Dominoes Falling All Over The Place

This morning there’s an article in the Business Daily about how Internally Displaced People are selling off their shares on the stock exchange because they are in need of emergency funds. Apparently, big investors are swooping in and buying all these relatively undervalued shares.

That made me sad. It reminded me that everywhere you turn, you're bound to see yet another adverse effect of the current state of unrest. And that the effects of this turmoil will likely be felt for many many years to come.

In the last few years, banks in Kenya have become admirably proactive in tailoring their products to cater to the specific needs of Kenyans. Is there no bank willing to quickly to put together a product where people can borrow against their shares?

And yes, I know share value goes up and down.

Duh.

Still.

Edit

* Pastor M informs me that Equity Bank has this exact product. Well alright then.

Mobile4Bad

In a recent article in the Chicago Tribune, Paul Salopek starts off by saying that Africa, being the world’s poorest continent, is also its least wired. That may be true, but we are likely the most connected unwired people you ever met.

And mobile phones have helped take these connections to the next level.

There’s no denying that the mobile phone has revolutionized Africa. In some other parts of the world a mobile phone is just a mobile phone is just a mobile phone. Not so here.

In Kenya, I can store funds on my phone and transfer or liquidate these as necessary. It is also the primary internet surfing device for a good number of people I know. In addition, the mobile phone can be used as a social networking and newsgathering tool. Services such as Kazi560 and Ushahidi.com are to be applauded for catering to, and harnessing the power of, the bottom of the pyramid respectively.

Unfortunately, what can be harnessed for good can equally be exploited for sinister purposes.

Regarding the escalating violence in Kenya, the ICRC spokesman in the country, one Bernard Barret is quoted as saying that rumours are being spread by mobile phone text messages predicting imminent attacks by one group or another and that this is heightening tensions.

It’s difficult to attach a positive or negative value to these messages collectively.

If they’re true, then they serve as a useful warning, enabling those who are due to be attacked to protect themselves or to flee.

If they’re not true, on the other hand, they cause unnecessary panic and might lead to those receiving them planning and executing attacks of their own in order to pre-empt the attack of the perceived enemy. And if you think this is farfetched, then take another look at the Akiwumi Report according to which which some people defended their acts of aggression by saying that they had received word that they were due to be attacked and that therefore they were merely being offensive in their own defense.

Unfortunately in this current state of unrest, it is difficult to distinguish between fact and falsehood in the flood of text messages filling our phones each day. The Nation Media Group recently had to officially deny claims, spread primarily through text messages, that their vans were being used to ferry guns to farflung parts of the country. Halftruths, untruths and propaganda spread like wildfire. One person sends it to five, those five send it to twenty, those twenty send it to one hundred, and so it spreads.

Worse though, are text messages that are unrepentantly filled with hatred and subversion. These became increasingly more frenetic in the days leading up to last year’s general election, and reached a climax after the ECK botched up the tallying of votes and a disputed government was hurriedly sworn in. These are the text messages that preach a radical and dangerous message. These are the messages that tell me all that is good about me on account of my ethnic identity and all that is wrong with the Other on account of their ethnic roots. These are the sometimes hysterical text messages that justify hardline stances and violence visited upon the Other simple because they are Other. These are the text messages that call on the recipient to act in a certain way on the basis of their ethnicity, and further, to regard the Other or act upon Other in a certain way because of their ethnicity.

What makes these subversive messages spread by mobile phone most sinister though, is the ability to select for audience.

It is one thing to broadcast subversive messages on Radio as was the case in Rwanda, and is alarmingly the case with some vernacular radio stations in Kenya.

It is an entirely different thing to send these messages to a carefully selected list of people on your contact list who will in turn send them on to their own select list of people so that the message spreads like a virus but catches only people who answer to certain ‘characteristics.’

It is more dangerous because there is more stealth to it. It is not done in the open, it is done in secret, making it harder to put an end to. In addition, the dissemination instrument is not situated in one central place that can be clamped down on easily. Rather, every mobile phone in this country is a potential dissemination instrument, making it nigh impossible to crackdown on the proliferators of these messages.

I’m very afraid that mobile phones will be for Kenya what Radio was for Rwanda. I really look forward to being proved wrong.

If I Wallow, Let Me Wallow

I had a meltdown of sorts on Sunday. The friend who received my frantic, gibberish, melodramatic text message that sent her into her own spiral of panic will attest to this.

All these days, even as the situation has deteriorated, I confess that I have clung, against all odds, to the notion of a better Kenya, a Kenya where this cannot happen. A Kenya where it is enough that I am a Kenyan: a Kenya where my ethnicity is about where I come from, not who I am; a Kenya which had its fair share of problems, but which, despite these, was making progress.

Now, it is fast becoming clear that that Kenya is a figment of my overly optimistic imagination.

Now, doom and gloom predominate. I’m done betting my bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun. Clearly, I’m the deluded middle class, who used to live in a bubble. Somebody just stuck a pin in that bubble.

I just had a visit from a friend who used to live in Kapsabet, a student at Baraton. Attackers came to her home but her neighbours hid her. She lost everything. Because of the generosity of the neighbours who hid her when the assailants came calling, her life and her children’s lives were spared.

In Naivasha, a mob set alight yet another house with nineteen people, most of them women and children.

A friend tells me that her family in Nakuru has sent the women away to (relative) safety and the men have remained to fight. Because what else are they going to do? They have to protect what is theirs. Her father could be my father. Her brother could be my brother. I try to imagine them wielding pangas, defending their lives and their livelihoods. My heart grows faint, my knees buckle.

Another friend sent me a message the other day. The stories about Kenya in the international press made him very nervous. He said he was very afraid for me. He offered me the price of a ticket, said I should go stay with him and his family until the madness ends.

I said “no thanks.” I said I wanted to stay, to see if there was anything I could do, any part I could play in bringing us back from the brink. Surely there must be something I could do.

I’ve been to the meetings. Good ideas and solid plans. We’ve come up with the documents. We’ve passed them along. But Kenya is still burning.

Now, I don’t feel so courageous and patriotic any more.

Now, I watch myself walking around in a daze. I’m doing the routine things: getting up in the morning, going to work, going home in the evening, lying in my bed at night, getting up in the morning, going to work.

Now, I want to pack all my beloved in a box and ship them out of this country. I know they won’t stand for it, of course.

Yesterday, for the first time, I've thought seriously about running away, getting out of here while my visa is still valid. Just in case my family needs a place to run away to, someday. On the heel of that thought came the tears.

When I travel and meet people who want to know a little about Kenya, I insist that they must come visit, and see it for themselves. The world is littered with people I’ve harassed to visit Kenya. Because everybody knows that you haven’t seen God smile, if you haven’t been to Kenya. I tell these people not to worry, accommodation is on me, I have room enough in my house to fit an entire family. So, please come. Seriously, come.

Now, these very people are offering me refuge from this place I boast about.

Because suddenly, God is not smiling.

Remember Mary Doria Russell’s book The Sparrow which I blogged about sometime ago? Well, in her version of the future, somewhere in the middle of the 21st century, Kenyans are being accommodated at refugee camps in Sudan. I still remember reading that and filing it away in the “Yeah Right” folder. As if such a thing could happen, I chuckled to myself, under my breath.

Today, yet another friend wrote for a faraway place and asked whether I was fine, what with all the horrible news coming out of Kenya. I replied saying,

“I am physically fine, but I’m nursing a wounded spirit.”

Likely tomorrow I’ll be back to my old self again: believing in and rooting for Kenya with all that I am and have.

But today, if I wallow, let me wallow.

Nakuru Haven of Peace No More

Early this week, there was an article in the Business Daily to the effect that Nakuru town was eager to market itself as the "destination of choice" for those fleeing for their lives from the North Rift, especially those who had the potential to invest in the economy there. And, by all indications, there are a good number of potential investors among the displaced people who have taken refuge in Nakuru. Some according to the Business Daily article had already began to make enquiries about the possibility of purchasing property.

