The Fantasy of Civilisation

Someone, somewhere still lives in the fantasy world where Kenya is a member of the civilised world, where alcohol is a "beverage," not a drink, and people imbibe, not "drink." Someone is still holding out hope that "pubs" will be "respectable" places of leisure with clearly demarcated and notified smoking and non-smoking zones. Their fantasies run to visions of bar "staff" in clean uniforms, muted sounds, light banter, comfortable bar stools, privacy-enhancing booths, well-lit and watered "facilities" and clearly marked closing hour. In Kenya, fantasies are how we justify the twang in our accents, the syntactical gymnastics we engage in and the air of superiority when interacting with the yokels from Uganda, Tanzania, Rwanda, Burundi and South Sudan.

Is it not time that right-thinking Kenyans shattered those comfortable fantasies? A teeny-tiny elite in Kenya has the capacity to behave in a civilised manner. And this elite is not restricted to the pale-skinned wazungus hiding their family histories from the history books; there are many quisling families with roots in the colonial era that have surmounted their traitorous histories to become respectable and civilised. It is this elite that was "shattered" when terror visited the Westgate; it is this elite that appreciates the foundation histories of the Karen Country Club and the Muthaiga Golf Club; it is this  elite that spends hundreds of millions every year importing only the finest bone china, European motor cars and tutors for their sprogs; it is this elite that can differentiate between 10-year old and 12-year old single malt whiskey. This elite is an entirely different tribe of Kenya, the forty-third tribe.

We, the great unwashed, are not civilised and are most definitely uncivilisable. It is a harsh indictment for a group that would like to believe includes a middle class. (There is no middle class; we are all working stiffs. Some just make a decent fist of it than others.) We may pretend to be offended and turn up our noses and roll up our windows when we drive along Landhies Road, but we are very comfortable parking our ex-Dubai Mercedes-Benz in the middle of Haile Selassie Avenue and elbowing our way through the crowd at Wakulima Market just so we can get a decent bargain on the waru, sukuma wiki or nyanya. We are very comfortable on the benches in choma zones and "joints" with illuminatingly uninspiring names like Mwenda's or Njuguna's. And we have no qualms screwing over friends and family for a fast shilling.

It is why those who are praying for the day that Kenyans will leave en masse the "illicit" brews behind are waiting for hell to freeze over. This is the level of civilisation many of us will accept. We will not notice that the "quality of service" related to our unregulated tipples are marked by "unsanitary conditions". We really won't. What we really care for is that where we drink, when we drink and with whom we drink are completely in opposition to the written law; the law is a mzungu institution and we don't really acre whether it binds us or not. we will do what we will do because we know that the price for doing what we are not supposed to do is always settled on the streets...or with the help of wachawi and waganga. Mututho and his NACADA can destroy as many barrels of chang'aa as they want but so long as we consider him and his law and his precious NACADA to be illegitimate, many of our friends will continue to drink fire and "succumb to methanol poisoning."