11/03/03

KENYA - Tough life after Kenya's death row

By Alexis Masciarelli

Gibson Njau Githaria was recently set free after spending 16 years on death row in Kenya's Kamati maximum security prison for an offence he says he did not commit.

Since returning to his village, his daily routine has changed from beatings and prison cells to hugs, pats on the back, tears in the eyes and praising God.

Family and neighbours come and visit a man they thought they would never see again.

The Kenyan Government released 28 death row prisoners at the end of February as part of its attempts to reform the country.

Leaving prison is remembered by most as the best day of their life, but life in the outside world can be fraught with difficulty.

"Everything has changed so much," Gibson says.

"There are more house, more cars, more people. But all the things left behind me are not here any more."

Rebuilding

Indeed, as we walk around his village near Limuru, Gibson shows me the ruins of his house destroyed a few years ago.

His wife died in 1996 and his three children live abroad, in Uganda, with an aunt.

He has not seen them yet. Gibson's eldest boy was nine at the time of his arrest. He is now 25.

"My priority is to build a house. I have to rebuild myself. But I don't know where to start from.

"I don't want to remarry if my children can come back with me. But they probably can't remember how I look like."

Dumped

Justice Minister Kiraitu Murungi called the death penalty a "barbaric act" and is planning to have it suppressed from the constitution, which is currently being revised.

But so far, the new Kenyan Government does not have a rehabilitation plan for the former death row inmates.

Following their release, most of them looked frightened, after having suddenly been dumped in the busy streets of Nairobi.

Interior Minister Moody Awori told the BBC: "We are thinking of creating a sort of 'halfway house' where freed prisoners would spend some time to ease their return into society."

The problem is that even the minister says he does not know how many death row prisoners are still in detention.

Beatings

It does not surprise Gibson, who felt completely abandoned in jail.

"Life was horrible. Nobody ever told us that death sentences had been suspended. I thought I could be hanged at any time.

"The wardens used to beat us severely. They wouldn't do anything if we would be ill. They would tell us: don't worry, because you are going to die anyway."

During his detention, Gibson only received visits twice a year from his eldest brother Frederick.

They were very short encounters lasting only two or three minutes as the two men would be hassled by prison wardens.

On the day of his release, Gibson went straight to his brother's home.

"It was night already. I was a bit worried, when I heard someone knocking. But when I opened the door, I found it was my brother. I almost fell down," says Frederick.

The reunited brothers talked until 0200, he said.

Planning return

Gibson can count on the warm support of a large family of farmers.

Maize is growing well in this area. He will not starve.

Pheris is one of his cousins. As she arrives from the fields, the old woman says she knew Gibson as a kid and she feels responsible for him.

"I wish he could build a house next to mine. So I can fetch water and cook for him and maybe look for a lady who could stay with him. I want him to feel settled."

As Pheris gets ready to prepare her meal, a mash of white maize, peas and potatoes, Gibson still looks like his mind is far away.

As if he has not yet realised he is back in the outside world; that there is a life at the end of the death row.

He still intends to go back to Kamati maximum security prison but, this time, as a free man.

"I want to go and visit the prisoners who stayed behind. To give them hope and encourage them. To tell them that a miracle can happen."