My Expectation as a Kenyan

With the coming of the New Constitution, Kenyans have lofty expectations. And rightly so given how much this Constitution was touted as being the best thing to happen to Kenya. We were made to understand all our woes, political, social and economical, would vanish with the coming of the new law. And not just by our leaders – America and the EU swore by it and made beautiful promises to Kenya should we go ahead and pass this law at the referendum. Well, it seemed to mean that much to them all for some reason…

It makes sense therefore that we, as a country, have very high hopes pegged on this new law. It’s already here and all that remains is for the relevant committees to thrash out the implementation process, Parliament to pass necessary laws and we begin to relish the juice from this magical fruit of progress.

I’ve no doubt my expectations are much the same as those of most Kenyans. In the Counties that I call home, I expect that major roads will henceforth be tarmacked, especially the dusty road that passes right outside my rural home. I expect the road from Kaharati to Kangari, which was once beautifully and fully tarmacked but has since been left to disintegrate, will be tarmacked once again. I’m not sure what the people served by this road did to their politicians but since the days of the former regime when the road began to develop potholes, it has been neglected to the present day, until now, where there once was a modern road, there is only dust and rock as the only way to use the road now is by removing the top layer to try and level out the multi-cratered road.

Despite the fact that the area has always had an MP, and has one now, and despite the fact that restoring the country’s roads is a priority of the current government, this major road serving an area rich in tea and coffee has been left to literally return to dust and ashes. I would have thought that given the massive cost of building roads, we would maintain the ones we already have so as to avoid having to build them again from scratch – but it’s too late now for the Kaharati/Kangari road. Any work on the bigger segment of this road will now have to begin from scratch.

No doubt this will be a major factor in deciding who gets the seat come the next General Elections, as it was in the last one. We can’t wait forever for a road that has been a nightmare for over 10 years now. Hopefully eventually someone will see reason.

I expect too that the road I use daily to work, Ngong Road from Show Grounds all the way to Ngong Town Centre, will be repaired too. Permanently this time, not those half-hearted attempts at covering up potholes which get washed out almost immediately at the slightest hint of rain. Such a disgrace for a road that leads to such an important destination as Ngong Hills.

The outcry on the lips of many parents and teachers is the congestion in Primary school classes and the deteriorating standards of education. I hope to see the Counties employ enough teachers to fill the gap, and build more schools if need be to accommodate all children of school going age. Basic education is now a right, not a privilege, and resources for the same must be adequately provided.

Rural electrification has already been rolled out by the government with a certain degree of success. The County must ensure this is effectively completed and that water and electricity are now part and parcel of every household in their area of jurisdiction.

Health centres need to not only be available and accessible to all Kenyans, but they must also be well equipped with staff, medicine and relevant equipment. The days of ‘a semblance of order’ are gone. We now need ‘real order’, we need real services leading to better quality of life.

Simply put, infrastructure will play a crucial role in the development of each County across the country. Those responsible for the vast resources government is directing to Counties must put these to good and efficient use, providing not only basic necessities, but also investing in development projects and mechanisms.

None of us is expecting hand outs (hopefully), we know we need to work for our individual and national progress. But there are those services, as well as an enabling environment, that the authorities must provide for us to be able to achieve. Roads, water, power, health, Sanitation, education, food, shelter, are top on this list. We must cater for these somehow, ensuring affordable food, health and housing, ensuring ease of transport, and providing the apparatus that stir on development like water, education, power and communication systems. Employment will be readily available if these conditions are present.

Out of the wealth of Counties we hope to see all members of the region benefit. We wish not to see public funds and wealth disappear into individual or corporate pockets. There must be tangible benefits to the community for development projects undertaken in the area like mining, agriculture, tourism, fishing etc. And, for all it’s worth, jobs and positions must be given on merit, not nepotism, favouritism or tribalism.

As the central government implements its end of expectations to make sure the country as a whole flourishes in all areas, sectors and systems, we wish to see the Counties reproduce this in their region so that sooner rather than later the whole country will develop equally and move at supersonic speed towards Vision 2030.

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The Words of a Leader...

In our young democracy I’ve had the privilege of being around during the reign of all three of our Presidents so far (well, that’s one way I know I’m growing old). The words of a leader, I’ve come to learn, accomplish a lot, sometimes moving mountains literally. Which is why leaders ought to harness and use this God-given influence for the good of the nations they lead.

As young as I was in the days of our first President, Mzee Kenyatta, I remember with clarity his call to Kenyans; two calls as a matter of fact. One was the call for young people to go back to the farms and do agriculture as a means of employment and development. He hated idlers and the sight of many young people roaming the city streets in search for white collar jobs while fertile, agricultural land lay untilled upcountry was unbearable; so he rallied Kenyans back to the land, with the resultant boost in agricultural produce, especially the cash crops. ‘Turudi Mashambani’ was the phrase in Swahili.

