Quote of the Day

No Christian can avoid theology. Every Christian has a theology.

The issue, the, is not, do we want to have a theology?

That’s given. The real issue is, do we have a sound theology?

- R.C. Sproul

Whose Fault?

Was it really my fault? I knew that I should have done something about it. I am not particularly sure what i should have done though…

You see this is how it begun. Last Friday I had taken a ride to downtown Minneapolis. At 9.27 pm, I was at the Hennepin Avenue and the 8th Street Bus stage waiting for a 6B to Xerxes Avenue where I live. I had not been there for long when I heard the voice of what I thought was either a drunkard or a severely depressed person. I looked out and saw a young man, probably in his mid twenties and his girl friend (or at least he was accompanied by a young girl). The young man was not only staggering but also shouting some unintelligible words. When reached the bus stop he posed before he began firing salvos at two young men of African-American decent that had been standing at the bus stop, patiently waiting for the bus. He dared the boys to fight him as he mentioned unprintable words against them. These people did not disappoint him. They immediately descended on him with kicks and blows and in no time he was on the ground bleeding profusely. Meanwhile his girlfriend had taken off only to return after the drama.

During this short ordeal that to me looked like a thousand years, my mind went through thousands of emotions. When I first heard the drunkard’s voice I ignored it like I would with any other. My mind said, he will soon become sober and repent. But as he drew nearer, I got interested in what he had to say. Unfortunately, by the time he was nearer enough an audible, he was firing salvos at the black communities, with the usual “nigger” tirades. I wondered whether to sympathize with his ignorance, envy his complacency or just ignore his noise-making and attention seeking tactics. Before I could make a decision on what emotion to employ, the other boys were on him, mercilessly rewarding him for the “kind” invitation to a bout. No doubt, it was a one sided battle as the other side was too intoxicated to tell the right hand from the left.

This was the most confusing moment for me. I certainly could not choose which side of the divide to stand. While on hand I felt that as a descendant of the continent of Africa I had been insulted and looked down upon merely because of the colour of my skin, I also had a different feeling for the poor guy. Something said to me that there was an overreaction by the two African-Americans. That it was needless fighting a poor fellow who was in the first place too cowardly to face even his own self while sober. That he had to intoxicate himself to face the world was to me the surest sign of cowardice. But again, something else came to my mind. I asked myself why in the drunken state, the only “logical” thing for the poor fellow to do was to attack the people of colour – specifically, the African Americans. Why, pray he that he did not look for another white American or a latina? Is there possibility that in the drunken state he was just expressing what has been lingering in his mind in when he is sober? I don’t know! Some of these questions almost have no answer, especially now that I am sure I may never meet the boy to ask him.

So what was suppose to be my legitimate action? Join in the “party” and “discipline” the poor man for “attacking my race?” Ask the other boys to stop beating him? Just watch and cheer in my heart? Actually, I just stared as the events unfolded as I pinched myself to confirm that I was not merely dreaming. Though I was not sure what would have been my right choice of action, I am sure I know my reason for inaction. I did not want to get into trouble with the law. I was not sure whether policemen were patrolling and that by bad luck they would find me in the mix and consequently wind me up with the rest. I did not also know whether the other boys would turn on me and beat me up as well or whether the poor fellow (receiving the beating) had a gun and was going to shoot somebody for revenge – and that I may be just this somebody. Whatever happened, I acted on the principle of my best interest first. Whether or not I did what was right still remains a subject of philosophical discussion. What is suppose to be the greater ethic? What was I suppose to do? Restated, in a larger and a more undefined context, what are the silent majority suppose to do in such circumstances, realizing that I wasn’t the only one who just stood to watch the event?”  How about his girlfriend who ran away?

Lastly, no doubt the two African Americans were offended. Was their course of action right? Legitimate? Why then did they run away? I find it disturbing though that they were responding to a drunkards tirades in the manner that Dr. Patrick Lumumba christened “using a sledge hammer to respond to a mosquito bite.” I am sure common sense would have demanded a more civil action that violence. But again who would have listened to them? They were dared and they showed their “manhood” in response. Uhm, something else… was it the fault of the poor boy that he lost control of himself or the liquor’s fault? Was it his fault that he was drunk in the first place?

My bus came at the scheduled time, 9.33 pm and I jumped in. Still this event haunts my memory to date.

Over to you, what’s your take?

Church Erred in Hosting Ethnic Caucus

Post by Jesse Masai

I read a story appearing in today’s Daily Nation with great dismay.

In the piece, a new council of elders for the Kalenjin community had been assembled at the Reformed Church of East Africa’s conference center in Eldoret.

But I must, first of all declare my interest in this subject.

My father is an ordained minister with the RCEA, and has served with it in various parts of Kenya since the mid 1970s.

Am also as Kalenjin as anything else I might be, owing to my blurred ethnic heritage and command of some Kalenjin dialects.

I grew up in the RCEA, and remain committed to its confession of the Christian faith, even when am part of faith communities outside the North Rift, where the Church’s presence is strong.

In the late 80s and early 90s, I attended RCEA’s youth conferences, including one at which the late Bishop Alexander Muge challenged us to review our cozy relationship with the repressive Moi state.

And when I came to faith in August 1992, it was not difficult for me finding resonance with John Calvin – the Church’s forerunner – and Abraham Kuyper, a fitting intellectual descendant, on Church-state relations, among other issues.

Yet I remained surprised at the RCEA’s ambivalence on the pressing issues of the 90s, particularly the ethnic cleansing that would follow remarks and actions by some of the high and mighty in the Moi state.

The prolonged domination of vital positions in the Church’s leadership by the Kalenjin community then, as in the first Kibaki state, would be seen as key to understanding the RCEA’s shaky prophetic witness under both regimes.

When the RCEA, under the National Council of Churches of Kenya (NCCK), acquiesced to the excesses of the Kibaki state prior to the disputed 2007 polls, few were surprised.

As an aspirant for the Cherangany parliamentary seat in the polls, I followed the Church’s reaction after the polls with even greater interest.

At the height of the post-election violence, the Church’s leadership – including my father – met in Eldoret to determine a united response: predictably, the meeting resulted in an ODM vs PNU and Kalenjin vs the rest retreat.

When, after 2007, the NCCK apologized for having failed the nation, I was among those who thought my own RCEA had also seen some light.

But apparently the celebration was premature, for their decision to host an ethnic caucus barely 24 months after the nation’s ethnic bloodbath smirks of nothing close to repentance.

Councils of elders of the kind the Kalenjin have assembled, as indeed other communities also are putting together, are no way to heal this nation.

I witnessed the truism of this in the 2007 campaigns, when in the multi-ethnic Cherangany various councils would be bought off day and night by the over 10 contestants.

I was, therefore, not surprised when houses began going up in smoke and people maimed, killed or evicted when competing ethnic interests felt betrayed by the overall poll outcome.

Even in areas where it was believed the violence had not been spontaneous, the organizing for power around ethnic identity was still pretty much the staple food.

In the weeks and months following the fall-outs between Prime Minister Raila Odinga and Agriculture Minister William Ruto in the ODM power-games, preliminary indications are that ethnic polarization in relation to the Kalenjin community have increased, not waned.

It’s not for nothing, therefore, that reports have recently emerged about various individuals and communities arming themselves ahead of the 2012 polls, whose violence is in some quarters expected to make the 2007 one appear like a Sunday school picnic.

While ethnic chauvinists across the political divide are busy romancing their final solutions and post-2012 power structures, the sober-minded among us remain concerned about prospects not just for the region but also the country.

From where I sit, one would expect a Church headquartered in such a region to be alive to these realities.

From where I sit, one would expect a Church headquartered in such a region to know that when tribe replaces party and common charity as a tool for political mobilization, then our road back to 2007 becomes very short indeed.

From where I sit, one would also expect a Church headquartered in such a region to know that the use of Church facilities in the manner reported on Monday can be as damning or glorious afterwards depending on the unpredictable political winds of our times, as it was for the Lutheran Church in Nazi Germany.

Make no mistake: Am saying all this for the RCEA, as I would for any denomination or faith community playing lap-dog to the high and mighty of our times.

It is still not too late for the RCEA, as indeed every other person of goodwill, to re-discover the transformative power in becoming the moral conscience of this nation.

Jesse Masai is the President and CEO of Jesse Masai. http://www.jesse-masai.com

The Hood Mentality: A Case Against The Middle Class

The revelations from the Hood exercise were very intriguing. This is random. Have you ever wondered why some people are the way they are? Taking an honest look at some of the opinions I have held about certain people and places finds me at best an ignorant bonehead and at worst some undefined animal. This could be taken in any way, including but not limited to my view of races, tribes, social classes and cultures. I know I have mentioned a few disgusting things about other people – take for example the poor (otherwise known as the lower class), which I think in a sense, I belong to and in a sense, I don’t. Again, it is awash with relativity depending on context. Whatever the case, a historical journey into what made some people what they are or why some people seem not to be trying to get out of their situation is very important before we make invaried judgmental statements about their plights.
If I were to ask why some people live in the slums and are always lacking food. I will receive various responses. Top of which go like this: they are lazy, ignorant, oppressed, born poor, have no access to resources, expect hand outs, love to be that way or are victims of circumstances. Sometimes we say that they made bad choices, they are incapable of changing, need some empowerment or some say they need to stay that way so that they can provide cheap labour. Whatever your characteristic response – good or bad, it is utterly ignorant to make blanket statements concerning other people’s plights.
If it is ignorant to make skirting remarks about such people, it is even immoral to ignore such people. It is only consistent with human dignity to seek an answer to the prevailing human situations. The journey begins from finding out why they are the way they are and how we can change the status quo. An intelligent mind may not have to go far to unravel the mystery. For in most cases, we are the authors and the defendants of the status quo. Sometimes we may not be responsible for the creation of the abhorrent situations, but we are better placed to stand against such oppressive forces. Normally, the problem of mankind is greatly abetted by the power of the silent majority. If the majority white race in America spoke decisively against racism, it surely would end, never mind that that perpetrators are quite a few one or two percent of the total population. If the Kenyan middle class unsubscribed their tribal outfits and came out fighting for the common good of all, it would only take a week to restore political order. At the wake of post election violence (PEV) in 2008, there was economic sabotage on certain products believed to belong to some of the perpetrators of the electoral fraud and ensuing violence. KCC, Safaricom among other products were boycotted, and the response was instant. This was the work of the middle class whose survival had come to the brink of precipice. The middle class have the buying power that they can use against the bourgeoisie economy in order to lift up the status of the lower class. But again, it is never their problem – they say they did not create it. Some don’t reflect on it at all while others see it as an opportunity to acquire cheap publicity – paying the house help or home cleaning peasant a peanut and getting the local watchman to call him “mzee” while he washes his cheap Dubai imported car at zero pence.
So the next day, I think about Kibera slums, downtown Minneapolis… or wherever it is I call the hoods. Those places that we don’t want to go because there are “certain people” we don’t want to blend with – I will check on why they are there and what role I have played in keeping them there. It doesn’t matter from wherever angle I look at it – as a religious animal, or a human rights activist, human beings are human beings. The defining element about humankind is dignity – if they can’t get it, we give it back to them, each one of us playing our small role in a small way, collectively makes a big role for everyone. I believe we can practice some gemenschaftgefuhl…

Methinks

Random: All human behaviour has a purpose. I don’t doubt the statement. There is a motivation for everything: from the small girl throwing tantrums in the supermarket to the gentleman opening doors at the office. It is probably not easy to discern what motives people around us may have – but one thing is for sure: people do whatever they do in order to get some desired results. This may be conscious or sub-conscious! So the next time, you have that beer invite from Mr. Kappur, even as you give consideration to the invite, don’t forget to ask yourself, what is this meant to bring out?
On a separate note: I am sure you’ve noticed that this world keeps defining things for us. Well, it does not just define things, but incessantly seeks to tell us who we are. I don’t really have to mention this, but I will anyway. Why do most adverts portray women as nude – something a kin to objects of sexual gratification? And why do men have to be portrayed as big and violent. My friend Ndambuki wa Musyoki once told me of his experience while growing up. His elder brothers would dare him to box the wall if at all he believed he was a man. Something he was more than willing to do with the obedience left to religion alone. Never mind that he indeed felt the pain. Why is it that whenever I fell down while running, at the mention of “you are a man, not a little girl,” I would rise up without tears on my face? Funny isn’t it? We are told to believe certain things about ourselves.
This is unfortunate, as the world does not even care to stop and think that we may quite indeed be in the know! I have travelled relatively enough and I have met with different definitions of what or who I am supposed to be – depending on which parts of the earth I visit. We are whom we are in spite of what we are made to be or appear to be or forced to believe to be. Thus in this attempt to tell us whom we are, mankind has always responded in two ways: resilience or concession/compromise. I have found myself wearing different hats at different times. And as Kenny Rogers sang, I have known when to fight and when to run away. Although sometimes we don’t have to fight to be a man, we sometimes may have to fight when we are men. Yet, we must increasingly question why the subject of whom we are is more important to others than ourselves. What is the motive of these labelists? Answering that question is an imperative if we are to live a life undetermined by anybody else apart from the inevitable forces of nature. Otherwise, we should stop wondering why we make great guinea pigs for the market researchers.

I Accuse The Two

I have argued here before and I will reaffirm my position today that if anybody should be tried for the Post Election violence in Kenya, it must be two notorious fellows: First baba Jimmy then baba Fidel.

But first notice that this is a hypothetical submission, with the “if” clause relating to the main verb, trial. You know from your junior English that an apodosis is the main clause in a conditional sentence; that is, in a sentence of the form If X, then Y, the apodosis is Y (expressing the conclusion).

Where there is the apodasis, there is the protasis: The dependent clause of a conditional sentence, in this case the protasis is Y. Thus in our case: If anybody should be tried for the post election violence, it must be both Kibaki and Raila. Conclusively our apodasis is “if anybody should be tried for the post election violence. While our protasis (which expresses the conclusion of the premise) is, must be Kibaki and Raila. I argue rightly so by the virtue of their newest titles: Principals.

This is only dependent on whether or not trial is necessary. I will attempt an argument for its necessity towards the end of this piece, but for now, let us operate on the assumption that trial is a necessity. Thus the thesis unfolds itself: If anybody should be tried for the post election violence, it must be Kibaki and Raila.  Make no mistake; I am not a protagonist for either, even though I have my reservation for who is the better option, faced with a situation where we can only choose between the two.

My argument is that the trial is self defeating and unjustifiable if the major culprits are not going to face the dock. Based on the principle of cause and effect, we need to investigate the effect, which was bungled election and consequent violence, in relation to its cause: who bungled the election, how and why! For Kenyans, I am sure, are not entirely mad men and women who woke up some day and thought tonight “wewe Kamau utaniona!” No way! We cannot trivialise matters this much.

History is not devoid of examples. It is only consistent with human nature to ignore historical lessons. When Pilate asked whom he should release between Jesus and Barabbas, the Jew shouted “Barabbas,” When asked what to do with Jesus; they shouted “away with him! Crucify him! Crucify him!” Remember, less than a week before that, he had made a triumphal entry into Jerusalem and a large part of the accusing mob had hailed him as King. It seems to me that upon mass bribery by Jesus’ accusers – a conglomerate substance of the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Scribes – they had shifted loyalty. Does this sound familiar?

I know that Kenyans are relatively a forgiving lot, thanks to their ever failing memory. You can see that from the way retired president Moi has acquired a “canonical” status, you may mistake him for the most recent saint in the Vatican. How so, if Mother Teresa is not there yet? This is a question that insults my intelligence really ought to be a subject for another day. Today, some idiots are shouting themselves hoarse, calling for his return. Even Knee-call-us Be-what? (jijazie) has acquired a new face and can attempt a Kamukunji calling for reforms. Reforms my foot! Who does not know that he forced people to vote for him at gun point? That was when he was still “total man”

The trial of the perpetrators of the post election violence, starting with Kibaki, Raila as the other goats follow suit is a matter so dear to my heart. My friend Michael and his brother can confirm to you this true story of how the allegation that the administration police had been deployed to effect rigging in the opposition stronghold almost cost my life.

Without much detail, this is how it happened. On the 26th of December, armed with a backpack, I left Kisumu early in the morning for Nairobi where I was to vote in Westlands constituency. I took a minibus to Muhoroni where I was to meet with my pal, Mike at 10.00 am so that we could drive together to Nairobi. I arrived at the Muhoroni Sugar Company (MUSCO) junction at 9.15 am and decided to kill time in a makeshift bar nearby.