Now, it too seems to have succumbed to violence as angry youth seek to carry out revenge killings on account of "their people" being killed in Eldoret.

I know there's been a steady influx of displaced people into Nakuru and that therefore the residents of Nakuru are seeing and hearing firsthand accounts of the horrors that are taking place in the North Rift.

But, revenge is so not the answer, else soon we'll all be blind and then what future for all of us? And, to cliche on, two wrongs never made a right.

I hope the authorities in Nakure are diligent enough to take firm control of the situation before it deteriorates further, taking into custody anyone who is found to have participated in the planning or execution of this violence and charging them accordingly.

This madness must stop. Please stop the madness.

It seems as though every time we take a tiny step forward, we stumble and fall. I've been saying for some time now that we're in this for the longhaul. I'm only now beginning to grasp just how long the longhaul might be.

**UPDATE (21.45pm GMT +3)

Rival mobs representing both sides of the political divide are now holding Nakuru hostage. In fact, as the story is shaping up, the violence is about a violent clash of two rival groups.

Are Mungiki partly responsible for what has happened? I read them in the subtext.

Hopefully the army is able to isolate the perpertrators of the violence, whoever they might be and wherever they might be and clamp down on them forcefully before they wreak any more havoc.

A Quick Dash Through The News

They shook hands. It was stiff and it was formal but it was progress. There’s a poignant(albeit fuzzy) photo in the Daily Nation of wananchi throwing up their hands in jubilation as Kibaki and Raila shook hands yesterday. If only these two gentlemen could see that they’re carrying the weight of all our hopes and dreams as a nation on their shoulders.

Sigh. Now the hard work begins.

So, despite Mutahi Ngunyi’s misgivings, maybe Kofi Annan did have a stick hidden away in his briefcase after all. I wonder what it might be. I can’t wait for the day when someone will write a book about what transpired at all these closed-door meetings and all the documents used in all these secret negotiations will be declassified.

Speaking of Mutahi Ngunyi’s analysis, I just remembered something else I heard him say the other day that was very interesting. He said the best constitutions are crafted in times of crisis and that in essence, a constitution is a ceasefire document that emerges out of a crisis. Now that’s food for thought. This is the biggest crisis Kenya has ever been through. Perhaps its silver lining will be that it will yield a top rate new constitution.

I wasn’t sold on a government of national unity in the beginning but I’m starting to warm up to the idea. Clearly, the current crisis derives from the deep-seated fear, from people at the grassroots on both sides of the political divide, of being consigned to the Outside, doomed to peer longingly In as others feast on the perks of being at the centre of power. The problems will remain until the people feel included.

If indeed this process results in a government of national unity, which I now am actually beginning to hope it will, its most important task will be to deliver the constitution that the people want, complete with the right structures and systems to guard the people’s will from the selfish, manipulative few. We must rid ourselves once and for all of this winner-takes-all-system and create an inclusive, representative system where power is distributed rather than concentrated.

*************

In other news, while being interviewed by Julie Gichuru yesterday, the new speaker of the house, Kenneth Marende, decried the income inequality that saw one man taking home a paltry 5000 Ksh every month (71.5 US dollars), while another took home 1,000,000 Ksh (over 14,000 US dollars) saying this inequality must be corrected if stability is to be achieved.

A little while later, he was asked about the exorbitant pay that our legislators receive, a minimum of 800,000 Ksh (Circa 11,500 US dollars) and he defended it on the basis that the house was constituted of a good number of professionals who earned hefty salaries in their previous jobs and that their hefty salaries freed them to concentrate on house business.

Those two statements are incongruous, if you ask me. Surely what’s good for the legislator goose is good for the corporate gander?

**************

Finally, links to two HRW (Human Rights Watch) articles on Kenya:

http://hrw.org/english/docs/2008/01/13/kenya17731.htm

http://hrw.org/english/docs/2008/01/23/kenya17859.htm

A Land of Wounded People

I’m back to my 8 to whenever the work is done gig which means that, most of the time, I am preoccupied with any number of things.

This is both a good thing and a bad thing.

It is a good thing because, at least some of the time, I’m distracted by things other than the crisis in Kenya. Deadlines and reports and operating plans and bills to be paid at the end of the month have a way of distracting one. (And yet, in an odd sort of way, I see even my bills as a blessing now. They indicate to me that I have a roof over my head and access to basic amenities.)

But it is a bad thing because not keeping up with the news breeds in me a false sense of calm.

The truth is, there are still a good number of trouble spots all over this country. People are fleeing for their lives from Kipkelion, Molo and Kuresoi where the carnage persists. There was a news item on NTV tonight about a mob of stick-wielding youth attacking the Bata Shoe factory in Limuru demanding that people from particular ethnic communities be surrendered to them.

In Nairobi’s low-income eastlands estates, Huruma, Dandora and Kariobangi North, gory killings are reported every night. On KTN, the camera sweeps cautiously over the lower body of a man who was beheaded in Kariobangi North. There’s a critical mass of evidence to support the persistent rumours that ethnic based militia that have reigned terror on Kenyans in the past have been revived, in particular Mungiki and Taliban. It is they that are now reigning terror on the residents of these densely populated estates each in their turn.

At best our security forces are overwhelmed with the task at hand. At worst, they are culpable in at least some of the trouble spots. Mostly, they are on edge, in control, but barely.

David Makali of the Media Institute, speaking at a press conference called by editors to address the government’s ban on live coverage, claims that there’s “a virtual breakdown of the rule of law on a scale never witnessed before.” I’m very afraid that we’ve let our “inner monster” out of its cage and that now that it’s out, we do not have an appreciation of how very difficult it will be to round it back in again.

A political solution is only the beginning of the road to healing. We have deep social wounds that will need tending to. We may effectively have scarred the conscience of a generation. Can all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, put us back together again?

There was a feature on NTV news this evening called Voices of Children.

Anne is fourteen years old and she’s from Eldoret. She has nightmares every night. As she was fleeing from her home with her family, she saw a mob slashing an old woman and her grandchild to death. She cannot get this image out of her head.

John is sixteen. He saw his father hacked to death by his neighbour. His life was spared because he was a friend to the neighbour’s son, but he had to flee for his life nonetheless.

What is most striking about many of the stories that you hear is the common refrain: “It is people we know. It is people we lived with.”

It is true, what many have argued: this is not so much an ethnic as a class war. It is, in the end, a battle between the haves and the have-nots. But, we cannot deny that it has had ethnic manifestations. The scars born of this displaced aggression are evident all over this nation. In the end, none of us is exempt. We are all the victims. We are all the perpetrators.

But, credit where credit is due: twice this week, first in his address in Kisumu and then when he spoke at the Ligi Ndogo grounds, Raila appealed to his supporters not to attack their neighbours, explaining that, this is not a fight about ethnicity, it is a fight for justice.

Quote of the Crisis

Pastor M over at his blog has spoken great wisdom:

"Humility earns us the right to speak and be heard in turn."

That isn't directed at our leaders. It's directed at all of us wherever we might stand, whatever we might hold to be true.

Hear hear.

Too Optimistic By A Mile

Apparently, I called it too early.

Peaceful? In my dreams.

I'm receiving reports that a mob has gone and partially burnt down part of the Posta building on Ngong Road, adjacent to the Ligi Ndogo grounds. That part of Ngong Road was a no-go zone about half an hour ago.

Now why? What happened?

Trying to figure out what happened is like trying to milk a stone.

A source within one of the media houses tells me chaos erupted when Raila Odinga concluded his speech.

All I can glean from the BBC is that at one point, a Police car arrived at the grounds and 'youth' began to stone it.

On Radio, I hear the GSU are trying to contain the situation with what appears to be a fair amount of difficulty.