His second call was ‘Harambee’, meaning as a nation we needed to work together in unity to achieve our goals. And thus the practice of holding fundraisings or ‘harambees’ as they were called in aid of noble courses like buildings schools, hospitals, raising school fees for those in need etc, became our way of life. The idea was that together we could manage what we couldn’t as individuals. Used properly, it worked wonders. But even a good thing can be misused which is what eventually happened and ‘harambees’ (fundraisings) have been all but banned in the current system.

Our second President Moi rallied Kenyans to plant trees. Just as well because trees were disappearing at a scary pace, and areas which had earlier been covered in green were now bare and brown, and one could see for miles for lack of plant cover. The President sent forth a word ‘Ukikata moja, panda mbili’, i.e., if you cut down one tree, plant two. Soon every government initiative was geared towards tree planting, and tree nurseries were established everywhere. Institutions of all definitions joined the fray. School children received seedlings and each of them planted a tree, for whose growth they were responsible. Farmers and anyone else who so wished received seedlings too, and every government official planted a tree in almost every public function they attended.

The results were spectacular. Eventually homes and buildings which had earlier stood out in the glaring sunshine like sore thumbs began to disappear behind green foliage as the trees matured and converged to restore the green cover. Once again the spirit of ‘harambee’ from the first President had met with the call to plant trees from the second President and the result was total environmental and climatic transformation. The rain began to fall more regularly again, and in some parts of the country highlands the climate changed so much that farmers who had previously planted coffee were told they could now plant tea as the region was now cool enough for tea to thrive. One could now be forgiven for thinking this was a forest area, when in fact it was a well populated area where trees hid many homes from view, providing shade, breeze and much needed moisture.

We no doubt have a long way to go before we restore 10% of our land to forest, but that call from the former President went a long way into that direction and prevented an even worse disaster than we have been experiencing often in way of drought.

The current President Kibaki has a call of his own; free primary education, and free tuition for secondary and tertiary institutions. Let’s just say he has succeeded in providing free primary education, and as a result all parents are required to send their children of this age to school. When he first expressed this desire and intention, many thought in couldn’t be done in a developing nation. But President Kibaki was determined and made it his business to see that the project took off. And even though it is not without its challenges (which good thing hasn’t?), primary education is now free and available to all Kenyan children, and consequently it’s now compulsory. As a result we no longer see many children on the streets during term time, and the government has a right to demand that all children be taken to school.

Provision of basic education is a big deterrent to crime and a catalyst for development as pupils soak up knowledge and thirst for more, pursuing the dreams they develop in the process. No doubt some day soon education will be totally free all the way to Secondary at least; and that because President Kibaki dared to not only believe it could be done, but rallied Kenyans around this noble course.

With the words of a leader being so powerful and influential, then we hope to see more and more leaders rally behind worthy courses that bring our country closer and closer to self dependency, courses that bring us closer to development and courses that unify us as one nation and one people. And, on the same note, shun calls that divide us and that are retrogressive.

Dreams

My dream throughout childhood was to live a good life. A good life, in my definition, was to be in the city for starters, in a good house and driving a good car (or simply driving). Needless to say my dream grew in size and grandeur as I got older, till eventually it included such fantasies as owning a private jet, producing movies, living the life with the best of the best up there, (oh well, a girl is allowed to dream, right?)

Surely there’s nothing wrong with dreaming is there, as long as I keep both my feet on the ground in case the stool underneath topples…? ha ha. For, believe me, dreams are delicate things, with a mind of their own, and they seem to enjoy playing hide and seek with you, as if trying to see just how much you value them, how much you believe in them, how deep your love for them goes. No wonder they only come true for those with an iron will to endure against insurmountable odds, those who prove worthy and able to press on when every ounce of strength is gone, when everything and everyone else is screaming ‘give up!’.

But you know what they say - aim for the stars and you might just hit the moon. So despite the craziness of my dreams, in the process of striving for heaven I’ve been able to soar to a happy height, and I’m sure will soar much further in my lifetime. We’ll just have to see how far I get.

You can imagine how it was for me then, growing up in the countryside while all the time harbouring these dreams. Yet I’m sure millions of other Kenyan children did too. At a very tender age, probably 7yrs or thereabouts, I had a clear plan of attaining my dream. See, I hated work (labour) with a passion, and ‘lazy’ was a word I heard a lot in reference to me. So quite often I would declare for all to hear, ‘When I grow up I’ll marry a Mzungu (a white) and I’ll never have to work again.’ How silly I was. But my family just laughed me off as if to say, ‘dream on baby.’

Eventually I grew wise enough to know my ‘get filthy rich’ formula had to be all mine without being hinged on anyone else, white, black or yellow. Of course I hoped to meet a life partner who had vision so we could stir one another on to achievement, but not so he could be the answer to my dream.

