If you attempt to suppress echoes, they rebound with greater force

Butere Girls High School students board the bus after they declined to perform Ehoes of War play during the 63rd edition of the Kenya National Drama and Film Festival in Nakuru, on April 10, 2025. [Kipsang Joseph, Standard] 

I fell unconscious in the back of a police vehicle speeding stupidly over bumps blindly heading to an unknown dilapidated detention. My crime? Guiding the artistic expression of young minds, daring to hold a mirror to the realities of power through a school play. But even in that bewildering darkness, a fierce pride burned within me, a pride ignited by the very innocent and patriotic girls from Butere Girls High School.

These were not rebellious agitators; they were bright, dedicated students, rehearsing with passion and precision, their hearts set on victory at the drama festival. Their frustration, when their voices were almost stifled, their courage in the face of tear gas and intimidation, transformed them before our very eyes. They were no longer just schoolgirls; they became national heroines, their resilience a testament to the indomitable spirit of Kenyan youth.

And for what did they endure this? For giving voice to "Echoes of War," a play that dared to depict a Sultan consumed by fear, a kingdom teetering under the weight of generational disconnect. The irony, as I reflect on that jarring ride, is inescapable. The William Ruto government's frantic attempts to suppress this artistic expression only underscore the uncanny resemblance between the fictional anxieties of the Royal Velvet Emirates and the palpable unease within our own nation's leadership.

Why else the fear, Mr President? Why the heavy hand descending upon a mere school play? The answer, I believe, lies in the raw, unvarnished truth these young women so bravely articulated. "Echoes of war" is a reflection of the very questions echoing in the hearts of many Kenyans: The widening chasm between the governed and the governing, the stifled aspirations of the youth, the yearning for genuine accountability.

Morgan Heritage’s lament, "Look around you, is there anything to smile about?" has taken on a chilling new resonance. Our youth, peering into a future clouded by broken promises and a tightening grip on dissent, are asking this question with increasing urgency. And the government's response? To try and silence the very voices that seek a better tomorrow.

But as anyone who has ever shouted into a hollow space knows, you cannot stop echoes. Each attempt to suppress them only sends them rebounding with greater intensity. The tear gas that stung their eyes, the threats that hung in the air – these acts of intimidation have not extinguished their message; they have amplified it, turning a school play into a powerful symbol of resistance. The truth, like an echo, will always find its way back, resonating through the hearts of Kenyans who yearn for justice and good governance.

Across the globe, we see this same youthful awakening. From the climate activists demanding a sustainable future to the digital natives challenging authoritarianism, Gen Z is a force to reckon with. They are not content to inherit a world shaped by the compromises and failures of the past. They are demanding a seat at the table, their voices clear and unwavering.

The heavy-handed tactics employed against Butere Girls and their play are not a display of strength, but a testament to the government's deep insecurity. They fear the clarity of youthful vision, the unburdened articulation of truth. They fear the echoes of their own actions, amplified by a generation that refuses to be silenced.

Mr Malala is the author of 'Echoes of war'