My oh my, I have not blogged for the past two weeks. It is because I have been actually trying to get my running going (not going very well I must say), working and writing, all which has left me absolutely exhausted and strangely blog-mute if you know what I mean. My life on the road continued this past week when I flew to Nairobi for the weekend. Now I am in Cape Town for the first time in my life. More on that later.
Nairobi. You know you are in Kenya when the first conversation you have is on politics and for this year, precisely what are the odds of this politician or that one rising to the presidency during the 2007 elections. Politics in Kenya is nothing more than a long-running soap opera. In fact, if there is one thing that more democratic government and a free press have brought Kenyans it is a great improvement in the quality of entertainment. Kenyans speak of their politicians with the kind of affection you might have for Jim Carrey. Except that these are Jim Carreys whose comedic qualities carry a certain tragic tinge to them. As in there is a painful price to pay for your laughter. I kept hearing the same phrase of ’so and so politician is powerful, but he is less powerful than he was last year’ over and over again, and I thought of how often I have heard it without quite understanding what it means in essence. Where does power dwell in Kenya, the president’s power for instance? This problem was subjected to the Nairobi political classroom otherwise known as the bar.
No, I suggested between sips of cold Tusker beers, it is not in the guns since at any one gven time there are only a few of the 30 million Kenyans who are directly threatened with violence from not opposing whatever nasty measures our presidents have foistered on us. Of course the threat of that violence in the ‘bad old days’ was probably enough to stay the tongue and actions of most citizens who were in opposition. But then what was it that bound that enormous coercive apparatus to one man? Was it just money, patronage and fear?
No, I actually think that President Moi’s and Kenyatta’s power was nestled in fatherhood. We called them, in one nauseating praise song after the other, baba wa taifa (father of the nation.) That is what they were; those were not just idle words. Where else would power nestle and operate out of in Kenya if not from the depths of family power relations. The country is too disparate, its history of centralised state administration too brief and fleeting and the state’s means of violence quite modest at best. There was no history of a Kenyan nation with its narratives of a leadership whose legitimate position was traceable to a history peculiar to that nation. The British ruled us under the pretext of civilising us, improving our lot and old-fashioned violence. What about those who took over after them, especially in State House, what soil would they seek to plant their ‘power’ over people? I think it was quite simple really. Power or influence or control, whatever word you want to use, is encountered first and foremost in the home. Daddy and mummy have it, you know it from the first moment your mouth seeks a milk-filled breast and when your father unleashes a little violence your way, or perhaps your mother’s way just to show who is in charge. That was and is the case for every single Kenyan community.
Our presidents without fail justified their position, and the liberties they took with our freedoms and bodies, on their taking over the British mission to improve our ‘traditional’ selves and since they could not depend on the same soil to plant their power seed as had been planted in Britain, they took on the mantle of Father. The one power relation that every single Kenyan understood and had experienced from his earliest age. They were the kings and we were their children. That is why they managed to rule over us so successfully for so long.
Many of the cries for comment from the ever-silent, sphinx-like Kibaki, are really just calls for Father to speak. Many of us are discomfited by the silence emanating from where previously authority was nestled. We wonder why he is not in control. We begin to admire Moi with the benefit of hindsight. And always as we reminisce selectively, we marvel at how much he controlled, how he never suffered fools, his mastery over us. My suspicion is that Kibaki’s essential problem is that he is too lazy and aloof to play Father and therefore his power seems to be rooted in little other than our collective memory of serekali (government) and his ability to seem slightly above the bottom of the barrel crab war that is the soap opera of Kenyan politics. I will come back to this later, I am being rushed out of the room. Now I am off to the Cape Town waterfront for the first time.
Tags: Power, Tusker
14 Comments
Good to have you back!
Look forward to reading the second part of the post. I am very partial to a certain candy bar made in and found only in SA, its called Love, comes in a cream wrapper and is a mouthwatering combination of wafers, white chocolate and i suspect cocaine vile its addictive so try it if you can.
PS - Great blog!
Aha!
There’s something about founding fathers at the core of a nation’s history that demands scrutiny, especially in Africa. I have often thought about what you describe as the chieftaincy complex: the richest, most powerful man in the village gets to rule, with his ruthlessness as evidence of his ability to rule. I much prefer your story, which points to the kin-laden fables of African nationalisms (though you write only of Kenya, it can be extended).
I’m supposed to encourage you to finish your thesis, get a book contract for an anthology, and have me write an essay on kinship politics.
Enjoy your world hoppings.
I’ve never been to Cape Town, but I love it already. I think it’s a city to die for! The sea, the mountain. It must be breathtaking. Pictures please.
You travel quite a bit, is it work related? Also, where are the promised pictures of Djibouti?
dangerously shy - does your name mean that you feel shy and then harm someone soon after?
I shall look for the candy bar you refer to. I find that I am especially partial to love nowadays, especially in safely packaged forms that promise to not leak dangerous issues. Are you per chance in SA?
Keguro - consider yourself the ‘chief’ kinship writer in any anthology anyone will ever make the mistake of asking me to compile. Have you ever heard the sounds that ‘powerful’ men make in their speeches? It is not so much what they are saying, which can actually be completely inane, it is the grunts and croaks and the outthrust stomach and waving arm that creates that aura of authority.
anonymous - Like you, I feel that I already dug Cape Town before I got here. I spent the afternoon being given grim lectures about its history. I was keeping an appropriately straight face when all I wanted to do was laugh out loud in glee at being here and it being so beautiful.
