Ni uchawi ama nini?

Last month, in an inexplicable act of generosity, my employer decided that it would be a fine idea for me to carry on my official duties in Zanzibar. So, as is wont with these sorts of things, the procurement manager swung into action and secured a return air ticket for yours truly. It would be four days of "work" in one of the more desirable destinations in East Africa and I was prepared to enjoy every second of it. Outbound, I was flying a Dash-8 aircraft operated by Precision Air (which was owned lock, stock and barrel by Kenya Airways). Inbound, it was one of KQ's rather enjoyable Embraers.

Flying, I had forgotten, especially flying with KQ, requires the forbearance of a saint.

I am renown for arriving at the airport before time. Way, way before time. Three hours before. I am not missing my flight because of Nairobi's spectacularly bad traffic. So, kama kawaida, I checked in three hours early, checked in my sanduku, obtained my boarding pass and moseyed on to the departure lounge (Gate 14) and prepared to wait. By now I am so used to the security checks that I don't pay them any mind any more, even though they happen to be the stupidest procedures bar, maybe, the ones at Bagram Air Base. What I didn't know, and what the nice KQ person didn't tell me, was that Dash-8s are small and that there is always a chance your sanduku will not travel in the same flight as you.

Terminal 1-A used to be a wonderful place to wait for your flight when it was new. It is no longer new. It is no longer nice unless you are one of those "priority" passengers or have access to the Business Class or First Class lounges. Those of us who fly Cattle Class must contend with uncomfortable seats, harsh lighting, bad food, and a mysterious smell that seems to pervade the entire building. It is a strong, persistent and nausea-inducing smell. The kind of smell that lingers long after you've escaped the confines of the smelly place.

There was no drama with boarding, even though at one point one of those hi-vis-jacketed KQ people couldn't seem to understand why the plane wasn't parked where it should be and he took a perverse pleasure in yelling at whoever he was yelling at on the phone that "Kama ni kulipa ni wewe utalipa!" The flight was uneventful: bad food, turbulence, a smell, kama kawaida. Landing was no biggie. Customs? Smooth as snot. Baggage claim? Yeah, all of you who were sitting to the right of the plane, your bags are in Nairobi! Or Dar es Salaam. Or lost.

It took me an hour of bugging the bored-looking security guy to find out that you report your missing baggage to that other guy who will fill out a form, take down your accommodation details (if you can even remember them) and arrange for the bags to be delivered wherever you are. Yaani it is so kawaida for Precision/KQ to leave bags behind in Nairobi that the "baggage services" guy has developed a super-thick skin from all the unhappily loud travellers he has had to deal with over the years.

My hotel was marvellous (save for the food and the fact that on the third night, I shit you not, the restaurant caught fire when they were fiddling with the wiring - it happened to be the only night I went in for a meal. It was my last. But the suite was perfect. Large without being cavernous; small without being claustrophobic. And cable TV. Boy did I laugh at the very madnesses of the talking heads of Fox News. Hannity is particularly hilarious.

As in Nairobi, so too in Zanzibar. My flight back was scheduled for 9:00 am. So obviously I was at the airport at 6:00 am. Once more, security, baggage-check and check-in were smooth as greased lightning. 9 came and passed. Then 9:30. Then 10:00. No KQ. No explanation. At 10:30, with the lounge now packed full of sweating travellers, destined for all points of the globe, the KQ rep finally showed up with a bunch of vouchers - for snacks. Then, and only then, did he go into this long-ass soliloquy about a passenger who had been stricken on the KQ plane so that it to had to divert to Mombasa and that the passenger had kicked the bucket and that...he went on and on and nobody cared. I swear if it had been a rugby match and he was playing for the other side, someone would have kneed him in his jewels. The plane eventually arrived at 12:15 pm. Like a Forward Travellers Sacco matatu - without an apology or an explanation.

The worst was yet to come. We landed in Nairobi on time, more or less. We cleared immigration swiftly, more or less. Then we got to baggage claim and the bags were nowhere to be seen. For forty-five minutes we stood there like idiots watching as one mechanic after another entered the hidden places of the conveyor belt and hammered things into place while swearing at each other. Yeah, even the "priority" passengers na wengineo wenye mienendo kama hayo were forced to wait, and wait, and wait. The final humiliation was the single x-ray machine operated by the nice fellow from the Customs Department - for checked in bags, not hand luggage - where another queue of fuming humanity formed. When we finally burst out into the sunlight, it was trending towards 4:00 pm. When the day began, I was going to get  home at 11:00 am.

I don't know how KQ is still in business. It must be some kind of uchawi, I swear, because the shit it is doing these days to its customers defy reason or explanation.

Maybe

Eliud Kipchoge has built a legacy that is almost unassailable. He is truly the King of the Marathon, the greatest there has ever been. Kenyans are justifiably proud of him. We admire his discipline, focus, sacrifice and determination. Many of us pour ourselves into our goals with the same sense of purpose and destiny; many of us are hamstrung from the get-go, but we forge on because we have faith in ourselves, our abilities and the vision of our lives.

We can no longer say the same with a straight face about the men and women who sit atop the tower of power - ministers of government have been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, or their pants down, or both; ministers of religion have perfected the art of separating Kenyans from the contents of her wallets as well as the love and trust of their families; education administrators are guilty of failing in the basic principle of educating and are no longer in expanding the realms of knowledge because of their race to the bottomline of ever-fatter profits from their "customers". Our faith in a just and proper government has been shattered and now we stand alone to face the future with few positive prospects. And yet, as Mr Kipchoge demonstrates, we can still change the world.

Maybe we are not yet lost. Maybe we can still be inspired to do great things. Maybe we can still rebuild that which has been rendered asunder. Maybe we can seize the future that is rightfully ours. Maybe, just maybe, Mr Kipchoge is not the only one to show us what can be achieved despite the challenges that are strewn across our paths.

Moi's hashtag warriors

"MOI was a serious political adult; fully in charge of the national homestead he headed. He genuinely cared for National Unity, running a Govt largely representative of the face of Kenya. He fully protected our territorial borders. History will judge this man kindly. #MoiDay" - Linus Kaikai

I am part of the generation that came of age during the Nyayo Era. We mouthed the Nyayo Philosophy of "Peace, Love and Unity" and recited the "Loyalty Pledge" (whose words escape me today) with fervour. I quaffed down "Maziwa ya Nyayo" without a care in the world and I performed in the national celebrations of "10 Years of Nyayo Era" with thousands of the members of my age group. The one constant back then was Baba Moi - after all, Voice of Kenya dedicated fully two-thirds of its news broadcast to Baba Moi. He was everywhere, all the time. He was, indeed, a "serious political adult".

Mr Kaikai elides a few details, however, when he declares that "MOI...genuinely cared for National Unity, running a Govt largely representative of the face of Kenya". Take the manner in which Moi was "fully in charge". Along Kenyatta Avenue is Nyayo House and along Loita Street is Nyati House. Both are infamous for the number of Kenyans who passed through their basements, especially those that never saw the light of day. "Wagalla" and "Wajir Airstrip" are names of places that cemented Moi's reputation of being "fully in charge". "Land clashes" and "ethnic cleansing" gathered political currency because Moi was so determined to forge a Government that represented the "face of Kenya" at all costs.

Mr Kaikai, and many of the Kenyans singing Baba Moi's praises, confuse a lack of civil war in the 24 years of Moi's rule with peace. Murders of dissidents and rivals were a small price to pay for peace and stability. Corruption on an industrial scale - whose effects are felt 17 years after Moi left office - was a price worth paying for a Government that reflected the face of Kenya. Territorial integrity guaranteed a crumbling public education and public health systems whose coffins, the Jubilation is nailing the final nails into. Baba Moi's shadow looms long over our collective national fate - the outlook is bleak.

Moi's Government represented the face of Kenya only if the face of Kenya was one characterised by an avarice that was almost comical. To be fair, when Moi said that he was going to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor, he did exactly that when it came to land. But this grab-as-much-as-you-can philosophy came at a high cost: millions of landless Kenyans have passed on their hardships down to the third generation with very few escaping the poverty trap Moi's land policies built for their parents and grandparents.

When history writes Moi's obituary, it will only be kind to him if it only states, "He ruled Kenya for twenty-four years" and left it at that. The truth, while "complicated", is not that difficult to recall. The Nyayo Philosophy of "Peace, Love and Unity" was not so much about national unity but about self-preservation at all costs. The footsteps that Moi was following were laid by Kenya's first, and only, president for life. The philosophy called for a massive security apparatus to control what the people said, what they read, what they wrote and what they thought, and when that failed, it exacted punishments that ranged from low-degree harassment to more permanent solutions for which proof has always proven elusive. Linus Kaikai's #MoiDay call to arms is a reminder that though many Kenyans paid a high price for the Nyayo Philosophy, a small cohort became fat off of it.

