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The national police robbed me and raped my friend.

The national police robbed me and raped my friend.

I begged for the officer’s mercy as he pulled me by my pants. He slapped me on the face, a clear indication that he was not ready to listen to anything I had to say. His two partners wore smirks on their faces. They seemed to be enjoying his actions. In fact, once in every few minutes of our long walk, either one of them would hurl sexual insults at me and my girlfriend.

I tried to steal a glance at Angela’s face. I could read her like a book. Clearly, she had mixed feelings. She was furious, guilty, scared and nervous. She was falling apart, I could tell. At least she wasn’t cuffed, and the officers seemed nice to her, quite suspiciously I might add!

My lips were swollen, my eyes heavy and I could barely feel my legs, but I kept walking, all these resulting from all the pushing by the officers and partly from the confusion. I felt no physical pain at that moment, probably because what I was going through was too much to process. I was disconnected from the physical world. I kept asking myself the same questions. What would Angela’s mum think of me? How would I explain to my parents that I had been arrested for “defilement” and assaulting a police officer?

“We are here!” Abdi declared. I raised my eyes and I could barely see at this point but I managed to make out the writings on a big black gate. My worst nightmares were coming to a reality, yes, we had indeed arrived. Kasarani Police Station stood right in front of my eyes. I was scared, really scared. For some reason, we stood a few meters away from the entrance. Nobody made a move. The three officers would then make signals to each other. I could not decipher what they were communicating. After speaking their alien language, one of Abdi’s partners took Angela by her hand and pulled her towards one of the nearby houses. I would later find out that those were the officers’ camp sites.

I questioned Abdi the reason for Angela’s separation with the rest of us. His other partner responded by pointing a gun to my face. Passers-by would only look in awe, and go their way. I kept silent in fear for my life.

Abdi went straight to his point, he wanted money. There was really no crime cuddling a seventeen-year-old girl on the street. He was not in uniform, so punching him in the face when he attacked was genuine self-defence. As a child, I had grown up declaring that I would never engage in corruption. The policy that strictly governed my life was being put to test, I failed. With just five thousand kenyan shillings, my cuffs were taken off and Abdi totally forgot that I had earlier punched his nose and nearly broke it. Physically, I was a free man, but a slave of guilt.

I asked for Angela’s whereabouts, but the same response was given. A gun pointed to my face and a promise that I would see her later. I boarded a bus home, leaving my laptop, bag and jacket to the officers. Clearly, I had been robbed. Robbed of my property, robbed of my rights, robbed of my dignity.

I never heard from Angela until a month later,

“Hello Collins, I am a month old pregnant, I was a victim of rape!”

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