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Written by Keguro Macharia
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Thursday, 06 March 2008 |
According to the local and international media, Kenyans have heaved a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. Our leaders have been pictured smiling, their concerns ameliorated. They will not lose power. At least not yet.
It is as though we have discovered a taste for what plagued us.
But the after-taste remains. And it is bitter. I want to dwell on this after-taste to see what kind of political and national narrative it enables and what kind of citizens it allows us to be.
We might begin with a biblical metaphor: we have just eaten our bitter herbs and the desert awaits. We must start from here. In the current national narrative, it seems as though we’ve already passed through the desert and are simply waiting to cross over into the Promised Land. Yet, as drought looms, the economy stagnates, the IDP population continues to exist, and ethnic tensions continue to simmer if not boil, we would do well to prepare ourselves for lean times and mean rations. We will be eating bitter herbs for some time to come.
Among the Gikuyu, bitter herbs were traditionally eaten to induce vomiting. They were purgatives that were designed to remove poison from the body. We have a poisoned national body. We should not deceive ourselves that the months of inflammatory text messages, the acts of violence, and the dissemination of information about such violence has had no lasting psychic and ideological consequences. Many of us who were only wary and suspicious now hate. Many of us who were envious are now murderous. Many of us who were murderous are now genocidal. We have poison in our system. And we need to find a way to purge it.
To say this is also to say that our bodies are misaligned, our insides twisted, our tongues hairy, and our waste putrid. I am inclined to ask whether the smiling faces of our leaders should not be interpreted, instead, as their passing noxious gas.
We have, at present, a national narrative that suffers at the formal and material level. It is both marked by ellipses and half-finished sentences and simultaneously defaced by mold. It has always been unsatisfactory, and this time we can’t simply banish it to the attic. The attic was destroyed in the fires.
How, then, do we function as citizens in what is not a “new Kenya,” but a familiar, yet more fragile Kenya? Now that the seams have come apart and we have seen the ugliness of who we can be, how do we shape ourselves into the kinds of citizens we want to be? There is no “getting over” what happened. We will continue to be angry and hurt; we will continue to want justice or vengeance. I write this not to be defeatist, but to acknowledge the after-taste of bitter herbs. It lingers. We can, however, face the desert together, joined not by the assurance of prosperity, but by the uncertain promise that we need each other to embark on this journey.
Keguro Macharia is a member of the Concerned Kenyan Writers. |
Keguro Macharia |
| About the author: |
| Dr. Keguro Macharia teaches literature in the Continental United States. He has written extensively on an array of subjects for Kenyan and American audiences. He publishes the Gukira blog.
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Last Updated ( Monday, 23 June 2008 )
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The country is now on the course to healing and recovery although albeit with potholes here and there.This is also a time when true sons of Kenya be it a mp or an ordinary mwananchi can stand up to be counted by playing his/her own part towards quicker healing and recovery of our beloved country.
We stand to gain united rather than divided along ethnicity which to me is a seed planted by the politicians for their own selfish political gain.
Kenya should be for all Kenyans regardless of ethnosociopolitical affiliation and we as Kenyans should always strive to build a better Kenya than we found it.
The past injustices should be tackled as fast as possible and be seen as so . This constitution should be ammended to reflect the changing times and aspirations of Kenyan people and not as document of raw power where winner takes all ...