I just hope

Before my current bailiwick, I worked for an amazing committee. I was green. I was...obvious. But it was an amazing experience. I got to travel. All over Kenya.  The only places we never visited during my time with them were the troubled bits of Turkana, West Pokot and Wajir.

My first trip was to Kisumu - KisumCity.  My per diem was a pittance - 2,500 only. Because I was an unpaid intern at the time. But Josie and Kate were the kindest they could ever have been - they picked my tab. I still don’t know why. Of course, Makoloo sorted everyone else out on meals and drinks. I have never worked with more generous people since.

We went everywhere. We met so many interesting people. It’s hard to imagine now that that committee laid the foundation for my current post. They taught me so much, especially about duty and service. They taught me to be less me, and more...you. I miss them dearly.

I have traveled more since then. Australia. The USA. Rwanda. South Africa. Tanzania. Zanzibar. But all my foreign travels pale in significance to the trips we took to Lamu, Isebania/Sirare, Meru, Kwale, Kitui...all those towns, villages...places that are what they made me. I’d give an arm to relive those years. But life is lived going forward. I can’t wait. I just hope.

Give the SGR a pass?

I haven’t been on the SGR yet. Given the, shall we be generous?, flip-flopping of the Kenya Railways Corporation about food and drink “from outside”, I am not sure that I ever will...but let’s keep hope alive, shall we? I have been on trains before. And planes. And boats. And lots of cars. For long journeys. But I shall always remember my first ride on the Shatabdi Express (well, not really, but it was in India so...)

It was all of thirty-four hours, from Nee Delhi to Pune to Sangli and finally to Kolhapur, where Chattrapati Shivaji has a university named after him. Second Class Sleeper Car. At the height of summer. Eight bunks to the sleeper. Me and Johnson. Riding the rails as Black men in Hindu India.

We had a stash of chapatis that Elizabeth had made for us. Three litres of water each. We shouldn’t have bothered. We rode with this Army captain and his family...wife, son and two daughters. He’d spent time in Dar es Salaam in the eighties. Spoke passable English. Generous to fault the moment he heard we were from Kenya. They shared with us their rotis, aloo gobi, masala chai and the wisdom of the rails.

I remember pulling into Agra Station in the dead of night. An eerie silence in a busy train station. Rushing for the public loos and backing out equally as quickly because of the remarkable stench. I remember cut chai sold in clay kulhas by the tea vendors on the train. I remember the Hijras in their colourful saris demanding - yes, demanding - alms or they would embarrass you till your green to the gills. I remember the midnight ride through the eastern bits of Gujarat when the train slowed down because of the threat of militants attacking the train. And armed guards on the roof, keeping vigil.

The heat was oppressive at first. But Johnson and I had acclimatised to the oppressive heat of South Delhi. Soon enough, we had also acclimatised to the heat in those super-crowded sleeper cars. And the smell. Because it reeked! Of course, our three-litre rations of water - and the chapatis - were spent within the first twelve hours but the Bisleri vendors were always at hand and our rupees went the distance. But Captain Surinder and his family made sure we were well provisioned by the time the journey ended. I still can’t figure out how they packed so much food in such small-looking baggage. Their many kindnesses will stay with me till the day I die.

The last time I travelled properly was to Zanzibar. I hated the journey. I loved the place. I simply hated getting there. Kenya Airways and Precision Airlines made the trip a nightmare. Outbound, they lost my bag. Inbound, the flight was delayed for five hours. The inflight meal was shit. The seats didn’t recline. Legroom was a rumour. Turbulence for the one hour hop was incessant. And when did they stop offering those tiny Coke cans on flights? KQ’s cost-cutting has turned the Pride of Africa into a pale shadow of Air Bujumbura! While I loved Zanzibar, especially Ali my cabbie, I hated getting there. The journey had nothing on the beauty of my first Indian train ride that went on and on and on. If KQ is a reflection of how we treat travellers, and KR is bullying passengers over their pilau and Coca-Cola, maybe I’ll just give the SGR a pass.

When the bough breaks

If given the opportunity, would you throw your hat in the ring and put yourself forward for elective office in Kenya? Would you raise your hand if the chance arose for you to turn around an iconic brand like Uchumi Supermarket or Kenya Airways? If you saw it happening, would you confront your minister of faith when he became a bully, gaslit the congregation about it and threatened spiritual damnation for the naysayers among you?

It isn't easy leading. It isn't easy leading when the people have little faith in leadership of any kind. It is almost damnedly impossible to lead when people have no faith in the institutions that form their communities, whether political corporate, spiritual, academic or social. It takes a Herculean effort to stand in the breach when inspiration is hard to come by because of the cynicism that now pervades everywhere.

Twitter has gifted us the meme and there is something frightening about how easily it is to memify our leaders these days because of their vacuousness. Look at our political classes: they are the typification of memification. They are caricatures; men and women of doubtful repute. They are incorrigibly irredeemable. Seeing what they have become and witnessing what they have failed to achieve, few want to become them. At a personal level, many of us think of ourselves as honest and trustworthy. We don't always lie. We don't always steal. We don't always cheat. When we do, we have handy excuses for it,  it we think of ourselves as decent folk, simply trying to make a life for ourselves and our loved ones.

And because of our self-image, we almost always shun the spotlight regardless of the fame that it may bring. Few of us want the onerous duty of leading, making decisions, championing causes. Those of us who do, those of us who have the urge to serve, almost always do it with a clean heart - in the beginning anyway. But there are among us whose desire for positions of leadership has nothing to do with service but a desire for self-aggrandisement. Their motives are almost always self-serving. They are as plain as the nose on your face.

We have suffered these people for decades. They have lied, cheated and stolen. They have caused civil strife and suborned murder. And they have become very, very wealthy off of the sweat of our brows. They are unapologetic. They are nowadays, suave, urbane and polished. They have silky-smooth tongues. They are Mephistopheles to our Faust, and our bargain with them has led us to this sorry plane. Bank accounts where they are to be had are shrinking. Job prospects for the young, eager and unemployed, are mirages. Home-ownership is a burden that sometimes cripples entire families.

One day the bough will break and the cradle will fall. I shudder to imagine what will happen on that dark day. So should you.

Well, someone better do something about it.

We need to look for unique combinations of brains and empathy when we choose our leaders, and look beyond the smooth-talking aggressors who have been our undoing. - Why do people keep selecting bad leaders? Sunny Bindra

Let's approach this problem from the other end, sir. How many times do we sit and think about the kinds of leaders we want, what kinds of qualities they should possess, how many of the people we know or are familiar with would make good leaders and, crucially, follow through on choosing them to lead? Be honest, please, because it is almost certain that you and I have thought long and hard about these things without following through. In the abstract, we have the perfect woman or man for the job. When it comes to making the choice, the litany of excuses about why we "went another way" is spectacular.

One of the outcomes of this intellectual/practical dichotomy is that we become frustrated. As a people, we spend goodly amounts of time relitigating the same case: what Kenya needs to do to succeed; what our employers need to do in order to be profitable; what our houses of worship need to do to reclaim the moral high ground; what "government" needs to do to root out impunity and corruption. The list of things we need to do, and the qualities of those we need to do them, and the saviours we believe have those qualities, is long and depressing if only because the list of excuses we have advanced again and again for why things didn't go the way we expected is even longer - and more detailed. If the International Olympics Committee ever admitted excuse-making as a competitive sport, Kenyans would rank up there with marathon gold medalists.

In my opinion, our habit is not inexplicable. It has everything to do with human nature. Meta-problems are never solved at the individual level; meta-problem-makers, on the other hand, have an outsize influence on individual behaviour. Think of it this way: if Mr Bindra suggests that reading fifty books in a year is a worthy goal, we are most likely to believe him and, in many cases, attempt the feat (or pretend to). But if Mr Maundu made the same suggestion, a man about whom little is known, we'd think of it as an interesting proposition and go back to more important things like who Natalie actually is.