And I travel for reasons that I cannot possibly reveal to those who are anonymous :-)
Thank you for gracing us with your verbiage once again (that is a double-edged compliment, take no offence)… Next time you’re in Nairobi, let us know before you jet off again.
I have no partiality for politics, however my view of the ‘power’ that our politicians have over us is simply about laziness. We are too lazy to think for ourselves, make decisions for ourselves and follow them through. It is, I think so much easier to sit in the bar and have a cold Tusker or Black Ice, as the case might be while bemoaning our fate under our leaders than it is to sit in contemplative silence and come up with a comprehensive, focussed plan to change our lives, our country. The part that 99% of us do not get anywhere near doing after coming up with the plan, is follow it through in a systematic way to achieve whatever the ends are. That is the reason the man with the two hundred head of cattle in the village postures as leader and gets away with it, because he has seen a gap and he does not hesitate to take it.
Keguro, been long. Do you remember a certain (then) young lady who you would call at all hours of the night on her (Nairobi boarding) school phone booth number and chatter foerever? Mid nineties is a long time ago :-)
How come i have never found a single individual who can point to the real problem with African politics/leadership? (please kindly point me to these people’s writings, etc). Are there no thinkers bright enough to at least pinpoint what the problems are, not just merely going over the symptons? The person may not have the solution, but knowing what the problem is, is half-way to the solution. Could it be that what the Mzungu said about us is more true than we would like to believe? Or is it that the Mzungu has so effectively brainwashed us, that we have believed what he has said about us? If not so, how comes our somewhat well educated sons ( and i am no exception), confronted with problems at home, instead of solving them, leave for the much easier life in Mzunguland? Is this action by itself not an acceptance that we are incapable of solving problems and that the Mzungu has solutions? Anybody who thinks i am misled, please email me or leave comment at my Blog
How has my past continued to catch up with me?
Zephyr!
Now you can tell all the netizens my shameful secrets. (I have none, I don’t think.)
Zephyr - you drink black ice? Get off my blog right away. Now! :-) If I meet you ever, we shall have to find you a better drink. And you may be interested to know that I am looking for a travel valet and applications are already rolling in. Interested?
Then - and this is critical - feel free to tell us of Keguro in high school right here on my blog.
mmk,
A gal’s got to do what a gal’s got to do. Am sure there are better drinks, however I have not come across them in the Nairobi hangouts. My all time favourite is Bailey’s Hot Chocolate topped with whipped cream, almost orgasmic… Sorry guys. However I have only found it at a certain resort in Mombasa, so I make do with black ice… How can I be prattling such sheer irrelevance in such distinguished company…??
I would love to be your travel valet, I am just not sure that you can afford me… What are the qualifications, expectations?
Keguro and mmk, thanks for the license to toboa, yote, kabisa… When I was in my final year of high school,Keguro had just finished the previous year. So, being the ambitious gal I was then, I decided to take part in the Freedom from Hunger Walk… The route passed pretty close to Keguro’s domicile, so he managed to convince me before I left school that I should make a detour through there. So, yours truly spent about 3 hours with Keguro, who then dropped me at the finishing point just before my school bus showed up. Keguro, it always comes back to bite you in the butt. I think that was taking playing hookey to a whole new level.
mmk, have a ball.
I drink black ice and i aint going nowhere.
Africa politics to be understood from here
Sex- Male or female? MALE DOMINATED
Age- Old preferred as wise
Marriage status- It is not wise to seek political posts while single. Get someone to marry dayum
Who are you? Who was your father? If your last name sounds familiar, just maybe we could talk.
Who is ringing the political sounds? Sometimes Raila could change your political fortunes in Nyanza.
How much do you have? How much do you own? It doesn’t matter if you are Mulu Mutisya (RIP)
And lastly HOW EUPHORIC IS THE EUPHORIA?
Not so much for one who is not a thinker right?
keguro - let us begin with the ethical lapses shown by helping someone play hookey from a hunger walk. I really hope that you at least fed Zephyr before driving her to the finishing line.
And as for you Zephyr, baileys with chocolate and whipped cream is a drink that belongs in a weekend family fair and not a bar. Why not just have a good whiskey? Speaking of which I better go in search of one.
mmk, as a fellow escapee from the venerable institution, surely you understand it was in keeping with said institution’s very high standards to aid in a hunger walk in whatever way possible, including, possibly, providing a shorter route (american pronunciation).
But, as the story illustrates, I have no history to hide. I am, in fact, the poster child for banality.
The whiskey, it was good yes?
**giggles* I could ask you the same thing, does your name mean that first comes pain followed by sweet pleasure?
I know this love that you speak of, I too am finding myself kind attracted to this love, but i disagree with you, leakage will only take place if the bar is soft.
*sigh* I wish they would make version which has nuts, im quite partial to nuts me.
Luckily or unluckily for you I am not in SA but in the UK. Tell me do you by any chance believe in string theory?–>
But sweetie, I said this several days ago. Not as eloquently, I will admit, but I did say it. Wassup–you’re not reading me now?? I am shaken and shivered, not to mention all other kinds of things I could be…–>