A
frisson of expectation runs up and down my spine when I imagine the
epic disaster that is to be Kenya's most expensive televised debate. At
sh.100 million, Kenya's media houses have risked it all to give Kenyans a
glimpse at how shambolic and unprepared we can be, even in our vaunted
private sector. As of the morning of The Debate, some of the more
confident candidates were yet to visit the set or run through their
lines, and the "moderators" were building up their own confidence by
predicting a "debate on the issues".
As with the Nairobi governors' debate at the Strathmore University, the choice of Brookehouse School smacks of elitism and exclusion. The Brookehouse School is an institution of learning that rivals the best private schools of the world. It is clear it was chosen because it already has much of the infrastructure required for international broadcast. But it is still a terrible mistake to use it as the background for the debate at which one woman and six men will be seeking to lead a nation in which 60% of the population has no hope of ever setting foot on the hallowed grounds of the school, except as labourers or paid servants.
The trappings of power are what the Kenyan media would like to portray to the world. Their aim is not to showcase that our politicians have come of age; it is to prove that Kenya can play at the same level as world powers and up-coming world powers. Our private schools and private universities rival the best in the West and rising Asia. Our presidential motorcades rival those of the POTUS (as the US Secret Service acronymises the title of the US President) or of the Premier of the People's Republic of China.
Rather than be honest with ourselves, and the rest of the world, we choose to pretend that we are the rising power we are not. Rather than beam to waiting eyeballs the reality f the Kenyan Republic in its year of jubilee, we choose to broadcast images that lie far better than words could. We have created the impression that Kenya is the one in which young people attend the Brookehouse School and the Strathmore University; rather than a Kenya where quite frequently school-going children do so in hunger (and sometimes, starvation), tattered clothes and low expectations because quite often, again, there is no school, or teachers or books. Those that manage to survive these childhood challenges, among a host of others, usually do not qualify to join the increasing numbers of our state-funded universities that are over-crowded, underfunded and managed like the personal tribal fiefdoms of their quite shockingly often mercurial vice-chancellors. Those that do make it to university against all odds, like Prof James ole Kiyiapi, often have to contend with a system that is decrepit and in need of reinvestment and re-invigoration.
Julie Gichuru and Linus Kaikai expect to moderate a debate of ideas; it is more likely they will have to contend with massive egos unused to having uppity Fourth Estate types hold them to account. Or they will fold, as they have in the past, and lob soft-ball questions at all the candidates and perpetuate the myth of media neutrality in the coming general election's outcome. Disaster, at least, will be entertaining.
As with the Nairobi governors' debate at the Strathmore University, the choice of Brookehouse School smacks of elitism and exclusion. The Brookehouse School is an institution of learning that rivals the best private schools of the world. It is clear it was chosen because it already has much of the infrastructure required for international broadcast. But it is still a terrible mistake to use it as the background for the debate at which one woman and six men will be seeking to lead a nation in which 60% of the population has no hope of ever setting foot on the hallowed grounds of the school, except as labourers or paid servants.
The trappings of power are what the Kenyan media would like to portray to the world. Their aim is not to showcase that our politicians have come of age; it is to prove that Kenya can play at the same level as world powers and up-coming world powers. Our private schools and private universities rival the best in the West and rising Asia. Our presidential motorcades rival those of the POTUS (as the US Secret Service acronymises the title of the US President) or of the Premier of the People's Republic of China.
Rather than be honest with ourselves, and the rest of the world, we choose to pretend that we are the rising power we are not. Rather than beam to waiting eyeballs the reality f the Kenyan Republic in its year of jubilee, we choose to broadcast images that lie far better than words could. We have created the impression that Kenya is the one in which young people attend the Brookehouse School and the Strathmore University; rather than a Kenya where quite frequently school-going children do so in hunger (and sometimes, starvation), tattered clothes and low expectations because quite often, again, there is no school, or teachers or books. Those that manage to survive these childhood challenges, among a host of others, usually do not qualify to join the increasing numbers of our state-funded universities that are over-crowded, underfunded and managed like the personal tribal fiefdoms of their quite shockingly often mercurial vice-chancellors. Those that do make it to university against all odds, like Prof James ole Kiyiapi, often have to contend with a system that is decrepit and in need of reinvestment and re-invigoration.
Julie Gichuru and Linus Kaikai expect to moderate a debate of ideas; it is more likely they will have to contend with massive egos unused to having uppity Fourth Estate types hold them to account. Or they will fold, as they have in the past, and lob soft-ball questions at all the candidates and perpetuate the myth of media neutrality in the coming general election's outcome. Disaster, at least, will be entertaining.
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