- The blast was orchestrated by Al Qaeda’s East Africa cells and was carried out simultaneously with another attack on US embassy in Dar Es- Salaam, Tanzania
- More than 220 people were killed that day
In 1998, aged 45, George Njoroge was at the prime of his life.
His video business was doing well, his six children living a relatively comfortable life and his wife basking in it all.
It quickly changed, forever.
The US Embassy bombing struck, leaving him a crushed testicle, broken pelvic and years later, prostate cancer.
His life was so changed that even with some measure of recovery, he has had to depend on constant dose of viagra to keep matters at the homefront alive.
Additionally, now at Stage four, the cancer has drained his resources.
“I got diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2016 and I have used all I have, including selling my properties to be treated,” he said.
He recounted the tragic events of August 7.
Njoroge woke up well, his businesses in Kandara, Kikuyu and Kawangware running as scripted.
But one of his video machines needed to get fixed, so he took the trip to Nairobi's CBD, not knowing that his life was soon to be turned upside down.
After alighting at Railways stage, he walked past the Cooperative Bank along Haile Selassie Avenue.
Suddenly, he heard a loud boom.
He only remembers a tingling sensation, piercing and cutting his body, before he became unconscious.
A believer in biblical tales, Njoroge thought the end times had come and he was experiencing it first hand.
He later woke up at Kenyatta National Hospital, lucky to be alive.
More than 220 people were killed that day, after a bomb explosion orchestrated by Al Qaeda’s East Africa cells.
The attack was carried out simultaneously with another on the US embassy in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.
Fazul Mohammed and Abdullah Abdullah were the masterminds of the carnages.
For Njoroge, decades of palliative treatment would ensue.
“It is the Usaid through Amref that was helping me with health cover and viagra refill. But it was cut off at some point, forcing me to depend on generic ones which do not work well.”
Since then, he has lived with constant pain as he watches his wealth slip away.
Njoroge's plight was not unique.
While Americans who were affected by the blast were compensated, it remained a wild goose chase for Kenyans.
In 2013, other victims elected him their chairperson to push for their compensation.
He lobbied top offices, from then Nairobi Governor Mike Sonko to Rachel Shebesh, who took their petition to the National Assembly.
He unsuccessfully sought an audience with then President, Uhuru Kenyatta.
Nothing yielded.
While Njoroge has remained vocal in championing for justice, now frail in speech and running short of hope, he says every effort drains life out of him.
“I don’t have anything now,” he said.
“I hope these Americans will realise that the blood flowing in their citizens is the same flowing in ours. I hope they give us the money before I die. It can help me get treatment.”
For Evanson Gitu, the loss of his wife Susan 26 years ago left him with wounds that are yet to turn into scars, however much he tries to move on.
An emotional Gitu spoke to the Star.
A week earlier, Susan, 38, had just graduated with a Diploma in IT from a college based in Eastleigh.
She was set to travel to the US.
“I was a pastor and frequently travelled out of the country. As a pastor’s wife, Susan was ambitious, wise and hardworking and she looked forward to meeting the contacts that we worked with who were in the US,” he said.
Susan went to pick her papers from the college and was due for a visa interview at the US embassy.
Then came the blast, destroying everything and sending the family's glowing future up in smoke.
At the time, they had four children- three girls and a boy.
“The pain sometimes makes me even have a problem bringing my four children together because it all reminds me and forces me to face the pain I work very hard to avoid,” he said.
Although he has since tied the knot, Gitu says not even remarrying has helped him heal and move on.
“I never want to talk about all that situation. It brings afresh my wounds and it's very painful what we have gone through,” he said.
But his new wife is very supportive.
She is careful with his heart and only brings up the conversation when necessary.
She also does it with wisdom, turning the pain into purpose, he said.
The wound is also fresh for Ruth Gitu, his firstborn daughter.
She was a form three student when her mother died, Ruth told the Star.
Ruth had to drop out and care for her three siblings and support them as they went to school.
A few days to her death, the family had a photoshoot for Ruth's graduation celebration.
This memory has remained a trauma for her.
“I have become very afraid of photoshoots because it reminds me of the days to my mother’s death. My daughter has been asking for one for long and we only did it two years ago,” the 42-year-old said.
She misses her mother, whom she says would have better advised on relationship matters.
“If my mother was not killed in the blast, I would not be divorced today. She would have watched out for me and given me the right advice on the right man for me.”