In less than five minutes, words had spread around that “one of the Administration Policemen” (AP) sent to rig elections had been spotted in the area – this AP was me! So as I sat down sipping my soda, the bar maid asked me to leave the bar right away because she did not want blood spilling in the premises. I asked why and she pointed me to an elderly man who was waiting outside… I walked briskly to the man who calmly asked me whom I was and I explained the nature of my trip.

While I conversed with the man, a crowed kept growing around me, and within no time, the man and I were no longer in charge of the “meeting.” It turned from a friendly conversation to an interrogation.  I watched as the agitating crowd grew and I could recognise anybody who knew me. I explained that I was waiting for a friend. I even explained that I was waiting for a friend whom I described vividly but nobody seemed to listen. I kept calling and informing my friend to drive faster for I was about to be lynched – he was on his way, though he had to take care of some business at the township.

Funny how things change within a short period of time! I had been brought up in MUSCO for ten years of my childhood between ages four and fourteen. My dad had taught in the Company School, Muhoroni Success, which was a household name then before he moved to other departments within the company. He had been there for ten years and was known in person to many locals.

I could not believe that those adults who had caused me trouble by telling my dad that they had met me in some “undesirable corners” were not there to recognise and rescue me. This was the time i needed such nosey people – but alas! it was not my day. Everybody who listened to my defense thought I was a good storyteller, something that fortified their belief that I was a PNU urgent sent to steal their votes. My plea of innocence fell on deaf ears, in spite of the fact that I challenged them to go with me to D44, the house I grew up in and confirm from the present inhabitant if they knew my history or of any Kidha that once lived there. That was a fable to them. I invoked every name in the book, all in vain.

At this time, a drunken youth had arrived and in his irrational stupor was calling upon my immediate lynching. Fortunately he was too drunk to even lift the rock he wanted to place on me. However, his war cry reached its crescendo and other youths began making the same call! Just as the situation begun to get out of hand, my pal, Mike pulled over. Luckily enough, he had lived there longer and was still known to quite a number. In addition, I believe his morphological build up, which automatically gives him out as the son of his father played to our advantage. He just asked one of them – I don’t even remember the name – “what are you people doing?” and everything changed. I was released from this custody and with a sigh of relief we drove fast to Nairobi, fired up and hungrier to change the system than before!

Now this is the background upon which I stake my claim as a victim of the post election violence. It is my valid evidence that this violence did not just happen. It was necessitated. This evidence, like a two-edged sword, cuts both sides. It seems to show the people’s alertness at the possibility of rigging as well as their preparedness to stop any rigging from happening. This is my question: Who should have been responsible for my death, if it all it happened? Would it be me who travelled to Muhoroni to pick up my pal? Is it the would-be lynching mob? Would it be Raila on whose behalf, votes were being protected? Would it be Kibaki who was said to have sent the “AP?” You may reason depending on what side of your bread is buttered, but I assure you my mother, father and siblings would have been mourning! And the truth is that many such innocent families mourned and some still are! Some are even known to me.

This, in addition to my Kenyan citizenship, qualifies me as a stakeholder in this case. I have a stake in this process. In fact, I am entitled to compensation for my emotional pain and anguish. I have my own evidence and if Occampo really wants it, he can pay me a visit.

But even as I insist that Kibaki and Raila must face trial and that is if the trial is necessary at all. I am questioning whether this is the only way we can go. Or if this is the best way we should go!

I am not sure whether we need the trials or not – I am really confused on this matter. But I know one thing deep down my heart – that truth cannot be concealed and that the government of grand confusion that is currently governing Kenya is a charade! Hypothetically, we don’t have a legitimate government and we are living a lie. It is a lie because we all know that Kenya is supposed to be a democratic government – which means we are supposed to be led by legitimately elected leaders. Yet as evident to all, the current composition betrays this truth! We have gullibly accepted a fraud in the name of pragmatism. We claimed that if the “collusion” will bring peace, then so be it and swore in Raila as PM sharing executive authority with Kibaki. Another lie, for we all know who calls the shots – which is no longer my subject of interest! But my pain lies in the fact that we can trade falsehood for convenience. Accepting this immoral arrangement is not different from the Kalenjin-Kikuyu MPs alliance turned fiasco which was to trade Mau for Ringera or vice versa – in the name of political expediency.

From history, we now know that the 19th-20th century pragmatism of Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, John Dewey et al, has seen the last nail on its coffin. What seems to work may never work, but even if it does, it doesn’t negate the fact that it is a betrayal of truth. Martin Luther, the German reformist cried loud “Peace whenever possible, truth at all times!”

Truth is absolute. There are only three possible answers – based on this premise: Kenyans fought because of Mwai Kibaki and Raila Odinga. Either, Kibaki rigged the election, in which case he should pay for it. Or, Raila lost the election and thus should pay for incitement. Or Kibaki is responsible for both rigging and use of force to keep his office and Raila is responsible for incitement to violence, even though he won. But to say that none of the two won and therefore they should share power is a hoax. And to spiritualize this fraud in the name of God’s will, as some of my friends in the religious circles did is the greatest height of hypocrisy and abuse of spiritual office.

My take: The two should be tried. Based on available evidence, the ICC will determine who is guilty of the two or both, alongside their cheerleaders! Then and only then after we have cut of the head of impunity will we deal with the hands, feet etc. Then only will we tell the rest of the nation that it is immoral to fight ones brother. That it is stupid to be incited by politicians. Then we shall live with the truth as our King. Then our National prayer and anthem to “the god of all creation” shall be answered: Blessing our nation and giving us Justice as our shield and defender! And we shall “dwell in unity and peace,” having been liberated from falsehood. Maybe then, “plenty shall be found within our borders” for we shall have not only reigned on the prince of impunity but also the King of impunity!

And while they are at it, Karua should be on the dock on behalf of Kibaki and Orengo on behalf of Raila just as it was when the country bled. By the way, does Karua still believe that Kibaki won? I know Orengo has not changed his mind yet! Just remember once rule in criminal justice: Kibaki and Raila are both innocent law abiding citizens until proven guilty or otherwise. Don’t you love the law?

Next, I may write about my experience at Alfajiri on the last night before the fraudulent victory was declared!

My Statement of Faith

God
There is one God, eternally existent in the three persons of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit who is Creator of all things seen and unseen, infinitely perfect in love, power, and knowledge. These persons are the same in substance, equal in power and glory (Mt. 28:19; 2 Cor. 13:14). God as Father reigns with providential care over His universe, His creatures, and all of human history according to his sovereign purposes.

Scripture
We can only know God as He makes Himself known to us. God has communicated Himself in person, words and propositions which have been recorded for us in Scripture. He is not silent but has accommodated Himself to our lowly capacity that we might apprehend His purpose. Our faith is not based in any speculation or man-made philosophy but is based on the historic Christian faith which is recorded in the completed canon of Scripture. The Scriptures are without error (inerrant and infallible) in the original manuscripts, and represent the supreme and final authority for our faith and practice. The Bible is our guide in all matters regarding doctrine, church practice, counseling and individual behavior. We should, therefore, always be reforming our thoughts of God in order to be more God-honoring & consistent with the Word of God. The Scriptures were written by divinely inspired humans and are God’s revelation of Himself to everyone. (Exodus 24:4;Deuteronomy 4:1-2; 17:19; Joshua 8:34; Psalms 19:7-10; 119:11,89,105,140; Isaiah 34:16; 40:8; Jeremiah 15:16; 36:1-32; Matthew 5:17-18; 22:29; Luke 21:33; 24:44-46; John 5:39; 16:13-15; 17:17; Acts 2:16ff; 17:11; Romans 15:4; 16:25-26; 2 Timothy 3:15-17; Hebrews 1:1-2; 4:12; 1 Peter 1:25; 2 Peter 1:19-21)

The Fall
I believe God, the creator of all things both seen and unseen (Col 1:16; Gen 1:1; Eph 3:9; Rev 4:11). Created man in his own image (Gen 1:27; Gen 5:1) in righteousness and dignity with the freedom and power to do that which is good (Ecl 7:29, Gen 1:26-31) and yet under a possibility of transgressing, being left to the liberty of his will. By their sin mankind fell from intimacy with God and since Adam & Eve were the root of mankind this sin was imputed to all their descendants. Due to the effects of the fall (of Adam) on the mind and will, man’s spiritual condition by nature is such that he is dead in trespasses and sins, enslaved to sin, wholly incapable and unwilling to come to God (1 Cor 2:14, Rom 8:7, John 3:19), and under the wrath of God. (Eph.2:1-3; Titus 3:3; 2 Tim.2:26). As such, man is utterly incapable of saving himself, or even to cooperate with God in his salvation. He does not possess the inclination, desire or ability to turn himself to God since he loves & prefers the darkness. Since man is depraved by nature, and will thus inevitably make choices in accordance with that nature, his “free will” will always choose to reject God, apart from God’s grace.

God’s Covenants
In spite of humanity’s rebellion against God, His great love was revealed in His purpose to bless humanity, which was made known in His post-fall redemptive promise to crush the head of the the serpent with the seed of the woman (Gen 3:15). God then began to implement this plan of redemption, through the means of covenants, in order to mercifully bring humanity back into the fellowship of the the divine life and glory that He originally intended for us. The essence of the covenant between God and man is “I will be your God, and you will be My people.” The progressive unfolding nature of the covenants with Noah, Abraham, Moses, and David laid the covenantal groundwork for the culmination of God’s redemptive work in His new covenant in Christ. These successive covenants of Scripture form a unity. The probationary covenant of life by which man was to keep God’s commandments perfectly was ultimately and consummately fulfilled by Christ, God in the flesh. That covenant of grace is where God’s elect are attributed Christ’s satisfaction by faith. Thus, the nation of Israel shares a primary role in God’s self-revelation in redemptive history. It is the revelation unfolding through the Old Testament that provides the crucial framework for understanding God’s complete self-revelation through Jesus Christ.

Christ
I believe in the deity, humanity, virgin birth, sinless life, penal substitutionary atonement, bodily resurrection; and the visible, bodily, and glorious return of the Lord Jesus Christ (Jn 1:1; Is. 7:14; 1 Cor. 15:3-5; Acts 1:11). God the Father sent the Son to redeem lost humanity by uniting fallen humanity to Himself through Jesus’ complete solidarity with Adam (John 1:1, 14; Rom. 8:3). The last Adam-Jesus (Rom. 5; 1 Cor. 15:45) shared in Adam’s flesh in order to wage war against evil, fulfill God’s covenant stipulations from our side, and ultimately, to receive in Himself the full penalty and consequences of Adam’s fall through His death on the cross (Rom. 5:12-21; 1 Cor. 15:21-22; Col. 2:13-15). Christ having made a New Covenant with His blood, now reconciles humanity to God creating the bond of peace in our union with Him. All that was destroyed and lost in the fall Jesus comes to restore and redeem humanity and all creation from its breach with God. Having died a substitutionary death on the cross, he made a complete and sufficient atonement for the sins of His people according to the Scriptures. Three days later, He arose bodily from the dead.

“…the prism through which all light concerning God is reflected is Jesus Christ. This means that Christology is the beginning and the end, better, the starting point and summary, of all Christian thought. Christology is Paul’s theme when he writes, “For it is the very God who said. ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.” (2 Cor 4:6)… Christology is the subject of theology. More precisely put, Jesus Christ is the subject of theology.

We Understand that God in any sense differentiated from Jesus Christ is unknowable. This needs to be affirmed from the start. John writes in the prologue to his Gospel, “No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has made him known” (1:18). John repeats this idea forcefully in his first letter: “No one has ever seen God” (4:12)…Bible religion knows nothing about a God who can be found or made out from our side of things … Theology is unable to start in those places [first cause, ground of our being] because the picture of God that emerges from such beginnings is speculative … … A theology that is Christology before it is anything else is a theology from the bottom up. It begins with the ministry of Jesus in his own time and space, and it states that it is entirely agnostic concerning anything other than what he has given us to know of the essential attributes of God … we begin, therefore, christologically, with a concrete historic figure who appeared on the stage of human history …” – Paul F.M. Zahl

Election
Union between Christ and his people was planned already in eternity, in the sovereign pretemporal decision whereby God the Father selected certain sinners as His own. Christ himself was chosen to be our Savior before the creation of the world (1 Pet. 1:20); When the Father chose Christ, he also chose us (Ephesians 1:4). We are initially united with Christ in regeneration; next we appropriate and continue to live out of this union through faith. Third, we are justified in union with Christ. Fourth, we are sanctified through union with Christ. Fifth, we persevere in the life of faith in union with Christ. Finally, we shall be eternally glorified with Christ.

This pretemporal choice was not based on the fact that God knew which persons would believe of their own free will, for there is no person which fits that description. This decision was based upon God’s sovereign good pleasure alone. It is God’s gracious decision, from eternity past, to save fallen souls of His own choosing. Therefore, God will infallibly bring all of His elect to final perseverance and eternal life (Phil 1:6; John 10:29; Rom 8:30; John 6:37, 39). The Persons of the Trinity work in harmony to accomplish and apply salvation. The Father, from eternity, elects a particular people (Ephesians 1:4, 5; Rom 8:29, 30) Christ redeems those the Father has “given Him” (John 6:37, 39; 10:29) and the Holy Spirit likewise applies the redemptive benefits of the atonement to the same. (John 1:13; James 1:18, 1 Peter 1:23,25).

Atonement
I believe there is one requirement we must fulfill if a holy God is to look favorably upon us: This requirement is perfect righteousness; an unblemished résumé, which has never once broken any Law of God. Unless we can produce this we are without hope. Unless we fulfill this one requirement, we are guilty before God and will be condemned. But God looked upon His people with great mercy by sending Jesus Christ, His Son, to save those given to Him by the Father (John 6:37-39, 17:9). After living a sinless life (fulfilling God’s Covenant from our side), He bore the full wrath of God against the sin of His people as a penal substitution on the cross. This sacrifice is efficient for all who believe the Gospel and will infallibly result in their eternal salvation (Mt. 1:21; John 10:15; Acts 20:28; 1Pet.1:18-21). Our just and holy God is satisfied To look on Jesus and pardon us. He is our perfect, spotless, Righteousness.

Grace
I believe there is nothing in and of the sinner that prompts God to act kindly towards him (Romans 1:16; Galatians 3:26 ff). Why, then, does a sinner, an unrighteous hell-deserving rebel, receive eternal life and escape eternal punishment? It is solely by God’s grace, alone. The grace of God in the gospel is first and foremost the good news that God himself has rescued us from His own wrath and that He adopts its recipients as sons into an eternal relationship with Himself. In the gospel the love of God is revealed. God is fiercely opposed to our unrighteousness and our suppression and distortion of the truth to justify ourselves (Rom 1:18). But in spite of our rebellion, Romans 5:8 says, “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” The love of God had to deal with both man’s unrighteousness and God’s wrath. How does this gospel do this? The gospel is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes because “in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith.” (Rom 1:17)

How can this be good news, however, when the righteousness of God is our problem and men are never found naturally willing to submit in faith to the humbling terms of the gospel of Christ? (Rom 3:11; John 6:64,65; 2 Thessalonians 3:2) Because God gives to us freely, what he demands from us. In it God reveals the same righteousness for us that God demands from us. What we had to have, but could not create or perform or supply (faith and holiness), God grants us freely, namely, his own righteousness and the gift of faith. He reveals, as a gift in Christ Jesus, the faith and righteousness that was once only a demand. God saves us by grace alone, through faith alone, and this faith is not produced by our unregenerated human nature.

Regeneration
Our union with Christ has its roots in divine election, its basis in the redemptive work of Christ, and its actual establishment with God’s people by the regeneration of the Holy Spirit. All of God’s elect will be regenerated by the Holy Spirit during their life, at a time of God’s choosing. This regeneration is a spiritual resurrection given to sinners who are spiritually dead. It infallibly results in faith, repentance and obedience. This regeneration is accomplished by the irresistible power of the Holy Spirit (Jn.6:37,44; Eph.2:4-5; Ps.110:3).

Regeneration, Repentance and Faith:
How does faith and repentance take place since the natural man is incapable of creating a right thought, generating a right affection, or originating a right volition (Rom. 3:11, 8:7; John 3:3, 6)?