This yoyoing between hope and despair is not good for the soul, I can tell you that. More, when I have it. If I have it.

*UPDATE

The 4.00 pm news on Easy FM confirmed that indeed a mob had surrounded the Telkom Posta building on Ngong Road, stoned it, and set it alight with people still inside. Fifteen people escaped alive from the burning building. There's no indication yet that there have been any deaths.

According to the Easy FM report, the chaos broke out when police lobbed teargas into the Ligi Ndogo grounds. Not yet a clue why. The GSU seem to have contained the situation now. I hope 'containing the situation' doesn't translate into more deaths.

For more news, check out this M and G article. And the online versions of Kenyan newspapers should really get their act together. Why does their online news have to remain static all day? Who will throttle their goat if they update their online news at least twice a day? Why do I have to forage foreign parts for local news?

Security Forces Changing Tactics, Wow

I've just received a report that Woodley, Jamhuri and Jamhuri II estates are teeming with security personnel walking around in a conspicuous show of force. But for the most part, as I understand it, they're minding their own business and allowing residents to go about theirs.

I know there's been a considerable amount of apprehension in these parts about today as these estates are on the 'migration route' from Kibera to Ligi Ndogo grounds where ODM prayers are to be held. Hopefully the police manage to calm the nerves of the residents of these estates without provoking those passing through on their way to Ligi Ndogo to attend the prayers.

So far, as I understand it, it has been pretty calm.

There is however no sign whatsoever of security personnel near Ligi Ndogo grounds which borders Jamhuri and Jamhuri II.

Wonder of wonders: are our security personnel finally reading from a sane script, working to protect citizens and their property rather than harass and brutalise would-be peaceful demonstrators?

This week is full of surprises, I tell ya.

Ok, now someone from the sane brigade please surprise me with a reasonable take on the fate of the Internally Displaced People in camps all over Kenya. Volunteers please.

Take Up The Mantle of Leadership And Lead

Everybody and their spokesman keeps saying that they know Raila Odinga and Mwai Kibaki to be reasonable, rational people who are "being held hostage by" or "are under siege from" hardliners in their respective political camps.

Enough. Enough with the talk already.

I want to see this to be so, not just to hear that it is so.

If ever there was a time that both men needed to show courage and demonstrate their love for this country, that time is now. If ever there was a context in which both were called to prove that they are indeed the leaders a good many perceive them to be and not just puppets in the hands of unknown, unnamed puppeteers, this is that context.

They have the responsibility to help this country navigate out of these stormy waters it is mired in and take us back safely to shore. And that responsibility carries with it the opportunity to become the De Klerk and Mandela of our country.

These mediation talks are going to make the history books. The question is whether they will be remembered as Kenya’s finest hour, or the talks that sealed the doom of a once great nation.

I'm not asking that the events of the past month that have precipitated this crisis be swept under the table. Hardly. I am suggesting that they should be a launching pad for an incisive look at what and where Kenya is and why. It is painfully clear to see now that, if Kenya does not deal with her past, she will not have a future. We need to understand why we are here today in order that we might never come back this way again.

Raila and Kibaki, lead us in scrutinizing the past, dealing with the present, and forging our way forward.

******
“We are dealing with issues that touch on the very survival of Kenya as a nation…”

The Daily Nation

Let the Talks Begin

But even as they do, Mutahi Ngunyi, one of Kenya's foremost political analysts, is pessimistic:

"You do not negotiate unless you have a stick and Kofi Annan has none," was how he put it. He doesn't think moral authority will get Kofi Annan very far.

As usual, we wait, we see.

********************

Like Rannenberger, I had thought those petty full page adverts, complete with Government of Kenya insignia taunting those who disputed the election to provide evidence, were best ignored. What could be their point, really? I seriously couldn't get my mind around the fact that Alfred Mutua, as a representative of the government, was behind them. Unlike Rannenberger, I still think they are best ignored. What, are we in high school here?

I personally think someone should pink slip Alfred Mutua and make Poghisio the official face of the current government.

Speaking of which, some significant moves on the part of the government. Finally.

First, a public statement from the minister for Internal Security, Professor Saitoti, directing security forces charged with containing mass protests to exercise due restraint. Then a licence is granted to the ODM to allow them hold a prayer meeting at Ligi Ndogo grounds on Ngong road.

Progress in itsy bitsy baby steps.

Who'd have thought?

I've just driven out briefly and found Riot Police (referred to elsewhere as Ninja Turtles)ensconced in the City Mortuary and Silver Springs roundabouts. By ensconced I mean they were standing in the thicket of the roundabouts, armed, and in full gear. So odd how they're fast becoming a part of the Nairobi landscape. My friend went into CBD yesterday and while she was there, there was some commotion which resulted in the Police releasing teargas canisters. She says she was amazed at how the people in the shop didn't even glance up to see what the commotion was about. They just carried on with what they were doing as though it was business as usual.

This is what it has come to.

***********************

Now, what could this government be thinking herding people out of refugee camps and back into what are still vulnerable situations? What could those who have conceived of this madness have been smoking? What security arrangements have been made to ensure that it is safe to go back home?

Keeping Up With The News...

...isn't easy these days. Last night, for the first time in I can't remember how many days, I did not listen to the evening news bulletins like I had to take an exam. So I missed the re-reversal by ODM on the economic boycott, if it was on television.

Re-reversal: is that what you call it when you reverse from a position you had arrived at by reversing from another position?

So, the economic boycott that Raila had denied on Friday has now been announced as official ODM policy by Henry Kosgey. Oh, and according to Najib Balala, mass demonstrations will continue every week, Wednesday to Friday, "until the government calls a fresh presidential elction."

This is unusual, coming from ODM. They've usually been very well-coordinated when it comes to communicating strategy. Qu'est-qui se passe?

By the way, as I've said before, I'm not a fan of mass protests in Kenya. But, this whole protest business has endeared Najib Balala to me. He's the only bigwig who's consistently rubbed shoulders with the people on the street as they're being chased down by cops or choking on teargas or some such. Now that's a man of the people, if there ever was one.

In The Headlines, Not

I've become so accustomed to seeing images of the chaos in Kenya headlining all the major new sources, from BBC, to CNN to Aljazeera, that I was a little startled today when I had to dig or at least scroll down to get to the Kenyan story.

Surely, this is a sign.

The question is, what is it a sign of?

Could it be a sign that the worst is over and we've undisputably turned the corner?

Or, is it a sign that mayhem in Kenya is no longer news in its own right and it now has to justify itself with depth and breadth to earn a top news slot?

Oops, No, Not Economic Boycott

Apparently, Salim Lone went ahead of his party when he spoke to the press about a planned economic boycott.

I thought it was an odd omission in the early evening news yesterday. But, no mention of the economic boycott in the prime time news bulletins either.

There was a clip of Raila saying that they'd called off the mass demonstrations because of the suffering of the people and then adding that there were many other strategies up their sleeves. Or some such. But no specific mention of an economic boycott. That raised my eyebrows.

And then, in today's dailies, Raila Odinga has said, categorically, not so. In the Saturday Nation he's quoted as saying:

"Equity Bank is everywhere helping the poor in the process of economic empowerment. It is foolhardy to tie it to an individual when we know shareholders include international bodies and countries like the USA."

Apparently he said this after holding separate meetings with business people from the Mt Kenya region and the Central Organisation of Trade Unions (COTU).

Hmm. Ok.

Back to the drawing boards I suppose then. So the economic boycott is off before it was actually on.

Meanwhile, Kofi Annan jets in Tuesday. We wait, we see.

In other news, there seems to be a general sense that things are getting better.

I bumped into a non-Kenyan acquiantance who heads the Africa operations of a fairly large relief and development organisation that had relocated its non-Kenyan staff out of Kenya at what they judged to be the height of the crisis. Apparently, they're now streaming back in.

