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A Kakamega man has revealed how his criminal son often raped his (the son’s) mother after a bout of substance abuse. He also reportedly killed his brother for refusing to buy him chang’aa.
Richard Shamala, 75, told The Nairobian that his son, Seth ‘Bonzo’ Shamala, is being held at Kakamega Police Station after being linked to the murder of Agnes Lumusi in Shinyalu, Kakamega County.
The deceased’s private parts were found buried in a sugarcane plantation. Her attackers also slashed her six-year-old son with a machete. The boy was admitted to Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital in Eldoret from St Elizabeth Mukumu Hospital in Kakamega. His condition is said to be critical.
Joseph Chebil, the Shinyalu OCPD, said, “Three other men linked to the murder are former prisoners who are suspected to have raped the woman before killing her and slashing her six-year-old son.” He added that they are not ruling out ritual killing, given that the woman’s private parts were mutilated and buried in the plantation. Timothy Shamala, the village head who called police after discovery of the buried body parts agrees with the police.
Seth’s father says he is relieved that his 40-year-old son has been arrested as he “once raped my wife, his own mother.”
The old man further revealed that his son “loves his mother in a wicked way after smoking bhang and often wants to sleep with her. He has told her several times that he wants to sleep with her, as he wields a machete or knife.”
During such incidents, the elder Shamala revealed, “the mother used to cry and we would run and spend the night in the bush because he is a man of his words. He will do what he wants and feels like and later take it out on us if we dared to report him to the sub-chief or police.”
Seth’s mother, Cherekira Ayemba, says that, “The beatings from my son who drinks and smokes bhang impaired my hearing.” She is currently recuperating in hospital.
Seth’s wayward ways and constant caning of the family forced his brother, Dokta Shamala who is a preacher, to run away from home. His other brothers, Godfrey Ligambi and Boniface Shamala are happy that he has been arrested. “Let him remain where he is. He has left us paralysed by constantly caning us,” said Ligambi.
Seth has been a source of torment to his family and the father recalls that: “He would come to my homestead even at night and demand for ugali and other favours. If he didn’t get what he wanted, he would cane me and his with viboko. No one could restrain him.”
The family has sworn not to give any evidence in court in his defence. The father says that,“My sons and I don’t want to see him again in life.” He adds that,“He came from where we bought him land in Ileho saying that the sub-chief of Ileho was too harsh. He said he had returned to stay and would ‘eliminate’ anyone who dared to question him.
Shamala is even now questioning whether he is really Seth’s father: “I doubt whether he is my blood. After killing his brother for refusing to buy him chang’aa, he went ahead to declare that he was now hunting for the genitals of his dead brother’s son. That forced us to hide the 12-year-old boy lest he kills for him.
In October, 2000 Seth was held in remand in Kakamega Prison for four years following a murder charge. He was accused of stabbing his brother severally in the stomach to death after a disagreement over land.
“We took him to Maragoli to his mother’s kin for four years and he looked reformed. He asked that his parcel of land at Mundulu be sold and that he be bought another elsewhere because he wanted to start a new life,” said his father who sold the land and purchased another parcel in Ileho for his son.
He however allegedly sold the land in Ileho and returned to Mundulu and evicted his brother Mumani Shamala from his house.
“The first time Seth was taken to court, many feared to testify against him. But a lesson has been learned,” said Aggrey Majimbo, a human rights activist with the Africa Human Rights Education programme.
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“They’re making babies down there,” my brother told my mom after walking in on me and a friend fooling around. Little did I know that he was right. That was the day I conceived my first child. I was only 16 .
My mother was blasting Al Green like she did every Sunday when she cleaned the house. “No, we weren’t,” I tried to assure her, but I doubt she believed me. I was usually pretty open about my sex life with her. She had known for quite some time that I was sexually active. I probably could’ve just told her the truth, like I had many times before, but this time was different from the rest. This time I did it in her house, and my heart was still racing from the excitement.
You’d think the experience of being a teen mom would make me want to keep all boys at least 10 feet away from my daughter, or at least ban boys from her room. Certainly, I don’t want her to go through what I did as a teen mom. I want her to wait until she’s ready to experience motherhood on her own terms, until she’s lived life for herself at least a little bit.
But I know that trying to keep teens from having sex is impossible. If they want to have sex, they’ll find a way. I know this because I remember being a teen. I remember a dark moonlit bedroom not being a requirement for fooling around. I remember taking advantage of my boyfriend’s parents being at work. I remember the sex in parked cars, the park and garages. And I remember not being the exception — almost all of my friends were having sex.