When spoken in the power of the Holy Spirit, the word of God has the power to graciously open people’s eyes, unplug their uncircumsized ears, change the disposition of their hearts, draw them to faith, and save them (James 1:18, 1 Peter 1:23, 25). The word of God does not work “ex opere operato,” rather, it is the work of the Holy Spirit sovereignly dispensing grace (John 3:8), quickening the heart through the word to bring forth life. So the written word is not the material of the spiritual new birth, but rather its means or medium. “The word is not the begetting principle itself, but only that by which it works: the vehicle of the mysterious germinating power” [ALFORD]. It is because the Spirit of God accompanies it that the word carries in it the germ of life. The life is in God, yet it is communicated to us through the word.

The gospel declares that repentance and faith (commands of God) are themselves God’s working in us both to will and to do (2 Tim 2:25, Eph 2:5, and not something that the sinner himself contributes towards the price of His salvation. Repentance and faith can only be exercised by a soul after, and in immediate consequence of, its regeneration by the Holy Spirit (1 John 5:1; Acts 16:14b; Acts 13:48; John 10:24-26; Ezekiel 36:26-27; John 6:37; John 1:13; 1 Cor. 4:7; 1 Cor. 15:10; Jas. 1:17; John 3:27). God regenerates, and we, in the exercise of the new gracious ability given, repent. God disarms the opposition of the human heart, subduing the hostility of the carnal mind, and with irresistible power (John 6:37), draws His chosen ones to Christ. The gospel confesses “We love him because He first loved us.” Whereas before we had no desire for God, God’s regenerating grace gives us desire, willingness and delight in His person and commands. Faith and works are the evidence of new birth, not the cause of it.

Salvation
In essential agreement with the teachings of the Bible as understood by Protestant Reformers, the Westminster Confession of Faith, The Cannons of the Synod of Dort and in the evangelical tradition of men such as Paul, Augustine, Calvin, Luther, Knox, the Puritans, Jonathan Edwards, George Whitefield, C.H. Spurgeon, and Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, I believe in a salvation that is given by the sovereign grace of God (monergistic). Our justification is by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone, as revealed in the Scriptures alone, to the glory of God alone. Due to God’s divine initiative in embracing fallen humanity through Christ (Eph. 2:8-10; Tit. 3:4-7) and no merits on the believer’s part, salvation is the free and full participation in God’s saving work in Christ, uniting us through His Spirit. It is knowing and being known by God through Christ (Gal. 4:9; 1 Cor. 13:12). A restoration to God’s original intent for us, the end for which we were created.

Perseverance
We teach that all those who believe are justified and are sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise unto the ultimate day of redemption. Therefore, if a person has been effectually called and drawn to Christ, he will never lose that salvation since it was based wholly on the finished work of Christ and God’s election, not on the strength of the believers commitment or obedience. (Jn.10:27-30;Rom.8:28-30). The person whose affections and dispositions have been changed by the Holy Spirit in regeneration will not reject eternal life once they are saved because they do not want to reject eternal life. God causes His people to continue wanting to believe in Him once we are saved (Jeremiah 32:40; Ezekiel 36:27). This is not based on how perfect we are, but solely on the promise and finished work of Christ (John 3:16; John 10:29).

Sanctification
All those who are drawn to Christ are sanctified by the Holy Spirit. This sanctification is a work of God in which the believer participates by confession of sin, repentance, and submission to the will of God (1Thess.4:3-8; Rom.8:29).

Eschatology
At the end of the age we expect the personal, bodily return of our Lord Jesus Christ, according to the Scriptures. We do not teach with surety any of the major millennial views, but encourage each person to study the Scriptures and come to their own conclusion. In preparation for His coming we are called to live holy lives. Through years of study we personally favor the amillennial understanding of the eschaton.

Ecclesiology
The universal Church, which is invisible, consists of the whole number of the elect, which were purchased for God with Christ’s blood from [Dan 3:4; 5:19; Rev 7:9; 10:11; 11:9; 13:7; 14:6; 17:15] every tribe and tongue and people and nation. That have been, are, or shall be gathered into one, under Christ the Head thereof; and is the spouse, the body, the fulness of Him that fills all in all. Paul says, “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Eph 2:25). Here the term “the church” is used to apply to all those whom Christ died to redeem, all those who are saved by the death of Christ. This includes all true believers for all time, both believers in the New Testament age and believers in the Old Testament age as well. The local church joins together to form local communities. Here we worship the LORD, serve and encourage one another, grow together in His likeness, and take great joy in serving Him together.

*** Further,  I believe the various confessional formulations that grew out of the Reformation represent a significant advancement of a sound, scriptural, God-honoring understanding of the historic faith:

Ambassador Francis Muthaura: Go Home in Peace I Beg

Dear Muthaura,

It is an hour and a half before tomorrow. I need to be in bed so that I can wake up early for Church service. John Piper is preaching and I don’t plan to miss. By the way do you know him? I know you have no Idea. He wrote “Desiring God” and has been my inspiration on Reformed Theology. Anyway, before I go to bed, I beg to respond to a dear friend, ambassador Francis Muthaura.

Boy, it is not that i dislike you or anything – rather it is your consistent effort to destroy Kenya that draws my attention to you. I am sure you must have noticed that the past few weeks, when you were on medical vacation in South Africa, Kenya has experienced some unususual peace since you took the office of “Head of Public Service and Secretary to the cabinet.” It has not been absolutely peaceful as such – I know there are a few idiots who have been beating their wives and kids and also a quite a few brawls in the local watering holes. But these are neither here nor there.

Oh yes, and Ruto and his lieutenants have been spoiling for war in your absence just has he would do in your presence – this Ruto is unbwogable, you know! He believes that he is a saint and that since his name is not patented, every evil that goes with the name must be the devil incarnate’s scheme and not his.

Oh yes, and Moi too has been lecturing us on good governance and peace. My response to the old man is as good as you may guess! Recently, I overheard of how he ordered the torture and even sanctioned the death of certain Kenyans. Moi, will you shut up in the interim, as I think of what I should do with you – you make me sick. Much has been said but more remains that if I added them to this minute chronicles, I would injure my readers – they won’t love your stupid folktales, you know! Yours is a book to study – just wait!

Sorry I digressed, ambassador Muthaura. Notice that I have even embraced the american spelling (ambassador, instead of the traditional ambassadour) to address you. It is because of the tyranny of the urgent – I mean I have limited time but your recent proclamation demands that I respond to you with immediacy and haste.

It is recorded in the East African Standard newspaper dated Sunday, 23rd August 2009 that, and I quote: “I will be back in office on September 1.” Mr. ambassador, sir, I beg that you keep off. I honestly and deeply sympathize with your recent state of physical discomfiture, and like any other human being, I have always wished you a quick recovery. But I must confess that I have never wished your return to the Kenyan public service. Sir, your name is a nightmare to me, among many others. Your reign has been nothing else but anarchy. Through your leadership we have witnessed national disunity and chaos. When you went for your medical retreat (which was long overdue according to some stupid scribe) we experienced peace like never before.

Even the gods of rain smiled on us and beloved Kenya has been receiving some considerable amounts of rainfall – though not enough to refill our dams yet. This is my urgent concern sir. You recovered to soon. You should have allowed us to harvest enough rain water to get us going for a while. This is not vendetta sir, but even if it were, I would feel nothing for you for a myriad Kenyans have died in your watch as the de facto leader of the civil service of the sovereign Republic of Kenya.

If you think I am mistaken, take an inventory of the steps of our beloved MK, the eternal friend of Lucy Muthoni. Since you left he has been hanging out with the boys, albeit responsibly. In his words: “I mean” the dude has made considerably reasonable utterances in comparison to some other nonsense I have heard him say since the day we first swore him in as the commander in Chief in January 2003 – His inauguration speech was the only reasonable thing he ever read to us. Since then he has been utmost, incomprehensible and confused. All these, it is said, is because he kept your company. Sir, I say this without batting an eyelid and if it makes you feel bad, you may return to SA or just hang. I am sure quite a few demagogues will miss you – but most importantly, in the words of my teacher Mr. Nyawanda aka Otosh Obash, “the sun will still rise in the East and set in the West.” Life will go on as it has always, even best, without you.

My bad! I keep derailing – I’m sure I’d make a very bad speaker – that is why I am not one yet. Now back to the activities of Mwai while you were away. Ambassador, I am just reminded of some of the things we used to do when we were young. We would keep an eye and made an inventory of the activities of our siblings and reported to our parents when they returned. Actually we never reported – we just used the evidence as some coercive weapons for getting them to do us favours. Not so much in the verisimilitude, sir, I will tell you of the activities of baba Jimmy while you were gone. I believe you recognised him when he visited you in Nairobi Hospital on the day you were allegedly admitted. A good friend indeed – and I am sure he still is. Your question should be “Are you a good friend in return?”

Well, when you left, you left a void that could not be easily filled. I mean, no other idler like you could draw closer to MK. But some interesting character (I know the mention of his name makes you sick) Mr. Tinga aka Aguambo got some leeway and made friends with your friend baba Judy. In your absence they invited each other home and did many things that I choose not to mention in this mail. You see I care for your feelings. But to satisfy your curiosity, they ate fish together – nowhere else but at Kapoda farm in Bondo. If you think I am lying ask Gumo, he was there. Nyong’o was there too, but I know you won’t trust him – that dude is too sly even for me – though secretly, I admire him. You know when I grow up someday, I would love to be, not an ambassador like you, but a professor. No offense intended, I just digressed again and I am genuinely sorry.

Mr. Muthaura sir, these dudes spent so much time together doing stuff I couldn’t imagine. They even incorporated Stephen, I mean Kalonzo Musyoka into their gang. They went around dishing food together, ploughing farms and launching projects of unprecedented magnitude. Oh boy, my friend Raoul Kayebo once told me that “boys don’t play together forever” but I tell you to ignore him for when boys play together sometimes peace seems inevitable. What my eyes failed to believe is that both of these guys left behind their wives. Lucy was missing in action and so was min Arosie, I mean Ida, the mother of Rosemary and Winnie. On some particular day, Raila Odinga had a tractor race with William Somoei Ruto at the watch of you pals Bako, Steven and UK. It was hilarious. You missed it dude – even Kalonzo became a commentator that day!

Mr. ambassador, I hope I am not boring you with these tales. But even if I were, I have told you before that I care less as long as you know that this is not some fairy tale like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. These things happened live. There has been considerable progress in the way this government has been operating. It may be too premature to judge the outcome but these few weeks have been a relief from political bickering, especially about the stupid things you do and don’t do.

It doesn’t mean that all has been perfect. Lemmie just give you a glimpse of the dirty part. This man Ruto and his previous darling have been gradually falling apart. I am not sure where the main problem lies. Some say it is this MAU thing. Some say it is the Hague/tribunal story. While others say it is UK brewing the trouble – that Uhuru is seducing Ruto (I first met that word in Onjiko High while I was a form one. A prefect by the name Felix Okendo asked me if I had ever seduced a girl. I won’t tell you the answer now. But why Uhuru and Ruto yawa? Kwani they are gay?). Aha! Arrggggggggh. I am saying too much, I am sure you have been reading the same from the Newspapers just like I too have.

Honestly, ambassador Muthaura, if you are indeed one of the reasons why Kenya must be unstable then i’d rather you don’t be! Now you see why your reported claim of a big come back gives me malaria (without mosquito bites)! I shudder at your perilous potential. I don’t know what you smoke with my grandpa Baks, but whatever it is, brother, it is lethal. That dude does not think whenever you are around. You see, recently he declared that apart from him, the only other person who rules Kenya is Tinga. He even told all the other ministers to assume compliance forthwith. Now, I don’t know whether you or your doctor cared to inform him that you would be back so soon because most of all you used to do, which is constitutionally the PM’s responsibility has been redirected to the rightful constitutional office holder – aka, Scarecrow Raila Amolo Odinga.

So when you say that you are returning to office, especially when the whole WORLD understands that you are way past your retirement, I get goose bumps. I sometimes do the not so honourable – wetting of my pants because of my fears of you” What you have done, can do an would do. I still recall that there are people in Kisumu, some known to me in person, who died of bullet wounds, inflicted from the back by police. And you know what – all evidences seems to point to you and your bureaucracy – the orders and the engineering of the same thereof, t shoot and kill originated from your advice. yes, you and Michuki. I fear that my grandpa, who is close to you in age – he is just a mere 84 (young compared to Moi) has been retired since eternity, and you still insist on holding on to the reigns, is leaving you in the civil service alone. By the way, can you send an sms? I admit, my grandpa cannot but you see he is not superman like you. He has no murder record either – I admire his experience and innocence. And you: What do your grandchildren say or even think of you? their silence, if any does not imply wholesome agreement on the Kenyan’s side. We just don’t want you Muthaura. Please go away in peace, or else we will force you out by whatever means possible! We will. I mean we will. Kwenda kabisa. Go! Go! Go! My friends just graduated and they need something to do. Please go! Nyachae went, who are you? If you refuse, we will say impreccatory prayers against you! Ask King David of the Old Testament – he made them and they were effective.

** Moi and the Nyayo era, read torture chambers. What is his legacy? Coming next.
** Also, trying the perpetrators of the Post-election violence – I mean the local tribunal is a good thing. But not before we try those who rigged the elections. Ha ha.. just the same story, the chicken and the egg, which came first?

**Finally, I love you Muthaura but you must not return to haunt us. Please keep off.

**By the way, Gitobu Imanyara is breathing fire and Occampo is with him. When you go, do leave behind Evan Gicheru, Amos Wako, Aaron Ringera and Commissioner Ali. Please, also tell your age mate Moi to keep quiet. He is not out of the hoods yet! He is no saint either and I am personally coming for him. Yes me, humble Kidha, I am coming!

The Principals Must Tell us What They Know

Wait a minute So who is kidding who? “I won fair and square,” said Kibaki in January 2008.Raila on the other hand said he was rigged out by Kibaki. Kriegler on the other hand says that it is not possible to know the winner. Yet because of the impasse, over a thousand Kenyans were dispatched to their maker. Both principals exuded public confidence in their electoral victory. We all know that

Kibaki won fair and square and as a duly elected president found it economical to have a small swearing in ceremony at night in the state house. This way he saved on daylight and unnecessary feeding expenses on the mammoth crowd that would have come to cheer him at Uhuru park!

Raila also won fair and square, beating Kibaki to six out of eight provinces as well as registering an overwhelming parliamentary majority.

For strange reasons Kibaki lost six provinces and parliamentary seats but won the presidential votes. Kalonzo, on the other hand, won nothing but also lost nothing. Suffice to say his miracle came true thus concretizing his claim to prophetic authority.

Fast forward. There is a grand coalition government that was erroneously formed on a lie – that the two principals were both innocent and that the electoral commission was the sole problem. The argument being that the ECK told Kibaki that he had won – or isn’t that what baba Jimmy told us?

Ocampo is breathing fire in the Netherlands waiting to maul the culprits of this historical mishap. Waki on the other hand has presented a “comprehensive” list of suspects believed to be the key plotters of the Poet Election Violence. Details of this report have since faded in my mind but I remember the recommendations to try the perpetrators. This is in line with the accord signed by the two principals and witnessed by the chief mediator, Koffi Anan.

I know that you have all these details. If it is clear in my mind like it was yesterday, i am sure it is even clearer in yours since I am given to omitting details due to my acute memory lapse. Poor me – maybe that is why all the lies I try to tell fail miserably. Anyway, why do I need to remind you of what is obvious to all of you?

It is because an honest recollection of these historical facts will lead the honest truth seekers amongst us into making objective judgments and consequently fight for the truth to prevail in mother Kenya. Now be still and take this repository journey with me as we confront the consequences of these historical details. Let us weigh them against the present and see how best we can redeem the future.

The cabinet meeting convened to agree on the formation of a local tribunal flopped again for a second time in two weeks. The main reason as reported by both the daily nation and East African Standard Newspapers was simple: Cabinet disagreed on whether or not the president and possibly the PM should be tried if found complicit to the crimes in question.

The group proposing the amendment to the document argue that we risked being classified as a failed state with Ali Mwakwere is reported to have said that it amounts to a constitutional coup.

Those opposing the amendment argue that the tribunal must satisfy the Rome Statutes, which in turn sets the standards for the International Criminal Court, as well as those of a reputable local tribunal Kenya is seeking, and that is — no one is insulated.

The Standard reported that “A source said while majority of the ministers were of the view that the President should not be subjected to any prosecution while in office, others said even if the Head of State deserved protection, the new Bill must have that clause so as to meet the international legal thresholds.”

It is further reported that Mutula assured the Cabinet that while including the clause in the proposed Bill, he was acting in good faith to avoid giving the ICC an opportunity to dismiss a local tribunal.