The opposite is true as well. If Mr Maundu suggests, whether by word or deed, that it is OK to park his not-yet-existent humongous V8-powered SUV in such a manner as to obstruct a handicaps-only parking bay, the frothing-at-the-mouth members of the Cast-The-First-Stone Association, #KOT Chapter, would pull out all the stops to name-and-shame. But if an elected or nominated member of one of Kenya's less-than-august legislative chambers does so, and finds a persuasive or, as is often the case, a not-so-persuasive reason why it is OK for her to do so, there will be one or two desultory squeaks from the fair-play rule-of-law true believers. But for the rest of us we will think of the legislator as a boor and "Someone better do something about it" and go back to our mission to track down Natalie and ask her if she called someone a pejorative word.

When personal responsibility lies on all of us, then it lies on none of us. We have found comfort in saying, "We should..." because it has proven much harder to say "I shall..." We have become our own alibis for our inaction. It is always someone else's problem. It is why ministers of government and ministers of faith, and all the other leadership classes in-between, have become insurmountable challenges, year in, year out. It is easier to point at my neighbour and accuse him of electing the Worst Person to govern. It exculpates me from responsibility. It absolves me of my civic sin of going-along-to-get-along. I will never accuse myself. Ever. Neither will you. Until I - and that means you too - can look in the mirror and admit that I haven't changed, that I have refused to change, that I know I must change, and that even if I stand alone I am doing the right thing - until that day, it is almost certain that a year from now, when Mr Bindra rouses himself to think on this matter, he will right the same exact piece. New words, maybe. But exactly the same.

I know what I shall do. And I know what I shall not do. The question is obvious, then, isn't it?

How rude!

"I'll know it when I see it." So said an associate justice of the United States Supreme Court when ruling on a case that involved pornography and obscenity. The same is true for the most of us when it comes to the question of whether or not someone is being rude when the rudeness is not overt. Body language. Gestures. Facial tics. Intonation. Context. Nine times out of ten, our instincts are correct. It makes for fascinating interactions, right?

Tutakiona

A girl killed herself yesterday. She was a student. She was humiliated by her teacher. Her teacher humiliated her for having her period and not having a pad. I don't know what kind of world it is where teachers are gratuitously cruel like this. It would have cost the teacher nothing to be supportive and offer to help the girl find clean clothes and a pad. It would have cost the teacher nothing at all. But that teacher is part of a system that sees children as the enemy, to be controlled with bullying, coercion, emotional manipulation and violence. Yet, the future of the nation, as the political classes repeatedly remind us, includes children who need us more than ever to nurture, encourage, support and protect in ever greater and deeper ways. When we fail basic empathy tests it is almost certain that the children we brutalise will one day come after us with pitchforks. Then we will truly be sorry.

Seeking vindication, foolishly

In my opinion, Kenya's criminal classes are extraordinarily good at their job. No, I don't mean the hapless men and women convicted of petty theft or robbery year in, year out. No, I don't mean those souls. The ones who have done a bang up job tend to have the prefixes and suffixes to their names, have acquired titles of note, and swan around as if they were the people's conscience. They are extraordinarily good at their job.

One or two are ministers of faith, one or two are ministers of government, one or two are legal eagles with reputations to match, one or two are judges sitting on high, and still one or two are bankers, doctors, engineers, teachers and "environmentalists". The most successful members of the criminal classes of Kenya happen to be members of Government, in one form or another. They have their hands on the levers of power and when those levers are moved, bank vaults fall open and their wallets are immeasurably fattened. What makes them exceptionally good at thieving is that they have persuaded us that they are extremely dim-witted. They have learnt how to play the fool.

If you have been online on the twitter sphere lately, you will have sniggered at the question, "How can Kenyan billionaires have such poor taste in decor?" The impression you get is that these billionaires couldn't be that smart if their choice of decor is a cross between Kiambu postmodernist and Kisii postmodernist Art Deco. It takes real skill for the devil to persuade you that he is not there.

Take the shambles that are the various "scandals". Twenty million or so for towels. Sounds stupid, right? But it shifted focus from what was actually happening, didn't it? Key questions were obscured by virtue of the ridiculousness about those damn towels. For instance, how, exactly, did the Kerio Valley Development Authority decide to build the dams? How was that Italian company identified? Who made first contact with it, and when? Who performed due diligence on the company and what did they find? Maybe the DCI and the DPP know the answers to these questions now that were obscure by the salaciousness redolent of this towels, the pick-me shit-show that is the Fourth Estate, and our general deference for the high and mighty, shady or not.

These people are extraordinarily gifted and they have perfected their craft over decades. From penny ante scams - briefcases of cash - they now play the game with aplomb, in plain sight, 24/7, shamelessly and ruthlessly. We are their marks. We fall for every single con, big and small. And we sing their praises as if we were singing Italian arias to Nero at the height of his powers regardless of his bloodlust, greed, megalomania and poor impulse control - very much the characteristics of our guys. The small band of online wingers that point to the absurdity of it all are (a) laughably few, (b) hilariously outnumbered by influencers, and (c) painfully ignored by one and all. We keep at it, tilting-at-windmills and all, in the hopes that we will be vindicated.

Defanged

"We need to move away from the divide and rule system and embrace the inclusiveness on matters of the Constitution"

Members of Kenya's only Bar association are in Mombasa for the association's annual conference. The "theme" of the conference is "An Audit of the Constitution: The quest for constitutional reform and transformation". There is a "sub-theme" as well: "embracing technology in legal practice, litigation and commercial practice". What caught my eye on the law Society of Kenya's twitter timeline was what one of their presenters said about the current state of our constitutional order: that it is a "divide and rule system" which we must move away from.

I am concerned that the LSK is no longer an institution where radical ideas are vigorously canvassed and the 2019 conference seems to confirm this. Kenya is in the middle of a prolonged presidential campaign that has been enlivened by change-the-constitution movements of doubtful utility: the Building Bridges Initiative (BBI) that is designed to deny William Ruto a shot at the presidency and the Punguza Mizigo campaign that is designed to piss off the BBI. Both movements purport to lay bare our constitutional shortcomings and invite Kenyans to participate in charades masquerading as "public participation" in identifying a common way forward. So far Kenyans have not taken the bait - many are concerned more with the challenges of an economy that is firing on no cylinders than with the musical chairs of political leadership their political leaders are engaged in.

What is disappointing in all this is the barely-there nature of LSK's contribution to the discourse which, when it occurs, tends towards pablum that would embarass a first-year law student. Instead of addressing the obviousness of the constitutional sabotage perpetrated by leading members of Government, especially "rogue" members of the Cabinet and Parliament, LSK is happy to publicise its deep concerns for the "divide and rule" system prevailing today. We have forty-seven county governments, established mostly along ethno-linguistic lines. Lines, we might add, Kenyans accepted as the Fourth Schedule to the Constitution. Yet the LSK, despite the real-world problems engendered by such thinking, chooses to concentrate on issues that, superficially, address the ethno-lingustic fracturing of the country but do little to propose solutions to unite the peoples of Kenya.

In my opinion, LSK is no longer merely a stakeholder when it comes to governmental affairs. It has become so intertwined with Governemnt that it is sometimes difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. It is time for a change and that change must begin by the repeal of the provisions of law that place LSK members as members of public entities. Yes, even the Judicial Service Commission. This marriage between civil society organisations and Government has led to the defanging of the former, and entrenched the impunity of many members of the latter. There is no better example of a defanged civil society than the wishy-washy LSK today.

Jealousy is not a good strategy

Thirdway proposes to change 29 Articles of the Constitution. Surely it was not intended that many amendments should be grouped together and require just one vote of support from any member of the public. The Kenya provision is inspired by the Swiss Constitution. In Switzerland, the Constitution and law require that a people’s amendment proposal be focussed and deal with only one topic. Jill Cottrell Ghai, Is Thirdway Alliances proposal to change the law constitutional?

Prof Ghai prefaced the above paragraph thus: Article 257 of the Constitution says: “An amendment to this Constitution may be proposed by a popular initiative signed by at least one million registered voters.” She argues that the provision, inspired by a Swiss one, was not intended to be used for the amendment of more than one provision of the Constitution. However, the language of Article 257 does not expressly state that only one proposal can be entertained at a time. If that were the case, it could lead to absurd outcomes, for example, a single proposal to abolish the Senate, without accompanying "consequential" amendments, would lead to the abolition of the institution while retaining dead provisions such as the ones pertaining to its functions.

Those opposed to the Thirdway Alliance's steps towards the amendment of the Constitution so far have advanced many arguments but few of them have advanced a persuasive constitutional one. Prof Ghai's falls among those that have the veneer of constitutional legitimacy but once one peels away the mask, reveals that the veneer is all there is.

