June 2024 will forever be etched in Kenyans’ memory as the moment when citizens – led by Gen Zs armed with smartphones, flags, and an unshakable conviction for a better future – confronted power in a protest that soon became a nationwide movement. What began as opposition to a punitive Finance Bill quickly evolved into a generational uprising against government corruption, impunity and police brutality. The People Shall documents this year-long struggle, following seven powerful voices from this youth-led revolt – united by grief, rage, and digital resistance – and spotlighting the pivotal role of young people and women in mobilising one of the most transformative movements in recent Kenyan history.
Though confined to the events between June 2024 and June 2025, the protests feel like the culmination of decades of frustration and disillusionment, all bursting out in one dramatic eruption, like a long-shaken can of Coke finally uncapped. Co-directed by Mark Maina and Nick Wambugu, The People Shall takes an unflinching look at a nation on the edge.
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Also serving as the film’s editor, Maina, a self-professed admirer of World War II films and documentaries, brings that influence to the film’s structure. The documentary unfolds like a historical chronicle, anchoring viewers in time and presence, and heightening the drama of unfolding events.
Dramatics, however, require little invention here because what transpired in the country since June 2024 is more potent than fiction. The most impressive feat of this film is how it conveys the dire stakes, the fever-pitch, and at times, life-and-death consequences of this dangerous tango between protesters, the state and the police.
As cinematographer, Wambugu first began filming a very different protest – the End Femicide march at the beginning of 2024 before his lens found a far larger movement in #RejectFinanceBill in June.
His verité style thrusts viewers into the heart of the movement: the chants, the chaos, the adrenaline, the fear. His camera stays close to the crowd, capturing quick, unfiltered interviews with demonstrators from all walks of life. In doing so, the film underscores how these protests erased boundaries of class and tribe. For once, Kenya was speaking in one voice – defiant, charged and united.
The raw immediacy of the footage makes the viewer feel the weight of each confrontation, accompanied by a dramatic, percussion-heavy score amplifies the tension. Together, these choices create a terrifying sense of urgency, you can almost smell the tear gas from the theatre seat.
The People Shall has a clear antagonist. But it isn’t President Ruto, nor the Members of Parliament who voted “yes” to the Finance Bill, but rather corruption itself – an institution so deeply entrenched and unchecked it has become a national identity. The anger captured here is not personal but collective, aimed at decades of systemic injustice that have defined Kenya’s political life.
The story of this national revolution is told through several familiar faces, activists and citizen leaders who came to embody the movement’s ideals and contradictions. Hanifa Safia, Boniface Mwangi, and Wanjira Wanjiru appear as unifying figures, their presence greeted by applause at the screening I attended. Hanifa, especially, is portrayed as the moral compass of the movement, admired for her tireless organising and refusal to “sell out.” Mwangi’s commentary bridges generations, connecting Kenya’s history of resistance to this digital-age revolution. Through these voices, the documentary captures not just the heat of protest but the introspection that follows, the reckoning of a generation redefining democracy on its own terms.
The President’s eventual decision, after a night of “soul-searching,” not to sign the Finance Bill serves as the film’s quiet denouement. After this moment, a calm envelopes the film, almost like an epilogue. The people retreat, not in surrender, but in renewal, a chance to regroup and live to fight for democracy another day.
Anyone who’s still questioning whether the protests achieved tangible change should watch this film, if only for its final ten minutes. To see the satisfaction in the eyes of our young warriors. To see aerial footage of the police fleeing from the public. To see it in a room filled, you are sure, with your comrades in ‘alleged’ arms. There was also a concert held at Uhuru Park where many of the faces we saw, once in tears and sweat amid chemical weapons, brandished smiles instead, and danced to the tune of their little victory.
By the end of The People Shall, you’re left with a profound respect for this young Kenyan generation that shook the political class to the core. The film doesn’t dwell on despair, though it never lets us forget our reality, but instead leaves us with the quiet, defiant reminder that even in a broken system, change remains possible. As activist Wanjiru says: “We didn’t change the fabric of government, sure, but we did something.”
The People Shall screened at the 2025 NBO Film Festival that ran from 16-26 October.
Check out our full coverage of the 2025 NBO Film Festival here.
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