Kamaa was an ordinary guy, the one you called for help when your car fails to start. Though he was 20, he was mature, respectful, and honest and people liked him.

He had always held much promise. As a young boy, he was charismatic, leading debates from primary to secondary school. He had hoped to make a good career in mechanical engineering but had never made it to campus as his single parent mother could not raise the money for college.

So, Kamaa joined the other men in the "grogon" down town where he started hands on training in car repair. He worked hard and learned quickly but Kamaa was never satisfied, he felt cheated. He had gone to high school yet here he was, with his old primary school classmate who became a mechanic immediately after school as his boss. He felt he was better than Karis, who could only take a shower once a week and was the archetypal face of a mechanic from his rugged clothes to his shaggy hair. Frustrated and filled with despair, Kamaa slowly became withdrawn. That was in 1993.

Then came the wave. Suddenly there arose a movement out of the despair, challenging Christianity and modern society and accusing Kenyans of having abandoned their roots for the colonial culture. Discussions on the days of the emergency became more common, with many expressing admiration for the sacrifice and determination of the freedom fighters. Everywhere now, people were calling on the government to honor the heroes of independence, and lamenting at how ungrateful society was for their suffering.

With his charisma and gift for rhetoric, Kamaa soon abandoned his job as a mechanic and started hanging around the shops interpreting the Bible and telling people how it was full of lies. He could hold a crowd captive for a very long time and we were all happy to challenge him on his understanding of Gikuyu customs and how these related to our present lives. He seemed I must say to understand his Bible very well and his articulation was unquestionable. But something was clearly wrong. The message about pride in our cultural roots, very quickly changed to a matter of secret oathing ceremonies, sniffing tobacco and the violent repression of any deemed to be antagonistic to the movement. They needed money so once in a while you would hear that they had robbed a shop or even a bank, using their advanced organization to execute daring raids against the system. In a very short time, the baby that was born in the town became a violent monster, deadly not just to those who opposed it, but also to its adherents.

Recruitment efforts mainly targeted those without jobs, or those at the lower end of the pay scale. It was mainly concentrated in drinking dens. Slowly and surely, just like the Mau Mau, which had its positives, yet perpetrated the worst terrors, Mungiki soon begun killing and wounding innocent people. As the state reacted to this criminal activity, the organization grew more ruthless. Whenever the police raided, the movement's lieutenants guessed who the traitor was. There was no need for trials, evidence or witnesses; mere gossip was enough to have you killed.

The religious element of Mungiki recalled the Tent of the living God sect in the way its adherents could be seen sporting dreadlocks, sniffing tobacco and in its atavistic regard for Agikuyu customs. The big difference though, was that Mungiki were more concerned about the money, collecting taxes and intimidating people into submission using violence and murder.

The taxes were said to be for protection and for general security and with them Mungiki gained what little sliver of respectability they have. Their numbers and influence allowed them to confront crime and with Mungiki in the neighborhood, the local thieves had to shift to camp or risk death.

So it was that Kamaa found employment with Mungiki, and after that a wife and children. From his fraction of the proceeds the group had gained from the matatu routes and other businesses, he was able to gain the life his previous job had denied him. But it was not all easy on his conscience, one day they raided one big shop in the town at about 7 pm. His group raped the owner's wife and his two daughters as he watched. The town was silenced, not even the police could do anything. Then was when the rain started beating down on us.