Who knows, maybe soon I'll have the mental and emotional space to rant about how KQ lost my luggage and it did not show up until a month later.

Sigh. Oh for the opportunity to be fickle again.

So, Economic Boycott

Novel approach, I'll grant ODM that.

The other day I was arguing with someone I know who's a relative ODM insider about tactics for galvanising the masses and how Kenyans are yet to learn the art of peaceful protest and the ensuing chaos is bound, in the end, to alienate otherwise sympathetic people.

It'll be interesting to see whether, and how, this new tack works.

First, people don't often think of a place like Kibera as a vast market, but, just because the people's purchasing power is low is not a reason to dismiss it. The sheer numbers, definitely upward of one million, mean that it is a key centre of consumption in this city. If Brookside had significant distribution volume there, and my bet is, they did, then Brookside will feel the pinch.

Second, this opens up an avenue for the middle class who largely shun mass protests for fear of the almost inevitable violence, to participate. Now that's something new in Kenya and it'll be interesting to see what the net effect will be.

I would like to hear ODM spell out a good rationale for their list of the companies to boycott, though. Brookside. Citi Hoppa. KBS. Equity Bank. Right now, it seems to me be a little too 'whatever big thing I catch in my net is good to eat' like. And yes, I know who owns these businesses. But I also know multiple businesses owned by Kibaki and Michuki that are not on this initial list. I don't buy the argument for Equity Bank's inclusion on the list, I'm afraid. We're all allowed our personal party affiliations, are we not?

I wonder many things, and I fear a few.

I wonder, for example, whether there'll be a backlash where PNU supporters decided to give their business to these companies whereas before, they did not necessarily do so. Or whether, if Brookside decided to price their small satchet of milk at 8 sh, as against say KCC's sachet which, for the sake of this argument, may be retailing at 10 sh, the poor man in the slum will have the political will and the economic fortitude to turn his nose up at Brookside and purchase the slightly more expensive KCC. I wonder.

And one of the things I fear is that some people will try impose their will on others through various types of intimidation. That will sully this boycott in its entirety. For example, I do not want to hear of people being stoned if they decide to board Citi Hoppa buses. Let everyone be free to choose one way or the other. Everyone is entitled to their political choices, whether we agree with them, or respect them, or not.

Oh well. So, Economic Boycott? Let's see how this goes.

PS

Those of you who have been coming to my blog from way before December 2007 must be wondering what I've been smoking. You probably hardly recognise this space any more.

This blog has always mirrored my life, and the truth is, I hardly recognise myself any more. So it's just as well.

I've been gathering evidence on a certain theory of mine:

that although all of us are multifaceted individuals, our instinct always is to retreat into our threatened identities, rather than away from them. I've remarked it in others, countless times, and I recognise it in myself, almost all the time.

It used to seem counterintuitive to me. I'd have thought that if I was under threat in one 'form' my instinct would be to adapt another, for survival's sake. But it turns out that when the circumstances threaten the woman that I am, my response is not to shove her out of view and shine the light on the Christian or the African instead, but rather to rise up to my full size, and sometimes half as much again, as woman and fight with all that I am and have and hope to be.

And on and on and on. That's just the way it is. Which goes a long way to explain why persecuted identities are the strongest identities. Look around you and see.

And, these days, it is my Kenyan-ness that is in crisis, and therefore naturally, I have found all my energies focussed there, for better or for worse.

Pardon me if it has caught you off guard. I didn't see it coming either. At least, not in this form.

Kenya at the Crossroads: Scenarios For Our Future

I’ve been attending some civil society meetings, in an attempt to drag myself out of a self-induced state of despair and be a part of the solution.

At one of these meetings, someone reminded me of a process I’d participated on the fringes of in the late nineties called Kenya at the Crossroads: Scenarios For Our Future. The process was sponsored by Institute of Economic Affairs and the Society for International Development.

Out of the process emerged a concensus on four possible scenarios for Kenya’s future:

Scenario One: El Niño, a scenario of decline and disintegration as a result of no political or economic reforms which leads to ethnic and regional balkanization of the country.

Scenario Two: Maendeleo, an economic reform scenario that envisions a technocratic approach. It forecast initial rapid gains but accompanied by severe inequalities and instability, which ultimately succumbs, to the discontent of the excluded.

Scenario Three: Katiba, a scenario that saw institutional transformation as the key to reform, but which also depicted instability and little economic improvement. It paints a picture of Kenya developing locally responsive and representative institutions but trapping itself in poverty for several decades.

Scenario Four: Flying Geese a scenario that involves simultaneous economic, political and institutional transformation of the country, resulting in inclusive democracy and economic growth. It paints a picture of high productivity, equitable and politically stable society, but through a challenging transition.

There was a comprehensive countrywide dissemination strategy as I recall. Both leaders and the general public were encouraged to engage with the four possible Scenarios, critique them and dialogue around them. A compendium was published, as well as a simplified booklet published in 2000 by the IEA.

This was a project and process that really gripped my imagination back then. I still have a mug in my office from that time that reads: “A National Vision for Kenya ‘To Demand and Deliver The Kenya We Want.” And, “The Promise of Our Generation.” It was a memoir from the National Vision Project that emerged out of that initial Scenarios Building process.

But, time passed, as it must, and slowly, the Scenarios drifted into the background, at least in my mind.

Until now.

Now, perched on this branch called present, I look back at where we’ve come from and see that somehow, after the initial euphoria in 2003, we wandered off Flying Geese Avenue, where we desired to be, and instead took the turn onto Maendeleo Road. Which has brought us to this place, at this time.

What blows me away is the reminder that we could see this coming. The current crisis did not land unexpectedly from Mars. We took a certain road, and this is where that road leads to, eventually. It is true that there are other factors that have come into play that have precipitated the fallout, but, in the raw, this is where we were going to end up.

In an odd sort of way, this gives me hope. Because if we knew, before it happened, what would get us here, then surely we’re able to find our way out of here and back to where we want to be?

And it is true that our vision 2027 has encountered a significant roadblock, but certainly not an insurmountable one. Not if we get back to the drawing boards, and fill in the missing pieces.

**********

Vision 2027

The Promise of Our Generation:

“Kenya is a united nation with a confident and proud educated and healthy people infused with strong ethical values, living in a democratic, tolerant, caring and economically just society with a progressive, prosperous, competitive, dynamic, robust and resilient economy, managing our resources for the benefit of the future generations of Kenya and having taken our place in the community of nations with pride, responsibility and contributing to uplifting the status of Africa our continent in the global community of nations.”

*******

I think it's still achievable, although it will not be easy. We just need to stay focused. To not forget as a Nation together, and as each one of the individuals who comprise this Nation, that this is where we want to be. And to have the discipline to keep asking ourselves every step of the way, what it is we need to be doing together and individually today, to get us a little closer to this lofty goal.

We need to have the vision to make the sacrifices that are necessary today, in order to enjoy that future tomorrow. And to make the tough decisions today, that will make it easier to get to where we want to be tomorrow.

One of the things that was clear back then was that to move forward, Kenyans needed to unlearn the old and learn a new way of being. I think these past five years what we've done is try to build something new on an old and shaky foundation. New wine in old wineskins and whatnot. It will not do. Now we are learning, the hard way, that the systemic weaknesses are not resolved by merely replacing one individual with another. However well-meaning the individual might be.

I'll confess that I've despaired plenty, these past few weeks, wondering whether the Kenya that is would ever go back to being the Kenya I once knew, let alone become the Kenya I dream of. Now, I'm allowing myself to hope again. Not because of what I see, but because of who I know Kenyans to be. I still believe we can build a great nation, "from the soul, outward."

Arghh

We've been receiving word all morning that all was calm in the Nairobi Central Business District. It rained most of the morning, you see, despite January typically being the hottest, driest month of the year.

