A
distraught friend of mine wrote to me recently, asking that the Kenyan middle
class join up in arms, that we refuse completely to cosset any longer the
spirit of separatism and hatred that has taken over our country.
Yesterday,
I read from Patrick Gathara here, an article asking why we are at all
tolerating the idea that there are Kenyans who have ancestral rights to
sections of this country. I hate to imagine where this notion would take
Kenyans were oil to be found near my home in North Eastern Province, or should
we finally decide to take on a grown up energy policy and flood Marsabit with
alternative energy solutions.
I
digress; but it is now clear that Kenyans are today presented with a
choice, a
most exigent and defining choice, one which we will have to make here
and now
and whose postponement only emboldens the foes of the nation, postpones
a true
settlement and makes more catastrophic the final outcome of the present
stalemate.
Let's discard the idea of a grand coalition, we know it will not work.
We are a nation under siege, some courage would not be out of place; we
need to have elections now to end the blockade
of the Rift Valley.
We
are not just referring to the presidential election, not just to the
parliamentary one, we need a General Election now, and we need to decide whether we
want to remain Kenyans or whether we will allow people to carve out states for
themselves in our midst. Are we all
Kenyans? Are there Kenyans who may be touched,
and others who we should treat as brothers?
We
need to give the executive the ammunition to smash those signposts welcoming
people to the Republic of the Rift Valley, we need to give officers of
government the power to authorise the disarming of the entire Rift Valley, the
annihilation of every soul that is willing to raise arms against its neighbour.
Such campaigns are crucial if we are to save lives, the enemies arranged
against us are many and are organised, but a head of state, any head of state
whose legitimacy is not beyond question, whoever he is, cannot order such measures
without running the risk of a mutiny in the security forces and a total civil
war.
We
cannot ignore that there are citizens from our country arranged in tents and
shacks at police stations. We cannot permit that families have been moved from their
sources of income in Naivasha and been thrust on relatives they were likely supporting
in Homa Bay. There must now be a national
campaign to re-arm these refugees with their votes, all those who have been
expelled from their homes. If the bigots
among us thought that they could disenfranchise Kenyans by chasing them from
their homes, we must work to give those Kenyans their votes. Our national
emblems demand it, that we affirm to the criminal gangs, to the politicians
behind them and to the victims of the violence that there is only one Kenya; indivisible.
If
the IDPs cannot return to their homes for fear of violence, let us have them
vote from the refugee camps, after all it is only the law as confirmed through
this election that can regain their paradise for them. Let them vote as Limuru
residents, even if they are now resident in Busia. A president whose legitimacy is
in question cannot order the annihilation of the arsonists, he cannot quell the thirst for revenge, he cannot order
the prosecution of those who fill the airwaves with bile, or the incarceration
of those who finance and inspire these brigades of anarchy. A president whose
legitimacy is uncertain cannot call on the support of donor aid or the
business class to help rebuild the country. He cannot risk the urgent
rebuilding of Kisumu; he cannot assure tourists that the country has been
pacified and that a holiday in Kenya would be a treat.
We
need to confer legitimacy on our national institutions; we need to turn
a page.
We cannot any longer suffer the sticky present, where we cannot make
plans,
where doctors are kept away from their hospitals, where HIV-AIDS drugs
cannot get to patients, where univerisities and national schools are
half empty and where fuel is absent from
our third largest city. This is Kenya, it is not Zimbabwe. A famine is looming with the North Rift idle
and supply lines interrupted, urgent work fertiliser application, weeding and
sowing needs to be done. Children are losing out as schools are
burned and armed mobs threaten school heads with murder.
We
need to affirm our sovereignty. We cannot any longer listen to patronising
lectures from on high about how to run our country. However, irritating as those
lectures are our present predicament declares that we need them, it declares we
cannot govern ourselves, that we deserve to be told how, and that the haughtier
the voice, the more arrogant the attitude, the more likely its chances of
success with us; for we do not listen to reason.
With
every day of violence, with every day of uncertainty we are shedding millions
of dollars in national revenue and haemorrhaging the world's goodwill. Stickers marked ethnic cleansing do not come
off easily, and we cannot even start healing while we are engaged in a
stalemate with politicians talking peace in Nairobi and preaching hate
over the weekend.
We
are precluding long term investment and compelling even our neighbours to seek
alternative routes for their cargo. Every single day that the Luo farm workers
from Central
Kenya
spend in Nyanza questions the validity of the Kenyan state. Every
single day
that Kisumu lies in ruins entrenches the feeling of exclusion and
marginalisation. Yes, I know, they did it to themselves. But that is no
excuse
when we are one family, and those sufferering are our brothers and
sisters. The
fact that milk farmers in the North Rift are suffering the consequences
of
having destroyed their KCC dairy is no cause for Schadenfreude. We may
not see the links now, in our comfy offices, behind our high gates and
our bulky guards, in the safety of our regions, in the isolation
offered by being surrounded by people we share an ethnicity with but
the destruction in one part of Kenya, the empty hotels at the coast,
the interruption to tea exports, the silly campaigns and boycotts, and
the total mess that is the Kenyan media and civil society portend an
even greater implosion if we do not pull our fingers out.
Those against elections argue that we are likely to face violent
campaigns. True, but the alternative is still more violence, there are armed groups
being organised even now. These groups threaten to burn the Rift Valley up unless their man is made president. Latest reports from Nairobi indicate that the
politicians want to review the election. What then? What if the review
decides that Mwai Kibaki ought to remain in State House? What if it
determines that Raila Odinga should be the new President? What chance
that the opposing side will accept that? Elections are the only way out.
We can ask the international community to send troops, we can even
pay them out of our national coffers. The business class would be only
too happy to have this issue settled once and for all. Two months, one
month for the campaign and another for the post election settlement.
Then we can truly move on.
While our opponent and its cohort insist on difference, we must insist on sameness, on
fraternity. We must embrace our Kikuyu brothers and dismiss the evil crusade
against them. We must insist that every last Kenyan, across racial lines and
across ethnic lines has a right, not just to settle anywhere, but to work
there, to run for political office and to take on whatever political stance. This is no binary politics, this is no good
versus evil; this is the very survival of our country.
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All this talk of reforms and blah seems to me very much a waste of time unless there is a big clunky fist to enforce the law. For example will the ODM agree to have a constitution boundary review knowing full well that their tribal arithmetic will then come apart, will the ODM let go of the divisive majimbo, yet that is what has won them support of tribalists across the country, a very large part of the electorate in Kenya.