I don't approve of the wholesale amendments proposed by Thirdway Alliance. I think they reinforce the constitutional confusion inherent in the political aspects of the constitutional order, especially the organisation of the national government and its relationship with devolved government. The 29 proposed amendments touch on disparate subjects all tethered to the idea that less government is less expensive government. That taking the devolution of public funds to its extreme end will be a boon for the people. I think it is foolhardy to experiment further with public funds; CDF spawned similar "development" funds that proved to be cash cows for a well-connected elite. Ward Development Funds, managed and overseen by county elected representatives, will not replicate the success of CDF but mirror the corruption and waste of all other public funds. I don't believe the proposal will lead to less expensive government but to a more corrupt and, therefore, more expensive one.

However, I can find no constitutional grounds to oppose Thirdway Alliance's proposals or to cast doubt that the proposals have been advanced in accordance with Article 257. Whether it is the question of public consultation or meeting whatever standards of proof are needed in order to approach the electoral commission, in my opinion, Thirdway Alliance has satisfied all constitutional requirements. I believe that its opponents, especially many from the civil society sector are unhappy that Dr Aukot and his partners did not invite the ancien regime of civil society to participate in the process as elite constitutional overseers to maintain the purity of their Mfangano days. Many of them are offended that he took his case directly to the people without so much as a by your leave and denied them their place in shaping the constitutional order; they are afraid that if the Bill garners substantial grassroots support, they will be unable to shape the constitutional future of this country for at least another decade, rendering many of them obsolete. In short, they are jealous. However, jealousy is not a constitutional ground to stop the Bill from being dealt with under Article 257.

Missing the forest for the trees

The whole of Chapter Sixteen of the Constitution deals with amendments to the Constitution. Some amendments require a referendum. Many others do not. An amendment relating to the size of Parliament does not require a referendum. Nor one relating to an expansion in the size of the national executive. Nor, surprisingly, regarding emoluments paid to state officers. So those among you with a habit of declaring with finality that some amendments cannot be made should really rethink their constitutional absolutism.

What we failed to do, even at the height of the last major push for constitutional reforms, was to examine the motivations that led to the demon seed of a constitution that we replaced in 2010. What went wrong is not examined inasmuch as who was responsible. Jomo Kenyatta and Baba Moi shoulder the lion's share of the blame. An apathetic, cowed electorate is given the benefit of the doubt, though some of its leading lights bent over backwards to excuse every step taken to render Kenya's constitutional order supine and feckless.

The recent intrigues surrounding a referendum to amend the constitution follow the same pattern that led to the debasement of the former constitution. The loudest voices, and the strongest protagonists, have managed to disguise the true cause of Kenya's constitution-less governance ethos. We are reminded almost on a daily basis that the constitution is to blame for governance instability, that if it is tweaked in this area or that, we shall enjoy the fruits of devolution. The constitutional order established by the constitution, we are harangued, does not properly represent the "face of Kenya" and, therefore, it is necessary to make changes so that "no one is left behind" when it comes to development and prosperity.

The justifications for constitutional change are legitimate sounding but they are all bullshit. Parallels can be drawn to the change the constitution movement of the 1970s that gained prominence when it became apparent that Jomo Kenyatta was on his last legs. The true purpose of the movement, one which its backers didn't care to hide, was to drive a stake through the heart of the constitutional order to keep Daniel Moi from State House. The aim of the 2019 referendum choir is the same: to keep William Ruto from State House. Every other accoutrements festooning the pro-referendum bouquet is bullshit.

What should be apparent is that "the people" are an afterthought - though, as in the '70s and '80s, there are those among them who will bend over backwards to ensure that the people are given the constitutional shaft. We are being blinded to the foundation of the motives behind the push for constitutional change by, quite frankly, specious arguments about why the constitution cannot or should not be amended. Instead of admitting that our constitutional order exists only in name, we are focussed on holders of state offices and the power they wield by foregoing constitutional restraints in almost all their acts. We, the people, will not hold them to account and, consequently, they see nothing wrong in dipping deeper and deeper into our pockets for higher and higher taxes to pay for, among other things, "night allowances" for parliamentarians, allowances for spouses of certain state officers, and similarly patently unconstitutional acts.

Choose wisely

As we age, we should be changing not only our wardrobes and our appetites, but also our roles and responsibilities. Coaching others, reducing our active responsibilities, allowing new thinking to enter the arena – this is how thoughtful persons evolve. They go before they are asked to, or before nature intervenes. – Sunny Bindra

As always, Mr Bindra gets to the rub and you can't but help and wonder at the thing of it. More often than we think possible, we tend to evolve, our tastes tend to refine, though for many of us, not our wardrobes - the mountain of dad-jeans jokes is proof enough. In my estimation though, one thing that also ought to be considered is a strong moral and ethical core. It defines the nature of our evolution. In many occasions it is shed off with the accumulation of wealth and power, sometimes in direct proportion.

As children we are taught many lessons, both good and bad. What we choose to retain determines how we lead. Social and and economic status is irrelevant to what we retain. If the bulk of our lessons are bad ones, and we lack the capacity or willingness to jettison them, we will make bad leaders. Our visions will inevitably lead to bad ends for many people, even if we personally make to the other side better off. It is the old software programming rule: Garbage In, Garbage Out.

Throughout our lives we have the chance to learn new things. But if we have been conditioned to filter out the good and retain the bad, we almost certainly will turn out to be bad. Often, though, we get the opportunity to do the reverse, regardless of our past. It may be a charismatic mentor, a Road to Damascus moment or some other life-altering event. Many of us seize these opportunities and go on to redefine our worldviews. But when we fail to do so, and we just happen to wield great power, the results are often devastating.

Uganda offers a fascinating case study of what happens when longevity is paired by a relentless shedding of good lessons and the adoption of bad ones. President Museveni isn't the only political leader who has sat on the throne for decades. The queen of England has served as head of state longer than some of the longest serving presidents on Earth. President Museveni had a clear moral and ethical agenda when he led a successful revolution. He had countless opportunities to see a vision greater than himself for Ugandans. Instead, he has seemingly adopted every trope about autocrats, from nepotism to conflicts of interest. Unlike Lee Kuan Yew of Singapore whose vision was coupled with a strong sense of destiny for the island nation, President Museveni's vision has increasingly become about him. Uganda's fate now, it seems, is Museveni's fate. It will not end well.

In Kenya, there are countless examples of longevity and bad choices in the corporate world such that the departures of leaders with celebrated moral ad ethical standards is national news. The late Bob Collymore was the ideal that even politicians claimed to aspire to. He may have made a few morally or ethically dubious choices, but few could legitimately claim that he didn't publicly abide by certain strong ethical and moral values. The same is not true of his contemporaries whose corporate records are littered with cheated shareholders, business partners and customers. While they have thrived and been celebrated in the pages of business magazines, their continued presence in corporate circles is tolerated rather than welcomed. They are the man at the ed of the bar to whom many are courteous but few are willing to be seen drinking with.

If you lack a moral and ethical core that prizes doing the right thing over turning a profit or gaining an advantage, you will most likely be successful. But it is unlikely that you will be celebrated. You will be emulated by the unthinking, but you will not be lionized. You will build an empire, but it will crumble to dust when you shuffle off this mortal coil. Ancient empires have crumbled because they became rotten to the core. World leaders have fallen and been forgotten for espousing the worst values. If you are not careful, you will be a footnote in history, treated as cautionary tale. Choose wisely.

Start at the very top, Mr Mohamed

When regulators fail or are compromised, the whole system fails. My advice to H.E is to send heads of all the regulatory authorities home. Hire clean folks. Start afresh. That is where your war on corruption should have started. The regulators are regularising corruption. - @WehliyeMohamed

Whenever we bemoan the extent of corruption in the provision of public services, I recall this quote from Tacitus: "The more corrupt the state, the more numerous the laws". Kenya's regulatory environment is the result of the metastasizing corruption enervating its public institutions. If it were not for the corruption of the the Traffic Police Department, we wouldn't have the National Transport and Safety Authority which, in some instances of unthinking-ness, has resulted in motor vehicles, many times of the same make, model and colour, bearing the same number plate. The DusitD2 attack rammed home the consequences of NTSA's corruption. This is just the most obvious example.

In the heat of the moment, as a consequence of the hollowing out of public institutions by politicians and administrators alike, Government reacts by establishing a new institution to regulate a hitherto regulated sector. KEBS' failures spawned the Anti-Counterfeit Authority. EACC's failures spawned the Asset Recovery Agency. The National Police Service's failures spawned NTSA. And so on and so forth. Rather than address the root causes of regulatory failure, we have always sought to cover them up by establishing a new institution, throwing billions of shillings at it, and letting them have a free hand to "clean up the rot". The policy almost always fails in execution.