Now, suddenly, we're getting reports that the GSU are chasing people out of town. And that there was teargas thrown, in the Hilton Hotel area which threw people into a panic after a calm but tense morning. There's a directive that people shouldn't walk in groups and that cars shouldn't carry multiple people. I work outside town and the chaos doesn't usually come in our direction, but suddenly everyone is nervous about how they'll get home and we have to start formulating plans to ensure that staff people who live all over Nairobi get there safely.

Double Arghh.

I'm on neither side insofar as the mass demonstrations are concerned. I cannot see how they will effectively advance ODM's cause. And I fail to see why, instead of being so intent on stopping them, our security forces can't just concentrate on ensuring, best they can, that they remain peaceful.

Triple Arghh.

The Show Is On The Road

I was encouraged by the turn of events in parliament yesterday.

Kenneth Marende, ODM's candidate for the post of Speaker triumphed. Good on him. Those of us who live within earshot of Kibera heard a 'whoop' of joy break out in that general direction when the final tally was announced and were happy for them that at last they had something to celebrate.

ODM had flexed its muscle, the ranks had remained disciplined, and they had triumphed.

I had expected Kenneth Marende to win, based on the strength of ODM's numbers in the House. What I did not know was what to expect from him when he did.

There have been myriad rumours doing the rounds for days, the most persistent of which had him refusing to swear in MPs-elect as soon as he took his oath of office. But I'd also heard that Kenneth Marende had made it clear to those proposing him for the office of Speaker that once he was Speaker, he would act within the law.

ODM MPs-elect were elated when Marende was elected winner. PNU, after a temporary choke in the throat and a squirm in the seat, seemed to take the defeat in their stride. Kalonzo Musyoka joined Musalia Mudavadi in escorting Kenneth Marende to his seat, and Mwai Kibaki passed by to congratulate him on his way to casting to his vote for the Deputy-Speaker.

Marende's acceptance speech was overtly conciliatory and he seemed intent on underlining his non-partisanship, even as he gave a firm indication that he had a specific agenda for his term as Speaker of the 10th Parliament, including but not limited to, ushering the House into the 21st century by introducing electronic voting, as well as delivering a new Constitution to the people of Kenya.

Even Martha Karua, a hardliner on the government side, prefaced her response to James Orengo's Point of Order by conceding that she had "had misgivings," but that Kenneth Marende had ably "acquitted [himself] in [his] acceptance speech." Moses Wetangula, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, called his address "firm and categorical."

When, prior to the swearing in exercise, James Orengo raised a Point of Order demanding that President Kibaki sit on the ordinary benches on account of his presidency being "under contestation," as well as querying whether, in their oath, MPs-elect should pledge their allegiance to the Republic or to the President, he sparked a lively debate by legal minds from both sides of the house. It was quite enlightening to listen to.

Maybe it was just me, but somehow I think ODM knew the limitations of their argument within the law so this was just a way of flexing their muscle. The titans, in my unlearned opinion, were Anyang Nyong'o and Martha Karua. It's no wonder that these were the two seconded by their respective parties to meet with the ECK when first the questions about vote tallying were raised on 29th of December.

Which reminds me, sidenote: I didn't enjoy the Martha Karua who appeared on BBC hardtalk recently. She was scowly and flustered and defensively aggressive. It was not a pretty picture. Such a miserable shadow of who she has the potential to be.

The Martha Karua who stood up to counter James Orengo's Point of Order, however, was every bit the formidable opponent many have come to know and fear. I wonder what, in her mind, has changed between the BBC Hardtalk interview and now. Because I couldn't help but think that something has changed.

After listening to the arguments from both sides as well as to Amos Wako's legal opinion, Kenneth Marende decided that "the chair is under duty to interpret the law as it is," and therefore, that the MPs-elect were bound to take the oath as it existed and then if they chose to, they could amend the appropriate standing order at a future date according to laid out procedures. And he also refused to overturn the order in which MPs-elect were being sworn in because, as he argued, "nothing will turn on it."

If the status quo remains, I think PNU will come to appreciate the particular merits of a man of honour in the Speaker's seat who was overwhelmingly backed by the ODM against their own preferred candidate. And Kenneth Marende does strike you as a man of honour, although of course his mettle has yet to be tested and first impressions can turn out to be misguided. In his bid to be seen as his own man and as one who is impartial, Marende may inadvertently find himself tending to lean away from the side which favoured his election.

We watch, we see.

In other news: if yesterday's anything to go by: there's a new Chief of Theatrics in the House and his name is Ababu Namwamba. I'd heard of him before and heard of what he'd done for and alongside the people of his constituency, Budalangi. Apparently, some good stuff.

But I had never seen him in action. Yesterday, my impression was that he was inclined to the dramatic. As he made his submission in support of James Orengo's Point of Order, William Ruto was seated right behind him, grinning. It was impossible to tell whether he was tickled, surprised, or a little bit of both. When he completed his submission, his side of the House applauded him only warmly. The camera then panned to Mwai Kibaki, and what do you know, the President was smiling. Tickled, suprised, or a little bit of both?

Raila Odinga was the first ODM MP-elect to be sworn in. He first tried to insist on reading the Oath of Allegiance that was read by Kibaki, which of course does not contain a pledge of allegiance to the president. When it was not given him, he simply skipped the line where he would have pledged his loyalty to the President. Some of the backbenchers on the government side tried to grumble but they were hushed by the frontbench. Someone tells me that the thinking on the PNU side was to let that one go, since he'd still have to put his signature to the standard document anyway as soon as he'd recited his vow.

Enter Ababu Namwamba, first on the rest of the list in alphabetic order and he pledged his loyalty to "President, Raila Amolo Odinga." Marende ordered him to read the pledge again, as it was on his paper and this time, he, like Raila, skipped the phrase that pledged allegiance to the President. Marende did not notice the omission but Martha Karua stood up in a bit of a huff and a puff on a Point of Order requesting the Speaker not to allow this "ignominy." Clearly, PNU was ready to make allowances for Raila but for no one else. So Ababu Namwamba took the oath a third time, this time turning slightly to bow to Raila Odinga as he vowed his allegiance to President.

Quite a dramatic evening, in all.

Let Us Pray, Shall We?

Except, what exactly shall we pray? Because even your prayers betray your political leaning these days.

If you’re praying fervently for peace and you are believing God for a return to normalcy, so that this great nation of ours can continue to soldier on towards its high calling, then chances are you’re PNU-inclined.

If on the other hand you’re praying for justice to be done and for God to hear the cries of His people, then, you’re probably ODM-friendly.

So public prayers are guarded and carefully pre-meditated in order that they may safely navigate the current perilous political terrain.

A very reliable source tells me that at a recent Pastors’ prayer meeting in Nairobi, people whose prayers were judged to be too partisan were booed. Now, if there's any image that can serve to illustrate how volatile temperatures are at present in Kenya, it is the image of Pastors booing at a prayer meeting.

That and the prayer one of my workmates children has been praying these past few days:

My workmate dropped her kids off at her friend’s place on her way to work one day last week. In that particular home, it is customary to pray before meals. Every time her friend asked for a volunteer to pray, my workmate’s second-born son who’s just turned four, immediately offered. And, in his prayer, he would always include a plea to God to not let “Mommy’s boss kill her.”

You see, my workmate is accustomed to using the verb to kill lightly. We had a backlog of work when we got back to work in the New Year. I was putting some (ok maybe a lot) of pressure on her to get her portion done. Apparently, on one or two occasions when she was trying to explain to her kids why she had to go to the office, she said she had to get her work done else her boss would “kill her.” She meant this figuratively, of course. And no one would have paid her any heed, I suppose, in a more innocent time.

Not so now.

Now her children have caught glimpses of horrible things on Television and listened to grown ups as they’ve shared shocking stories in whispers. Now “to kill” is a frighteningly real part of their vocabulary.

