JAMILA'S MEMO: The value of a Kenyan citizen

The treatment of Kenyans living and doing business in Tanzania has been a growing concern, especially after the violence that followed the recent elections there.

We have heard the stories, Kenyans harassed in crackdowns on foreign nationals, businesses disrupted, and lives uprooted. And in the most tragic case, a Kenyan teacher who had been living and working legally in Tanzania was shot and killed in the aftermath of the unrest.

For days, there was silence — his family desperately trying to find answers, with no help from authorities. Until today, when the Kenyan government finally confirmed that, yes, a Kenyan had died. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs released a statement about the situation in Tanzania — a statement that was polite, careful, warm, and almost eager to reassure Tanzania that relations remain friendly.

Yes, it acknowledged that harassment of Kenyans has occurred. But for many Kenyans reading it, something felt painfully missing. The tone did not reflect the fear, the uncertainty, the loss — the real lived experiences of Kenyans on the ground.

Because beneath the diplomatic language lies a deeper question:
What is the value of a Kenyan citizen?

Not in communiqués, not in border agreements, but in real life — where people work, travel, build families, and seek dignity. Because as we speak of protecting Kenyans abroad, two Kenyan citizens, Bob Njagi and Nicholas Oyoo, are still missing in Uganda.

They crossed the border legally. They attended a public political event. They exercised freedoms that, last we checked, are not crimes in either Kenya or Uganda. And then they disappeared.

One would expect the Kenyan government to speak up — to ask tough questions, to demand answers. Instead, the response has been silence. Zero. Zilch. A diplomatic blackout.

For over five weeks, two families have been waking up every day not knowing where their sons are. No explanation. No accountability. No closure.

Because the same state that demands our loyalty, our taxes, and our patriotism must also guarantee our safety, our dignity, and our right to come home.

A passport is not just a travel document — it is a promise. A promise that says: If anything happens to you, your country will come for you.

So yes, let us pursue regional cooperation. Let us maintain neighbourly relations. Let us protect trade and travel.

But let us also bring Bob Njagi and Nicholas Oyoo home. Let us show visible, unapologetic concern for Kenyans harassed in Tanzania.