munyao, that gesture is a joke. A big one.
She questions the value. No amount can be worth human life, she said.
That is not a radical statement. It is a plain one. But it is a truth that the government’s offer does not seem to acknowledge.
Rex Masai was the first. His mother’s voice is one of many. As the anniversary approaches, the families are still waiting.
Not just for money. For a way to be heard.
For a structure that treats their loss as real. For something more than a number.
