Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...
|
Tributes continue to flow for one of the finest writers that married both old and new media in Kenya, Rasna Warah. Until her passing, she was a writer extraordinaire, a speaker of truth to power and a certified pariah to bent systems and establishments. For 20 years Rasna was a thorn in the flesh of every existing government by the mere presence of her pen which in bold strokes sought to establish order amidst the chaos of governments in Kenya. Rasna was a lady of firsts, one of the first few women writers to have a column of her own in newsrooms that were all testosterone riddled. And write she did, with verve.
Whereas many that have written about Rasna Warah knew her in person or had even had the privilege to interact with her and engage her on things central to her essence, I didn’t. I write about her in the manner of a reader, a disciple at a footstool, and I say that I knew her because I started interacting with her in print as soon as words began making sense to me; my father’s way of bonding with us was getting us to read newspapers.
I interacted with Rasna from a little-known village and at first, it was with the eye of a young boy learning a thing or two about exposure. I saw her as the muhindi lady who wrote with the bile of a Kenyan activist; nothing could be further from the truth. Rasna was a Kenyan who wrote with the courage of a patriot and her pen had a mean hook.
Rasna was a refined journalist known more from what she wrote about than from her style. She was not a flowery writer. Her style was direct, a woman with a mission. Rasna’s pen was bold, which is how she lived her life – consistently, abrasively, shamelessly defiant and dedicated to the cause of a better Kenya.
Rasna was no stranger to a tiff here and there and if she thought herself right, woe to you whom she thought on the wrong. From being part of the creatives leading a walkout from the Nation, citing interference with editorials, to publishing a book that highlighted the ills of her employer of twelve years and one of the largest humanitarian organisations in the world, Rasna was not afraid to stand up for social justice. She dedicated her life to the struggle for human rights with the energy of youth.
Rasna remained rebellious to the last. Her barrage of tweets on X in her last days spoke ominously of the end she saw looming and, still, of her desire for a better country. One of her last tweets could be a script from the Book of Lamentations or the messianic ride to Jerusalem where, as Jesus overlooks the city he loves, he weeps for its impending destruction. Rasna wept for a Kenya she felt was being destroyed by bad governance.
Nairobi, the city where Rasna had made her bones as a writer, became gall to her tongue and she wrote about it, criticising the proposal to put up a nightclub in Uhuru Park. She moved to Malindi.
Whereas Rasna wrote with depth and profound clarity, she lived her truth quietly and clearly when it came to her personal life. Rasna documented her journey with cancer and her decision to seek alternative treatment.
Rasna always had a place in her heart for the writing community and is quoted as telling an editor to treat writers well because “writers in Kenya are treated like shit”. In her own way, Rasna was an avant-garde in the community of writers. She was privileged to have cultured two voices – her own and that of her pen, both of which spoke in seamless unison to the power of the people; she stood on her words, written and spoken. Rasna’s words will remain a beacon to scribblers in their struggle to find their own voices and forge their own paths.
Rasna has rested, but as her spirit lies in the quietude of death, Rasna’s writing will always be as loud as any clarion call ever will.
Rest easy Rasna.