Saba Saba is here again, and it feels hauntingly familiar. Just like last year, it has not come in peace. It has come in the middle of chaos, grief, and rage. The streets are still wet with blood. The names of the dead are still trending. Mothers are still crying. And young people are still asking how many more?
The lead-up to this year’s Saba Saba is a painful mirror of last year’s. In 2024, it came barely two weeks after the deadly June 25 anti-government protests. That time, it was about the Finance Bill. Kenyans, led mostly by angry, broke, and jobless youth, said enough is enough.
They took to the streets with placards, flags, and chants. What they got in return were live bullets. Dozens were killed. Some disappeared. Some are still missing. The country was shaken. And before we could even understand the scale of the violence, Saba Saba was already at our door.
Fast forward to 2025, and the cycle has repeated. On June 25 again, young people came out to hold memorial protests to honour those who died last year. It was meant to be peaceful. A remembrance. But the state responded the same way: violence. Again, more blood. Again, more deaths.
At least 19 people were killed, with hundreds nursing injuries. And now, with families still preparing funerals, Saba Saba is back, standing on top of fresh graves.
This is not just about a date on the calendar. Saba Saba means something in this country. It started in 1990, when Kenyans defied a brutal regime to demand multiparty democracy. It was about freedom. About refusing to be silenced.
It was raw, risky, and revolutionary. And now, Gen Z has picked up that spirit. They are marching not just because they are angry, but because they know the power of protest. They are making Saba Saba relevant again. This is not history class, this is now.
What makes this year’s Saba Saba feel so heavy is how familiar it all is. The same government tactics. The same trigger-happy police. The same empty statements from leaders. The same fear. And the same courage from the youth. It feels like nothing has changed.
Two years in a row, Kenyans have bled right before Saba Saba. Two years in a row, the streets have turned into battlegrounds. And still no justice, no answers.
The energy this year is different. It is grief mixed with fire. These young people are not waiting for politicians to speak for them. They are doing it themselves. Online. Offline. From the estates to the CBD.
What to expect? Expect major cities to grind to a halt. Expect running battles. Expect tear gas. Expect chants and placards. From Mombasa to Kisumu, Eldoret to Nakuru, Kenyans are gearing up for a showdown.
Social media platforms are already buzzing with rallying cries. They are churning out protest maps, hashtags are trending by the hour, and the date, July 7, is being written in bold across timelines and sidewalks.
Saba Saba is no longer just about the past. It is about right now.