At the end of the day it is reported that it was then agreed that for the sake of the country’s unity, a committee be formed to redraft the Bill after reviewing it to ensure “that leaders who are holding the country together were not subjected to any embarrassment that might trigger turmoil”. Thus in addition to Messers Orengo and Kilonzo, ministers Kajwang, Wetangula and Kiraitu were incorporated into the drafting team with the mandate to rework the stubborn clauses, mainly: the President, who is insulated by law from prosecution while in office, or even the Prime minister, should be opened up for trial.

Now i call for an objective evaluation of this situation. Should the principals be tried or not? Before I even reject this tribunal idea where the culprits determine who makes the trials let me beckon us into summoning an urgent trial of the Principals.

The both claim legitimacy to their thrones. The war that ravaged the country was in fact a political duel between the two. Both said that they are not guilty but we know that they cannot both be right at the same time. There are only two possibilities: Either they are both wrong and consequently guilty and need to pay for it or one of them is wrong and guilty and is in fact illegitimately ruling this country. This is the time for the two to vindicate themselves – both before Kenyans and the world. This is the opportunity for the two to tell us what they know about the election and the consequent violence.

Raila Odinga is in record to have supported draft Bill in its current form before he left the meeting. He has said before, elsewhere that he fears no prosecution, adding that he had faced treason charges and triumphed.

Kibaki is said to have been silent as the cabinet discussed the question of his immunity. It is however reported that the PNU ministers, with the exception of Mutula Kilonzo called for a deletion of the clause barring the president’s immunity.

This is my question. Why should Kibaki fear proving to Kenya and the world that he won fair and square. And even if he may not be able to prove it, hadn’t they paid the Krieglers enough to declare that it is impossible to tell the winner of the disputed election. What does he fear. Well, he was silent but what does his lieutenants know that we don’t know? Why don’t they just allow the trials to go on and Martha Karua should be there to defend the victory of Kibaki as she did at the BBC hard talk. Won’t Kimunya be there too?

That way we can jail Odinga for making us fight by claiming that Kibaki stole his victory. Or if found guilty, Kibaki can explain why and how they hatched the APs rigging plot. Don’t we deserve to know these things, yawa?
Of more interest (out of curiosity) is what was the role played by the international community in the whole electioneering process. The International republican Institute come to mind, among other. Leaders like George bush also come to mind. This is a large webb – let the spider catch its prey and let all Kenyans sit down and watch their TVs as we see the cows return home.

** Local tribunal – What are the advantages and disadvantages apart from the fear of political manipulation as is obviously expected?
** Why is the Hague a preferred option by most Kenyans according to the most recent opinion polls?
** Some people have recommended the Truth and Reconciliation commission. Apart from the fact that it is not supported by the Peace Accord, what are the possible limitations of the commission and what are its possible strengths? – How will it deal with impunity?

The answers to all these questions depends on the objective of the trials. Is it to stump out impunity? Is it for the purpose of revenge? Do we just want to know the truth?

Over to you Kenyans. as for me and the Hague we will claim the boys!

Murugu as I know him

We are not even friends. And yes, I have only met him twice. He may have been anything or even everything for different people but my humble assessment acknowledges humility. It will take a few more paragraphs to make this story clear.

In December 2007, I joined my friend, Mwangi the Idiot (that’s what he calls me) for a ROPES (Rites of Passage Experience) somewhere in Ololobon, right in the heart of Maasai land. Mwangi was a teacher of teenagers at my Church and he had hatched this plot of helping the juveniles grow up into adults. I would want to call the whole experience a boot camp but for the sake of diplomatic language and parental convenience – let’s just stick with the ROPES idea. May I mention that Charles Muriuki (Charlo) was another colleague with the “Military” mentality like I did. Otherwise, the rest of my colleagues – Albo, Msagha, Vierra, “Nyeri Boy” aka Felix etc – in this fulfilling experience were very sympathetic to the little boys.

This camp was meant to be a tough, life-changing, one week experience for the lads – and I promise you all that this objective was more than approved. Now, a little bit of context is vital for the clarity and comprehensibility of this story. The boys we meant to “dehorn” (let not their parents read this) are from relatively privileged backgrounds than most of the ordinary Nairobi kids. They were the sons of who-is-who in our glorious motherland. They are definitely not the breeds that met an angry Mr. Agingu with a big cane or some Mrs. Omondi with her open-arm combat skills ready to instill discipline, like I did with my friends early in the days. They are products of the most prestigious (please read this in a Luo accent to experience the seriousness of this experience) academies in Kenya. Consequently, their idea of tough life and discipline is relatively different from yours and mine – I mean the ordinary Kenyan folks.

Please get me well, some of these kids are the most well bred fellows I have ever met in my twenty-eight years of earthly existence. Not all of them are brats – as is often stereotyped – though I can’t fail to say that judgment is oft times accurate, as that is what happens when we leave the TVs, video and computer games to mentor our loved ones. May I mention that a lad like Booker proved the adage “train a child the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it.” His story will be the subject of another piece some day. But that brings me to how this explains my knowledge of Murugu.

Among the boys we were going to “deal with” that week included Wanjuki (long live great man), the son of the late PS Murugu. Wanjuki is not that morphologically endowed – I mean I could easily take on him even after fasting for one week. However he was the strong-willed child and it did not take ten minutes to study his influence on the other boys in the park. He actually led this park for a few hours until their de facto leader, Dan showed up. Dan will also be subject of another story someday. Right away, I knew that my efforts this week would be best spent on straightening Wanjuki, and I think I did break his back, that is after throwing so many strokes on it.

Now, at the ROPES camp, it was not business as usual. The boys were subjected to strenuous experiences that ultimately break their will and render them subjective to authority. By the end of our first day, a few boys were in submission – not so was Dan, Wanjuki and a few others. The tough lads even lectured their colleagues on what is their “inalienable rights” and in my assessment they were right 99% the times – they just missed what we taught them as the first rule, which they readily and agreeably recited as their fathers inspected their guard of honour on their last day of camp, namely “life is not fair,” as they got to learn through experience.

Fast forward, on the second last day at camp, the fathers to these lads showed up and spent with their boys in their tiny tents. They were supposed to discuss “men’s stuff” though some tried to dodge this session and I doubt whether all of them talked to them. Now you must understand that these are busy people – they spend so much time away trying to secure the future of their kids – and rightly so. Consequently, they may not be having a relationship and thus some cannot sustain a ten minute dialogue with their own sons. This is what we meant to achieve. Thus in a sense, the ROPES camp was indeed a rite of passage experience for the fathers as well.

Admittedly, this was a Herculean task. As a matter of fact dealing with some fathers was ten times difficult than their sons and you could easily discern why some boys act the way they do – it is in their fathers. Methinks, my own dad’s own paranoia with safety rules is because he sees his reflection in me though he’s since given up on shepherding around, leaving me to learn in the expensive school of experience. But frankly speaking, some of the “stupid” things I have done in my life are shadows of the things he did – at least he’s told me some of his stories. My grandma told me some too. Trust me, there is not so much a difference, apart from the time and the cast – otherwise it’s the same script.

Back to Murugu. We had rules set for everybody. The parents were to lead by example and that included following the rules that their sons had followed the whole week. These included being in time for the meals when the bells rang, doing your duties like washing utensil etc. It also included going to bed at the set time and waking up at the set time too. It also included going for the morning run – it was a run not a jog – at least Billy designed and implemented it that way. Figure out what that would do to some of those Beer enhanced bellies (one pack). Honestly, some parents struggled with this but Murugu did not. He followed the example. We had to chase away some dads to bed. It was bed time and they had decided to remain behind and make “mutura” from the remains of the two goats that we had slaughtered that evening. Nonetheless, the plot didn’t hatch for we sent them to bed anyway.

This was one of the highlights of my life in 2007 even as we neared the disastrous ballot experience – that for one day I ordered the Permanent Secretary for Youth affairs and he readily obeyed. In the morning when we woke up, some fathers and their sons lagged behind and I had to subject them to the ten push-ups experience. At some point, Wanjuki who along with his dad, Murugu, had woken up in time but were lagging behind as was his trade mark; I made them do the press-ups. He did and his father readily did it with him. Indeed that was a remarkable example of a man who wanted to bring out the best of his son. While, I had a field day ordering around just for a few thirty six hours, I learned that obedience is key to life and that example is the best way to lead. So Murugu taught me something. For this short time, to be obedient and lead by example. That is Murugu as I know him.

Black, White or Stripped: Does it Matter?

Sometimes it doesn’t hurt quite much to be the subject of ridicule, especially for things in your life that you cannot help – I mean things that are divinely designed like morphological make up, whether tall or short, racial orientation or colour pigmentation – whether coloured, white, black or stripped. Until yesterday, I had never considered myself to have heavily experienced any case of direct attack on my race. You know that it is said, “what you don’t know does not hurt you.” To be precise, I have been discriminated before based on the fact of being black, but really such episodes of have been discreet and indirect and they really never mattered much. That is the same reason why even this direct one will not matter. In fact I have also been discriminated against for being a Luo, short (rather vertically challenged as my friend Alex Kiamba would nicely put it) or even not being wealthy like the rest (sometimes).

Yesterday was a very beautiful day – the sun was quite hot as has been in the recent days – though we did not go swimming, we still had an outdoor activity in the name of a bonfire. We all enjoyed the day with the juveniles and ate a sumptuous meal of hobo stew even though mine was unnecessarily over seasoned, so much that I had to punctuate every mouthful with a sip of water. I took video clips of different scenes as I interviewed the kids – both in groups and as individuals. Most notable was this band of attention seeks that I christened “the Chairman’s gang.” The chairman is a twelve year old eight grade boy. From now henceforth I will call him Obugji, since he is the subject of this post.

No doubt, Obugji is a charismatic leader. His band of followers is so loyal to him that they would do anything to pay attention even when they are so broke to afford it. Well, I happened to have a conversation with the lads which went very well apart from their unnecessary reference to homosexual relationships. I have since confirmed that their Home State, Iowa, recently legalized same sex marriage and this has become a sensationalized issue there – thanks to the media. For this reason, I absolve the quartet of their seemingly unbecoming foul speech – especially after confirming with other campers that this behaviour was inconsistent with his character. I therefore concluded that it was just another case of teenage attention seeking catalyzed by peer as well as terrible media influence.

All this time, it was unbeknown to me that Obugji would make it to my website. I mean, there are very many important issues to write about – so how would a mere juvenile steal my attention at no fee whatsoever – well  turns out that it was dearly paid for as I will explain later. Anyway, I took an early evening nap since I intended to stay up late that night doing this and that – including beating Jeremy in a game of scrabble (which I did, and I am not saying it). Well, I didn’t sleep long, as Obugji was brought to my bedside and asked to apologize for his racial hate speech. Apparently, the poor boy was reportedly singing the song “Run Nigger” and being the only black there it must have been meant for me – or at least I was a representative of the offended. The boy did not only apologize but also sneaked back after the whole formal episode and pleaded for forgiveness saying that there was no offense intended.

I told home to go in peace. In fact I did not forgive him for I did not think there was anything to forgive even though my colleagues think that was a direct attack on my race. Let me just say that I was not the least offended and will never be offended by any racial slurs. In fact, singing “run nigger” even if directed to me is nothing compared to the questions “when/where did you learn English” – the kind asked even by kids I teach and their parents. Of course my answer has never been kind either – for it is my insistence that I speak English as handed over to us by our colonial masters the British and that there was no English In the US but “American” which obviously I cared less about learning. In other words – It is more discriminative to think that I could not learn English while in Africa – even though we share the same colonial master and adopted English as a result of the British conquest. So why would I not learn from them if they be best?

I have since forgiven such people since such speech is based mainly on ignorance and a little more misrepresentation of facts. The fact that they don’t know the truth does not make their perception the truth. In other words, I am not the kind to let people’s opinion about me become my reality – No! Never! In fact the “Run Nigger” boys’ pronouncement is a more informed statement than the “where did you learn English” statement. The former is a statement of fact – for what is Nigger? Nigger is a derivative of the Spanish word “Negro” which means black, and black is indeed what I am. So calling me a Nigger is not racial to me even though it is a politically incorrect statement in the US. My point is that I don’t need protection from being or feeling black. It is a case of the saying “Lord protect me from my friends for I know my enemies.” I will illustrate this using a short story.

Sometime in the year 2000 before I joined campus for my undergraduate studies I kept company with some boys from my village. None of us had been to the University then, apart from our lawyer, Omondi Obudho who was in the school of Law in Parklands and Robin (known as Umeme because he was the tallest in the region) who was on suspension from Moi University. Oh yes, and Dave Abudho who was at Egerton University. My bad, Okwato was also on suspension from Moi University. We were generally known as Jokochieng (even though I am Jakomburah) and we spent most evenings chatting, politicking and philosophizing together. Those were great days when we would have the likes of Ken Ayieko (RIP), Dan Awuonda (RIP), Jerry, Japuonj, Omosh (Nyathi Nyakach), Omondi Ondaso, Gen. Oguok and sometimes Asembo and Dhar etc. General this was the boys’ gang that ruled Rabuor Shopping Centre.

One mutual friend of this group was particularly reported to be offended that Omondi Obudho was keeping company with the “not-university educated” gang. He too was a third yea BCom student at Egerton University. When this was reported to us, the whole team felt that it was in fact an offence to the team. We sought to discipline him, claiming that oba wach, that is to say he had insulted the group, even though it was true that we were not university educated yet! While planning the attack, our legal consultant, Omondi Obudho provided wisdom that revolutionized the thinking of this writer. Omondi questioned the wisdom of acting on hearsay. He argued that as a lawyer, he would not defend the case in a court of law, as no case would be proven against this gentleman there being no provision in law for such trivialities. He further argued that a person who was verbally assaulted has a better case to prove than one who is informed by a second party that a gun was pointed at his back by so-and-so. Thus Omondi argued that if the “gentleman” was man enough and genuinely concerned, he would do himself a service by directly confronting us in the face rather than be reported to have spoken about us. Thus the case was closed with the whole team boisterously arguing that we don’t fight cowards. Today psychology informs me that in fact our defensiveness was a more cowardly action that the gossiper’s. It was a case of personal insecurity and acceptance and that coalescing around the group was just a myopic therapeutic intervention. It was just like the temporary relief of the opiate which pretends to deal with our pains just for a little while only to re-emerge in greater doses and greater consequences.

In fact when I look back, this gentleman was right, if he had ever spoken so – in saying that we had no University education. He also had the right to think (albeit flawed) that a University-educated Omondi was wasting his time with the not – so – educated lot. Whether that was right thinking is subjected to his flawed philosophy and I have no time arguing with a fool. But to say the least, that alleged “stupid” remark awoke me and brought me to my sense. It was true that I would remain classified as uneducated for as long as I was not, and if it hurt very bad then I had to do something about it. Beating the messenger of conscience was not the solution. Changing the situation was the solution – and I pursued the latter. Now, if I could master some arrogance, I would call the former “educated friend” an undergraduate for I have passed his level even though he started ahead of me. But that would serve no purpose because like Plato would aptly put it “Knowledge becomes evil if the aim be not virtuous…” and Knowledge which is acquired under compulsion has no hold on the mind.” It would be tyrannical to think that a University education be it a PhD or a mere certificate is an end in itself.

The two stories I have told in this piece are illustrations on truth and perception. In the first story, I feel inordinately compelled to believe that being black is backward – or why else would I accept apologies for being called black, just in another language? The only problem is that I don’t know why being black, the song asks me to run. “Run Nigger” is the title of the Song. I have done nothing wrong in being black so why run and where to? I think the political-correctness in the anti-nigger pronouncement is actually racist. But if that is, then it is more racist to think this nigger inferior – no matter what name you call him – African brethren etc. Questions that despise intelligence like are much more demeaning than the direct expression of the obvious “you are black.” For such question assume inherent incapacity to comprehend language and skill that is either Western or American. That, to me, brothers, is racist than anything else.

In the second story, I was truly accused of not being university educated. So why did I have to fight that truth? If I didn’t like it, I would change it. However, with that and pursuing it further to the highest level possible, how should I view the rest? Not with contempt whatsoever! But with love, kindness and gratitude serve the people as I thank God for the opportunity for preparation for the service and humbly allow myself to be a servant of the people for my life remains meaningless if it does not change the lives of other people for the better.