Needless to say then, while I loved my childhood upbringing and had many happy moments, every so often an overwhelming urge to escape the country life engulfed me, and I knew I would, as soon as I was done schooling and had a job. Boarding school was fun though 'coz it was like a little town and there my dream would be highly fanned into flame. The movies, the music, the countless books I read only served to convince me my life was out there, far, far from the dusty, dark and quiet countryside where I was raised. I was in boarding all my high school life, and in a Nairobi school for ‘A’ Level.

So you can imagine my stress when after Sixth Form I went back home awaiting either college or a job, and in the process one of my few friends got me a ‘job’ in a local secondary school – oi! It’s not like I could say no; my parents were over the moon that I now had a job, and, with nowhere else to go I kinda had to take it, all the time plotting how I must leave for Nairobi. I had to find a way to convince dad it was okay for me to live with him in the city while I looked for a job; That wasn’t going to be easy at all. I knew my older sister, already working in Nairobi, could not sustain me, so I had to be very bold or very clever to worm my way into father’s little house.

The daily walk to the school where I now taught was the longest journey of my life. Never mind everything else, this was one of those little community project schools where they seemed to send all the kids who had failed. And it was a far cry from the schools I had attended, or the life I had led, watched and read about for the previous 6 years. The word juxtaposition came to mind, like my dreams were playing a cruel joke on me yet again.

With every passing day the journey grew longer and longer, the road dustier and dustier, my step slower and slower, until eventually I disentangled myself from my current reality, my current plight. My mind was made up. I had reached that point of no return I usually attain when I finally have a breakthrough of vision. Which reminds me of that commercial by Honda that went something like ‘Hate something, change something, make something better’. I loved that commercial because it said exactly what goes through my mind when I reach critical point. I hate the feeling of being trapped, and for better or worse, I’ll do everything possible to free myself. (Mark you I couldn’t do any of it without infinite help from heaven, I’m not the master of my own fate nor captain of my soul, God is). Of course Honda was speaking about its near-magical transformation of the diesel engine.

I remember the words of my friend when I finally told her I was quitting. ‘People who don’t want to be teachers end up becoming frustrated teachers,’ she said. Oh dear… I was appalled. And that was when I knew I was definitely in the wrong place, in the company of people whose dreams not only for themselves but for me as well were horrific to say the least. Somehow they thought they knew who I was and what I wanted in life, and were not afraid to voice it. And I realised then I had to get out and be in the company of people of like mind – always a good idea if you want to achieve anything. I needed to be with people who dared to believe there was more to life.

It’s not teaching that I had issues with, though. Teaching is a noble and fulfilling profession if your heart is in it. It was rather the environment of where I was supposed to be teaching. Simply not inspiring, and not along the highway to my destiny: It was more like a painful detour. The highway to our dreams definitely passes by many stop-overs and drive throughs, but remember the destination. Sometimes we get so tired along the way and decide to settle before the end, or fall in love with some beautiful place along the way. But we must avoid detours, they are likely to be irrelevant. Occasionally God calls us home before the final entrance. But so what? He’s boss, and you never been to a better place than heaven, the ultimate dream – for those headed there….

And so it was that I left the countryside and never looked back. Don’t get me wrong, I do go home often to visit, and I rather enjoy the country scenery and clean air. It will always be my home. But I’m not gonna make it my permanent place of residence – no, no way. If my relationship with the countryside is that of visitor, we will have a long and enduring love. But should I find myself trapped there with nowhere to go…. the love will quickly turn into loathing.

Now, about my dreams. By now you’ve figured the fundamental one was happily fulfilled, I’m snugly settled in my city apartment with all the modern conveniences that make us so addicted to this lifestyle. I have a long way to go though before I even scratch the surface of my ‘out of this world’ dreams. But hey, guess what, I’m reaching heights I never would have hoped to see had I not aimed for the farthest star. And I’m sure so are you, my fellow dreamer….

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Do We Really Always get the Leaders we Deserve?

I muse a lot; I muse about things I hear said over and over again as my mind turns them every which way trying to see the validity or otherwise of such claims. It’s a good habit. It helps me explore all possible sides of an argument and, whereas there is probably a grain of truth in each one, I go with the most valid, the one that holds the most weight. Isn’t that what life is all about, relevance? Why go on and on believing things that are either not true, or have such minor effect on the order of things as to be considered irrelevant?

So I find myself thinking about the phrase, ‘People get the leaders they deserve’, and that ‘It’s all up to the people. If you don’t want something all you have to do is refuse or reject it and, voila! You are winners’. Of course this in the context of national issues and democracy, though it no doubt applies to other areas.

