"Would that we might be adequately demystified to be unified in our political maturity; neither to use the instruments of prejudice and hate to suffocate each other with tear gas, not to beat each other senseless, nor to shoot at each other with live bullets, nor to loot each other's shops, nor to rape each other." Thus wrote John Sibi-Okumu in the previous editorial of AwaaZ as we prepared to go to the ballot.

Three months later, we sat glued to the TV screen in disbelief as the cartography of violence was sketched. In Kisumu, the shops that line Oginga Odinga Street are mostly owned by South Asians and when local residents decided to go and tear their own town down, inevitably Wahindi owned shops would be in the path of destruction. Like every other Kenyan who was not looting, burning or busy murdering, the Wahindi feared for their lives. And like many other communities who have been historically targeted based on their tribe/ethnicity, history was staring them in the face. The expulsion of South Asians from Uganda was far too close in the historical landscape not to have emotional reverberations.

So, we packed our bags and started dashing in different directions – some, ironically crossing the border back to the very country we were once expelled from while others who have been paper citizens pulled out their British passports and jetted off to our "Commonwealth" capital. Whilst, one can understand why so many were scared, it was clear from the start, that Kenya's "43rd tribe" were only threatened in so far as being in the wrong place and the wrong time.

My parents are in Kisumu and the reality of receiving a phone call about them either being on the run or simply not being is not so distant. They have chosen to stay and confront the crises head on by lending a hand to as many people who have not been as fortunate as us. So they are out distributing food, clothes, medicine; arranging for people to get on the bus and escape murder.

They are doing what so many of us as Kenyans have to do – cleaning up the mess our politicians have got us into. And their story is one that is happened throughout the country.

I do sincerely thank the media and anybody else who was concerned for the South Asian community's welfare, but I would much rather be grateful for us to be viewed as Kenyans in crises; not Wahindi with worries. Surely we should have learnt a thing or two from the media frenzy over Harpeet and Clement.

Surely we should have been more concerned with the fact that Harpeet was pregnant before they were able to support themselves as wise Rasna Warah in her commentary in the Nation stated. Yes, indeed tis' a love song to our mongrel selves that was written in the stars. Sunny Bindra offers his words of wisdom in this issue. Let's just hope they are not jaded by our pens.

This issue features an exceptional jewel in the aristocratic crown who as an 'Envoy for Freedom' arrives in Kenya upholding Gandhi's vision of democracy which in its essence is simply a people
governing themselves. If only that was the case in our beloved country. Apa Pant's story could not be timelier in the drive for unity and the show of solidarity within minorities in Kenya today.

Whilst, Kenya is more divided upon ethnic lines than ever, there are a number of Kenyans that have pulled together no matter what race, class or tribe we come from in a bid to confront the post-election crises. Movements have sprung up within every social paradigm consisting of a full representation of what makes us Kenyans. Pant, a prince from Aundh in India was the first Indian High Commissioner to East Africa but unlike so many scions of royal stock, Pant's heart was with the people and his story in Kenya, is one of solidarity with the struggle for freedom.

Never has there been such high turnout of voters participating as there was in December 2007 and South Asian Kenyans showed up in unprecedented numbers. For the first time, I believe we were united in the notion that we have a stake in the future of our country. Our beliefs have certainly been shattered since, but an even stronger bond is emerging from the ashes.

Ironically in all this mayhem and inter-ethnic conflict, Kenyans are discovering their 'Kenyaness' and are expressing an ardent patriotism for a country they had, until now, taken for granted. Now more than any other time in my life, I feel Kenyan. Not South Asian Kenyan, not chotara Kenyan, not muhindi – just Kenyan.

First Published in Awaaz, Issue 1, 2008