Quotable Weekend

Raila Odinga:

"What is the point of Kenyans going to the ballot box to choose their leaders when a few clerks sitting at KICC (ECK provisional headquarters during the elections) can overturn the will of the people."

Mwai Kibaki:(Translated from Kiswahili)

"You cannot be loved by everyone. Not everyone will like you. So you just go ahead and do your job best you can."

Kenya Tourism Board:

"If tourism as a sector collapses, it will trigger the collapse of the entire economy."

East Africa Community:

"The elections were flawed and fell short of being free and fair."

And, (in memory of a distant, more carefree time), a character on HOUSE, (the American medical drama)

"According to medical schools from New Jersey, medical schools from my country suffer from not being from this country[the US]."

Justice and Peace

Once upon a time, Justice and Peace were two highly compatible values in Kenya, living quiet but productive lives, side by side, in the words of our national anthem and in the national consciousness.

Then one day, politicians took them, tore them rudely apart, set them at opposite ends of a boxing ring, decked them in helmets and gloves and braces, and readied them to spur with one another.

But Peace and Justice had lived together too long and loved one another too much to fight. So instead, the sneaked away, in the middle of the night, to a land far far away, taking their children, Unity and Liberty with them.

The politicians in Kenya began to wrangle, each advancing their own chicken and egg-like theory about which should return home first: Peace or Justice?

In the far away place where they sought refuge, Peace and Justice sat holding hands, watching the unfolding scenario, flabbergasted at the shenanigans of their leaders.

They desperately wanted to go back home.

Together. As a family.

How?

The Best of Human Nature

They had a feature on Nation TV yesterday about the overflow of charity in Nakuru to the displaced people from North Rift Valley who are pouring into that town seeking refuge.

The refugees are currently being sheltered at the Nakuru Show ground.

There was this one wide angle shot of a huge huge pile of clothes. Apparently, Nakuru residents had raided their wardrobes and brought so many clothes that they far surpassed current needs, even though there were thousands of people at the camp.

And everyday, these residents of Nakuru flock to the showgrounds intent on finding ways to be useful, to make a difference. They take food to the refugees, they organize activities for the children, sometimes they come simply to walk around the camp, to spend time with the refugees, talking to them, encouraging them.

I was particularly fascinated by this young girl who went to recite poetry. I'd never have thought to go to a refugee camp to recite poetry, but yet there she was, and she had a rapt audience, as far as I could tell. I suppose it all boils down to "such as I have, I give to thee."

God bless the people of Nakuru.

Stories from the Furnace

Rachel, who comes in to clean my house once a week, lives in Kibera. I spoke to her at the height of the violence last week to find out if she was fine and she assured me she was. I tried to call her again yesterday but her phone was off. I panicked. I tried again today and she picked her cellphone and she’s fine. She came by this afternoon and she gave me an insider’s account of what’s been happening in the Kibera slum, africa’s largest.

The Kibera near Ngummo Estate is called Laini Saba and it’s populated by a mixture of ethnic groups. Further in you have Namba Nane which is dominated by one ethnic group although there are of course people from other ethnic groups there as well. The latter, Namba Nane, is where most of the trouble was. The inhabitants of Laini Saba organized and armed themselves fairly early on so it was difficult for those coming from Namba Nane to come in and cause much trouble there. They tried, but they met fierce resistance, lost a few of their lives, and that was that.

Most of the chaos, most of the killings were concentrated in Namba Nane. She says that there came a time when members of one ethnic group would knock on doors of houses occupied by the other, evict them, and immediately install their own. She doesn’t think the landlords are likely to succeed in collecting rent any time soon.

You recall that Toi market was ransacked and then burnt down last week. Apparently, the arsonists have now colonized the space, declaring that it is theirs by right, and they have embarked on building their own market stalls on the ruins, intent on using them for their own purposes, or renting them out, at the very least.

Also, remember all those gunshots that kept me awake at night? It turns out that there were GSU crawling all over Kibera last week but they limited themselves to trying to ensure that people didn’t kill each other. According to Rachel, they were complicit in some of the looting that happened. She described how sometimes the GSU shot in the air to allow looters to get into a shop or building to ravage it, and then after a while, they shot in the air again and that was a sign to the looters that time was up, they needed to get out. She claims she saw a few security officers score some loot, while they were at it.

When I probe she says she’ll be fine, really. She’s not under direct threat, she assures me. I just have to understand that she needs to go home before dark because you never know.

I’ve a workmate who lives in Baba Ndogo, in Eastlands. He says he hasn’t slept in his house for a week. Every night, attackers come. So every night the men in his neighbourhood arm themselves, form neighbourhood vigilante groups, and wait for the attackers. He says that as long as these attackers find men guarding their homes, they do not attack. They attack only those homes that are not guarded. So they stay up until 3 in the morning, guarding their homes, and then they go to sleep for a couple of hours and wake up at five to get to work. What a life.

The gardener at the office lives in Mathare. Mathare is divided roughly into two with each side dominated by a different ethnic group. He says on the night of the thirtieth, a group of men came banging on their doors demanding that every man in their neighbourhood must come out with a weapon, improvised or otherwise. They were going to fight, they were told, it was time to fight.

He says he came out of his house and found men busy sharpening weapons. He froze. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t wield a weapon, but he was afraid to say it out loud because he was afraid they’d come in and kill his family. So he just stood there, frozen with fear, praying. Finally one of the men recognized him and remarked that he was a pastor. He was ordered to go back into his house to pray for the success of their mission.

I was at Westgate mall waiting in line to pay my Safaricom bill. To be there was to almost forget that there was strife of any sort in the country. People seemed so at ease, so relaxed, so Kenya-before-the-election like. Seriously, if someone landed straight into Westgate Mall from abroad, they’d be hard put to believe there was any crisis going on in the country.

After I’d paid my bill, I went up to Wimpy. I chatted a little with the waiter who served me. I asked him where he lived. He said he lived in Kangemi. I asked him how things were in Kangemi. He said things were bad. He said they dread sunset, and live for sunrise because during the night, there’s trouble. Every night he has to live with the burden of protecting his family from assailants. Every night he carries a crude weapon, expects the worst, hopes for the best. On one night, one group attacks. On the next night, the other group revenges the previous night’s attack. And on and on and on.

The big sensational stories make the headlines. But these stories of ordinary people dealing with the fallout of the elections take place, for the most part, away from the limelight. If you take into account the percentage of people in Nairobi who live in slums, you’ll have to conclude that there are thousands upon thousands of stories like this being written indelibly into people’s memories everyday.

I don’t suppose the mass media can capture them all. I can’t help but wish they’d take daily snapshots, keep sticking them in our faces so that we, the middle class especially, are not lulled back into a false sense of calm.

The nation is still on edge. Let’s not do the cliché ostrich thing and pretend that what we can’t see isn’t out there.

We owe it to these people to keep the story alive until we arrive at a comprehensive, sustainable solution to this crisis we're in.



Report Acts Of Violence In Kenya

Tutu, then Frazer, then Kufuor, then Annan?

First, we heard Kufuor was extending his stay. Next he was on his way to the airport.

Now apparently Annan is coming.

Let's face it, Kibaki and Raila want from each other what neither is willing to concede. We might as well build a house and buy a cow. We're going to be here for a long time.

Sigh.

Did I Miss the Handing Back Ceremony?

...Because I'm 'up to here' with all the finger wagging and berating and patronising from Gordon Brown and his international sidekick David Milliband.

Harrumph.

True, the Kenyan civil society was found seated on its haunches when this crisis broke and they've just this week began to come out of the state of stupor into which the entire middle class fell in the initial days of the crisis. Now they seem to have got their act together and I'm catching glimpses here and there of their pre-2002 brilliance. I watched and listened to the likes of David Ndii and Harun Ndubi and Muthoni Wanyeki speaking about the current situation on NTV and, for the first time in weeks, I exhaled.