We must have been doing it wrong then during the fifteen or so years we as a country heaved and sighed and demonstrated and agitated under an oppressive regime. Every day in Kenya then was a mass action day. Places like Kamukunji and Uhuru Park became synonymous with political meetings demanding change. I tell you, if it really was up to the people, we would definitely have removed that regime in the first multi-party elections in 1992. But was it?

After spending the better part of 10 years demanding change and a multi-party democracy, it was finally here. But what did the opposition leaders do, those who had led the masses in perpetual protests? They all wanted to be President, and we ended up with at least 7 presidential candidates. Fat chance of beating the incumbent with that kind of division….

You can imagine the disappointment on at least 70% of Kenyans who had voted for the opposition: A divided opposition who only managed to scatter votes every which way and hand victory over to the regime of the day. We were mortified, bewildered. How could we have lost? We put so much into this, we were so sure the opposition had this? And how would we endure another 5 years under the same regime, now even angrier at the expression of discontent the populace had shown? Would the powers of the day now round up all those who were vocal against them, or deny services to the protesting masses?

And they did. Some of the dear persons who led that first revolt are dead, and others will never recover their health, except by a miracle: So badly did they suffer under intelligence personnel of the day. As for services, what services? We gave up on that years earlier. It’s like that government had taken Kenya on one mission only, to undo whatever good had been done for this nation economically, socially, democratically and every other system. Agriculture and education in some areas ground to a halt. State corporations were looted and closed down, roads disintegrated and honestly, we took unimaginable steps backwards.

Politics became our one preoccupation in the nation as we knew it had everything to do with what we were suffering. Even little children understood the issues they had no business being concerned about. Well, oppress people at your own risk. Man will always stand up for survival. Even if he seems unconcerned now, should he at one time feel pushed to a corner and reckon he has lost all and has nothing left to lose, he will stand up and fight. It’s called the fear curve (fear tends to follow the law of diminishing returns.) The more you instil fear, eventually the bolder the victim becomes, once you’ve taken away all dignity, all you can take, and nothing is left for the victim.

Mark you, it had been largely assumed that, on repealing Section 2a of the Constitution and introducing multi-party democracy, the incumbent, who had already misruled for 14 years, would not seek re-election. How naïve we were! According to him, with the coming of the amendments, it was as if he had never been President and that this was now a new law under which he could vie. Sigh again…

So it was that he won, not just in 1992, but also in 1997 as the law allowed the President to rule for two terms. As you have well figured out by now, the opposition had not yet learnt its lesson and fielded multiple presidential candidates again in 1997, to their and our loss as a country.

My question then in this whole drama is, did we get the leaders we deserved? Did we not speak out amid tear-gas and police harassment? Thankfully, at this time Kenyans had not yet learnt violence. Had we gone about change then the way some people did in 2007/2008, I doubt we would have a country to talk about today. Kenya had always been a peaceful nation, and to be honest even poll/post poll violence in certain parts of the country were introduced by that former regime at the height of mass demands for change. And it was largely from the supporters of the regime.

In 2007/2008 however it was very unfortunate to see leaders transform peaceful Kenyans into killers of brethren just to push for positions. After going through so much to rout the former oppressive regime, why would we resort to violence at a time when the country’s economy was growing at 7%, roads were smooth again and more were being rebuilt, state corporations were up and running, and education was free for Primary schools? Beats me. It appears to me if there was a point to be made, there were better ways of doing it, and Kenya did not deserve the display of anger, malice and violence we were subjected to – to the extent of undoing the very economy we pretended to be so concerned about.

Back to my question, why did it take 15 or so years for us to finally rout an oppressive regime, despite most of the country being united in this course? Simple really, in my opinion. It was until 2002, when the opposition got the point and decided to unite against the incumbent, that we finally won over that regime and Kenya turned a corner. Bye bye to the days of oppressive politics, bye bye to the days of gagging the media, bye to the days of sycophancy. Kenyans breathed again, the economy began to grow and infrastructure got the attention it deserved.

Despite the good intentions of the average man, it was not until the LEADERS did the right thing and united that we actually got the change we craved.

Policy is everything. A fact the West learned the hard way in the last few years. For a while they had gone around happily borrowing for all sorts of reasons; holidays, weddings, parties – but mostly housing. The mortgage industry was booming. All seemed to be heaven until boom! Without warning the economies, the stock markets, the banks, private companies, CEOs, tycoons, collapsed. (Some are in jail, a few took their lives, and others will simply never recover). The habits of a lifetime, aided by government policy, had come home to roost, and the brood was horrid to look at.

Suddenly people who had never cared about politics, some hardly knew who their President was (what with all life’s luxuries and conveniences at the swipe of a card) were on the streets demonstrating, and wanted to vote! They wanted a change, they needed a change! And change they got. Young people who had hitherto never read anything that was not a tabloid or was not about the latest celebrity to go to jail for drunken driving, were now moving about distributing leaflets in support of their candidate of change. And this was repeated in many Western countries. Mh, how refreshing….

