Tear Gas

After another three week break from blogging, I’m back again. Lots to talk about. I moved to Kisumu last Sunday but before I get to that, I’m going to back up a few weeks and talk about the end of Nairobi. As in the past, the weekdays have been like any other weekdays at school so unless you want to hear about subjects like the effect of negative ethnic politics on development or the strengths and weaknesses of the new 2010 Constitution, I will move straight to the weekends. Three weekends ago, the last weekend in Feb, I went to a Kenya Premier League soccer game with my Kiswahili teacher, Emmanuel. Gor Mahia is the most popular team in Kenya so we decided to go to that game. Gor is a really good team but is known for its rowdy fans. Last year, seven fans were killed during a clash with another team’s fans. Unlike most clashes in Kenya that result in death, this was regular citizen A killing regular citizen B. Not Policeman A gunning down citizen A as he was running away. Anyways, as we got to the stadium, I was getting really excited: it was opening day. After a long offseason, it was a new year for the KPL and Gor. The mood outside the stadium was electric. Gor wears a green and white jersey and since the opposition team was new and therefore had not but a single fan there, the line to the gate was a sea of green. I decided to wear my Kenya national jersey because I figured that would be a neutral jersey incase all hell was to break loose. This thought came to me before I knew that the other team, Posta Rangers, would not have a single fan. Walk around the stadium, I was called some rather colorful names, in English, Kiswahili and shang (Swahili slang). Emmanuel and my host brothers Keith and Carrey translated as fast as they could. Some of the nicer comments were “You wazungu… you do realize that Kenya is not playing, right?” and just a plain old “$*&# you”. Again, those were the nice comments. After we successfully bribed the ticket agent for tickets, we got in line to go in the stadium. As we were waiting in line, a police truck rolled up and out came the po po. Instead of police hats, they wore full helmets complete with a visor/shield. Instead of handcuffs, they each were packing four canisters of tear gas. Instead of a gun, they carried a reinforced night stick. As I found out later, they are not allowed to carry guns for the same reason prison guards can’t carry guns. They are afraid they will be over powered and the fans will now have a gun. This was another reminder of exactly where I was. TIA. Once we got into the stadium, we saw a huge group of people going nuts on one side of the field while they were singing the Gor anthem. Emmanuel asked me where I wanted to sit and I pointed to the mob. He clearly answered “Hapana”. That means no. He said this is where a bunch of drunks and thungs hung out and that it was a serious security concern to sit there. Especially for me to sit there. He pointed to the opposite side of the stadium where about a hundred fans were sitting and we went to sit there. I think I’ve drawn out this story long enough so I’ll get to the good part. Gor, who was a heavy favorite, found themselves down 3-0 in the 79th minute. After the third goal was scored, I said to Keith, “Better get the riot police ready”. As a joke of course. A few minutes later, the game was stopped for no apparent reason. We were all looking around looking for an explanation. In a few minutes we found out that fans were throwing things, bottles, shards of glass and rocks, at the linesman. He had missed an offsides call in their point of view so they retaliated. After a brief meeting of referees and linesmen in the middle of the field, they decided to keep the game going. But two minutes later it was stopped again. He was getting pummeled with bottles again. All of the players walked off the field this time. Fans from the rowdy side started throwing whatever they could onto the field and were coming down from the stands to the barbed wire fence that surrounds the field. The game was then officially called by the referees but the fun was only just beginning. A group of fans were shaking the gate to the field to try to get in. There was a huge chain locking the gate and the task looked formidable. From the other side of the field where we were sitting, I asked Keith if he thought they would get in and he said “They always do”. People were starting to run out of the stadium but Emmanuel told us to stay put because he didn’t want us to get caught in a stampede. Good choice. I said I also wanted to stay for the inevitable tear gas that would come if they got on the field. Again, I said this as a joke. After a full five minutes of attempting to break down the gate, they succeeded. The fans came pouring on to the field like they had just won the NCAA tournament. Most started grabbing the advertisement banners that surrounded the field and then threw them into the middle of the field. Enter the security forces. About twenty full SWAT geared po po started a march on the field. In a fourth of July spectacle, the tear gas started flying. In the movies, tear gas is thrown on the ground and then the gas starts to slowly come out. Not in Kenya. They explode like a firework. The fans started throwing them back at the security forces which made for quite the spectacle. About five or six canisters went off in total. The tear gas started spreading in the stadium and it was headed right for us. We stared running away but we did not succeed. It hit all of us full force. It stung pretty badly for about five to ten minutes. As the fans started to run away, we made our way down to leave as the situation appeared under control. When we got back to the house, my host Mom said this was business as usual for the KPL. This is another reminder of how far this country has to go. I could have told this story in about three sentences but I wanted to tell it all for my benefit. It will be a good story to look back on in the years to come.