My heart swam in the vision of orange, my spirit stirred in the
cacophony of hooting, praising and poetry. My skeptical heart was drawn, then
hit, then slayed. I am a believer now.
It was scenes from Palm Sunday the musical, redressed in
orange garb, with free water (labeled not miracle), no ass to ride on, no
weeping for the city but the rest of it was there. All of it, most of it. A Sunday, a Messiah, poor
people, those rejected by the existing order, the oppressed and the maimed
flocking the capital city for the triumphant launch of the Master's program.
Yes, I believe.
There is little to separate Kenyan politicians. Their plans
all sound the same, sound-bite after inanity promising rain in Moyale and snow
in Kitale, the same old race to force manna out of the clouds. Vision 2030,
free and compulsory primary schooling, free secondary schooling, national
social security for all, free milk, free ghee (all funded by cutting taxes), you know the same old
story. So you will forgive me for not launching into an analysis of the
people's president's campaign launch and its manifesto.
Instead I should like to focus attention on the ability of
the man to sell himself, Raila the package, the best marketer in East and Central
Africa. Every Kenyan living within three minutes of another has
heard of Raila, even more they feel something about him and it is this fact
more than any other that propels Raila to the front of the national agenda
every single time. While his detractors and opponents engage in a fantasy world where
they represent vastly improved versions of the Kenyan mwananchi, Raila proudly lives what he calls ‘the Kenyan dream.' He
is unabashed in his love for popular sports; his rhetorical references and his
sense of style are music to the ears of the people whether on a slippery slope
in the Gusii Highlands, or in safe waters in Kadem.
Even his violent thugs are popular. Does anyone decent
really prefer being beaten up by masked men in a midnight
raid to being roughed up by sweaty young men shouting nyundo, nyundo? Surely
there's less moral culpability with the young men, impassioned with nothing but
a whiff of power and some well-cured bhang
leaves. And those nicknames, keywords if you like. While his opponents walk
around sporting ridiculous and irreverent names even his most ardent detractors
cannot help but be awed by the onomatopoeic brilliance of tags like Agwambo,
Tinga or even now Nyundo. Hard and manly these names and no wonder Kalonzo is
sliding in the polls. All you had to say was that the man was soft, and he
started to smell like old chicken. So hard in fact is Raila that even those who
call him a ‘boy' fear him more than they fear their sternest braves. Kenyans
love a man's man. Now bullying is OK, all politicians do it, perfidy, cheating, strong manning, it
all comes with the territory and if you believe otherwise you live in a comic
book.
His speech may sound inane to anyone with an above average
schooling but talk of Teutonic discipline, quotes from Bismarck, Churchill, Reagan and
the Kennedy brothers are just what tickle the patriots taste-buds and leave
them asking for more. Dr. Mahathir Mohammed is a renowned miracle worker, and a cultured well read strong man, so let's slip him into the speech here. After all, Kenyans do keep asking for a benevolent dictator do they not? A good master?
Hummers? Helicopter trips? Have a problem with that? Sit on it, eat the dust we raise, my snobbish friend, we don't. He is the people's president. Black, white
and orange all over.
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This was a presentation fit for the Democratic Party convention. Unfortunately, Kenyans have more bread and butter issues to deal with than all the razzmataz we saw on Sunday.
If you ignore all the glitter and look at the substance of the vision and presentation, you will find that it was another sugar coated attempt at hoodwinking Kenyans.
If Kibaki did anything for this country, it was to demystify the presidency and now Kenyans can look right through all the lies we are told by politicians!