“No story is worth your life” is a constant reminder from my immediate supervisor, Ouko Okusah, whenever he assigns me to a story.

I have covered several political functions marred by goonism, but I would not wish to find myself in the situation I encountered on Sunday as Linda Mwananchi toured Homa Bay.

As we made our way to Homa Bay Town while in Kendu Bay, I received a phone call from my colleague based in Homa Bay, George Odiwuor, warning us not to enter the town.

Together with our photographer, Alex Odhiambo, NTV reporter Judith Cherono and driver Erick Osoro, we were still trying to figure out the way forward when a team from Standard Media Group joined our journey.

Also Read: When nothing is sacred: Goon violence hits church, hospital, leaves Homa Bay in tatters

Minutes later, we received a call from AFP journalist Fred Ooko. He said he had been assaulted together with his colleague Brian Ongoro and was in a town called Olare, but did not know where his colleague was.

I began to panic, which was only natural. We picked Fred up at Olare, bruised and shaken.

Then George called and said he was with Brian Ongoro at a police station. Ongoro had been assaulted and lost everything, including his laptop, mobile phone, camera and drone camera.

We needed to get to Homa Bay Police Station, but where could we pass when the town had effectively become a no-go zone?

We went to Imbo Trading Center, where we encountered Linda Mwananchi’s convoy heading towards Nyandiwa Center in Suba South.

Since George was trapped in Homa Bay Town, we followed the convoy en route to Nyandiwa. But when we reached Ndhiwa Shopping Center, we faced another test. The road was barricaded.

The convoy tried to turn around when I heard someone shout: “These boys can’t block us. We have the numbers and equipment. Let’s push forward.”

Amid the confusion, several vehicles were pelted with stones. We almost plunged into a ditch, but our experienced driver managed to navigate us through the chaos. Eventually, the situation calmed down.

After finishing their rally in Nyandiwa, the convoy proceeded to Sindo Trading Center before heading back towards Homa Bay Town in the evening.

But before reaching Homa Bay, as we approached Kodoyo Junction, we saw the chaos unfold before our eyes.

Goon squads had barricaded the road and started hurling stones at the caravan.

We wanted Linda Mwananchi’s caravan to remain ahead of us as a precaution against any eventuality.

I found myself in a dilemma. I was the journalist on the ground and needed to tell the story. But another voice echoed in my mind: “No story is worth my life.”

So I sat for a while, watching stones fly through the air as police officers lobbed teargas from the other side.

In the chaos, vehicles tried to manoeuvre through the barricades, with some colliding with others and being forced off the road.

One motor vehicle was being set alight across the road.

Also Read: From roadblocks to boats: How Linda Mwananchi outmaneuvered armed youths

As Standard journalist Rogers Otiso tried to capture the unfolding drama, he was seated behind their double-cabin pickup vehicle. He fell as the vehicle sped away. Luckily, their driver stopped and he was rescued.

In the process, as police officers tried to protect them from the goons, one officer was struck on the head by a stone.

Vehicles were being driven in all directions when I heard my colleague Alex shout: “We are finished!” I looked behind us. Our car was the second last, with goons closing in behind us. They were barely two metres away and the only thing that stood between us and them were the car windows, a thin barrier between us and the people so determined to harm.

Then came the first Bang! A stone struck the car, and I immediately dropped below the seat. There was no moving vehicle in front of us. Behind us were goons hurling stones and wielding pangas. There was nowhere to move. Nowhere to go. One stone followed another. We knew we were cornered.

Just when it seemed we were finished, our driver suddenly diverted the car onto a rough road, not knowing where it would lead us.

At that moment, we lay across the seats as stones battered the vehicle.

It was nothing short of a Guardian Angel that helped us survive the ordeal.

After travelling for more than ten kilometres along the rough road, we stopped to assess the damage to the car.

To our surprise, we found a bleeding man behind the pickup, with one of the tail lights hanging loose.

We did not know when or how he had climbed behind it, but we decided to take him to a nearby hospital.

The challenge was that we did not know where we were. Network connectivity was also poor. Even as we tried to reach our editors, who kept calling to check on our safety, we could barely hear them. Google Maps could not help us.

Our driver simply kept going until, at around 8pm, we found ourselves in the Rodi Kopany area. We took the injured man to St. Lawrence Rangwe. He gave us a family contact, whom we called and explained what had happened.

We left him in the care of the nurses after he had been stabilised. He had suffered cuts to his neck, hand and back. He told us he was one of the occupants of the torched vehicle.

August 16 will remain etched in my memory as one of those days when the line between telling a story and becoming part of it became frighteningly thin.

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