Maybe what I need to tell my friends is that calling me black does not discriminate me, rather protecting me from being black does. I don’t care the intensity of my complexion or colour pigmentation. Besides, human nature is very complex. I have suffered more discrimination for being a Luo in my own country than being black in a foreign land. Yet being Luo is something I can never change, and will never desire to change. It is one of the things am proudest of apart from Christ in me. An old primary school friend, Fred Othola said I could not play soccer with them because I was brought up in Midika (a small lowly estate in Muhoroni) even though my dad had moved to staff where they also lived. He forgot that he was also brought up in Bao Quarters) as the name suggest – wooden structures) or was it Usalama (the one near the Company Dispensary)?

Some are discriminated against because of the school they went to…  sorry the school they never went to. The closer home you get the more discriminate it will get and the intensity of the discriminate feeling are only directly proportional to the frailty of your will. Even in Luoland we have Jokano (which I am), Jonyakach, Josiaya, Joloka etc. Even in Kano, we still have Jokabonyo, Jokombura, Jokakola and Kokolwa. Yet still in Kombura we still fight against each other in terms of Jokochieng, Jokadhiambo, Jokahongo and Jokamigele. Still, among Jokamigele, we still insist on being jokobudho and within Kobudho, we are distinctly Jokadongo and Jokadongo still see themselves as Jokasune, Jokakidha and jokobondo. In Kakidha, I am tempted to think highly of my father’s mom, Nyamolo than his step-mom Margaret. This continues, even within the household of my father, Omer where I might selfishly elevate myself above my brother Maxwell. It is only against the bondage of the will that we choose otherwise.

This then is the conclusion of the matter. Man will always be man. He will always naturally seek to demean others in every way possible, if only to redeem him of personal feelings of inadequacies. Now that to me is the apex of cowardice: whether racist, tribal, clanist or whatever level or name you call it. This attitude of comparing ourselves with others and trying to beat them in a game of our own mental invention in which we own the field, the ball, the goalposts, the whistle, the referees and the scoreboard is what I also called backwardness. Such games neither make it to my league nor do they disequilibrate my tranquility. The logic is, if he can’t face you; ignore him as long as he doesn’t falsely accuse you in a court of law. This principle also applies to gossip for why fight a coward? Why invest my emotions on an idiot, unless of course I am one and play in the same league.

Me

Do not go where the path may lead but go out there and leave a trail so that others may follow.

Born on October 7th, 1980, I am the third born in a family of five children. I grew up in small farm where my father taught in the local Primary School. I attended Church regularly and was an active member of the Sunday school class. I joined high School in 1995 and was a member of the Christian union where I regularly attended serviced and participated in various activities until 1996 when I realized that Christ had not called me to nominal Christianity. Thus in July 1996, I attended a Weekend Challenge meeting where I got convicted of my sins before God (1 John 1:8-9) and the hitherto consequences of eternal damnation (Romans 3:23). I thenceforth gave my life to the Lord Jesus and began a new life aptly guided by 2 Corinthians 5:17.

This information would be incomplete if I fail to add that I temporarily rejected this new found faith between November 1996 and mid 2000. During the same time, I perfectly fit in the description of a heathen, if not a pagan. The only thing that I did regularly was attend Church on Sunday (upon compulsion by my dear and most beautiful mother) and drink like a fish. Luckily, for me, I kept my sexual purity even at the hours when I was most drunk – something I pride in todate – even with the struggles and temptations that beckon me. This stupor did not last for long as the LORD’s promise is true that He will build his Church and no one would snatch it away from Him. Like the Simon Peter after his denial of Jesus, I too came to the realization that my life was worthless and dirty apart from Jesus. The more reason why I believe in predestination. Be ye it known also that I subscribe to the reformed tradition – a Calvinist of Calvinists – almost 7- Point, but i’ll leave it at five.

It was at this point that I sought mentorship and guidance and found this in my then digital Youth Pastor – Victor Owuor. We did not spend time together but I watched his steps keenly. This deliberate observation helped me to see wider scope of a Christian’s calling – that the Christocentric imperative does not spare but rather permeates all spheres of life. Since then it has been duly emphasized that I cannot live a rather compartmentalized life where Christ is conveniently kept in a briefcase and is only made handy during Sunday worship services and other emergency circumstances like sickness and death. Instead my greater ethic is that the Lordship of Christ is not negotiable irrespective of whatever circumstances I face in life. Thus I live a life of faith trusting him day by day that he will be faithful to the end as we wait for his return.

This love for Christ as well as trust in his imminent return propels me to celebrate the totality of life as I allow Christ to shape my faith in him. I am a proponent of radical Christianity and believe that either Christ is Lord or not at all – there is no partial Lordship at all. Martin Luther (the reformer) is my inspiration and I stand by his words: “Unless I am convinced by proofs from Scriptures or by plain and clear reasons and arguments, I can and will not retract, for it is neither safe nor wise to do anything against conscience. Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me. Amen.”

My opinion on any issue must first be shaped by Scripture before further analysis for I know that in God’s revealed word lies the eternal truth. I have also endeavoured, by the help of God, to faithfully respond to Paul’s call to submit myself as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God… Here I stand seeking nothing else but to glorify God in everything that I do. Thus in defining my career objectives and goals, I have always determined to explore avenues of authentic Christian Scholasticism if only to be able to exert viable influence to the society through the educational sector. This has been the guiding factor as I pursue my academic and professional goals, believing that as an authentic Christian I may be the only Bible that society around me may be able to read. I do this with all zeal and zest if only I may save a soul.

So what is my calling (life-purpose or life-task)? What burning passion has God placed on my heart to do for him in this life? What is the desire of my soul with respect to serving God now and in the future?
A life without a purpose is not worth living: our purpose is so much greater than our life fulfillment. It’s far greater than our own happiness or even our own peace of mind. I subscribe to the Westminster confession: “Man’s chief end is to glorify God, [a] and to enjoy him for ever. [b]” ([a]. Ps. 86:9; Isa. 60:21; Rom. 11:36; I Cor. 6:20; 10:31; Rev. 4:11, [b]. Ps. 16:5-11; 144:15; Isa. 12:2; Luke 2:10; Phil. 4:4; Rev. 21:3-4). My purpose is to know Christ and grow in his love as I serve him daily through constant investment in the lives of others. Consequently, I have the mandate to teach so that I can influence the society towards genuine transformation. As a guardian of morality in the society I live to ensure justice is executed equally to all humanity as deserved.

Towards the chief end of man I believe there is really only one standard by which our lives will ultimately be judged and that is whether we were pleasing to God. One is driven to the conclusion that it must be what we are and not what we do that really counts with the Lord. Thus, loving the Lord or enjoying the Lord or obeying the Lord or even accepting the Lord’s salvation in the first place—all these are means serving the chief end, which is to please Him. It was entirely of His own pleasure that we have been adopted into the blameless family of God (Eph. 1:5).

I might say that the other activities I engage in are only but subsidiary purposes that lead to the greater ultimate purpose; which is my chief end. Thus my call to faithful Christian discipleship, policy development and influence as well as teaching and writing, among other things I believe the Lord has called me to do, must be seen as just that: subsidiary purposes. It should appear that I should have fulfilled my mission in life when have been accomplished. Yet if; to complete this mission, I should become increasingly impatient of interruptions, neglectful of common household duties, indifferent to the needs of those around me, and unwilling to assume any of my responsibilities as a citizen, then the completion of this life’s work might have some significance as an end in itself; but if this life work is merely a means appointed of the Lord in order that I myself might in the doing of it become pleasing to Him, one would have to assess it as a failure. Thus, while there is a sense in which I may have a goal in this life and which I may come to look upon as that which all else must be made to serve, it is not really the true end. All our doings—casual tasks or life work—must be a means, never ultimately the end. In everything we do, the object must always be simply to please God. So, for the true assessment of a man’s life, one must clearly distinguish between the means and the end. If his life work is viewed as an end in itself; we may look upon it as a success. But if we look upon it as a means to a higher end, our evaluation of it might not be the same at all. What a man has done may be highly successful, but what the “doing” did to the man himself may be a very different thing.

I have concluded that the accumulation of wealth, even if I could achieve it, is an insufficient reason for living. When I reach the end of my days, a moment or two from now, I must look backward on something more meaningful than the pursuit of houses and lands and machines and stocks and bonds. Nor is fame of any lasting benefit. I will consider my earthly existence to have been wasted unless I can recall a loving family, consistent involvement in the lives of people and an earnest attempt to serve the God who made me. Nothing else makes much sense

Happy Mothers’ Day, Mom

Letter to my loving mother, Nyahero.

Dear Mom,

Today is Mother’s day and I just wanted to tell you that after twenty-eight years you still turned out well – actually the best.

Memory fails me perhaps because I am in the twilight years of my third decade. However, there are things, situation, circumstances and occurrences in life that my poor memory cannot just raze. First is the way you’ve made sacrifices on my behalf. I remember the day I was born – I know many do not understand, but you got to trust my memory this time – I was there – and this, nobody can deny! Anyway, I can’t comprehend the magnitude of your love. At the time when I was most selfish and quite preoccupied with my own self. At a time when I summoned every attention towards me and at a time when my self-esteem was lowest ever, you stood there for me and did not blame me for the minus feelings I exhibited.

Then I started growing up, and my mental condition changed from “you are ok, I am not ok” to “I am ok, you are not ok!” At this point, with the limited theories I had of life issues, I became my own master and ignored your advice and directives. In the budding of my youth, when other juvenile delinquents were my encyclopaedia of life, you kept your patience. You fed me and clothed me even when I constantly and unapologetically bit the same hands, beautiful mother, you never gave up.

So I chided your wisdom and confused it for backwardness as I pursued with passion the ignorance of my youth to my utter destruction and peril. Even then, you understood and defended me. I wronged you a million times, failed you and a myriad times but only you did not give up on me. You kept the faith and still fed, clothed and educated me. You loved me, even when the neighbour’s dog and all my friends next door had written me off – still in your heart, mother, you said “he is my son, I will love him forever.”

Some things you’ve done for me makes me wonder. I don’t know what it is that will ever take away the bond between us. Take for instance that warm day in 1989, the date and Month evades my memory. But one thing I remember, I felt lonely and rejected. Yes, totally discouraged. Then I was only a boy in standard three. The day had all started well. I had gone to school as usual, sat in class and excelled in the readings just like you and dad had taught and encouraged me. Then came the PE break and as usual, a boy played himself silly and forgot to spare the mandatory two minutes to visit the bathroom before class. The bell rung and back to class we ran. Unfortunately, the dictates of nature had no respect for my young and failing bladder. On the other hand Madam Celine had made her rules clear – class time was class time, I was not going to visit the bathroom at that time.

For some phobophobia, I couldn’t find my way out. And in defiance of my resistance, my bladder gave in to the pressure. In the twinkle of an eye, it happened just right there as I sat on my tiny wooden seat that had my name not so clearly written on it. First, it came with some warmth, then gradually it became cold and then I could not rise up from that seat – for reason every sane reader can understand. River Nyando formed underneath my desk, then it flowed towards come imaginary confluence and ended right before Madam Celine.

Meanwhile, the class was about to erupt in the usual chorus reserved for the big babies:

Baby analia analia analia
Baby ananlia maskini sana

Anataka mama yake mama yake mama yake
Anataka mama yake maskini sana

Ananyonya matiti yake ya mama yake ya mama yake ya mama yake
Ananyonya matiti yake maskini sana

Anacheza na mama yake na mama yake na mama yake
Anacheza na mama yake maskini sana.

But before this happened (which they later did of course), Madam Celine got Fatuma and her friend whom I can’t remember (they were some good girls in standard seven) to take me home. This was one of the most embarrassing times in my life. Until then, it was the only embarrassing occurrence.

Picture in your mind, an eight year old, partially overweight boy with a wet school pant walking down the road and with the unruly kids in the estate shouting “kafati amekojoa! (the fat one has wetted his pants). This is the scandal they went on to use against me whenever they wanted to ride on the beautiful blue tri-cycle that Nimisha had given to me. They would threaten to sing the song and off I would jump from the bike.

Well, before that, my main concern was what would mummy say? The mother of all mothers was the most gracious ever. She bathed me in warm water and told me not to worry about what those other stupid kids will say assuring me that after all I will still be her son. Yawa! yawa! yawa! What can a boy give to his mother to express gratitude? Even then, when my whole world seemed to be crumbling, there was one person. Just one person who would never let any harm come my way, physical or emotional.

Then I became a teenage and my mental orientation shifted to the “I am not okay, you are not okay state.” At this time, when I was struggling with puberty and acceptance. Trying to make new friends in a new town where my family had just moved. Nobody else was as understanding as my mom. I joined many useless groups of equally stupid boys and deed every stupid thing and got an equal share of negative reinforcement (discipline) for my misdemeanour. Yet, with all they symptoms of a crooked child, mama never said die. You still loved me regardless.

My lowest time in life, I must confess was in 1995. I had just finished my first year in High School when you fell very ill. Mother you looked so frail and you could not walk. At such times in life, you had always been my only source of inspiration and encouragement, yet there you were, laying helplessly in bed. Who was I to turn to? It went from bad to worse when the rumour spread like bush fire. They with sticky mouths unashamedly announced before my presence and those of my dear sisters and brother. They said, “your mother is dying of AIDS.” What an inconsiderate lie to speak before an innocent boy who is already wounded from the sickness of his mother. Battling cancer in Kenyatta Hospital, with a surgery on the Christmas day of the same year – some idiots dared to dampen my heart. But I remembered your words, never to give up in life. By then you had also taught me that I must never let other people’s opinion about me become my reality.

God of heavens, that was the most scary time in my life for if you had called her yonder at that time, only heavens know what I would have turned up to. But mother (as we all call her, including dad – of course with a Luo accent as if to refer to the female leader of the Leggio maria sect) you came back strong and determined, proving the will power to fight is more than true, and effectively marking the second and important chapter of my life – the life of a fighter. I learned that if one just fought hard enough, then nothing would be impossible. Today, you have lived beyond the stupid ones who baptised your cancer AIDS at a time when that word was anathema.

In 1996, in your bedroom i shared with you my life dream of being a shepherd and you were delighted and encouraged me to go for it. Later on life took me here and there but you prayed for the promise and it came to pass. Mother, your prayers have been the engine that has driven us this far. Your diligence and consistency and your unrelenting emphasis on simple virtues like honesty, integrity, faithfulness, love and kindness cannot be taken away from the very products of your loins. I am sure, my siblings can say with confidence that those who never had you as a mother are nothing else but unfortunate.

Now mother, I have one more request, that at twenty-eight when I seek the mother of my children on this great Mothers’ Day, pray that she also will turn out just right like you have.

Now for you there is nothing I can give. Silver and gold have never been your desire but a virtuous life you desire, and that by the help of God I will forever strive. To bring to you, a name that never shames. That in your twilight years, when you are a grandmother of so many, you will look back and smile and prove God’s promise to be faithful. That, my pretty mother, is my pledge for you on this glorious mothers’ day.

You loving son who is striving to turn out just right, I love you mom.

Now, excuse me if you will readers. I got to call this super nyako…

WHO DROPPED THE BATON?

I am sure you will finding this article by Njonjo Mue both intellectually stimulating as well as soul capturing. Please journey with Njonjo as he explores what I call “Kenya’s Only Undoing.” Your feed backs and constructive criticism are welcome and encouraged.

The race to nationhood is not a one-person race But a relay in which all citizens must run a leg. As Kenyans take stock of their race so far, A new generation urgently seeks to know…

Kenya is a country of runners. Even in the darkest times of our history, our light has shone bright on the tracks of the world as our boys and girls raised high the proud banner of Kenya in various stadia around the globe.

Kenya’s true ambassadors have not been the dull men in gray suits presiding over the bureaucracies of our missions abroad, but countrymen such as KipKeino, Paul Tergat, Samuel Wanjiru, and Martin Lel, and women like Pamela Jelimo, Catherine Ndereba, Elizabeth Onyambu and Justina Chepchirchir. They represent us more than our appointed career diplomats especially because, like us, they are ordinary people – soldiers and policemen, prison warders and workers, teachers and students – many of whom rose from poverty to conquer the world, most lifting themselves up by their own bootstraps. They
epitomize all our hopes and dreams.

But Kenya knows more about middle-distance, cross-country and marathon running than sprinting; and not just on the track. For we as a nation have been running another race, which we don’t seem quite to have mastered yet despite our prowess elsewhere. It is significant that Kenya has rarely won a
medal in the relays. Equally disappointing has been our lackluster performance in the relay race to building true nationhood.