There is a fundamental flaw at the heart of the Kenyan administrative state: some Kenyans, and the entities they control, and some foreigners, and the billions they are said to have "invested", are "untouchable". Their status, power and wealth insulate them from the consequences of their actions. The law is merely an inconvenience to them. It can be set aside when it is in their interests. This is epitomised by the way we no longer protest the privileges extended to flag-festooned SUVs that are driven without a care for the Traffic Act or, indeed, the highway code - merely because they bear "very important passengers" going about their duties and who cannot afford to be inconvenienced by such mundane things as lane discipline. This anti-law attitude has permeated every facet of our lives. It has inspired Kenyans from all walks of life to extend even the most tenuous associations with powerful people into some kind of invisibility cloak when it comes to their public and private dealings.

Traffic Act scofflaws who happen to head powerful religious congregations seemingly walk away from the deaths they have caused on the roads. Vendors of various foodstuffs are seemingly immune not just from prosecution but from any form of investigation as they adulterate their wares with toxins and carcinogens with impunity. All of them take their cue from senior state officers who side-eye rules and regulations even when it makes no sense to do so. If those that make and enforce the law behave like bandits, why should the Kenyan on the street do so? It is important to hire clean folks. But it makes no sense to do so while the ones doing the hiring are mired in graft. The question we must ask ourselves is this: Are we prepared to bell the cat and elect and appoint Kenyans of integrity in the first place?

Should have known better

Guns for hire ain't loyal, and they shouldn't expect loyalty from their benefactors. When they are no longer of use, it is amazing how swiftly their paymasters turn on them. Often, the about-turn is limited to very cold shoulders in very public spaces. But every now and then, when a message needs to be sent, the change in their fortunes is usually accompanied by court dates before unsmiling magistrates just itching to hurl the book at them.

This is what has characterised Kenya's political elite's relations with the less savory elements of Kenya's supposedly free press. When the going is good, both sides make a killing: the sellsword makes bank; the politico gets a journalistic burnishing to inflate his already massive ego several times over. When it all goes tits up, boy o' buy, do things escalate fast. What casually begins as a war of words ends with handcuffs and scary-sounding charges. Robert Alai is living proof that when you're in, you're a guest; when you're out, you're a pest. He should have known better - when you sup with the devil, use a long spoon.

How very Christian of us

There is a fanaticism to the Jubilationists' apologia that is a bit terrifying. Despite all proof to the contrary about the Jubilation's big ticket boondoggles, there are those in the inner circle who are determined to fight tooth and nail for the boondoggles not to be seen as the white elephants they are but as the key to unlocking Kenya's economic potential in the same skein as Singapore's.

One of my favorites is a former diplomat at our permanent mission to the UN in New York who seems to operate as if he is still singing Kenya's praises in foreign lands to ignorant foreign peoples. He has a knack for finding the silver lining in the dark clouds hanging over the Jubilation's economic performance, the reports of IEA Kenya be damned. He will lash at out at any Kenyan demonstrating disloyal tendencies, as he did at one of #SwitchOffKPLC's leading voices on social media for her accurate description of the economic rapine taking place under the Jubilation.

It confounds how the jubilationistic inner circle is impervious to advice, criticism and unpalatable truths. It is as if the moment they put on the tricoloured, Maasai-beaded wristbands, they lost the ability to reason critically about things. They wear their total and absolute fealty o their liege on their sleeves, unabashedly, unapologetically, and crassly loudly. Theirs is not loyalty to the ideal that Kenya aspires to be. No. It is personal. They have trothed their loyalty to their liege and all he stands for. Regardless of the vacuousness of some of the things they have foisted on the peoples they are supposed to serve. It confounds deeply.

We are a nation in a hurry, and that is a good thing. But it is not alright that we have a political leadership incapable of introspection, reflection, moderation or deliberation. We are not the United States, held hostage to twenty-four-hour news cycles. We don't need a political leadership that cannot sit still for a moment, take the time to reflect on whether or not Kenyans actually need to be bullied into obtaining "smart" IDs. Or "smart" DLs. Or "affordable" houses. We need a political leadership that serves our best interests, even if it means Kenya will be behind the curve in the corralling, collating and consolidating of personal data.

But in the heavily guarded, heavily policed echo chamber of the Jubilationists' sanctum sanctorum, personal fealty and die hard loyalty matter more than anything else. And the personal, daily demonstration of fealty is what keeps the satraps in office, regardless of the consequences of their deaf-eared approach to public service. Look no further at the deleterious effects of their loyalty than the debt burden foisted on our children, their children, and their children's children. It's like the Christian god's curse to the third and fourth generations threatened in the book of Exodus. Apposite for a "Christian" nation, don't you think?

Sunny's new one stings

"When people oppose reasonable arguments vigorously, it behoves us to look carefully at where their reward comes from." - Sunny Bindra, Who Is Paid Not To Understand?

I live an exciting life. I play with fire every day I come to to the office. I review many, many schemes and offer my professional advice based on whether or not the proposals pass legal muster. I do not make policy. Nor do I execute policy. But my grubby fingerprints are all over some of the dodgiest schemes. And it sometimes shames me to the core to witness the aftermath of some of the schemes that came across my desk that I was powerless to quash. Sunny Bindra's words are a cruel echo that sometimes it isn't enough to dig into where an unreasonable person's rewards come from, but who among us enable such obduracy.

Bad ideas do not gain currency merely because they are defended by obdurate, but powerful, backers. Many bad ideas gain currency because they have been sieved and vetted by an entire ecosystem designed to bring them to the fore. In many cases, well-functioning systems act like kidneys and livers, filtering out impurities. When these kidneys and livers fail, bone marrow manufactures powerful antibodies to repel the more tenacious impurities. But every now and then, even well-functioning systems fail. That is the best case scenario. The worst is truly horrible to behold.

Bad systems are composed of different layers of, for lack of a better word, corrupted components. At each stage in the process of proposing, making and implementing bad ideas, the incentives at play are self-serving, not intended to benefit anyone other than that one dealing with the proposal at that time. The big picture is merely the sunny sky outside ones window and no more. Bad systems are made up of poor incentives at every stage of the way and they often have men and women determined to defend their roles in bringing forth bad ideas to the death - or, quite often, to a frothing mouth end.

Harebrained schemes are the usual outcome of bad systems and the loudest defenders of the harebrained schemes have perfected the art of manipulating the rewards' processes of the system. Not everyone is rewarded in treasure and not everyone seeks treasure as a reward. So a careful look for cash transfers or similar rewards will only reveal part of the problem areas. Look for people whose scores have been unfairly settled in their favour. Look for people whose career progression has received an unwarranted boost from higher authorities. Look for the emergence of sacred cows. When the, lets say, waziri is frothing at the mouth, spit-flecked lips flapping, defending the implementation of a harebrained scheme, look for the most enthusiastic clappers standing behind him, listen to the technocratic mandarin explaining why what you heard is not what you think it means but some wonderful solution to a problem you didn't even know you had. Rewards come in many forms and it pays to know which ones are relevant and which ones are not.

You own it all

As a child, everything, and I mean everything, is permitted because responsibility for your acts of omission and commission are borne by those responsible for you. It is rare for a child to be held responsible for horrible things. The child might get a spanking or a scolding, but ultimately, the responsibility for the child's deeds and misdeeds lies with someone else: parents, caregivers, teachers, the lot. The Christian bible says to put away childish things when one becomes a man. That includes putting away childish tantrums.

In the same spirit, Steve Jobs had a rule: the janitor could make excuses for why he did a bad job. The vice president of the company could not; the vice president owned all the mistake of his subordinates. The same is true of presidents of countries. A presidency that is defined by excuses, tantrums and blame-shifting is a failed presidency no matter how many paper achievements its boosters and propagandists can point to.

The rise of the Jubilation was propagated on the promise of the corporatisation of the executive branch of government, with technocrats setting the pace on getting things done. It has not worked out quite as promised. The majority of the technocrats have floundered. Their achievements have been stellar in only one area: the out of control looting of public funds. Many decisions have been serious head-scratchers, inexplicable to an extent that even their proponents have no idea what the decisions were intended to achieve in the first place. 10,000MW of electricity? Check. But why? 10,000km of new tarmac? Check? But why? 66 BRT buses for Nairobi? Check. But why?