You know what, we're going to be ok. Voices of reason are finally being heard above the hysteria and the haggling and the hardlining.

Hurray.

God bless Kufuor. And Chissano and Mkapa and Kaunda and Mogae. And for that matter, God bless Desmond Tutu. It's great to know there are people from all across Africa rooting for us to succeed. In the end though, I'm hoping for a homegrown solution as only Kenyans can cultivate it so that when its planted in our indigenous soil, it'll take root and blossom and bear fruit for years to come.

It is not out of reach, what with the likes of internationally reknowned peace mediators Bethuel Kiplagat and Lazaro Sumbweiyo in our midst.

And oh, wouldn't it be grand?

Give The Kenyan People What They Deserve. Nothing Less

I remember a particularly heated conversation with a friend of mine who was a supporter of a presidential candidate other than the one I had determined to vote for. It was sometime in the middle of December when political temperatures were nearing boiling point. We had a lively, perhaps you might even call it fierce, debate about the merits and demerits of our candidates of choice. Well actually, it was more a discussion on the demerits of the candidates we were not going to vote for, because that was what the election had come to.

At the end of that conversation, however, we made a commitment to one another that on 28th December, we would all congregate under the umbrella of the AGIP party. That is, Any Government in Power. This was our attempt to be rational, conciliatory and forward thinking. There was every indication that it was going to be a very closely fought race, and that Kenyans were split roughly half and half, with but a thin slice reserved for the third force. Therefore, while we differed about who we thought would be best to take the helm of this country going forward, we were in agreement on the fact that, on the 29th of December, all Kenyans would have to come back together and move this country forward. Together. We’d all have to put down our campaign posters, pick up our work tools and continue to build our country. Together. So we agreed that we would re-convene under the AGIP umbrella on the 28th of December. And, we shook hands on it.

At that time, however, it did not cross our minds that we ought to qualify that statement and specify ALGIP, Any Legitimate Government in Power. We had assumed the election, while hotly contested, would be free and fair.

For the record, I truly believe Kenyans on either side of the political divide would have been able, in the end, to come to terms with a loss by their candidate if the process had been seen to be, to all intents and purposes, free and fair. Certainly, in such a close contest, half the country was likely going to mope around for a while. I had already designated myself a maximum of two days of mourning to come to terms with the results if they did not go my way. But in the end I believe we would have been able to get past it and to move on.

The problem is, the process was seen to be flawed to such an extent that the tampering that was done very likely altered the final result and therefore was not seen to be free and fair.

That will not do.

We invested a great deal of ourselves in this election. We invested our hopes and our dreams. We believed in the system. We believed that how we voted mattered. Certainly it had mattered in 2002 when we ushered NARC into power and then again in 2005 when we rejected the proposed new constitution. So we understood, implicitly, that the ballot box would amplify our voices so clearly that no one would be in doubt about what we had to say.

It was our ultimate recourse. Every man and woman’s microphone, individually and collectively.

The ballot box has become an institution in and of itself in this country in the past decade, and I stand against anyone, anyone who tries to tamper with it, behaving as thought somehow this country belongs more to some than it does to others.

That is why I disagree with those who are calling for the compromise of a government of national unity. I know they mean well, but I think we need to do more, to go further.

I think we need a re-run of the presidential race.

A crime has been committed against all Kenyans no matter on what side of the political divide they stood prior to December 27th, 2007. Because the ballot box was one of the precious few things that we had all come to trust as Kenyans. That fundamental injustice against the nation needs to be addressed in order that there might be true healing. Anything less is window dressing.

It is the right of the Kenyan people, as entrenched in our current constitution, to employ their head of state. That right should be fiercely protected, whatever the inconvenience. And yes, Amos Kimunya, even if it means expending an additional 8 Billion shillings.

And, just to be clear, in case you’re wondering, I speak as one who did not vote for Raila Odinga. But that does not matter. Some win, some loose. By participating in our democratic system, that is the risk I take, that is the risk we all take. However passionate we might be, one way or the other, if we have committed ourselves to a one man one vote system, then we must respect its fair result, even if that fair result is not according to our preference.

So when our candidates of choice loose, we expect them to accept such loss with dignity in the public space, retreat to the private place to lick their wounds, and begin to come to terms with what happened, and why it happened. See Uhuru Kenyatta 2002 for further information.

We cannot afford to indulge the haughty clique that mocked us and disrespected us by hijacking the ballot box. We cannot afford to tolerate those who have ridiculed this symbol of our nationhood. What they have attempted to steal from us is something fundamental to our self-understanding as a Kenyan people in the early 21st century.

As I’ve said elsewhere, a voter’s card is the poor man’s ultimate wealth because it places him on level ground with the rich man. It is at the ballot box that the poorest man can stand shoulder to shoulder with the richest man. Each has exactly one vote and each one is charged with the responsibility of using that vote to imagine a future, their future.

To be sure, I do not believe that the ballot box is the panacea for all our ills as a country. Hardly. In fact, I personally believe that there’s much to be done with our process to improve it, and that right now, it’s a rudimentary cut and paste from a very different context than ours.

However, we are at a very high risk of sabotaging the collective will to get anything else done going forward if we do not respect what we have agreed on thus far. And if there’s one thing that Kenyans have been agreed on since 2002, it is the right to exercise one’s vote, at the ballot box.

I have traveled a complicated path this past week on this subject, weaving through the thicket of my assessment of the current security situation, my personal thoughts on the matter, and the varied and conflicting views I’ve heard expressed publicly to us as Kenyans as well as personally to me.

Finally, here I am and here I’ll stand:

Give the Kenyan people a re-run of the presidential election at the earliest opportunity. They deserve nothing less.

The Worst of Human Nature

I have tried without success to blog about this. I cannot give it the distance it requires. And upclose, it just makes me want to weep.

Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.

So instead I send you here: http://www.mg.co.za/articlePage.aspx?articleid=328936&area=/insight/insight__africa/

Read and weep.

Not only did they set alight a church that was full of women and children, but, as some of these women tried to escape with their children by jumping out the windows, the assailants stood outside, "cutting people like firewood," as they landed.

How does a person get from being a helpless baby cradled in his mother's arms to being able to participate in something so gory and brag about it?

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall (Or Diary of a Time)

The ability to imagine a future is not a basic necessity, I suppose. Some people live from day to day to bleak and hopeless day for years on end. But, it is a luxury easy to take for granted.

As my cellphone filled up with new year’s wishes, I sat in darkness and fiddled with it absentmindedly. I know it is common courtesy to respond in kind. Usually, I would struggle to compose something clever, hoping to send it on its merry way tickling and impressing and being multiplied forward, waiting to see if it looped back to me eventually. But this time, the words, the wishes, the messages, rang hollow. I did not know what to say. I do not like to say what I do not mean.

In the distance, in the deep of the night, alcohol-slurred male voices rang out. I panicked and sat at attention, adrenalin charged. I glanced outside my living room window and realized that the spontaneous reaction in my neighbourhood was to flick off lights in a bid not to draw the unwanted attention of the probable assailants. Suddenly, all was still. We were still raw, you see, from an onslaught by a mob of rowdy youth armed with sticks and stones the previous day. It took a minute or two to decipher that these were drunken cries of “happy new year.” They were wishing us well, not serving us ill. I glanced at my cellphone. It was just after midnight.

I relaxed. A little.

**********

You know what I want most right now? To be able to laugh out loud. To laugh so hard that my tummy aches, I have tears rolling down my cheeks, and I look positively ridiculous. I laugh like that sometimes, if you care to know. And, that’s what I want right now.

It feels like ages since I last laughed. It is not so long ago, when I think about it. On the evening of 19th of December, my former collegemates and I gathered at a friend’s place, shared a meal, leisurely recounted the stories of our lives, and laughed. Boy, did we laugh.