So how much of this was about the people, and how much about the leaders? So far so good, but at the end of the day, the general belief is that things will get better because we now have new leaders. Never mind that most of the economic stimulus packages have gone to these very banks, private companies and tycoons. The populace, those who lost houses, those who couldn’t pay their credit cards and those who lost their jobs, have gotten pretty little in return; hence the next round of protests on austerity measures.

The popular UK comedy ‘Yes Minister’ and ‘Yes Prime Minister’ captures this all too well. In it it becomes clear that leaders will barely do anything unless it earns them votes, and senior civil servants will block anything that threatens the permanency of their offices, or that demands they do some actual work. Now I know this is a Satire, but I’ve lived long enough to confirm that most of what is in the series is true in any government or country. Case in point, ‘The Empty Hospital,’ (hospital without patients) an episode in ‘Yes Minister’.

In developed and more mature democracies (relatively, absolute democracy is a figment of your imagination), by and large leaders are indeed voted in by the people. However look carefully and you’ll see you only elect those whom leaders tell you they are worth electing. For instance, how involved are you in party nominations? Is it an open ballot then? By the time the common man is allowed to vote, choices have more or less been made for you, and you only have three or so candidates to choose from.

Developing democracies on the other hand are more complex. Not only does the system mean they too choose only from a handful of appointees, but leaders go about dishing out money or goodies to influence votes, or intimidating their opponents. To the extent that voters allow themselves to be bought or intimidated, then we could say they get the leaders they deserve. But a third scenario is at play here, where some leaders somehow steal votes, i.e., rigging. In that case, how are the people to blame? When you send hooligans to scatter or scare genuine voters, then go ahead and somehow steal votes, how are the voters to blame?

Guilt has often been a security blanket for mankind. Ironic, isn’t it? Despite its destructive tendencies, we like to hide behind guilt. It becomes or feels easier to deal with bad situations if we blame ourselves for them. ‘I know he loves me. I must have done something to provoke him,’ says a battered wife. ‘It’s all my fault. I’ll be better next time,’ sobs an abused child. ‘I must have done something to provoke him/her,’ laments an abused teenager.

Somehow we think by blaming ourselves we explain the situation enough to satisfy ourselves that we are not worthless or undesirable, just paying for a mistake we made. We want people to value and respect us, and when they don’t, we explain it away. Anything but….

So it is that rather than face the shame and humiliation of having our leaders disrespect and devalue us, we blame ourselves for their mistakes.

I mean think about it. We pay our leaders exorbitantly through massive salaries, luxury cars, expensive medical covers, housing, allowances etc.; so why should we then be still expected to do their job? Isn’t ‘working with minimum supervision’ a prerequisite for any self-respecting worker in places of responsibility? Our leaders are our employees (or so we like to believe). So why do they fail us so often?

If after paying you monies I don’t hope to see in my lifetime I still have to bear blame for your failures, then you are of little value to me as an employee. Which reminds me of a statement made by one prominent member as he dodged responsibility and blamed ‘Kenyans’ for the failures of his ministry. And the question I was dying to ask him was, then why are we paying you? How about you go home seeing as we are all required to bear responsibility for your ministry? That way we save the taxpayer whatever it is we pay for your luxurious lifestyle; I mean if I have to do your job, then I don’t need you, and maybe you should pay me instead.

Man has always needed leaders. You have to understand it is not that many of us can’t rule or even do a better job than those in power, but hardly can we have everyone up there at the same time. So man comes together and chooses representatives, otherwise we would argue forever on simple points if there was no one to make a final decision. Group dynamics, if you’ve ever been involved in one. And so we elect leaders not because they are better than us, or that we are incapable of leading, but so that they may collectively act as representatives of the masses, with consultations where necessary. They are supposed to echo our words, our will, our desires, not their individual or partisan concerns. They are supposed to rule according to our criteria (the Constitution, Memorandums of understanding), they should lead us all to a place we want to go, not drag us kicking and screaming into the abyss. If only our leaders could understand this point?

National leadership differs from employment in the sense that, once we have elected them, thereby employing them, they almost immediately cease to be employees and acquire positions of immense power and authority, and I don’t care which country you are in. We entrust the wealth of a nation into their hands, the armed forces are the preserve of the new Commander-in-Chief, I mean it’s like willingly submitting and accepting to be ‘Ruled Over’, and the prerogative of mercy, justice and kindness lies in the heart of the ‘King’ alone.

