People back home call me a heckler, a troublemaker, an irritant, a rebel, an activist, the voice of the people. But that wasn't always me.
Kod kuće me ljudi zovu prosvjednikom, smutljivcem, dosadnjakovićem, pobunjenikom, aktivistom, glas naroda. Ali nisam uvijek bio takav.
Growing up, I had a nickname. They used to call me Softy, meaning the soft, harmless boy. Like every other human being, I avoided trouble. In my childhood, they taught me silence. Don't argue, do as you're told. In Sunday school, they taught me don't confront, don't argue, even if you're right, turn the other cheek.
Kao mali imao sam nadimak. Zvali su me Softy, što znači nježan, bezopasan dečko. Kao i svako drugo ljudsko biće, izbjegavao sam nevolje. U djetinjstvu su me učili o šutnji. Ne svađaj se, radi kako ti je rečeno. U Nedjeljnoj školi su me naučili da izbjegavam sukobe, da se ne svađam, i ako si u pravu, okreni drugi obraz.
This was reinforced by the political climate of the time. (Laughter) Kenya is a country where you are guilty until proven rich. (Laughter) Kenya's poor are five times more likely to be shot dead by the police who are meant to protect them than by criminals. This was reinforced by the political climate of the day. We had a president, Moi, who was a dictator. He ruled the country with an iron fist, and anyone who dared question his authority was arrested, tortured, jailed or even killed. That meant that people were taught to be smart cowards, stay out of trouble. Being a coward was not an insult. Being a coward was a compliment. We used to be told that a coward goes home to his mother. What that meant: that if you stayed out of trouble you're going to stay alive.
To je politička klima tog doba još više pojačala. (Smijeh) Kenija je država u kojoj si kriv dok se ne dokaže da si bogat. (Smijeh) Siromasi u Keniji imaju pet puta veće šanse biti ubijeni od strane policije, koja bi ih trebala štititi, nego od kriminalaca. To je politička klima tog doba još više pojačala. Imali smo predsjednika, Moi, diktatora. Vladao je državom svojom željeznom rukom, i onaj tko je pokušavao dovesti u pitanje njegovu vlast bio je uhićen, mućen, pritvoren ili čak ubijen. Ljudi su naučeni biti pametne kukavice, izbjegavati nevolje. Biti kukavica nije bila uvreda. Biti kukavica je bio kompliment. Bilo nam je rečeno da kukavica ide kući svojoj majci. To je značilo: da ako izbjegavaš nevolje, ostat ćeš živ.
I used to question this advice, and eight years ago we had an election in Kenya, and the results were violently disputed. What followed that election was terrible violence, rape, and the killing of over 1,000 people. My work was to document the violence. As a photographer, I took thousands of images, and after two months, the two politicians came together, had a cup of tea, signed a peace agreement, and the country moved on.
Ja sam dovodio u pitanje taj savjet, i prije osam godina, imali smo izbore u Keniji, i rezultati su bili nasilno osporeni. Ono što je slijedilo izbore su bila strašna nasilja, silovanja i više od 1000 ubijenih ljudi. Moj posao je bio zabilježiti to nasilje. Kao fotograf, snimio sam na tisuće slika, i nakon dva mjeseca dva političara su se susreli, popili šalicu čaja, potpisali mirovni ugovor i država je krenula dalje.
I was a very disturbed man because I saw the violence firsthand. I saw the killings. I saw the displacement. I met women who had been raped, and it disturbed me, but the country never spoke about it. We pretended. We all became smart cowards. We decided to stay out of trouble and not talk about it.
Ja sam bio vrlo uznemiren čovjek jer sam vidio nasilje uživo. Vidio sam ubojstva, vidio sam raseljavanje. Upoznao sam žene koje su bile silovane i to me uzrujalo, ali država nikad nije pričala o tome. Pretvarali smo se. Svi smo postali pametne kukavice. Odlučili smo izbjegavati nevolje i ne pričati o tome.