But nothing’s funny in or about Kenya today. The atmosphere is tense. Conversations are tentative and guarded with acquaintances, heavy and laboured with friends. We turn the events of the past few days over and over and laboriously over. What happened? How did it happen? Why did it happen? How could it happen to us? What could we have done to prevent it from happening? And God help us, what will happen now?

Heartbreaking stories abound of people in the first, second and third degree of separation. People we know, people we know of, people who people we know know. My friend’s family spent three nights at a police station in western Kenya for fear of attack. They are back home now, but still afraid. Very afraid. My mother’s best friend’s cousin had his home, his property and his considerable business interests razed to the ground in the rift valley. He considers himself lucky to be alive.

These melancholy tales are repeated in whispers across households all over the country. The characters change, the story remains the same.

Meanwhile, rumours of planned attacks continue to do their vicious rounds, spreading fear and anger and frustration abroad.

People huddle together in homes. They talk and they pray. They pray and they pray and they pray. Prayers are offered up in the most unexpected places, by the most unexpected people. Nyambane, co-host of the morning show on the otherwise very secular KISS FM station pauses to lead his audience in prayer. Our national instinct in times of trouble is to turn to God. My phone has been flooded with calls to prayer. And, at times, to fast.

I am ashamed to confess that I have been tongue-tied in prayer these past few days. My most fervent prayers have been decidedly unremarkable and inarticulate: “ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, oooohmygod!” to the umpteenth power. It is no matter, I believe God hears, God knows. In the end, the greatest prayer that has ever been prayed over this nation is our national anthem:

Oh God of all creation,
Bless this our land and nation,
Justice be our shield and defender,
May we dwell in unity, peace and liberty,
Plenty be found within our border.

Amen. Amen and Amen.

*********

I had a pretty comprehensive wishlist for 2008. I realize now that it took a good number of things for granted. Like peace. And freedom of movement. And not having to constantly worry about the safety and security of all my beloved.

The stakes are so much higher now.

The mirror on the wall has been thrust in Kenya’s face. We’re staring in horror at our hideous inner beast in all its manifest ugliness. We hardly recognize what we see. We remember that we used to be one of the fairest of them all and we continue to mutter this to ourselves, under our collective breathes. But, recalling the past does not change the present. It makes it even harder to bear.

All I want now is the ability to once again imagine a future. And maybe the opportunity to laugh out so loud that my tummy aches, tears are rolling down my cheeks and I look positively ridiculous.

But right now, these things seem inextricably tied up with the destiny of this place called home. And every time I think of Kenya right now, there’s a choke in my throat. It’s all I can do to stop myself from crying.

The truth is, you cannot look the inner beast in the eye and walk away and continue to live life as you have always lived it. Just as you cannot suffer a deep wound to a vital organ and take time only to plaster a band aid over it and then hurriedly move on.

We never thought we’d ever get to this place, and yet here we are. Now before we leave, we must make absolutely sure that we never have to come down this dark road again. We owe it to ourselves, to our children, and to our children’s children.

Because this beast in the mirror can break the spirit. Even of a nation.

So get up and look in the mirror. Really really look.

The Battle of The Titans

In the debacle that is the just concluded election in Kenya, the tale of the two presidential candidates, Mwai Kibaki and Raila Odinga, is a complicated and convoluted story. It is at once the tale of the battle between the haves and the have nots, a power struggle between the GEMA community and the rest of Kenya, and a public tussle between the young and the old.

Some people are engaged at all three levels. Others are engaged at none. Most people are somewhere in between, taking a side but, mercifully, unwilling to hold on to it when it swings to its extreme. Irresponsible leaders, hungry for power, have used the fears and grievances on either side to stir up the populace for their own ends.

Whatever the outcome of the current impasse, the phenomenon that is Raila Odinga and his ODM has sent a high voltage ripple through the fabric of this country. He has awakened some to their power and they are intoxicated with it. He has made clear to others their vulnerabilities and shocked them to the core of their being.

Raila’s ultimate genius has been in styling himself as saviour of the poor, the marginalized and the disenfranchised. Against him, Kibaki has come off as aloof, elitist and horribly out of touch with the woman on the street. Economic record notwithstanding.

A friend commented the other day that Kibaki’s undisputed record on the economy is akin to the ‘India Shining’ campaign of the BJP a couple of years ago that went horribly wrong as rural India sent them home with their tails between their legs. While urban areas were virtually floodlit, they had forgotten to send nary a lantern of that shine into rural India.

And I’m sure many of us have drawn parallels with what happened in South Africa recently with Zuma triumphing over Mbeki at the ANC elections mostly on account of the fact that the majority of black South Africans still feel that the economic empowerment policies of the past few years have benefited a select minority.

Otherwise good leaders in Africa make the fatal error of forgetting that democracy means each one has one vote. They neglect, ignore, or shrug off the poor majority at their own peril. It does not matter to a poor man that the economy is growing at 6 per cent per annum if he himself cannot see the fruits of that growth. The economy to him is food on his table, clothes and education for her children, access to health, a steady roof over their heads and the opportunity to try again tomorrow. Six per cent is an abstract figure, a wall hanging if you will, until it translates into these tangibles.

That’s why Presidents can have the door slammed in their faces while economies flourish. Because wealth is not trickling down to the bottom of the pyramid. Or at least, it is not trickling down fast enough. And the bottom of the pyramid is where the bulk of the votes are stashed.

So what if there’s a big cake, if I’m not invited to the party?

I’m no populist. In fact, I rather fear I might come off like a Kibaki or a Mbeki were I President. (Except perhaps my speeches would be a little more palatable both in substance and rendition. Or so I hope.) Still, there is a lesson to be learned here. Leaders must not take the people for granted. Democracy is one man one vote, and a disgruntled poor majority can deal a fatal blow to political ambitions of a lofty kind. Let the leaders in Africa watching the Kenyan elections and their aftermath sit up and take notice.

The only panacea is to distribute economic gains so that they are shared by as many people as possible. Let African leaders watch and learn. Here comes the future.

That said, about Kenya here and now: the events of the last few days have exposed faultlines that were buried just beneath the surface. I pray we have the courage in the coming days, weeks, months and years, to scrutinize each one of these, call them what they are, and find ways to repair them.

Twenty-year economic plans are all the rave these days. For Kenya, I beg a 20 year Social Plan that ensure that this great country of ours is cohesive even as it remains diverse.

Getting A Grip

Is the worst over? Maybe.

I've a friend who theorised that Kenya's essentially a blue collar economy in which people subsist from day to day and that sooner or later, people will need to go back to the business of earning their daily bread.

My other friend who runs her own business corroborates this when she reports that her employees are calling her up now, asking her when she's due to resume business. They're broke, they tell her, they need the money.

There is however, the other significant proportion of the country, the unemployed. They were regarded as a key demographic during the campaign period and if there's one thing they have on their hands, it is idle time.

It'll be interesting to see which of these two groups tilts the weights.

For now, the blue collar economy seems to be winning the day as an uneasy calm returns to the country. I got back home three hours ago and I haven't heard a single gunshot fired since then. Good people, believe me, this is what progress is made of.

Across the country, people lick wounds, survey damage to property, and come out of dazes, as the case may be. Meanwhile, in their faraway utopias, our leaders wrestle for power, digging in their heels and spewing out pre-conditions to dialogue. Shame.

I'm Tired of Blogging The Election And Its Aftermath

I'm sorry.

Maybe I'll change my mind tomorrow, but today, right here, right now, I'm tired of blogging this election.

It's become like rehashing a nightmare.

I'm angry and I'm scared. I can't conceive of a middle ground and I don't see either side stepping back from the hardline position they've taken.

I'm seated here trying to revive my hope in the future of this country, and it's taking up all my energy.