No wonder God was so sad when Israel in the ancient days demanded for a King. They felt the reason they were losing in battle and were probably not as advanced as their neighbours was because they had no earthly king. They wanted someone to sing for, boast about, lead them in battle; unfortunately that was not all this person would be. Says Prophet Samuel in 1Samuel 8:11-18 ‘This is what the King who will reign over you will do: He will take your sons and make them serve with his chariots and horses, and they will run in front of his chariots…. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers…. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive groves and give them to his attendants…. Your menservants and maidservants and the best of your cattle and donkeys he will take for his own use…. When that day comes, you will cry out for relief from the king you have chosen, and the Lord will not answer you in that day.’ (NIV)

Once they become ‘kings’, unless their hearts are indeed with the people and for the people, they can misuse or abuse power, and it takes a lo…..ng time for the masses to get rid of them. Even if their term of office is limited by law, 5 years or so is a long time to be under an uncaring government.

My argument then is that we don’t always get the leaders we deserve. In all honesty more often than not we get leaders we are coerced into having by other leaders who purport to know exactly what we need.

Second, masses may change things, but at an agonizingly slow pace. An oppressive regime will resist change by hook or crook. And only when they are squeezed into a corner will they consider giving in. Only those who have not had to agitate for change, or those looking for simplistic explanations, will blame the masses for the failures of their leaders. I mean when we so faithfully vote, pay taxes, plant trees, grow tea, coffee, cotton and other crops, go to work daily, take our children to school, do trade and commerce, even heed calls to participate in local tourism and the activities of our Stock Exchange, what more are we, as masses, required to do for the leaders to run the country efficiently? We give them the office, the resources, the breathing space, now can somebody please go to work up there as we are working ourselves to death down here! Can we actually see change, see our country transformed! Can we not be expected to spend time checking on a government that should know its mandate, and is being paid unbelievably well for it! We need to know the people we put in office are productive and competent, otherwise we will do all we can to change them all, no matter how long that takes.

Which brings to mind another group this treatise would not be complete without mentioning. The activists, be that civil rights or whatever the activism is about. Now this is a curious group because it arises in any country without any real effort or organisation and quickly becomes a force not to be ignored but a real thorn in the flesh of the establishment.

The beauty of the activists is that they need no one’s permission to be here, neither do they require any votes to exist. But they quickly establish themselves as the spokespersons of the masses on all sorts of issues, some legitimate, some quirky. Soon there is hardly a day goes by and we don’t see them in the media. Interesting, isn’t it, how it’s possible to acquire leaders and spokespeople you never elected or appointed? But they are here to stay, we know that by now. Once in a while we hear about their wrangles as they fight out for offices in their little but unbelievably vocal circles. Ironic, how so called civil rights activists cannot hold peaceful elections or whatever it is they do to appoint leaders.

Give them time ‘T’, and this group becomes the politician of tomorrow. Seasoned in battle, trained in shrewdness, afraid of no one and nothing. Another politician is born, and the cycle continues…… 

If the masses are to blame for anything, it's that they asked for a King in the first place....


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A Trip to the Pool of Salt - Lake Magadi

My first visit to Lake Magadi will forever remain etched in my mind. The day started with all the child enthusiasm and excitement of a trip to anywhere, especially an exotic sounding place one hadn’t been to. To make it even more special we would be travelling by train.

Being in Kajiado was exciting enough. For me the desert–like environment was pure delight. I loved the vegetation; the short shrubs, umbrella trees, grassland everywhere, cactus, thorny bushes etc. But what I loved best was the endless sight of pure sand, sparkling in the perpetual sunshine. Having sand for soil, so clean, so white; no mud even at the slim chance of rain. Besides, the town and its environs was so sparsely populated that once you left the town centre, you were lucky if you met someone for miles. The expanse was divinely quiet and serene, with the occasional breeze bringing with it poetic whispers.

Of course, the Maasai, especially the Morans, could be seen here and there going about their purposeful walk to some place and women carrying jerrycans looking for water, while others carried traditional gourds full of milk for sale. I loved their milk, especially goat milk. It was so rich, so tasty.

Being such a virgin land, most travel was by foot, and unless you were travelling to a place near the road or railway station, walking was your best bet. It was always fun when dad took the whole family to visit so and so and we would take the refreshing walk while feasting our eyes on antelopes, gazelles and giraffes along the way. Luckily we never encountered any ferocious beast.

So when time came for us to travel to Magadi, the salt producing Kenyan lake, I was thrilled. Magadi Soda, we called it, due to its vast deposits and production of soda ash. And the journey did not disappoint. The train snaked its way along the rail, carrying various kinds of travellers, including those on a mission to fetch water from Lake Magadi – so dry was the Kajiado countryside. Fancy having to board a train to collect water!

The vast grassland revealed all manner of wildlife including buffaloes, zebras, wildebeests and the like. There was not a dull moment along the way.

Magadi itself was a sight to behold. We made the trip during the time when the water was condensing into salt, and the lake made a beautiful white ring (brownish in some places) along the town on its shores. A salt factory took over the industrial activity of the town, naturally.