Ten months later, I quit my job. I said I could not stand it anymore. After quitting my job, I decided to organize my friends to speak about the violence in the country, to speak about the state of the nation, and June 1, 2009 was the day that we were meant to go to the stadium and try and get the president's attention. It's a national holiday, it's broadcast across the country, and I showed up at the stadium. My friends did not show up. I found myself alone, and I didn't know what to do. I was scared, but I knew very well that that particular day, I had to make a decision. Was I able to live as a coward, like everyone else, or was I going to make a stand? And when the president stood up to speak, I found myself on my feet shouting at the president, telling him to remember the post-election violence victims, to stop the corruption. And suddenly, out of nowhere, the police pounced on me like hungry lions. They held my mouth and dragged me out of the stadium, where they thoroughly beat me up and locked me up in jail. I spent that night in a cold cement floor in the jail, and that got me thinking. What was making me feel this way? My friends and family thought I was crazy because of what I did, and the images that I took were disturbing my life. The images that I took were just a number to many Kenyans. Most Kenyans did not see the violence. It was a story to them.
Deset mjeseci kasnije dao sam otkaz na poslu. Nisam mogao više. Nakon otkaza, odlučio sam organizirati s prijateljima da govorimo o nasilju u državi, da govorimo o stanju nacije, i 1. lipnja 2009.-e je bio dan kad smo trebali ići na stadion i pokušati pridobiti pažnju predsjednika. Državni je praznik, emitira se u cijeloj zemlji, i ja sam se pojavio na stadionu. Moji prijatelji se nisu pojavili. Našao sam se sam, i nisam znao što da radim. Bio sam prestrašen, ali sam vrlo dobro znao da sam tog naročitog dana morao donijeti odluku. Jesam li odlučio živjeti kao kukavica kao svi drugi, ili sam odlučio zauzeti stav? Kad je predsjednik stao da započne svoj govor, našao sam se na nogama vičući na predsjednika, govoreći mu da se sjeti postizbornih žrtava nasilja, da se zaustavi korupcija. I odjednom, niodkuda, policajci su skočili na mene kao gladni lavovi. Držali su mi usta i odvukli me izvan stadiona, gdje su me temeljito istukli i zatvorili u zatvor. Proveo sam tu noć na hladnom betonskom podu u zatvoru, i to me navelo na razmišljanje. Što je bio razlog da se ovako osjećam? Moji prijatelji i obitelj su mislili da sam lud zbog mog pothvata, a slike koje sam snimio su me uznemiravale. Slike koje sam snimio su bile samo broj mnogim kenijcima. Mnogi nisu vidjeli to nasilje. Za njih je to bila jedna priča.
And so I decided to actually start a street exhibition to show the images of the violence across the country and get people talking about it. We traveled the country and showed the images, and this was a journey that has started me to the activist path, where I decided to become silent no more, to talk about those things. We traveled, and our general site from our street exhibit became for political graffiti about the situation in the country, talking about corruption, bad leadership. We have even done symbolic burials. We have delivered live pigs to Kenya's parliament as a symbol of our politicians' greed. It has been done in Uganda and other countries, and what is most powerful is that the images have been picked by the media and amplified across the country, across the continent.
I tako sam odlučio zapravo započeti uličnu izložbu da pokažem slike nasilja u cijeloj zemlji i navesti ljude da pričaju o tome. Putovali smo zemljom i pokazivali slike, i to je bilo putovanje koje mi je pokazalo put aktivista, gdje sam odlučio da neću više šutjeti, da ću pričati o tim stvarima. Putovali smo i naše stranice na uličnim izložbama postale su politički grafiti o situaciji u zemlji, koji su govorili o korupciji, lošem rukovodstvu. Čak smo napravili simbolične ukope. Dostavili smo žive svinje u kenijski parlament kao znak pohlepe naših političara. To je učinjeno u Ugandi i u drugim zemljama, a ono što je najbitnije, jest što su mediji snimili te slike i proširili ih po cijeloj zemlji, po cijelom kontinentu.
