As he sipped his drink one late evening in Lusaka, Zambia, early September 1970, West Mugirango MP George Justus Morara bumped into Nahashon Isaac Njenga Njoroge - the man who assassinated Constitutional Affairs Minister, Thomas Joseph Odhiambo Mboya, on 5 July 1969.
An astonished Morara, who was among members of the Social Welfare and Employment parliamentary committee on official duty, confronted Njenga who, in panic, bolted out of the club.
The government had announced the previous year that Njenga had been sentenced to death and hanged at Kamiti Maximum Prison for shooting dead the powerful Cabinet minister along Nairobi's Government Road (present-day Moi Avenue).
Upon arrival at Nairobi's Embakasi Airport, Morara and few members of the House team, chaired by Kandara MP George Mwicigi, headed to Parliament buildings for scheduled a press conference.
Without mincing words, Morara spilled the beans on the group's encounter with Njenga in Lusaka and gave the Government a 48-hour ultimatum to produce the Bulgarian- trained Njenga.
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Ask Wavinya to work on Devki Road, which was previously well maintained by Gov Mutua. It's one of the most pathetic roads in Kenya yet very critical link to Athiriver town, where she was brought up by the up #machakosgovernoratwork
He was then shot in Statehouse by Biwott as Moi watched. His body was dumped in the hills and set on fire. The pathologist said that he committed suicide then doused himself with petrol and set himself on fire. Sometimes power is exercised in Kenya like a demonic bloodthirst
I will keep all animals in my home except a cow, I will keep a camel before I keep a cow. There is no animal that is more labor intensive than a cow. In fact if you keep a cow you can't go on a single days vacation anywhere.
Hakuna mysterious income. Talk to your “unemployed” friends and you’ll learn about the irregular everything.
Pay, hours, sleep etc.
You find them having beer at high noon Huko Sarit and think that’s cute not knowing that’s the only free time with cash flow for like three weeks.
Following his poisoning, Prof. George Saitoti refused to ever trust official state hospitality again.
Lee Njiru chuckles through his recollections of high-profile state luncheons where luxury buffets were prepared for the elite.
While President Moi and foreign dignitaries dined elegantly,
Saitoti would sit at the main VIP table stubbornly refusing to touch a single plate or glass of water.
Instead, to the muffled amusement of the presidential press corps, his trusted bodyguards would discreetly pass him small plastic lunchboxes packed with food cooked exclusively by only his wife, Kitili.
Watching the Vice President of the Republic surreptitiously eat out of home Tupperware at an international state banquet became a legendary insider joke.