Amidst all this, with the metronomic piling on of failure after failure after failure, one thing remains constant: Furious President... Every month, one thing or another will lead to a newspaper headline with the legend: President Furious. And the question is always: Why? The president doesn't get the luxury of saying that his hands are tied, that he is helpless, that he doesn't know what to do. Not in Kenya. Not with a mandate the size of his. What is so difficult about sending packing the laggards in the Cabinet? What is so difficult about saying no to bad ideas, like pink lane marking on highways? At that level, regardless of "he is surrounded by bad advisors" stories, no excuses matter. You own the mistakes of your subordinates. They mess up, you take the blame. If you want it to stop, become, in effect, the janitor, and let someone else shoulder the burden of being the boss of bosses.

Wacha watangetange

"Kenya is in permanent campaign mode!" is a common complaint these days. Barely days after a contested election is finished and every elected representative and his rivals are back on the trail to ensure the next election is in their favour. 'Twas so for the 2017 general election as it was for the 2013 one and the 2007 one and so on and so forth. The campaign for the 2022 general elections began even before the results of the 2017 one were announced, with this camp, that camp, the other camp already formed with an eye to political power - and all that comes with it - when Uhuru Kenyatta's government is replaced with another one. We haven't really considered whether or not permanent campaigning is good or bad - we instinctively believe that it is bad.

It seems strange to say - strange to me anyway - that permanent campaign mode is neither bad not good. It is what it is. It does, though, give us an opportunity to constantly review our relationship with our government; what it means to be Kenyan in the midst of dwindling, pilfered resources; whether or not the country is on the right path; and whether we all come out alive in the end.

The 2022 presidential election campaign started even before the 2017 presidential election campaign and it has not stopped even for a second. It is easy to see why: the presidency is the holy grail of Kenyan politics. With it not only comes great power, but great power to aggrandize oneself and family, cronies and - in rare moments of strategic thinking - rivals. And has become custom since 2002, where Raila Odinga stands determines where everyone else sits. Some are in the hot seat. Some are out in the cold. Some have fire ants in their pants. But none can deny that regardless of the hat one wears - Kitaeleweka, Tangatanga and the rest of it - like Apostle Ng'ang'a would put it in inimitable style, when Raila Odinga coughs, the rest wanaitika.

And so it pays to ask: have the presidential election campaigns of the past two years been beneficial? Or have they just drained public resources, enervated the voting public, deepened disillusionment in the political process, and robbed the people of any hope in the future? In my opinion, the campaigns have been immensely illuminating and, yes, beneficial. Many Kenyans would have remained in the dark about the competence or otherwise of senior members of their government if it weren't for the allegations and counter-allegations being traded by members of rival campaign teams. So too the secrets of the SGR, Lamu Coal Plant, and a host of other dodgy schemes by members of our Government, senior and not. And for the discerning, the campaigning also reveals a rarely-considered attribute for political leadership: character.

For the most part, politicians, whether in office or out, are not to be trusted as far as you can throw them. Their dissembling has risen to a level where they themselves aren't sure that the words coming out of their mouths have any meaning. But even in their world, their are those who have generally been forces for good more than they have been forces for ill. They haven't had to bribe their way into office - well, not to the extent that the first thing Kenyans thought off when demonetization commenced was "Sasa atatoa thao za kanisa wapi?" Their constituents generally think of them as "clean". But there is a hardcore cohort that is despised outside a very narrow constituency. They are seen as the epitomy of mendaciousness, theft, graft and dishonorable conduct. In my opinion, a prolonged presidential campaign, one which reveals the extent of their loathsomeness is a boon for the people. So I say, let them tangatanga. In the end, their story may not end the way they pictured.

What is wrong with you?

Christian countries produced freedom. Those who hate freedom tend to hate Christians. Put aside differences. Stop the new Dark Age. It’s coming fast. - Stefan Molyneux

East Africa, or British East Africa, as it was known when the freedom-loving Imperial British East Africa Company came calling, built the Lunatic Express and alienated hundreds of thousands of "idle land", was spectacularly un-free.  People didn't have security of person or property, were not allowed to think freely or freely express their opinions, and were constrained in what they could do or where the could go. The reason for this extreme state of un-freedom was that the entire region had not accepted the principles of Christianity that prized individual freedom above all else. The existence of the soon-to-be-bankrupt IBEACo was proof that the Christian God loves freedom, especially the freedom to trade that seems synonymous with Christian values these days.

Obviously - OBVIOUSLY - that whole paragraph is bullshit. Even a cursory examination of the historical record shows that there is nothing freedom-loving about colonialism, genocide, xenophobia, racism, racialism, misogyny and sexism - all the things that have been associated with "Judaeo-Christian values" as practiced by the "founding fathers" of "western civilisation" since the European Reformation. "Christian countries" as Mr Molyneux calls them certainly "produced freedom" but only for white men at the expense of everyone else, regardless of the cost, pain or suffering the white man's freedom entailed.

Recent history - indeed, contemporary history - puts the lie to the claim that "those who hate freedom tend to hate Christians". In 2001, an organisation that had been financed for decades by white Christian USA people, in search of a new "holy war", attacked the Great Satan with box-cutters and four passenger airliners, killing just a little under 3,000 people. In response, the USA's first truly "Christian" president launched two wars that, seventeen years later, have metastasized into the sort of martial quagmire that produce massive amounts of un-freedom. One of the US president's motivations in starting the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq was his Christian faith and a fervent belief that he and his nation were spreading freedom and democracy abroad - at the barrel of an M16 and the tip of a JDAM bomb. The reincarnation of IBEACo were the the likes of Halliburton and Blackwater - true-blue flag-waving promoters of "freedom".

Only a white man could possibly imagine the world was un-free until the Judaeo-Christian Anglo-Saxon man came along with his bible, cannon and musket. Only a white man could imagine that the territories of the world that were colonised and plundered, and whose native populations were massacred were un-free because of their "pagan" beliefs and rudimentary economies. Only a white man could ignore the entire human historical record that has demonstrated the remarkably bloody record of Christian crusading. Only a white man could have the arrogance to believe that he could possibly be right. Only a fool could even entertain for a minute that this white man has a leg to stand on when it comes to the concept and practice of freedom.

Why the haste?

I said a stupid thing the other day. I declared, "One of the truest expressions of governmental excess is the Penal Code and the plethora of offenses established by written laws. Only three classes of offenses should be prosecuted by the State: murder, all sexual offenses and theft." My friend Gitonga challenged me to set down my views in a post and so here we go.

In modern society, it is impossible to live without effective governmental regulation of both public and private affairs. In one form or the other, Government has an obligation to regulate our affairs in order to protect us from harm, even if the harm comes by our own hands. How Government goes about protecting us is of vital importance. It must be given power to take certain measures to protect us but it must not be given too much power that it becomes oppressive. It is in this context that I made the stupid declaration about laws and governmental excess.

In recent weeks, Government has sought to consolidate our personal information in a new database, the National Identity Information Management System, and to issue every Kenyan with a unique identifier, the Huduma Namba. In theory, the consolidation of personal information in the NIIMS, as the system has been named, and the issuance of the Huduma Namba, will allow for the seamless provision of public services by all governmental agencies. There is a fear though, that such a consolidation is ripe for abuse, especially in the absence of a law regarding the protection of such personal data as will be consolidated in the NIIMS. Mass surveillance has been listed as one of the downsides of consolidation as has been the sale of private data to non-governmental entities. (Many have experienced the unlawful use of their personal data because entities holding that data have shared it with political parties, business entities and unscrupulous persons seeking to swindle us.)

Some have argued that the information being consolidated is already in the possession of Government in its various databases: the Civil Registry, the Kenya Revenue Authority, the Land Registry, the Births and Deaths Registry, the National Transport and Safety Authority, the National Hospital Insurance Fund, the National Social Security Fund, and the Immigration Department, among others. They argue that there is nothing wrong with the consolidation in the manner that is being prosecuted by Government with NIIMS. What they haven't been able to explain is the secrecy surrounding the whole affair, especially with the existence of a statutory and administrative regime set out in the Kenya Citizens and Foreign Nationals Management Service Act.

The Kenya Citizens and Foreign Nationals Service, its Board and the Director of Immigration, under the Act, were the institutions charged with the type of consolidation of personal data contemplated in the NIIMS and yet no explanation has been given as to why, 8 years after the law was passed by Parliament and assented to by the President, the law has not been operationalised or why no steps have been taken to operationalise it at all. No reason has been given as to why a system that had already been endorsed by Government has been abandoned even before it got off the ground. The unseemly haste with the operationalisation of NIIMS and the coercive undertones of its implementation raise doubts that the proposals and rationalisations behind NIIMS are on the up and up. For this reason, skepticism is warranted, hyperbole aside.