Where I used to stand up alone seven years ago, now I belong to a community of many people who stand up with me. I am no longer alone when I stand up to speak about these things. I belong to a group of young people who are passionate about the country, who want to bring about change, and they're no longer afraid, and they're no longer smart cowards. So that was my story. That day in the stadium, I stood up as a smart coward. By that one action, I said goodbye to the 24 years living as a coward.
Tamo gdje sam nekada stajao sam prije sedam godina, sad pripadam jednoj zajednici mnoštva ljudi koji stoje sa mnom. Više nisam sam kad pričam o tim stvarima. Pripadam jednoj grupi mladih ljudi koji strastveno vole svoju zemlju, koji žele donijeti promijene, i oni nisu više prestrašeni, i oni nisu više pametne kukavice. Dakle, to je bila moja priča. Taj dan na stadionu, suprostavio sam se kao pametna kukavica. Tim potezom pozdravio sam se sa 24 godine života kao kukavica.
There are two most powerful days in your life: the day you're born, and the day you discover why. That day standing up in that stadium shouting at the President, I discovered why I was truly born, that I would no longer be silent in the face of injustice. Do you know why you were born? Thank you. (Applause)
Postoje dva najbitnija dana u životu: dan kad si rođen, i dan kad saznaš zašto. Taj dan stojeći na onom stadionu i vičući na predsjednika, otkrio sam zašto sam stvarno rođen, da više neću šutjeti pred nepravdom. Znate li vi zašto ste rođeni? Hvala. (Pljesak)
Tom Rielly: It's an amazing story. I just want to ask you a couple quick questions. So PAWA254: you've created a studio, a place where young people can go and harness the power of digital media to do some of this action. What's happening now with PAWA?
Tom Rielly: Priča je nevjerovatna. Želim te pitati samo par brzih pitanja. Dakle, PAWA254: stvorio si studio, mjesto gdje mladi ljudi mogu ići i iskoristiti moć digitalnih medija da djeluju. Što se sada događa sa PAWA?
Boniface Mwangi: So we have this community of filmmakers, graffiti artists, musicians, and when there's an issue in the country, we come together, we brainstorm, and take up on that issue. So our most powerful tool is art, because we live in a very busy world where people are so busy in their life, and they don't have time to read. So we package our activism and we package our message in art. So from the music, the graffiti, the art, that's what we do. Can I say one more thing?
Boniface Mwangi: Imamo zajednicu filmaša, grafitera, glazbenika i kad postoji neki problem u zemlji, skupimo se na oluju mozgova i zauzmemo se za taj problem. Dakle, naše najjače oružje je umjetnost, jer živimo u vrlo dinamičnom svijetu u kojem su ljudi prezauzeti i nemaju vremena za čitanje. Zato šaljemo naš aktivizam i naše poruke kroz umjetnost. Dakle, kroz glazbu, grafite, umjetnost, to je ono što mi činimo. Mogu li reći samo još jednu stvar?
TR: Yeah, of course. (Applause)
TR: Da, naravno. (Pljesak)
BM: In spite of being arrested, beaten up, threatened, the moment I discovered my voice, that I could actually stand up for what I really believed in, I'm no longer afraid. I used to be called softy, but I'm no longer softy, because I discovered who I really am, as in, that's what I want to do, and there's such beauty in doing that. There's nothing as powerful as that, knowing that I'm meant to do this, because you don't get scared, you just continue living your life.
BM: Unatoč tomu što sam bio uhićen, pretučen, ugrožen, trenutak kad sam otkrio svoj glas, da se mogu zauzeti za ono u što vjerujem, nije me više strah. Nekad su me zvali Softy, ali nisam više mekušac, jer sam otkrio tko sam ja zapravo, to je ono što želim raditi, i u tome je ljepota. Ne postoji ništa snažnije kao znati da sam stvoren da ovo radim, jer se ne bojiš, nego jednostavno nastaviš živjeti svoj život.
Thank you.
Hvala.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)