But there was something else – a horrible stench that reached my nostrils with such vengeance I ceased to see or enjoy anything else hence. Dad explained it was the wettish salt, and that once it dried it wouldn’t smell so bad. Only that wouldn’t happen during this trip. I was stuck with the smell for today, thank you very much.

Add to the stench the unforgiving sun that blazed fiercely, and for me the visit was ruined before it began - the enthusiasm of that morning all but gone…. No amount of goodies, chilled water or drinks could cheer me up or take away the feelings of nausea and discomfort. While the others enjoyed their ice cream and everything else, I couldn’t bring myself to taste anything. Can’t they smell this? I wondered. But why engage others in my misery? At least someone was having fun…

For me the visit couldn’t be over soon enough. But dad did not bring us this far only to turn back without any adventure because of my qualms. The visit would run its course. Furthermore the train could only leave at a certain time. There was no place to hide, this small town existed primarily because of the lake and the stench was everywhere. So I brazed myself and bore my misery till it was time to return.

I don’t know how Magadi is like when there is no stench, but I’m sure it’s divine. For, besides that inconvenience, it sparkled pure white, from the lake to the sandy earth, bathed in sunshine like the rest of this region. No doubt a lot has changed since that visit. I’m sure your trip there will be jollier than mine.

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Illegal Immigration - is it Really Worth it?

So it turns out Kenya is a superhighway for Ethiopian immigrants headed to South Africa. Whereas I laud the devoted efforts of the investigative journalists who brought this to light, I am surprised that they expect this to come as a shock to Kenya, Ethiopia and the world? Haven’t we heard of all the other superhighways, from Mexico to the USA by either boat or tunnel, to Europe from North Africa by boat, to the Gulf from Somalia by boat, and many other such places around the world? Not to mention those from China, Eastern Europe and other countries, who ride for days on end via refrigerated trucks to the UK and other West European countries?

Trouble is, all these immigrants risk their lives and sell out personal property in the belief that life is better on the other side where they are going. But is it?

Even assuming they make it to their destination - and many do unless you die on the way or your racket is busted before you do, like the Ethiopians recently apprehended in Nairobi; is the grass really greener than where you came from? Let’s just pause for a moment and explore what is likely to happen here:

For one, you are an illegal immigrant therefore no real chance of getting work. So begins the cat and mouse game of painstakingly acquiring the papers needed to actually work. It’s not possible though as an illegal because the first thing to happen if you’re caught is the detention centre awaiting deportation.

Result? The only other two viable alternatives: Work on someone else’s papers, a friend or an accomplice, (they say we all look alike anyway so many are able to pull it off); or work for lawbreakers who know you are an illegal but will give you work anyway – they just won’t record it or make it official. Of course they’ll pay you peanuts and take advantage. Such is the case of quite a number of Chinese workers, case in point the 21 who drowned at Morecambe Bay picking cockles in the UK a few years back.

Even assuming one does manage to get work, what kind of work are we talking about? Well, you can forget about any snugly office work, or even light work like shop-attendants. We are talking gruelling warehouse jobs, dishwashing, waitressing / silver service (quite an attractive alternative, really), care worker (looking after the elderly and physically impaired persons), cleaning, and other jobs of such calibre. Which, thankfully, are in plentiful supply, but you will be lucky if you can advance to something more worth talking about.

Incidentally much of what is referred to as ‘nursing’ out there is actually care worker, where you do such chores as will leave you without an appetite for a week. Which is okay if nursing is your calling and you enjoy it, but if you simply want to make a quick buck (it pays better than most, care worker), you will find there is a high price to pay in the manner of chores expected of you.

Without a doubt a few manage to break out of the mould and get decent jobs and decent lives, but it’s much like the lottery – where millions play but only a handful of winners!

So is it worth it when you spend your life this way, only to return home when you’re old and weak, probably never having seen your family again, and without any real money to talk about? For don’t imagine it’s easy to save money out there. What with the exorbitant monthly bills! In UK for instance, house rent takes off about half your monthly pay, even when in a house share. While road transport is quite affordable, the tube is a bit of a money guzzler, and to be honest the cheapest mode of transport is probably to have your own car. After all, you can purchase a decent car at a measly Ksh. 40-50000. Yes, I said Kenya Shillings, not Pounds. It’s obviously a second hand, don’t get too excited, but will serve you many years.

The grass does seem greener on the other side as we watch TV and listen to heroic stories of other people. But please get your facts right. If all we are after is good roads, washing machines, cars and good houses, then we have achieved. But if you are looking to better not just your life, but those of those you left behind, and if you do wish to see your family again and have a worthwhile relationship (not an absentee one), then maybe it’s better to wait, for all it’s worth, to travel through the proper channels. And if that doesn’t work, I honestly believe you are better off at home, wherever that maybe.

