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On June 25th, 2025, Boniface Kariuki— a street vendor selling face masks — was shot at close range by police during a peaceful protest. He wasn’t armed. He wasn’t violent. He wasn’t a threat. He was a Kenyan trying to earn a living.
Boniface was rushed to hospital. For days, we waited with held breath and heavy hearts. But the bullet did what it was meant to do. His brain was declared dead. And soon after, so was he.
A man who sold masks to protect others… was killed by the very people meant to protect him.
Boniface Kariuki is not just another statistic. He was a son, a friend, a neighbor. He was a Kenyan hustler — part of the soul of our streets. His only crime was standing where power did not want him to stand: visible, vocal, and alive.
His death is not just a tragedy. It is an indictment — of a system where police uniforms too often come with unchecked power and zero accountability. Of a society where the poor are treated as expendable. Of a government that calls for peace but funds violence.
But even in death, Boniface speaks.
He speaks for every vendor chased from the roadside, every youth profiled on sight, every protester met with bullets instead of dialogue. He reminds us that the fight for justice is not a luxury — it is survival.
We must remember him — not just with hashtags, but with action.
We must demand:
Independent investigations into his death
Justice and compensation for his family
Reform in police conduct and accountability
A country where poverty is not a death sentence
Boniface's story should never have ended this way. But if his death wakes us up — if it stirs us to rise, to act, to demand better — then his life, though stolen, will not have been in vain.
Let us carry his name — not just in mourning, but in movement.
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