Banning boys from spending the night wouldn’t have prevented my teen pregnancy. It won’t protect my daughter either. Not from pregnancy, or the other potential consequences of unsafe sex. If my daughter were to engage in unsafe sex with a person of any gender, she could contract an STD or STI. It would be completely irresponsible of me to ignore the possibility that my daughter isn’t heterosexual. If I am worried about boys, I should be equally worried about girls. It’s either no one can spend the night, or everyone can.
That’s the logic I used when I asked my mother at 15 to have a good friend who happened to be male sleep over.
“You realize I could be sleeping with my girlfriends when they spend the night, right?” I remember asking her. I identified as bisexual at the time, and she knew it. But I could tell she had never even considered the possibility that my girlfriends were anything more than friends.
“Well, if he’s just a friend and you trust him, I’ll trust you.”
My mom trusted me. After that day, she often let me have boys spend the night. Every male friend I had knew what my bedroom looked like. And although it may seem counterintuitive, this is what she did right. She understood and listened. She never judged or punished me for being sexual. She believed me when I told her that a boy was just a friend and nothing sexual would happen if he spent the night. She created an environment where talking about sex was natural.
But despite her trust in me, she also failed me. She never talked to me about safe sex . I don’t know why. Perhaps she intended to but didn’t know how, or maybe she trusted I was getting accurate information somewhere else. She never once mentioned birth control or condoms; she just vaguely mentioned staying safe a few times.
And it’s not that I didn’t know birth control existed; I did. I just didn’t know how to ask for it. Every time I confessed my sexual activity to her, I hoped she would offer to get me the pill, buy me condoms, and teach me about safe sex with both girls and boys. I wanted her to teach me how to be assertive and insist protection be used. But she never did.
I won’t fail my daughter the same way. She’ll have my trust and guidance. She already knows about my own experiences and that I could never be mad at her for being sexual. I’ll give her support and information. She can have boys and girls spend the night just like I did as a teen, but unlike me, she’ll have access to condoms, birth control and information about STIs and STDs. The conversation about sex will be ongoing and comprehensive.
I know I can’t stop her from having sex, but at least I can help her stay safe.
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“They’re making babies down there,” my brother told my mom after walking in on me and a friend fooling around. Little did I know that he was right. That was the day I conceived my first child. I was only 16 .
My mother was blasting Al Green like she did every Sunday when she cleaned the house. “No, we weren’t,” I tried to assure her, but I doubt she believed me. I was usually pretty open about my sex life with her. She had known for quite some time that I was sexually active. I probably could’ve just told her the truth, like I had many times before, but this time was different from the rest. This time I did it in her house, and my heart was still racing from the excitement.
You’d think the experience of being a teen mom would make me want to keep all boys at least 10 feet away from my daughter, or at least ban boys from her room. Certainly, I don’t want her to go through what I did as a teen mom. I want her to wait until she’s ready to experience motherhood on her own terms, until she’s lived life for herself at least a little bit.
But I know that trying to keep teens from having sex is impossible. If they want to have sex, they’ll find a way. I know this because I remember being a teen. I remember a dark moonlit bedroom not being a requirement for fooling around. I remember taking advantage of my boyfriend’s parents being at work. I remember the sex in parked cars, the park and garages. And I remember not being the exception — almost all of my friends were having sex.
Banning boys from spending the night wouldn’t have prevented my teen pregnancy. It won’t protect my daughter either. Not from pregnancy, or the other potential consequences of unsafe sex. If my daughter were to engage in unsafe sex with a person of any gender, she could contract an STD or STI. It would be completely irresponsible of me to ignore the possibility that my daughter isn’t heterosexual. If I am worried about boys, I should be equally worried about girls. It’s either no one can spend the night, or everyone can.
That’s the logic I used when I asked my mother at 15 to have a good friend who happened to be male sleep over.
“You realize I could be sleeping with my girlfriends when they spend the night, right?” I remember asking her. I identified as bisexual at the time, and she knew it. But I could tell she had never even considered the possibility that my girlfriends were anything more than friends.
“Well, if he’s just a friend and you trust him, I’ll trust you.”
My mom trusted me. After that day, she often let me have boys spend the night. Every male friend I had knew what my bedroom looked like. And although it may seem counterintuitive, this is what she did right. She understood and listened. She never judged or punished me for being sexual. She believed me when I told her that a boy was just a friend and nothing sexual would happen if he spent the night. She created an environment where talking about sex was natural.
But despite her trust in me, she also failed me. She never talked to me about safe sex . I don’t know why. Perhaps she intended to but didn’t know how, or maybe she trusted I was getting accurate information somewhere else. She never once mentioned birth control or condoms; she just vaguely mentioned staying safe a few times.
And it’s not that I didn’t know birth control existed; I did. I just didn’t know how to ask for it. Every time I confessed my sexual activity to her, I hoped she would offer to get me the pill, buy me condoms, and teach me about safe sex with both girls and boys. I wanted her to teach me how
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