Our race began with the advent of colonial rule with such luminaries as Me-Katilili wa Menza and Koitalel arap Samoei. Waiyaki wa Hinga was also among those courageous daughters and sons who grabbed the baton and led a generation of Africans in refusing to be deluded by the novelty of the white-skinned strangers who spoke in guttural noises as they started to construct the iron snake that had been prophesied about by the seer, Mugo wa Kibiru; these early runners were unimpressed by the fancy material that covered the strangers’ pale bodies which claimed superiority over the warm and simple animal skins that had covered our nakedness since time immemorial. They were non-committal about the new religion that was part of this strange package from a land they had never heard of; and as they began our race to nationhood, they were unwilling to accommodate the strangers except on equal terms.

But Waiyaki did not run very far. The baton was cruelly snatched from him and he was eliminated from the race for daring to oppose the strange new order that was quickly entrenching itself in the name of Queen and Mother England.

But it was not long before the yearning for liberty manifested itself in the heart of another young man. Harry Thuku quickly grabbed the baton and ran elegantly if impatiently. He engaged the colonial oppressor with the suave sophistication of African pride. In 1922 he marshaled the nascent forces of freedom into a procession in Nairobi. But those who thought that they could stop the train of freedom did their worst, opening fire on unarmed demonstrators and shedding innocent African blood. Many who ran with Thuku fell that day while Thuku himself was banned from the race and incarcerated in a far-away detention camp. The baton fell and for a while, we wondered whether, with all the foreign forces marshaled against us, we would ever complete this race.

But a young metre reader with the Nairobi Municipal Council got off his bicycle and quickly picked up the baton. And a great crowd of witnesses cheered Johnston Kamau Ngengi, running under the nom de guerre of Jomo Kenyatta, as he ran his leg with rare determination. Years of exile in the very country whose rulers he was opposing at home did not deter him. He took the baton to Speakers Corner in Hyde Park and cut a lonely figure in the wintry chill as he made an impassioned plea before a hostile crowd for the freedom of the black race. In between the laps, he wrote about how African peoples had organized their races before the disruption of those who thought it was their God-given right to show other peoples a more civilized way of running. After enduring several winters and a world war, he returned home with pomp and ceremony to continue running his leg and he was enthusiastically joined by other daughters and sons of the soil.

By this time, the field was becoming a bit crowded. The colonial master tried to ignore the fact that our race to nationhood was on, but the sheer din from the crowd could not easily be brushed aside. On October 20th 1952, our first team of top runners was rounded up and along with Kenyatta, Kung’u Karumba, Alfred Kubai, Achieng’ Oneko, Bildad Kaggia and Paul Ngei were sent to prison.

For a while, the baton lay still at Gatundu where it had been abandoned in the silence of midnight.

But the momentum towards Uhuru was unstoppable. Oginga Odinga refused to pick up the baton, insisting that the star athlete would have to come out of prison and complete his leg before Jaramogi could contemplate running his own. The crowd of witnesses defiantly continued to occupy the stands and agitate for their runners to be set free. They formed KANU but refused to be drawn into negotiations on alternative ways of completing their race until their team was made complete by the release of their jailed runners.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, another part of the race continued to gain momentum, but this one was not so neatly structured. Field Marshall Dedan Kimathi and General Mathenge led other sons of the soil in Mount Kenya and Aberdare forests, showing the colonial master what the alternative to letting Africans complete their race would be. The Mau Mau were not running their race with batons, but with home-made guns, their makeshift stadiums drenched in blood. They were answering fire with fire and, though they knew they were no match for the might of the British army, they were equally aware that their own race would suffice to make the enemy know that she could not possibly hope to govern an ungovernable people.

The message struck home and, at the dawn of a new, hopeful decade, Kenyatta and other detainees were finally freed. James Gichuru gladly handed the baton he had held in safe custody back to the star athlete and our race was on again.

Our grand medal ceremony was held at Uhuru Gardens in the midnight hour of 12th December 1963. The people deliriously cheered in unison as the Union Jack was lowered for the last time, and the black, red, green and white banner of a new proud nation danced contentedly in the crisp new air of freedom, keeping careful watch over a newly freed people against the triumphant sounds of the new national anthem which invited the God of all creation to bless this our land and nation. This magical night marked the triumphant completion of the first leg of our race.

Thereafter, for a few years, our race progressed remarkably well. The team grew with the spirit of the young nation. Nor was it mandatory to merely cheer Kenyatta on as he ran his leg. For others came in to play their part. Jaramogi stepped in as Kenyatta’s able deputy while Tom Mboya organized the famous airlifts to America to help prepare a new generation of runners to continue running the race once the current one was ready to pass on the baton. In due course, Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, who was not entirely happy with how the star runner was running this race, decided to switch and contribute from the other side of the track; Bildad Kaggia, too, fell out with his erstwhile compatriot-in-arms and eventually retired to a quiet life in the countryside. So did a disillusioned Joseph Murumbi who did not let the trappings of power as Kenyatta’s new Number 2 blind him to the fact that things were not going according to the original plan. In time, Daniel Moi was anointed to sprint alongside Jomo and prepare to take the baton once the latter called it a day.

But there were signs that the race was not going well at all. Pio Gama Pinto and Tomas Joseph Mboya were gunned down in Nairobi for daring to get too close to the baton. Ronald Ngala too died under mysterious circumstances for looking like he was planning to run a leg. Jaramogi Oginga Odinga, Jean-Marie Seroney, Martin Joseph Shikuku were all hauled into detention for having the temerity to suggest that this race could be run differently. Ngugi wa Thiong’o, too, was locked up when he suggested that the crowd of witnesses should actually have a say in the way that the race was being run and should be allowed to cheer in their own mother tongues. James Orengo, George Anyona, Chalagat Mutai, Chibule wa Tsuma, Koigi wa Wamwere, Abuya Abuya and Mashengu wa Mwachofi, were contemptuously dismissed and labeled as the ‘seven bearded sisters’ for their spirited attempts to call the runners to run in the direction the people who chose them had collectively agreed.

The nation began to wonder, wasn’t this precious baton the property of the people? Did not many give their lives to get it where it was? Did the people not have a say as to whom their relay team should be? Why then were Kenyatta and company behaving as if they, and only they, knew how best to run this race?

Josiah Mwangi Kariuki asked these questions a bit too loudly and too often. He was found dead and mutilated beyond recognition in a lonely forest in the outskirts of Nairobi. The people, looking through teary eyes, started to lose interest in a race they no longer felt a part of. Still, Jomo and a cabal of political mafia continued to run and to cheer themselves on. Our star runner refused to hand over the baton even when he should have finished running his leg, preferring instead to bump off all the able runners we had lined up to take over from him. He kept running the race in our name even when we had walked out of the stadium in disillusionment and disgust and found something else to do to occupy our time.

On August 22nd 1978, exhausted and old, our erstwhile star athlete dropped dead, and the baton lay lifeless in the resort town of Mombasa. There was temptation from among the ranks of the favoured bystanders to pick it up and run for themselves. But one Charles Mugane Njonjo pushed his chosen successor forward to pick up the baton and run a leg. The people, thinking that they had taken back their race, stormed into the stadium and enthusiastically picked up cheering where they had left off. But the few who understood this game saw the early signs of trouble, as one Sharrif Nassir declared on our behalf that we had already chosen our next star runner without so much as giving us a chance to have our say.

It was not long before the nation realized that this race had developed a life all of its own and no longer depended on the people for legitimacy. Moi started off well, releasing political detainees “that their children might not suffer.” But he completely went astray after five years. In his efforts to get away from Njonjo, who was now chasing him and demanding to run a leg himself, Moi ran right out of the stadium and mapped his own route, following his footsteps to nowhere, far from the madding crowd.

The people, left staring at an empty track, were rather bemused when they were reassured by VOK (later KBC) radio and TV that the race was indeed going quite well. Yet they could not see their runners for they had bolted right out of sight and were making their own rules as they went along – no opposition parties; introduce Section 2A; disband the entire air force; shut down universities at will; jail and torture dissidents at whim; introduce 8-4-4 by force; vote by queuing. “It’s our turn to eat, wapende wasipende; put up or shut up!”

And yet the so-called people’s representatives continued to go in and out of the people’s august House, studiously ignoring the immortal words etched at its entrance. These words sought, in a still silent voice, to remind them that the only reason they were sent there by the people was to find strategies on how our race to nationhood might be ran ‘FOR THE WELFARE OF SOCIETY AND THE JUST GOVERNMENT OF MEN.’

Meanwhile, after successfully evading Njonjo’s challenge, the runners re-entered the stadium as if to complete a marathon, and alas, the whole nation was surprised to realize that it was Biwott, and not Moi, who was now holding the baton, though the latter continued to wield his precious ivory scepter and to faithfully mouth the words he was fed by his Total Advisor.

At the end of the 1980s the nation was again rising and asking for their baton back that they may continue running their race to nationhood. But the new boys on the track would hear none of it. They invented all manner of ‘enemies’ as a pretext to banish and jail, torture and kill, all who looked like they might want to run a leg.

Robert Ouko’s only crime was being too eloquent in defending the very runners who were later to brutally murder him. He was found dead and burned beyond recognition on a lonely hill near his rural home. The runners told us that he had committed suicide by burning himself alive and then shooting himself dead.

Alexander Kipsang’ Muge dared to be too vocal in suggesting that there were other sons and daughters of Kenya who might like to run a leg. But he at least had the benefit of being forewarned in public by one of the runners that if he visited Busia that day he would “see fire and will not leave alive,” words that sadly proved all too prophetic for the young Anglican prelate. He was abruptly cut off in his prime by an on-coming truck.

But fortunately, not all voices of reason met the same sad fate. At the dawn of the 1990s, Henry Okullu dared to call for an end to the one team monopoly in the running of this race. He was joined by another courageous prelate, Timothy Njoya. Oginga Odinga’s voice had never really been silenced. Others came to join the chorus of disapproval at the way this race was being run.

1990 proved to be a watershed for our race. Two gentlemen who had shown their prowess in the world of business and politics, Kenneth Stanley Njindo Matiba and Charles Wanyoike Rubia, threw down the gauntlet and dared Moi to declare who this baton and this race really belonged to. The chorus had reached a crescendo as the nation defiantly organized trial runs at Kamukunji and elsewhere in the country in what has been immortalized as Sabasaba Day.

But those who had hijacked the baton were not about to give it up so easily. They brought the full might of the State into the makeshift stadium and stopped the people’s race in its tracks. Many innocent people fell that day. Harry Thuku must have winced in his grave, distraught at the sight of a black government shedding innocent African blood in scenes reminiscent of what his adversaries had done to his team in 1922.

A year la later, special running advisers by the name of the Paris Club pointed out the absurdity of running a race without opponents. The runners, posing for breath at the Kasarani Gymnasium, decided to introduce a form of competition by repealing section 2A of the running rules. But they then set about erecting all kinds of obstacles on the lanes they would assign to their opponents. Not only did they control all the resources of the State, they also insisted that even to go for trial runs around the country, the opposing teams had to apply for permission from the very people they were seeking to take the baton from.

The much expected 1992 tournament proved to be a sham. The divided Johny-come-latelys clearly stood no chance against the self proclaimed professor-of-politics with all the might of the State behind him. The racetrack had been designed in such a way that only one team could win. Alas, we had entered a treacherous leg of this race. We would be forced to cheer the illusion of a competition; coerced to participate in a race in which we really had no part. Over the next five years, the monies we had painstakingly saved in our shared chest for the welfare of society and the just government of men and women was squandered on buying runners from the opposing teams and organizing wasteful mini-races to fill the places they left vacant in a wasteful power game.

Nor was the crowd of witnesses guiltless of wrongdoing. With their leaders fighting and haggling over who would wield the baton, the people became like sheep without a shepherd. Poor and confused, they turned to looting their own land at every chance they could get. Others were used by the wealthy runners who turned brother against brother in a desperate attempt to stop the baton from passing on to a new generation.

This race had began with a bang; would it end with a whimper?

As 1997 approached, some thought salvation might be found in Kitui Central. “Run, Charity, run!” they cheered the charismatic daughter of the land who had taken the country by storm. But the field was once again too crowded and the various chants drowned each other out in a cacophony of confusion allowing the star runner to romp home yet again. That round left the whole nation exhausted and wondering whether running this race was worth all this trouble.

In 2002, our reserve runners seem to have finally caught up with the spectators who had all along been urging them to unite to snatch the baton from the old runners and their neophyte protégé, infamously dubbed ‘Project Uhuru’. They came together in a strategy that seemed to offer a glimmer of hope and the stadium erupted with the thunderous sounds of “Yote yawezekana bila Moi!”

This time, cheered on by the crowd of witnesses led by Jaramogi’s son who declared with finality, Kibaki Tosha!, Mwai Kibaki snatched the baton from those who had killed and maimed to keep it in certain hands and, for a while, we thought that our race to nationhood was back on track. We ran with new confidence believing that indeed, after the 24 year reign, we could finally behold the rainbow.

But our celebration was short-lived. For soon we started hearing murmurs from some of our new dream team about a dishonoured MOU. Before we could understand how the new runners planned to run their leg, there was a great falling out from the ranks of our chosen team and they were running helter-skelter in different directions.

A discussion on the new Rule Book in 2005 was turned into a battle of the titans with some runners urging us to approve it and others to reject it without really explaining why. The orange team won on the field but were rewarded by being expelled from the track altogether.

As the country approached the 2007 stretch, the race had turned ugly with the runners using unorthodox means to retain or get the baton by all means necessary. One side told us that their opponents were thieves and had stolen enough, while the other side tried to convince us that the state of a particular part of a runner’s anatomy was an important determinant for choosing the next team captain. The stage had been set for the spectators to turn on each other at the slightest provocation.

That provocation came from the team of referees who could not say with certainty which team had won the right to lead the race for the next five years but did not hesitate in announcing that Kibaki would continue to wield the baton. Chaos broke out all over the land as angry and disappointed citizens turned on each other in the battle for supremacy and the words Post-Election Violence, IDPs, Power Sharing and Grand Coalition Government were quickly added to our political lexicon. God Himself had to mercifully intervene by sending us an Eminent African Personality by the name of Kofi Annan to calm our extremely frayed nerves and save us from ourselves. Now we have entered confusing times of our race to nationhood with the baton being wielded by two runners at the same time even though an eminent South African judge told us that neither could with certainty be shown to have won the right to lead this latest round.

But even as we try and extricate ourselves from this latest hole that we have dug ourselves into, another truth has begun to strike on the edges of our consciousness. Could it be that while we slept, the baton – the REAL baton that was passed on from Me-Katilili and Waiyaki to Thuku, kept in safe custody by Gichuru, held by Kenyatta, touched by Jaramogi, eyed by Mboya, glimpsed by Kariuki, wielded by Moi, defended by Ouko and shared by Kibaki and Raila – could it be that that baton may have been dropped somewhere along the way and surreptitiously substituted with a fake one? Might we have been cheering the wrong team all along and fighting for the wrong prize? For the goal initially was to run our race with distinction, each runner gracefully passing on the baton at the end of their leg, until we finally reached the finishing line of true nationhood. But anyone with eyes can see that our stadium has long since been turned into a battlefield of gladiators where there are no rules and where our national motto has become not just survival of the fittest, but of the most greedy and corrupt.

Where will our salvation come from? Will it be in the re-writing of the Rule Book? Will it be in organizing a whole new race? Will it be in continuing to kill, steal and destroy and just declaring that the last man left standing is the winner?

Or will it be in stopping this mad race to nowhere and acknowledging that we have been chasing the wrong baton; in painstakingly walking together back to the place where not one person really knows, but to the place where nonetheless our collective future lies; to the place where the true baton has been left abandoned.

We may not easily agree where that place is, or who really dropped the baton, or even whom to hand it over to once we find it to lead in running the next leg. But these are challenges that we can face together.

The choice for Kenya at this hour is clear: we can either run together as brothers and sisters, or we can continue running along the destructive path we have taken, and perish apart as fools.

Amkeni Ndugu Zetu…

Njonjo Mue

Nairobi
4th May 2009.

Mukangala

Whatever that Luhya word means. It is my most recent fascination. Mukangala is quite an iteresting peace of music. It is relaxing, humurous and helps me to just sit back, relax, forget about the heap of assignments and just get lost in the mix.

Do Not Hide the Pregnancy Because it Will Show Anyway

I love all mothers. They not only have the enormous task of sheltering the unborn for nine Months but they also mother us. Mothers provide some kind of refuge that only nature can explain. I read somewhere recently that one way of discouraging abortion is to take the patient for a scan and allow her to see the living foetus in her belly. When a woman sees her child and realises that she is about to kill her own baby – I don’t know what happens but somehow her maternal instincts tells her to say no. I am told this method has worked effectively to discourage abortion in many parts of the US.