An analysis of NIIMS and the system contemplated under the Kenya Citizens and Foreign Nationals Management Service Act are fundamentally the same. The key difference is the manner in which both came to be. The former was pushed through by an amendment to the Registration of People Act (which was done through the Statute Law (Miscellaneous Amendments) Act, 2018, which was assented to on the 31st December 2018. No one, in the heat of Christmas and New Year celebrations, noticed the amendment and very few even commented on the proposals. The latter was an Act of Parliament that, even with the madness of the last two years of the Kibaki Government, underwent considerable public review and participation before it became the law of the land.

I don't have a problem with the proposals in NIIMS but I have a problem with the haste, the secrecy and the coercion behind its implementation. I have a problem that it is being done despite the fact that a similar system already exists, at least in law. I have problem with the implications of a lack of a data protection law in the face of the haste and coercion related with NIIMS. Finally, I am skeptical with the argument being advanced that NIIMS is merely the digitization of our personal data. During the second Kibaki Government and the first Uhuru Kenyatta Government, under James Orengo and Charity Ngilu, the Lands Registry was digitised twice over at great public expense. The National Transport and Safety Authority has digitised traffic and drivers' data since its establishment. KRA, with the iTax system, is fully digital. No reason has been advanced as to why the other elements of the NIIMS system are yet to be digitised.

Finally, the risks of consolidation of personal data in the current climate evokes fears of abuse and misuse. In 2001, in Godhra, India, Muslims in Gujarat were attacked and massacred by the thousands. One way that their attackers used to find them was the state's voters roll which identified Muslims by name and address down to the apartment. In Kenya, the 2013 and 2017 general elections were marred by allegations that the digital voter register and digital voter tallying system were manipulated to boost some candidates' number and reduce other candidates'. Secrecy and coercion are not a recipe for public trust. NIIMS is secretive and coercive. If that doesn't change, there is no reason why we should take the word of its boosters that it is for our safety.

Ghosts never sleep easy

We were talking - I mean I was talking and She was praying I would shut up in thirty seconds or less - about how we collectively remember or forget events, traumatic or not. We use the expression "national narrative" sometimes. We describe events in ways that require collective acquiescence that the recollected event can only be recollected one way. It is why it is easy to claim that "Kenyans have short memories".

My people are not pigeons. Just because they haven't strung so-and-so up by his shins and caned his buttocks until they ran red with blood doesn't mean that they have ten-second memories that are erased as soon as another "scandal" is, with Herculean effort as the scribes of the Fourth Estate would have you believe, heaved onto the public square to be stared at, talked about, poked and prodded, discarded and forgotten for the next fix.

We remember, always. The assassinated. The tortured. The disappeared. The "enemies of the state". We remember them all. We remember the ones that said that assassination, torture and disappearance were all part of the messy thing we call democracy in Kenya or words of similar effect. We remember the ones that denied assassination, torture and disappearance were never used against their fellowman. We remember the ones that "washed away the sins" of the assassins, torturers and disappearers. We remember it all and just because our memory is not expressed at the ballot or in a revolution does not mean that it isn't there, that it isn't consequential. Just because the heirs of Wangari Maathai and the Free the Detainees' activists haven't stripped naked and visited curses on the assassins, torturers and disappearers does not mean that we have forgotten. We remember. We remember the curses. And we know that despite all evidence to the contrary, we shall prevail.

But don't for a minute think that we shall prevail by Animal Farm-ing ourselves into a vicious cycle. No. No. When the edifice has been brought down. When the dust has covered them all. Choked them. Suffocated them. When their whitening desiccated bones have been picked clean by the buzzards of the Chalbi. When their heirs are ashamed to use the family name. When their heirs' shame leads to ostentation acts of expiation - libraries, wings of hospitals, chairs of university departments. We shall prevail Maybe not in our lifetimes. But then again, as we all know, ghosts never sleep easy when the blood of the innocent covers their dark souls.

Sometimes the light is a bright, sunshiny day

Early in my civil service career, my extremely kind boss wangled a six-week fellowship for me in Sydney. The excitement of travelling to the Land Down Under was tempered - again and again - by everything I had to do in order to board a flight to the land of kangaroos and superpredators the likes humanity has come to greatly fear. The visa process, thanks to my employer, was a breeze. Ticketing was handled by a sniffy fellow on the first floor dungeon-like warren of offices he shared with a mysteriously smelly cohort of supply chain specialists. Yellow fever jab? Even La Kidero couldn't screw that one up. City Hall took care of it no fuss, no muss. Travel authorisations? Sorted that shit out in an afternoon. I was, in the words of Nina Simone, Feeling Good! Then reality decided to take an almighty shit on me in the five hours between Jomo Kenyatta International Airport and O.R. Tambo International Airport. A minghty, mighty shit!

First, those yellow-sweater-clad meatheads at JKIA decided that I was in need of several "random" bag checks. It may have had something to do with my haggard look as I was battling flu viruses sent by Satan and all his minions at the time. Then the unfriendly immigration guy took his sweet-ass time to check, re-check, re-check and, I shit you not, re-check my passport, Yellow fever card, ticket (yes, he demanded to see it) and finger prints. I could feel the colossus behind me suck in his breath when the dude attempted to run another check. He must have sensed the swelling wave of righteous anger behind before he willed himself to stamp the damn passport and let me through.

JKIA is not designed for non-Turn Left passengers. If you, like me, are a Turn Right passenger, the facilities available to you - even int he vaunted T-1A - are designed to make your travelling experience as horrendous as possible. Flickering fluorescent lighting, smelly loos, invisible or, frequently, broken electric sockets, and the ever snoopy KCAA buzzards - the terminal is a badly designed externally beautiful building built for your humiliation.

Kenya Airways flew an old, decrepit, cockroach-ridden B737 that must have started life as a air-matatu somewhere in the lawless badlands of the Congo Basin. It had this mysterious smell to it that I couldn't quite place. It was ridiculously loud. It didn't even have functioning headphone sockets. Not that the headrest screens worked. Maybe Titus in his zeal for Project Mawingu had forgotten about in-flight entertainment. Who knows? That man was seriously off. But the worst thing - the absolute, unforgivable worst - even in the context of aviation travel, was the food. It was beyond bland. Not even four satchets - which had to beg for from the dead-behind-the-eyes cabin crew - of black pepper could salvage the the thing. It was liking eating rubbery carpet on which your two-year old had puked on last week and the househelp had forgotten to call the carpet cleaners from the car wash near the supermarket to deal with it. It was enough to make me want to curl up in a ball, flu flaring up, and weep into my bedazzled cardigan. I hated every single second of the five hours of that flight. Every. Single. Hour.

Oh boy, Mzansi makes the Italian racists of Watamu and Malindi seem like the paragons of Samaritan virtue. The layover was six - SIX! hours long. And boy did Mzansi make you feel every second of it. So far, I had been on the road, so to speak, for ten hours and I had doubts about the kindness of my boss. Maybe, I thought, this is how you drive an otherwise sane civil servant mad. No matter how bad shit gets in our neck of the woods, there is absolutely no force on this Earth that will make me voluntarily emigrate to South Africa. I would rather settle down in Charleston, South Carolina.

 

Things started looking up when we boarded our Qantas 747 for the thirteen-hour flight across the southern Indian Ocean. They stuck me right in front of the APU. I was resolved, the way children are when they endure learned helplessness, to losing the last vestiges of my good humour, my sanity and, quite possible, my life. What I did not know is that every now an then, cattle-class is sometimes not fully-occupied. I was the only one in my row. Which meant I could turn the rather generous seats into my own cozy cot. Which I did. I slept blissfully for the first time since the night before the night before. Interrupted every four hours by this kindly old flight attendant who made the most brilliant whisky toddies. I will never forget the many whisky-fueled kindnesses of Pam.

By the time Sydney hove into view in the bright sunniness of a late-winter Sunday morning, Pam had sorted out the hangover cure, a remarkable breakfast, apples (green, of course) and lots of fresh water. I was ready to face whatever came next. Including Australian tarantulas and wallaroos. The next six weeks were some of the most professionally enjoyable I'd ever had - or would have for almost a decade after. One day I will tell you about the two weeks I spent in Perth and why I almost applied for asylum.

It doesn't have to be this hard

2018 ended as I expected it to end with the airwaves rent by the cacophony of political magpies announcing their loyalties, disloyalties and betrayals without shame, the way a baboon moons the whole wide world with its pinkish buttocks. Christmas and the New Year were dedicated to the perverse exercise of deciding Uhuru Kenyatta's successor without actually acknowledging that that was what we were doing. And then the grenades were detonated, the car bombs exploded, the gunfire replaced the political tea-leaves reading and Kenyans were once again called upon to be stoic in the aftermath of death and destruction.

