How safe are we?

I do not know how much of the things I buy are actually safe for me to use. They all have labels with information about their constituent part and essential ingredients. Many of them bear marks of quality. Nearly all of them are sold from my retailers of choice, Uchumi Buru Buru  and Tuskys Eastlands. But I do not know if they are safe to use.

It was never thus. Even in the boring 1980s. It was never thus. I remember coming to Nairobi on a visit when I was a child. Farmer's Choice sausages were a treat my father would arrange every time we came to the Green City in the Sun, bought from a food-tuk tuk. (Yes, there were tuk-tuks in Nairobi even then.) I was an observant child; I do not remember the white lab-coats of the vendors ever being filthy. And I remember all their vehicles had permits and licenses stuck to their walls. Street food was sold by licenced vendors who took pride in looking neat and tidy.

I am unwilling to risk gastroenteritis today. Every food vendor on the street looks like they were in a riot with a hundred pigs in a sty. They are incredibly filthy. There is absolutely no doubt that few of hem see it as honourable employment to sell food on the street. Therefore, they treat their customers with casual disrespect. That many of their customers do not care seems to prove my point.

A few months ago there seemed to be an epidemic of alcohol-poisoning. Adulterated alcoholic beverages were sold to unsuspecting Kenyans. many died. Many were blinded. Many others suffered debilitating injuries and may never recover their former health. John Mututho, the indefatigable head of the National Authority on the Campaign against Alcohol and Drug Abuse, NACADA, swung into action and raided the premises of manufacturers and directed other government agencies to investigate the provenance of the toxic beverages. What was notable was the loud silence of the Kenya Bureau of Standards, KEBs, and the National Police Service, the two principal agencies asked with keeping Kenyans safe.

The KEBs standardisation marks are almost useless these days. Not even John Mututho thinks they serve any purpose when adulterated or counterfeit products are awash in the market. There is great to profit to be made in the adulteration and counterfeiting business, and the greatest profits are to be made from the middle classes. It is not improper to wonder what proportion of the products sold in their swanky malls would meet the standards prescribed for them according to law. Whether it is baby formula or fluorescent bulbs, mobile phones or electricity generator sets, the risk of adulteration and counterfeiting can no longer be ignored. If you haven't asked yourself this question yet, you must live the most charmed life or in most abject poverty.

My scepticism is not the result of my customary whingeing. It is a realisation that, to quote Jonny Carson of the United States State Department, choices have consequences. Elected representatives select and appoint the bosses at KEBs and the National Police Service. These bosses have done a crap job so far. They will plead political interference, but that will no longer wash. They played political games to get hired in the first place. If they sucked at political games they would not be bosses in the first place. They should be able to do their jobs without squealing every time Aden Duale or any of his excitable parliamentary colleagues sticks a finger in their eye.

Because of the doubts about my safety, I am unwilling to expend oodles of my hard-earned money on things that I would really like to try. I hesitate every time I reach for my wallet, even if what I am buying is manufactured under the banner of a trusted brand. Because of Kenya's politicians I do not trust that my Blue Band, Vaseline Intensive Care Lotion, Pilsner, Coca-cola, Marie Shortcake, Kimbo or Aquafresh will not kill me in a matter of hours after use.