By dawn’s early light, as the sun-streaked in ribbons through the greenery that covers the Lee Funeral home at 6am, the military was already standing guard by the door.
They were way ahead of schedule. The body was supposed to leave the home for public viewing in Parliament at five minutes to 8am, according to the itinerary issued by the Government Spokesman.
At 6.15am, the military men were showing all signs that they were ready to depart.
There was a flurry of activity. The military officers had their golden swords polished, black shoes sparkling, ceremonial wear of red and black starched and pressed, and all the buttons in place.
They started their mock rehearsal on how they would carry the body into the waiting vehicle as the clock edged towards 6.45am.
The city was just beginning to stir, with distant sounds of buses hooting and the aroma of brewing coffee wafting from eateries, when the first order from the military sounded.
It was followed by the unmistakable shuffling of feet. They were ready to put Mzee Daniel arap Moi’s body to the waiting gun-carriage that insiders say was brought into the funeral home at about 5.30am yesterday.
Outside, it was misty. A light cloud had passed over the rising sun, bringing some chill in the air. The roads were dotted with police and military officials monitoring traffic.
Roads cleared
At about 7.15am, after the roads had been cleared and traffic stopped, the humming sound of the engine showed they were raring to go. Nobody, including the media, was allowed near the gun-carriage.
It peeked into the road slowly and deliberately. Ten military officers, two at the front and eight strategically placed behind, made way through Argwings Kodhek Road into Valley Road. The wheels rolled, slowly building up speed until they were on the main road.
Atop the gun-carriage was the casket draped in a Kenyan flag. The vehicle also bore the former head of state’s green presidential standard. Outriders in motorcycles followed the procession, some at the front, and others by the side.
Being a weekend, the city was deserted in the morning, but the few people by the roadside stood to watch the historic event. A man selling confectionery put his wares down and placed his hands behind his back to take it all in.
A military man standing by the road held his hand on his face in salute, his eyes never leaving the gun-carriage until it disappeared.
People watched in silence. Others reached for their phones to record fragments of the events as the wheels churned on. Selfies. Snaps of the gun-carriage. Everything they could capture to immortalise the events. Others continued with their daily activities, oblivious that they were missing a moment of Kenya’s history.
In about 30 minutes, a few minutes before 8.00am, the carriage arrived at the entrance of Parliament Buildings. Instrumental music seeped through.
A rendition of the It is well hymn blended in with the other songs being played by the many choir groups that were waiting in Parliament. People huddled closely by to catch a glimpse as they walked by.
Multitudes
At the door side, bouquets of white roses were placed next to a portrait of the late president. Slowly, they matched on. The soldiers held tightly onto the casket.
The clergy dressed in flowing white robes and purple scarves led them in prayers. They then got into the reserved space where the body was to lie in state, and drew the curtains.
“We are now going to close this space and set things up for public viewing,” said one of the military officials before sending everyone out.
At 9am, guests were flocking into Parliament. In no time, the military announced, they would open the curtains and give people a chance to view the body of the man who had served as Kenya’s President for 24 years.
Like the magnet that he was in life, the former President attracted multitudes of the high, mighty and the ordinary. They were now waiting to give their last respects.
At 4.47pm the last person viewed the body with security agents barring people from making further entry into the precincts of Parliament.
At 5.23pm, the body was driven out of Parliament in a convoy that was led by military police outriders, marking the end of the first day of the public viewing. Unlike the morning when the city was just waking up, the body’s return to Lee Funeral home attracted many more who did not want to miss out on the historic moment.
