Say sorry? Impossible! Mary Lean hears how Joseph Wainana's quest for revenge turned into a campaign for reconciliation.

Twice in one year, Joseph Wainana was driven out of his home by mobs from an opposing ethnic group. He planned revenge, but chose instead to forgive. He now devotes all his time to promoting reconciliation between Kenya's 42 tribes.

Wainana, a member of Kenya's majority Kikuyu tribe, grew up in Eldoret in the Rift Valley, the traditional lands of the Kalenjin tribe, who now dominate the government. `We went to school together and played together,' he says. `I knew their language and traditions and whatever they went through, I went through.' When at the age of seven he ran away from home, because of his parents' harsh treatment, he sought refuge with a Kalenjin family. And his first marriage--which failed because of his parents' disapproval--was to a Kalenjin girl.

In 1978, Wainana married his present wife, Ann, and in 1979, he started work with the Ministry of the Environment. They set up home near Eldoret, and by 1992 had six children, aged between 13 and two.

That year, their world was destroyed. Kalenjin warriors attacked their community, burning down the houses and looting their property. The Wainanas fled with their children and Joseph's elderly mother, and took refuge in a church with hundreds of other people. When they returned home they found nothing left. Wainana chokes up when he tells me that not only his cows and sheep, but also his treasured motorbike, had been taken.

`The Kalenjins had declared that all Kikuyus must go back to their own land, in the Central Province, where I had never been. I had some little money in my pocket, so we boarded a bus.' They got off the bus when the money ran out, and found shelter with a friend in Laikipia, another area where Kikuyus and Kalenjins lived side by side.

A few months later, the Wainanas found themselves running for their lives once more, after another Kalenjin attack. This time they ended up in Ndaragwa, where a stranger took pity on them and offered them a home. `He gave us a small shelter, eight foot by eight foot, for the nine of us to sleep, eat and cook in.'

Devastated by these experiences, and by the loss of everything he had worked for, Wainana set his heart on revenge. He planned to go to Uganda to buy guns and to train some young Kikuyus to fight back. To do this he needed money--and he decided to ask for a loan (without revealing what for) from Alan Knight, an elderly white man who was a mentor to his nephew, Joseph Karanja. Both Knight and Karanja were active with MRA (now Initiatives of Change).

Knight was not as easy to fool as Wainana had envisaged. `He saw the bitterness I had on my face, and he asked if I hated the Kalenjins. I tried to say no, but he could see.' Knight suggested that they should be quiet and listen for God's voice in their hearts. Wainana realized that both he and the Kalenjins were Christians who hoped to go to the same heaven: so if the Kalenjins went to heaven, where would he go when he died? `Either I had to forgive them or to no heaven would I go. What should I do? Go and say sorry to the Kalenjins when I had lost everything? Impossible!'

Wainana told Knight and Karanja what he had been planning. `I could not stop my tears because I felt God was speaking to me.' In the end he asked for the fare to Eldoret, where he sought out some of his Kalenjin friends from before the clashes. `I could see how sorry they were. They said, come, Joseph, we are going to work together to stop this.'

In 1995, Wainana resigned from his job, so as to devote all his time to working for reconciliation through MRA's Clean Election and Clean Kenya campaigns. He used his retirement money to buy land and build a house. He spends most of his time travelling from community to community promoting reconciliation, democratic values and environmental awareness. As he doesn't have a car, he travels by bicycle, with video machine and generator strapped on the back--and, sometimes, an AIDS awareness speaker riding on the front.

There were further tribal clashes before the elections of 1997, and with elections due again in 2002, Wainana feels reconciliation is more needed than ever.

With his younger children still at school, living without the regular income of a paid job is challenging. `We have no problem about food, because we have planted our land,' says Wainana. `People sometimes give me money to help my family: but I often worry what we are going to do about school fees next time they are due. But when I tell my wife I want to look for a job, she says, "No, you promised God you would serve."'