My father loved to retweet Rasna Warah. I think in her, he believed he’d found a kindred political spirit. Someone who saw all the injustice for what it was and had the courage to scream, “For crying out loud!” But my father, being the parastatal man that he was, born during colonialism and adulting through the Jomo Kenyatta to Daniel arap Moi eras, was imbued with The Fear. The fear of arbitrary arrest. The fear of abduction. The fear of torture. The fear of death.