I know almost nothing about pregnancy apart from the fact that it is is quite visible and obvious to the public. I also know that it’s cause more than often is obvious to everyone – though of late the rate of invitrofertilisation has been on the rise. What intrigues me is that many young girls often try to hide their pregnancies as if it was something that they could hide for ever. The problem is that the more time advances the more the evidences speaks for itself. Things are made worse by those who are discouraging and abusive to the young girls who more than often are victims of circumstances- albeit their ignorance.

I am speaking of the so-called unwanted pregnancies or rather unplanned pregnancies, lest you get me wrong! I am not going to support or castigate this kind of pregnancy but want to say emphatically that once it has happened let it be. Ignoring the obvious cause (Of course invitrofertilisation is by choice and only a lunatic would hide or abort) should be the inevitable as you focus on sustenance and development of the new being. So girls, don’t press these dear ones too hard with the waistline of your trousers – if it were in my hands I would prefer the old fashioned maternity dress for I hear it is way too cormfy.

I also want to advice the mothers and guardians of these dear ones that it once their babies choose to explore their mothering ability your antenna should rise high and remember the priority of your daughter’s safety over the sanctity of the family’s name. This is the major undoing of especially religious mothers. They think so much of their tarnished images at the expense of their daughter’s lives that they end up endangering their lives.

This attitude may breed two possible scenarios. Case one, the mother would always rush to procure abortion. This happens especially with those of the liberal wing who think that they run the monopoly over morality and that they can twist the wand at their pleasure. This is not common in Kenya but is increasingly on the rise. The other scenario is quite common, recurrent and most dangerous. The mother hides the daughter. Somehow the girl is kept away from public reach – maybe to her aunt far away. Most of the time this aunt could be some woman without family as those with families would always say that your daughter could be “a bad influence to theirs.” This groups of mothers is the kind that I choose to address today.

If you choose to keep the baby – which is the right thing and is my preference – then keep the babies please and give your daughter a life. You don’t even have to start a new lecture on premarital sex because she already has it. If she drops out of school, please don’t call the new angel a “school certificate” for you don’t know what they may become – including but not limited to being the president of the United States. Hiding the girl may kill her morale and permanently damage her esteem. Alternatively she may overreact and end up being the disgrace you were evading in the first place. Overall, girls, avoid unnecessary and unwanted pregnancy at all costs because it surely comes with its baggage. But if you get into it be ready and willing to carry it forever. Remember the irresponsible man will always keep aloof. You may even think their transcendence on the situation is godly. Pregnancy is always a challenging thing to the mother. I admonish even the married couples to exercise caution before they decide to have their babies and when they do they should be ready to bear the full responsibility.

So I say, even if a child is conceived through rape or whatever keep the child and nature him well. History will treat you kindly for that – trust me it will. You don’t have to be religious to think right.

Now to my main point. We have a child – Kenya who was conceived through rape (a stolen election and an ensuing violent protest thereafter). There has been a pregnancy for the past one year and the gestation period has not been a beautiful one. To make matters worse, the two culprits got into an unholy matrimony (Grand Coalition Government) to solemnise or rather conceal this unplanned pregnancy and make it look legitimate, enshrining it into the constitution in the name of the National accord.

My readers may recall this mantra that I have always quoted – Peace whenever possible truth at all costs. I still stand by it. During the Post election violence, a dear friend sent me a short text message saying “People are condemning about the violence but they are legitimising the theft. Where is our morality?” Today I still insist that the ODM truce was a facade, a political blunder and a betrayal to the citizenry and I’ll get to that later. For now I’ll stay on the analogy of the hidden pregnancy.

Not too long after the Peace Accord was signed an unanimously voted for into the constitution cracks begun to shown within the GCG. Questions of the pecking order, security details, housing office and staffing for the PM, communication within government, role of the Prime minister and VP, Appointment into government departments and State corporations, pursuing the reform agenda among many other things begun to arise. Instead of being forthright with Kenyans, the PM took us for a ride and told us that the GCG is running smoothly with just a few teething problems which would be ironed out with time. He kept defending the performance of the GCG and said he had a cordial relationship with the President and that they met and consulted regularly which begs the question, how then does he keep implementing things you have not agreed about.

I know that your intentions of hiding the tension from kenyans was genuine – you hoped that one day you would successfully convince Kibaki into reforms. But Raila your judgment was wrong. A pig would only give birth to a pig however long or short the pregnancy. You see, some mothers, after hiding their pregnant daughters, try to cheat their husbands that the daughter is just visiting an aunt and that she would be back soon. The pregnancy of the young girl is kept from the father until it is too late when he is asked to contribute some cash for the hospital bill – normally this happens when there is a medical emergency and an urgent operation has been done without his consent.

Most mothers when asked would retort “But Baba Nani, can’t we discuss this after our daughter has received her treatment? Let us deal with the situation fast.” She does this hoping that the man will cool down after seeing his bouncing grandchild – and surely some do. Others however, take offense and rightly so.

They argue that the pregnancy is a disgrace but most importantly they say that they have lost trust after having been deceived for nine months. They question what more would have done without his knowledge. You see, a daughter’s pregnancy may be devastating but nothing is worse than an unfaithful spouse.

So this mother may be very faithful in her marital obligations – she might even be a serious Church mother, but this one instance of dishonesty may be the beginning of mistrust in her marriage. And I think the man would be right to distrust her from thence forth. Other women may argue that the man is suspicious for nothing – that he is reacting out of an isolated case – but hey! What with the woman not trusting him in the first place with the information about the daughter’s pregnancy? So who sowed the seed of distrust?

Raila Odinga has been in this game with us for a while  so even though he says that his hands are, it is him who tied  himself into an unecessary illegitimate  marriage when he endorsed a pregnancy that wasn’t his. So now it won’t matter to us anymore that his election victory was stolen. He legitimised it hoping that the marriage would be rosy. He even kept assuring us that all was well when we knew for sure that this girl Kenya was carrying a child from an incestuous relationship. Nobody cares anymore that the girl was raped long after the truth has been kept away from the stakeholders. This, unfortunately, is bad for the girl who will still be in need of some therapeutic intervention having gone through such an horrendous ordeal.

So Baba Fidel today is confirming that the pregnancy we have always suspected is in fact real. That in fact he has always been lying to us – albeit with good intentions. But his means has failed to justify the end and so he is going back to the drawing board. Too bad Bwana Tinga. You remain badly exposed and the game is to portray you as a whiner who cannot function in government. You see, your strongest selling point has always been reforms. By taking away your ability to implement them and making it look like you are in fact an complicit to the corrupt deals you remain screwed. But again you are a politician – I only wait with baited breadth to see the way you do your thing.

Meanwhile, now it is clear to all Kenyans, including the toddlers and the blind (I mean the myopic type – not downplaying the intellect and other faculties of the physically challenged) that mother Kenya is carrying a child. The birth pangs have begun. Are we ready this time? Will we fruitfully deliver the baby? Or is it going to be another still birth? And what are we going to do with the illegitimate Child?

To the spiritualizers out there, this is not an allegory.

I am sure you have not learned any lesson. I have not either and I didn’t intend to any way. I am just whining.

Leaders of Tomorrow

In October 1980 when I was born my dad was barely 28 years old. He had gone to school with the promise of tomorrow’s leadership. He was a Primary School teacher having trained at Shanzu Teachers Training College, thanks to his elder brother, Fred, who while a student at Mombasa Polytechnic had applied on his behalf to join the Institution. So my old man, now 57 retired as a School teacher three Years ago. He confides in me that his brother and other surrounding forces had prevailed upon him to abandon his A-level studies and join the Teachers Training College since there was urgent need for leaders of tomorrow. He obliged and faithfully pursued this new calling and was admitted to the Teacher’s Service Commission’s Payroll in 1978, two years after which I was born – a bouncing baby boy also with the promise of tomorrow’s leadership.

My Primary and Secondary education was faithfully pursued during the Nyayo era with even greater promise of tomorrow’s leadership. Meanwhile, my poor old man stagnated in his teaching profession waiting faithfully for his tomorrow to come so that he too could lead. So he taught and taught then abandoned  his employer TSC and moved to Muhoroni Sugar Company where he continued to teach in the Company School. Somewhere down the line – I don’t know how it happened, but it did anyway – the man was working in the security department of the company. It was a probation period so I am told. Somebody help me understand, how a teacher becomes the head of watchmen… it didn’t make sense then and it still doesn’t to date. Anyway, the poor man did not finish a month as a head watchman (whatever it was, i am not even sure what his work was then – besides I was too busy trying to become a leader of tomorrow that I had not time, let alone ability to investigate the mystery) before he was transferred to what was then called training and development office.

He worked in that department for two or three years (memory fails me) before he suddenly announced to me his sudden resignation. I bet the old man figured out that he had no business masquerading as a middle-level company manager without any meaningful training for it. Methinks he must have been idling in that office and he saw no sense in earning a pay wrought from pure boredom and petty gossip. Though he tells me that he resigned because his conscience would not allow him to sign a document that acknowledged receipt of construction materials for a departmental building. Turns out the materials never made it to the company but to a bar one fat cat was building in his hometown.

Anyway he made amends with his former employer (TSC) and was reinstated as a teacher, a capacity he served in till his retirement not so long ago.

While all these were happening, I was also climbing the academic ladder with due diligence (well I joked a little bit and was expelled from three High Schools and ended up being a semi-private candidate). I begun my undergraduate during the Moi era but completed during the Rainbow era. You see, the Nyayo era was disillusioning that I just went to college because of many other becauses. But when the Rainbow revolution came, I thought, wow! here comes the culmination of my dream – there will be employment after all. Finally I am going to be a leader of tomorrow. Of course you all know what happened: the more things changed the more they remained the same. Octogenarians were hired and maintained as technocrats at various government departments and State Corporations. So while my dad was retiring at 55, being declared unable to instruct 10 – 15 year 0lds, the Muthauras in the 70’s or 80’s, whatever, were solidifying their positions in government. My hopes for tomorrow’s leadership once more ebbed away from me.

What I Did Not Get Right

So I have been asking myself whether my tomorrow will ever come. Many people having been working towards becoming the leaders of tomorrow and they have greyed without realising this dream. So is the question about the actual coming of tomorrow or the understanding of leadership. Maybe what I need to understand is what I am supposed to do when I finally become the leader of this so elusive tomorrow. And how do I become this leader?

Well, like the poor Jehovah Witnesses who had twice predicted Christ return without success and on realising their delusion decided to explain away their fairy so will I. The witnesses now say that in fact, Christ indeed returned as predicted. So they say they were right about the time of Jesus’ second return but were wrong on the how of his return. That Jesus indeed came, though no one saw him.

That is how I will explain my leadership and by extension my pap’s leadership of tomorrow – or is it yesterday? You see, I will not be elected into any contestable office, neither will I work for any state department or corporation – I have determined not to even if the position was brought before me with an additional offer of a tractor, a fleet of landrovers and a private jet. Nonetheless, I realise that I have immense capacity and opportunity to influence life – both of individuals and society at large. That sphere of influence is what I call leadership. I can count individuals whose lives have changed for the better because they met me – or rather, i met them. Well, there may be some whose lives changed for the worse because we met – either in my days as an obnoxious teenager or in my latter days as Young adult.  An acquaintance of mine once retorted: “I won’t let you be the agent of discouragement in my life.” There and then I stopped teasing this little girl who was my schoolmate. I learned therefore that whatever it is that I rub into individuals, will trickle down to society – and that, my friends, is my leadership contribution.

So my old man need not wait to be State House tenant to fulfill the mantra of “tomorrow’s leadership” because for one he will never but also most importantly there is no leadership in that house. The people we call honourables are in fact dishonourable rulers and not leaders. Leaders show not only how to do stuff but also why stuff is done. Rulers on the other hand, demand that we get things done – things that most of the time they don’t even comprehend an inch. Figure out assistant minister Kalembe Ndile giving an ultimatum to his “juniors” that he wants a whole KWS director to report to him early in the morning whenever a goat is eaten by a lion. We have that breed all over and we call them our leaders – leader my foot!

I still insist that leadership begins in the tiniest social unit – family. When my Father spanked me back in the 90’s because I had not defended my brother when he was being beaten by some juveniles in the estate I took him as a cruel man. Five or six years ago he addressed my brother and I as his closest allies and admonished us not to part ways and to be mindful of each others’ welfare. He also said he would forgive anybody for anything but will never listen to anybody who hurts his wife who is my mother. What my father was doing is called training. It was not mere instruction, it was giving direction. Simply put, my dad taught me that a man’s responsibility is to defend his wife at all times. He is also responsible for educating his children – both formally and informally.

Apart from training his own children my father was entrusted with the responsibility of instructing other people’s children. This year alone, I have talked to his former pupils, now professionals in India, Netherlands, Spain, Sweden, here in the US and back home in Kenya – all expressing gratitude for his role in their lives. Of course there are some bitter ones whom he spanked. Well, he spanked me more and I am not groaning or mourning about it. One pupil, Nimisha called and told me how grateful she was to my dad who had taught her English. She narrated that while in Grade 5 my dad asked her to read a comprehension passage before the grade 7. She adds that the experience boosted her drive and desire to learn English more. When she went back to India, she had her first job as an interpreter and has since then advanced into other fields. I called my dad to tell him the sweet stories I have been hearing and I could tell from his voice that he was crying. He was too excited that he couldn’t say anything but cry – thanking god that at least his feeble efforts count after all.

So even though he paid my school fees, the greatest benefit I got was from the periodic spankings when my conduct and character were unbecoming. The reminders of family value and unity, love and respect will never leave my mind. Therefore I can say that he satisfactorily led his family into adopting the value system he espoused. That is leadership. He may have failed in many other things (like he may have realised too late that I only bow to reason – that the more I am  physically the more troublesome I become) but that is debited to his finitude as a fallen creature – man.

So today I don’t like hypocrisy and lies. I abhor laziness and injustice. I loathe slanderers and hate immorality. These things my dad led me to believe that they were wrong. He was a leader to me yesterday and remains one today. So yes he was a leader all this time after all. My mom also played her motherly role and is equally a great leader in her own right. She still helps young women to grow up into women that are respectable. Long live Nyombei.

In a similar pattern, I will say that indeed tomorrow’s leadership surely comes – but it starts yesterday. I needed to have defended my brother against those thuggish kids of Shikuku. I know better because now my brother defends me when I am in need. I will be counted as a leader tomorrow based on what I started doing yesterday.

And with that I have abandoned my plans to join the monastery. Like Luther, will storm the convent, get myself a mamasita and make babies whom i’ll proceed to lead. I want to have my family and make them an example of good leadership and governance. My children will not have to learn from Society’s poor leadership – I teach them to follow me as I follow Christ.

I resolve to love my wife more. To love my children more. To Love my God more. To love my neighbour more. That to me is leadership.

Martha’s Impeccable Track Record: An Imperative to Differ

Dear Martha,

Many have undertaken the unnecessary path to venerate you as Mother Karua since your declaration of higher political ambition. I find this a contradiction in terms since your mothering ability in your family itself is questionable. But that is something we may discuss later, if you are willing.

For today, I am compelled to write you this important letter. Kindly take time to read and give serious thought to the pertinent matters raised herein. I know that you have a busy schedule, especially now that you have embarked on the presidential campaigns that is still four years away from us. But again, you are the justice – or is it injustice minister – you can change the constitution when you want, right?Anyway, read carefully as you prayerfully consider abandoning your premature ambition for Kenya’s top office.

Martha, I have told you before but it seems you don’t take advice – unsolicited or sought. You will not be Kenya’s president..No! Hapana. Neither will the other old folks and noisemakers, and comrades in theft – Tinga, UK, Ruto, Mudavadi, Saitoti, Wiper. None of you qualifies on any ground…well, I take that back, only age and recent compromises disqualifies Tinga.

But as for you Martha, your fate was sealed way back when you compromised your personal morality.

Your problem is that of confused morality – almost somewhat hypocritic. Reminds me of Odili in Chinua Achebe’s “Man of the People.” Quite a moralising character – running around castigating Chief Nanga for embezzling public funds and womanizing. True, it is – Chief Nanga was a disgrace – very immoral and uncultured – just like many of your fellow colleagues in the cabinet and parliament. They steal both money, maize and oil. They also murder and rape – literally.

Yet that doesn’t make you saintly either – only a superficial juxtapositioning by your myopic supporters portray you as saint. I haven’t heard of any case of inordinate embezzlement of public funds on your side but I can’t rule that out either. But is embezzlement of public funds the only criteria for defining bad governance?