Unless of course you are running from war or danger, and then any means is acceptable. I guess the Somali have a right to flee their country, one way or the other. Ethiopians, Kenyans and other peaceful countries? I don’t think so. What you can do out there you can do at home. Let’s work to build our own countries, then we will take pride in the development we ourselves have brought about, rather than flying (or riding?) away to enjoy the labour of others. I mean so you drive on good roads and live in good houses in the developed world, but what part did you have in their development? Of course that is debatable, what with all the colonisation, but let’s keep it simple, for arguments sake.

Mark you, even if you do travel legally and get the papers to work, the jobs are not likely to be much different from what I earlier listed, just so you know. The only difference is, you have more room to work your way up and out of those menial jobs, go to school, and get a decent career. That’s what every immigrant out there should aspire to. Big cities come with their own challenges. It is that much harder to break through, and there is little room for weaklings. If you want it, you have to go get it, no one will make it easy for you. After all, in the UK alone, there are about 60 million people competing for what you want. Think about that!

The New Dance

They said civic education had been well carried out and that Kenyans understood exactly what was in the proposed new constitution. Remember those days not long ago?

They said Kenyans would decide for themselves because they had read and understood the proposals of the draft law.

Now, suddenly, even the Government itself cannot tell what on earth was the meaning of scrapping Provincial Administration, a phrase we heard over and over again during the heated campaigns. I wonder what the average Kenyan makes of this New Law that the government itself can’t seem to unpack.

The implementation of the new law is much like an unborn baby where the expectant mother hopes and prays that the new baby is whole, beautiful and healthy. That it has all its toes and is a delight to look at; and that, save for a few birthmarks, its beauty takes one’s breath away. We hope and pray there will be no unpleasant surprises.

Personally I don’t pretend to get all the details of the interpretation of this law, but I do know there is something wrong when you tell people something ‘will be scrapped’ only to later, when the cat is in the bag, to say ‘Uhh, actually, it will not be scrapped, it will only be restructured, maybe even retained.’ Mh, now what does that even mean? Either you knew all along it would not be scrapped but used the deceptive line to lure unsuspecting voters, or you are now changing the rule of the game to play to your utmost advantage. A third option is simply unimaginable, that maybe even the law makers did not understand all the issues in the draft? Oh dear!

Mark you, this is only one issue in the new law. So one can’t help wonder whether we will go through this same ritual when deciding the fate of all the other issues, like how secular should our government be, who has greater authority, the governor or regional coordinators, how do we implement the right to decent housing, food, water, basic education…? etc.

Which brings to mind that interesting proverb I often see on K24 TV, ‘When the music changes, so does the dance.’ Trust me a lot has changed since the promulgation. Besides not being able to decide whether to scrap or retain Provincial Administration, now MPs and other interested parties are looking ahead to that all-important Senator/Governor seat. So much so that after by-elections, the word on the mouth of new MPs is ‘Watch this space, next time I’m going for Senator.’ Ouch!

The saddest thing about all this is, a scenario is developing where even at Senate and Governor level we will end up with recycled leaders, while the now lowly position of MP will be left to the new incomers to the game. So what changes? When we are fighting hard to change our country by injecting a new spirit and crop of leaders at a different level than what we have always had, the existing leaders have lined up to grab those new positions.

You probably wonder why we can’t just not elect/nominate them. Only someone completely new to politics would ask that question. Truth is, except for the final vote where we actually go to the polling stations, the common man has very little to do with who parties nominate to vie for positions. And eventually we only choose from those already nominated. Unless we have independent candidates not affiliated to parties, the choice for nominee is usually made for us. I mean it is parties who even decide to ‘field and back one candidate,’ isn’t it?

So now the new dance is to go round the newly created Counties with the pretex of holding all manner of meetings, while in reality leaders are gearing up and beginning campaigns for positions of Senator or Governor. Never mind that these positions are not meant to be filled till 2012, oh boy! I wonder whether anyone is doing what they are actually supposed to be doing anymore – so engrossed are they with the possible new job ahead.

Well, I know in any career people aspire to greatness and promotion, but doesn’t that come as a result of hard work, productivity, reward for commitment? Why is it that politicians have the privilege of deciding their promotion without pegging it on any kind of productivity or hard work?

Trouble is, they don’t miss a beat, our leaders. They catch on to the new tune quite quickly and begin dancing before the rest of us can say ‘pause.’ By the time we catch up the song is far gone, and we are in old news, the leaders having moved on to something else. This has always been the tactic; cover up for old blunders with new ones, even if you have to invent them. By the time we cry foul, there’s a new, even bigger thing to worry about, and so our feeble voices are drowned out.

The hope and prayer is that we don’t waste such a grand opportunity, the chance to change and build Kenya anew, just to accommodate political greed. The hope is that we actually positively implement the new law, and that Kenyans finally get to breathe the fresh air of plenty, development, contentment they have always yearned for. 45 years is a long time to wait for something.