When the Westgate was attacked, Kenyan officialdom was used to cross-border terrorists recruiting Kenyans and launching home-grown attacks at bus stations, churches, outdoor tent-revival meetings, bars and markets, the places where the dusty-faced Kenyans congregate in large numbers, the places where the Kenyan wabenzi avoid. Kenyan officialdom had decreed that the high and mighty were safe because they had at their command guns, soldiers, CCTV cameras and very, very fat wallets. Westgate changed us like 1998 didn't or Kikambala or Gikomba or Mpeketoni.

Every attack till Westgate, save for 1998 because US citizens died, hadn't democratised pain and suffering, placing the President and the guy that washes his socks on the same plane of pain. After Westgate, you could tell, he securocracy's leaden-footed imbecility notwithstanding, that Something Was Going to be Done. But habits are hard to break, especially bad ones, and what we got were the most anti-people legislative proposals since the Pass Book Ordinances of the Colonial Government, the Security Laws (Amendments) Bill, 2014. This was the starkest reminder by officialdom of the proper place of victims in Kenya's hierarchies: the poor and the politically powerless do not matter as much as the movers and shakers.

DusitD2 is a harsh reminder that though things have changed, they haven't changed that much. Kenyans are more aware of what they must do in order to deal with the pain, suffering, and trauma of an attack. But officialdom, though more professional, remains mulishly unchanged. You can see it in the casual way untruths are passed on as facts. You can see it in the way the Official Story has been told and finished. You can see it in the way that even foreigners have no compunction about displaying the remains of our murdered loved ones for all to see - unapologetic, unashamed, ugly and mean-spirited.  And you can see it in the way officialdom has subtly celebrated "return to normalcy", highlighting buoyant news about the securities market, the lack of ofay "travel advisories", the non-disruption of ofay tourist activities.

You can set your watch by the next steps in officialdom's process, culminating in high-decibel succession rows by even Kenyans who should know better. Deceptively somber Kenyans will appear on news shows and lie through their teeth about the 2022 Question, distracting us from the 2019 five-fingered discounts they will award themselves while we, the ones without the benefit of metaphorical and literal safety nets and bulletproof vests, watch our savings turn into puffs of smoke as railway profiteers take us for a ride. At least, you might think, we are resilient. Yes we are but surely, it doesn't have to be this hard to be an ordinary Kenyan, does it?

The final ossuary

One, apparently, can hire police officers for private bodyguard work and such. This is apparently a legitimate part of their duties as uniformed officers of the law. It says so right there in section 104 of the National Police Service Act, 2011, with the caveat that it has to be for the protection of the public good or public interest. The public interest, as we have discovered in recent months, is quite a fungible thing, with what Okiya Omtata does being the most solid definition of it and everything that mawaziri do being the softest definition, if that be it, of the the thing.

What I didn't know until I was well into adulting was that there is a second, secret service that police officers offered: the hire of firearms issued to individual police officers or armories in police stations. Handcuffs too, it seems, are hired out for private use. But this isn't about police officers and wayward firearms. this is about the utterly asinine decision to issue private security companies with firearms licenses so that their personnel can bear firearms while on duty. 

I don't mean that it is not a good idea to arm watchmen with guns; it probably is, given the number of police guns being used against them whenever the premises they guard are robbed by armed robbers. What I mean is that given Kenya's political history, it is surprising that no one has raised the issue of militias now being converted into private security companies with the object of lawfully acquiring firearms. Since 1992 when even mawaziri were caught transporting everything from simis to bows and arrows to volatile political hotspots, we have known that powerful politicians, keen on retaining their political power, have armed youthful Kenyans with what wazungu derisively refer to as "crude weapons". These youthful Kenyans have often been mobilised in militias, which are activated during especially fraught elections, and deployed to intimidate political rivals if not outright engage in rapine, pillaging and murder. 2017 and 2018 have witnessed their fair share of political violence at the hands of these kinds of militia.

So, for a usually paranoid ministry such as Interior and Co-ordination of National Government, I am shocked that it has not put its foot down and declared that the likes of G4S are not getting guns. Period! The late Nkaissery said "no". The late Michuki said "no". The mercurial Murungaru said "no". Even the laissez faire Ole Lenku said "no". What has changed after a decade and a half that it is now OK to allow private security companies to acquire and keep firearms in large numbers? Has no one considered that it a small hop, step and jump before Kenya's ethnic-cleansing-minded politicians will clean up the image of their militias, apply for (and obtain) registration as private security companies and then apply (and obtain) gun permits? What were once tribal gangs will become legitimate mini-armies. It will not end well. The next round of political blood-letting will not just be bloodier; it will be deadlier. The seeds of civil war that were planted in 2007/2008 will definitely bloom with tragic consequences.

The only people who will come out ahead of this thing will do so because they are the only ones who have ever done well out of these sorts of things. The ordinary Kenyan, Wanjiku, in addition to everything else she has to worry over, will now be forced to contend with roving gangs of (mostly) young men who are armed to the teeth and whose moral compasses have been turned away from True North by the magnetic silky-smooth tongues of pied political pipers. If we are not careful, and we seem not be, the abyss we stared into in 2008 won't stare back, but it shall be the final ossuary of our nation's youths' remains.

How low have we sunk?

I have never killed anyone. I have never murdered anyone either. (Yes, there is a world of a difference between the two.) I have contemplated the murder of many, many people, dreaming of excruciating ways to prolong their suffering before the coup de grâce. But I have never seriously considered myself capable of murder. Even though my ego is healthy enough to pretend that I would kill in defence of loved ones or myself, I also don't ever wish to be placed in such a situation because I may very well wuss out. As a result of all this, I am not sure I would want to know and be friends with a killer or a murderer.

A few months ago, a young woman was murdered in cold blood. The cause of her murder remains unknown. This not-knowing has led to speculation about whom she knew, how she knew them and who among them was involved in her murder. A man was arrested on the suspicion that he had murdered this young woman. He had been seen with her on the material night. He was known to spend a lot of time with her. He was also famous (or infamous, depending on whom you ask) for the tall stories associated with him: that he was a former mercenary in Afghanistan; that he owned and used numerous firearms; and the like.

This man's account of the night the young woman was murdered implicated his fiancée and her neighbour in the murder of the young woman, on account of an alleged botched robbery (in which he was the victim) that left him nursing a gruesome gunshot wound ad raised more questions than answers. The man, his fiancée and her neighbour (the man was living with his fiancée at the time of the murder, him being unemployed and without any known fixed address) were all arrested, though the neighbour was released when he demonstrated that he had nothing to do with the affairs of the couple.

Both the man and his fiancée were arraigned before a murder court and charged with the murder of that young woman. Neither had shown much remorse during the investigation into the murder, a case that was covered extensively with Kenya's tabloids of record (as well as of the gutter variety). The bail hearings attracted every glory-whore of a defence lawyer worth his salt as well as recently-unemployed government officials with dubious antecedents. Even amid all the hoopla, the couple remained visibly (to my eye, anyway) remorseless. In the four months since the remains of the slain woman were discovered, the couple at the heart of the case have not even once expressed shame or remorse for the death. Not once.

Their friends have come to their rescue on numerous occasions. The woman's employer has gone on record to affirm their faith in her character, even after witnessing the inconsistencies in her story on the night that the murder took place. Despite his financially straitened circumstances, the man continues to enjoy the services of very expensive defence lawyers raising the interesting question as to whom the bill of costs will be sent.

In typical Kenyan fashion, we have forgotten about the murder and are now caught up in the drama surrounding the tabloidised lives of this couple. We are reminded of their humanity as they canoodle in front of cameras while appearing before murder judges. We are asked to empathise with them for the suffering they are undergoing - psychological and physical - as a result of the unfair way they are being treated because of their mere connection with the murder. In the Christmas spirit, a whisper campaign has been initiated to remind us that they are young and have long, bright futures, if only we could show a bit of Jesus-like mercy. Indeed, someone has already raised the bar to a typically high Kenyan standard: the woman has all it takes to make an excellent woman parliamentarian, county notwithstanding.

As this particular murder trial wends its way to a verdict, it is time we reflected on whether our humanity has finally been debased enough that alleged murderers have become the stuff of real life telenovela romances to which we shall pay undivided, lustful attention. We have sunk so very low. How low, I cannot tell. Can you?