Mt Kenya’s disappearing glaciers spread violence below
Mwangi Gitaru remembers his childhood well. He remembers the childhood games. He remembers the songs he and his friends used to sing while tending family goats. He remembers the stream that ran across his father’s parcel of land, cutting it in half.
But most importantly, Gitaru remembers how each day his grandfather would wake up and face Mount Kenya and pray.
“He believed the mountain was the source of life,” Gitaru says. “At that time, its whole peak was white as cotton wool. We were told as young boys, that was where the gods were. And we believed it.”
Mwangi Kirubi