I beg to differ. You have in the past made serious mistakes that compromise your sexual morality and regard to family… This tells us much about your values. You see, the fact that you abandoned your former husband in your characteristic fit and and rage – maybe because you argued on some thing- whatever it was – important or not (thats your problem – people disagree in their marriages but still make up for it) is reason enough to suspect that you could easily abandon Kenyans if the citizenry proved adulterous or idolatrous ( I use the two words to stand for political abandonment). Your inability to tone your language and respond with a level of diplomacy obviously qualifies you more as a college team cheerleader than a CEO of any professional organisation.

Worst still, is the previous media reports and rumour that is still going round to date that you have an ilicit affair with a religious leader who is supposed to be a celibate. You see Martha, that complicates the situation more for you. Everybody knows that at one time or the other every human being wants to love and be loved. But they also understand that this love factor comes with responsibility. You can’t have your cake and eat it. If you want to enjoy the benefit of sexual relationship you must take the conventional and culturally accepted path of pure matrimony. But you see dear Martha, it has been universally accepted through history that man is the head of the family. Therefore, engaging in holy matrimony means that you take your rightful place as woman – a wife and mother – in the family. This prevails regardless of your power and stature in the public domain. If you think I am joking ask madam Specioza Kazibwe, the former vice president of Uganda who still received a few slaps on the chick from the husband despite being surrounded by state bodyguards.

I know this is tough for you and you would rather die than submit to the authority of a man. And I agree with your attitude and character and that is why I am advising you to forget about it completely.

If you cannot aptly sought out petty family conflicts, how on earth are you supposed to solve an international border conflict? If you have failed to aptly run the tiniest social unit, how will you run a nation? If you can’t stomach divergent opinions among your peers – how much more are you handicapped in handling media and public scrutiny and criticism?

Education is not the only qualification for a good governor – in fact experience tells us the opposite. If Amin governed Uganda with absolutely nothing between his ears, I bet even Kalembe Ndile qualifies with at least a higher degree of good sense than most of you. He has a better Wanjiku eye view – a pertinent ingredient that is obviously lacking among the current political elite of our day. I believe that with determination and good advice he would do better. And this does not obliterate his buffoonery – I am just using this extreme example to draw a severe parallel and show you how far from the track you have run – otherwise, apart from being comical, I don’t know what else is in Kalembe. Yet even as you question his grasp of pertinent issues that pertain to public policy and governance – you and I know that that is the reason governments employ technocrats – or didn’t Moi and Kenyatta employ the most brilliant of technocrats to think and write speeches for them – unfortunately for both, they killed and maimed most of these people.

The zenith of this open letter is to draw your attention to the fallacy and emptiness of your hypocritic behaviour, at least as it seems to me. While you seem to be strong in opposing institutional corruption, something that I laud, your weakness lies in your partial understanding of morality. Just like the Odili character in Achebe’s novel, you may publicly condemn corruption. You may decline to take bribes and kickbacks (though I highly doubt that) but in the night you are running around compromising the same morality that you claim to defend. Odili, castigated Chief the honourable Nanga for corruption and immorality. Yet he had been sleeping around with his college sweetheart, slept with the white man’s wife and was running hysterically after Chief Nanga’s bride. Thus even though he refused to taking Nanga’s bribe, his morals remain absolutely questionable and to me that abrogates his fight for good governance. For what is good governance with wanting morality? Ask Bill or King David – they have a story to tell.

Since you declared your intent to run for the highest office in the land, I have followed your supporters with bemusement. I have noticed that your candidacy draws its largest support from a bunch of mature (I mean agewise – most seem to me to be mentally and psychologically unstable) single women. This is a worrying trend for it seems to suggest that disregard for the social institution is after all a great idea. It in fact almost portrays it as fashionable and trendy. Martha, a good woman is the one that show younger women how to care for the family. Even hens know this better.

Martha, what I am saying is that if you want to run for the presidency first make your family an example. We are not willing to be experimented on anymore, as you can see the grand coalition experiment is after all a fiasco.

Please note that of all the aspiring candidates, I saw you worthy of this advice. The remaining wannabes are non-starters. UK needs to graduate from thuggery and drug addiction, and Ruto must equally grow up from thuggery and hypocrisy. Saitoti, like Raila has reached political menopause, but most importantly he is a bitter man whose only goal is to prove a point to Moi. Mudavadi has never been his own man and he shares with Saitoti the heavy burden of the goldenberg scandal. Wiper is a non-starter – he stands for nothing or do you know of any? He is also a hypocrite and a coward. And of course who are Wetangula and Bifwoli? Tinga still seems to be the constant revolutionary but again as I have mentioned, recent political compromise and age are his political undoing. Or wasn’t it said that “peace whenever possible, truth at all times.”

Other things you need to work on Martha include, interpersonal relationship, communication, deportment (try to put a smile), “winning by losing” – I mean you don’t have to have the last word in a debate – I know you are a woman but so are the others in parliament – Sally, Jebii, Mirugi, Laboso etc. They state their points and move on – but as for you, you are unnecessarily irritating. Once in while go to Church and learn one or two hymns (they are soothing to the broken heart). Seek a therapist and deal with your past – it helps to be free.

Finally, we just want to start afresh. All the current political office holders should be banned from holding any other public office come 2012. Give Kenya a clean slate and we will build from there.

Perfect, Unfailing Answers…

Way back in High school when I was preparing for my History paper II and Geography paper II I found these answers very common to every and any other question. Take for example. List the hindrances to economic growth in Kenya. What are the challenges of deep sea fishing on the East Coast of Africa? List some of the challenges to horticultural farming in Kenya. All these questions could be well answered thus:

1. Poor infrastructure

2. Lack of technical knowhow

3. Limited manpower 

4. Poor government policies

5. Political marginalisation

6. Exploitation by middlemen and corruption

7. Lack of capital

8. Lack of political goodwill

9. Neocolonialism

and the latest: Post election violence

The same answers can be given in response to the following questions:

1. What are the reasons for increased crime rate in Kenya?

2. Why can’t Kibaki and Raila tackle corruption?

3. Why are we going hungry today?

4. Why is there no electoral commission in Kenya?

5. Why are many adults unmarried in Kenya?

…and now to a more personal level:

1. Why are you not working?

2. Why don’t you have a wife?

3. Why are you mad at your wife?

4. What is wrong with your boss?

5….and you can think of any other question… they are pretty much answered above regardless.

So They Want to Censure Martha?

With Kenyan politicians playing to the gallery who needs comedians? And why I hear yes and neighs in response to the recently proposed Karua’s censure motion? Why take sides in battle that is no battle at all?

Let me set the records straight. If I was in parliament I would have vehemently opposed the Karua censure motion for only one reason. I would have argued that since motions or no motions makes no difference as the censured ones will still find their way back to the cabinet, there is no need wasting time going through the most recent parliamentary routine, or should I say custom and tradition?

Being a more honourable “mweshimiwa” than others, grossly aware of the camera that is pointed at me in the most poignant of positions, I would take advantage and make my constituents know the fabric I am made of. Of course this is in total ignorance of the proverb “a fool is wise till he opens his mouth.” Yes, I would eloquently aver that there were are more important and urgent things that beckoned our “wisdom” than discussing a “mere woman.” I would further argue that it is backward, retrogressive and amounts to first degree cowardice trying to kick out a woman whom we all know is as good as a lame duck in so far as the presidential political contest is concerned. So the “brilliant mweshimiwa” I am will prevail upon the male legislators to show some courage and decorum by totally ignoring discussing a woman whom we all know can be tamed by just one man. You see, the cultural fabric that enclothes us has given us this undue mileage over the feminine gender. So being obviously ahead in the race, we need not waste our limited time, energy and other unqualified resources “killing a mosquito with a sledge hummer” as one PLO once put it.

I know that this stupid argument (being the kind of stupid mweshimiwa I am, I will obviously not see it as stupid but as the epitome wisdom) will be thunderously applauded by fellow stupid “male wasioheshimiwa.” I can see honourable “Fulani” cheering wildly, even though he is aware that he did not fairly beat Mama Mboga in the last parliamentary election. Another dishonourable member will take advantage of the ensuing commotion to wink at another female legislator whom he has been admiring since the opening of the 10th parliament but he has never mastered the courage to tell her so. You see this coward MP is after all a clever chap, he has foreseen the introduction of sexual harassment policy in the house and does not want to be caught in its web so he displays his not so refined morals in a concealed wink as he takes advantage of the prevailing situation.

Just then my eye catches glimpse of my “fellow learned friend” who is staring at me in a manner likely to suggest that I have not mentioned an important point in the argument. Since I am too slow to remember what we discussed last night (as a matter of fact, I was drunk after my third round and couldn’t wait to take away my recently acquired ndogo ndogo (the recently declared Miss Something – I don’t know what?) so I had switched off the conversation at that point. Indeed there was nothing to remember) I ignore him and continue to hammer home my point.

My learned friend then whispers something to the ears of mweshimiwa Mamba who promptly proceeds to raise a point of order. The poor mweshimiwa reminds the house that the character who is the subject of today’s debate is no child play. He proceeds to remind the house that the honourable in question is known for her venomous attack on the male species and gives an example of her chasing away her former (now late) husband from their matrimonial home and proceeding forth to hire a fellow male legislator as her official handbag career. Before he can ask fellow legislators to support the motion, the honourable Madam rises up on a point of order and the rest is history.

Being the wise honourable I am, I had come to the house with a “non-partisan” open mind (read, I had eaten on both sides and feared being busted by either side or I am just plain stupid and cannot stand my own ground in a debate, like you know who from Mwingi). I know some of you skeptics are saying that I have nothing between my ears and cannot tell the difference between the yes and no in any discussion so normally I play the pacifier.

Derailer warning…

That reminds me of this village shylock I have always wanted to blog about but I keep procrastinating. Anyway word has it that he did not go to school and he even failed in a welding course since he could not read the tape measure. When advised to consider a driving school he plainly rejected the advise. Anyway, what would you expect of one who cannot ride a bicycle yet he is from Kano plains where every nine year old  – male or female, rides a border border. The problem with the shylock is that he owns many bicycles that were deposited as security by his debtors but they defaulted. Anyway, that is story for another day. What i wanted to say about this man is that he buys two newspapers on a daily basis. Of course the who village knows that he cannot read but that does not deter him. I love that spirit! Well, he carries his newspapers in a certain angle that invites passerbys to loudly read the headline. From there on he gets his first content of the day’s news. When he gets to a local joint he puts his paper on the table and starts to lecture other patrons on the subject of the headline. Meanwhile other people are reading and commenting on more articles in the paper. Once he has gathered enough information for the day, he is set… the poor man will proceed forth to lecture everything he finds along his way – including goats and sheep. So who is the fool? Need he go to school if he can get the information without reading? Methinks this jolly good fellow is a clever chap. Somebody said knowledge is having the information or knowing where to get it when you need it. Huh!

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

Back to our censure motion, I will not argue like I suggested above for two reasons. The most obvious one is that though I may indeed be stupid, I am not a mweshimiwa. But the second reason, which is the bane of this post is that we need the comedy. Kenyans elected the MPs to serve them and they are doing this pretty well. The only “small” problem is that they are serving us in a way that we did not expect. Well, neither did they themselves expect the same – it is just a product of their buffoonery. They have ignorantly set up a theatre in our dimly lit living rooms. It seems the gods are recompensing us for our all hard work without play – an they are using our Fraudstars (Politicians).

You see, it is very backward to argue that they are wasting our time debating useless issues whereas there are important things to discuss – Post-election violence (I don’t know what about it to discuss), the internally displaced, famine, Mungiki, extrajudicial killings, corruption and impunity, Land Reforms (Who owns the large tracts of land all over the country), Migingo Island, Harambee Stars’ allowance, and many other important things including majimbo (yes, I said majimbo. It needs to be discussed thoroughly and with utmost sobriety without drawing unnecessary sentimental arguments based on selfish intentions and desires of “stakeholders” (thieves). If it is not discussed in sobriety we will see another war in 2017.

I know that these are important things to discuss and resolve but being a student of history I know that I will be an empty debe (tin) – calling for political responsibility on these matters. It is sad to say that our political fraternity is made up of hypocrites, then thieves and haters – nothing else. Or didn’t you ever read that man is the only animal that remains your friend when he intends to eat you until when he has eaten you all up? That is the best and only description of our politicians. They are anthropoktonos – Greek for man eaters. Literally they are.

Scratch my back I scratch your back

The Kenyan political class is one big family of thieves also known as “majambazi”. They are just but thugs! They are rapists, thieves, murderers,  – every other sinful adjective describes them. Since their sins are all inclusive they use the principle of “scratch my back I scratch your back” or didn’t you see the way Ruto and Kiraitu covered for each other? Lucy, Saitoti and Kibaki are also another example. Formerly Biwott and Gor Sungu (you remember the theatrics “are you threatening this commission now?) at the Ouko Commission of inquiry.

And so you want to censure Martha? Martha is no saint, That much I know. The blood of many Kenyans spilled early last year as she played supremacy war making inordinate unfortunate statements that only continued to spark anger amongst warring groups in the last election. Or didn’t proverbs teach of a good answer calming anger and a bad response fueling it? (Proverbs 15:1). So Martha is equally another guilty one and she can do nothing to make her saintly – nothing whatsoever. Like the other obvious murderers of her political class, she is equally a culprit. Yet Martha is not worse than most of her colleagues in government. In fact a comparison gives her much credit and relief. It is this game of comparison that makes her look like a saint in the eyes of many – including herself and Mungatana. I mean, with the obvious scandals of the Kiraitus, Rutos, Kimunyas, Saitotis, Uhuru, Mudavadi, etc isn’t Martha holy?

Apparently the answer is obviously yes to many Kenyans. But wait until you find out how these people scratch each others’ back then you will know how deadly they are. Start with the one Ababu Namwamba who is pushing this motion and ask him about the maize scandal (is this what he is covering) or about the legwork hewas doing for Martha just a few months ago – how much was he paid and what went wrong? Or talk to that Simon Mbugua and ask him about that Car Bazaar near Nyayo Studium. Mbugua who the other day was dodging cameras in court – a lawbreaker like Mbugua wants to censure Martha? Ah! Go and read about the adulterous women whom Jesus saved from stoning. Remember his words “If you are not guilty cast the first stone.” Response: They all walked away from the eldest to the youngest.

So it all goes round and round. The censure motion is indeed meaningless to Kenyans and so are other insignificant debates. In fact the only value we get from our parliamentary proceedings is entertainment. In fact they are so effective that we may not need theatres for the next four years. Consequently, the ministry of Culture should be disbanded as all the MPs are serving effectively in this capacity.

That is the only reason why I support the Karua censure motion. I know that I will be treated to an exciting comic play, though not original because I am sure Ababu will bring on the same old lines, Mbugua will not speak in parliament ( he doesn’t have the head or mouth to do that apart from when he is calling Luos pepo mbaya kutoka Nyanza), then Charles Kilonzo will remind Karua that she has only one degree before Khalwale seals it with the submission that Martha has no husband while he and other honourables have wive, children and postgraduate education. But Martha will put up a spirited fight claiming that her University of Nairobi Law Degree is in fact stronger than Kiraitu’s Degrees from Harvard. She will mention that she is a Mother, a parent and a Women’s leader and that the motion will hurt her innocent family and friends. I am not sure what Mungatana will say this time, but I am certain he will talk. Ruto will pretend that he doesn’t play in such leagues. Uhuru will have generously distributed cash before the motion and will be nursing hangovers during the proceedings. One thing is for sure though – He will vote yes for the motion.Wako and Ringera cannot and will not say anything but the motion is most blessed by them.

Of course Martha does not have many friends so she will lose the motion to the rogues but who will go ahead and demand for her resignation. Martha will reject the calls and the next day Mungatana will call a press conference where he will threten to reveal the crimes of those behind the censure. The next weekend they will head to the Coast where they will make declarations in a poorly attended rally and Martha will still declare her candidature for the presidency come 2012 as if the Grand Coalition Government has the balls to last the next two weeks.

Kenyans will watch the debate, some live, others in the news bulletin. People will discuss the censure in the streets. The Civil society will call for a demonstration demanding Martha’s resignation and a few idlers will walk down the streets chanting Martha must Go! There will be no drama and most Kenyans will still go hungry. They will forget about Martha and look elsewhere for somebody to blame for their hunger.

Then the next censure motion will come and it will go and we will still be hungry.  Meanwhile a few more scandals will be brewing in one ministry or the other. Too sad!