I think sufficient time has passed without my touching the topic of politics, sufficient time that has allowed me to drop the ‘political satire’ lapel badge that I seemed to have acquired.

Sufficient time for me to get my hands dirty again in this murky matter.

Veni

Kenyans have had three presidents so far, and judging by popular opinion, these are quite enough for us. All three presidents have exhibited symptoms strikingly like those of a small boy that has found himself locked in a toy shop adjoining a sweet shop and away from the eye of authority. For the office of president of Kenya is vested with considerable powers, and all three occupants of the office have not been shy to try these out.

Unlike God, who promised not to lose his temper and get rid of anything and anyone after that business with Noah and the floods, the President has placed no such restrictions in his path and promises nothing. And when he does promise, he has the tendency to forget what he has just promised.

The president can, did, and does stop his convoy (replete with the latest and largest machines whose ancestry can be traced to Karl Benz), step out of his bulletproof, air conditioned limousine and proceed to issue decrees that send junior officials running as hard as they can to effect the decrees. For his word is the law.

As far as Kenyans are concerned, the term ‘humble president’ is bedfellows with other terms like ‘square circle’ and ‘public secret’. When I was a small boy music teachers had a challenging time explaining how patriotic songs frequently and repeatedly contained references to a living president.

Anxious for his people never to suffer the agony of not having his reassuring benevolent countenance nearby, each president wasted little time in putting said countenances on all the legal tender and directing that all business have a portrait of him hanging somewhere prominent within their premises.

Then, with the weary satisfaction of work well done, they rewarded themselves and the country at large with a public holiday, fittingly named after them.

Being a childhood friend of the president, a schoolmate of the president, hailing from the same village as the president, being of the same tribe as the president or being a golfing buddy of the president entitled you to plum positions in his administration. If you were in this category the only criterion to assuming your office was possession of a pulse. Ability to read and write is not essential.

Being related to the president was also a big bonus for those seeking public office. Even those relatives that were cousins so far removed as to be out of sight and on the other hemisphere managed to end up somewhere either articulating or implementing government policy.

As custodian of all the land in the country, Caesar was wont to render unto his people (or some of them at any rate) prime pieces of land. All you had to do was to visit him in sufficiently large numbers and pledge your loyalty to him.

In fits of generosity the president was ready and willing to dish out money, districts and even constituencies and plots to his faithful without reference to those pesky constitutions, budgets and commissions.

Ministers of the cabinet were the only people who understood completely what the phrase ‘walking on thin ice’ meant, or what exactly a tenterhook is. Upon appointment to office and receipt of large vehicle, bodyguards and a flag to place on said vehicle, newly appointed ministers invariably acquired pocket radios for the excellent reason that recruitment and termination by that particular employer was done using the medium of radio, generally over the one o’clock news, without the trouble of prior consultation.

Many a minister would freeze mid speech in trepidation as his bodyguards raised their radios to their ears, listened briefly and without so much as a ‘by your leave’ would swarm into their vehicles and depart without a second look back leaving the former Minister without a doubt that they were no longer in his service, and without transport to boot.

Another hitherto mere MP, primly seated on a white ceramic throne while attending to Mother Nature would be rudely interrupted by hammering on the door and joyous shouts that carried the information that he had been promoted and was now a full cabinet minister.

Indeed, the presidency was a monster.

Thing were not helped by the fact that Kenya was a single party state.

A couple of years into office, the second president was taken aback when some soldiers had the temerity to stage a coup. The coup was squashed and the plotters arrested and promptly hanged.

Any hopes that the new president was going to effect some change went straight out the window with this event. The juggernaut of the all knowing, all powerful, big man hurtled forth unchecked.

Constitutional change has meant different things for many people. Agitating for change meant still different things for other people. For some it meant a lengthy enjoyment of the exclusive ambience and cuisine of the government’s many secure establishments. For others it meant a bullet just slightly south of the medulla oblongata. For still others it was a period of discovery of just how pliers, hammers and other workshop tools can be applied to the human body.

For still yet others it was a reluctant chance for them to lay a trail of clues that Sherlock (and Mycroft) Holmes would retire from holding the tops of their heads. After a bewildering series of events involving one unfortunate, the government pathologist arrived at the conclusion that the gentleman had shot himself in the head, climbed a hill, and then set himself on fire.

But for the majority it meant exciting chases in the streets against policemen who did not as a rule believe in sparing the rod. The rod and its cousins the club and the nightstick were used to alter the cranial geography of many sons of their mothers.

The Kenya Police and the paramilitary General Service Unit have over the time been accused of many things. But one thing they have not been accused of is gender insensitivity. Both organizations can pride themselves on the fact that they do not treat women any differently from men.

They chase them just as hard and beat them just as hard too.

But no matter how many bumps you make on people’s heads, their will generally tends to prevail and it was with great relief that section 2 A of the constitution that did not mince words by saying ‘Kenya shall be a single party state’ was repealed.

That was one thing, but the rule of the big man persisted. Drunk with the victory, Kenyans insisted more and more for the entire constitution to be changed, wondering why 40 years down the line they were still being governed by a hastily cobbled together document, seemingly drafted in some back rooms on table napkins, skillfully skewed to benefit a few at the expense of the rest.

The word ‘maestro’ is bandied very frequently but one man who can claim rightfully that title is the immediate former president who towered across national politics like the colossus he still is. At a celebration last year the former president received more applause than the incumbent, leading to his name being omitted from most of the subsequent state functions.

He was a maestro in that when it came to using stick and carrot to assert his will, none can even come close. Machiavelli’s Price could have done well to take notes. An imprisonment here, a plot of land there, an appointment here would have precisely the intended effect.

Every time the opposition seemed destined to forge a unity, a well timed invitation to State House to partake of some tea and biscuits would see the budding alliance collapse like a house of cards that had been rained on.

Vedi

But the will of the people, that pesky thing, will always rise to the top and it was only a matter of time before the big man assented that indeed, a constitutional review should take place.

To activists that had endured government cuisine, government hospitality, kicks from government boots, blows from government clubs, probes in nether regions by government gloves, impromptu government dentistry au la fist and other services from the government, this was welcome news.

Leading figures in that struggle for a new constitutional dispensation included Kiraitu Murungi, Raila Odinga, Mirugi Kariuki, Charity Ngilu, Mwai Kibaki, Wamalwa Kijana, Kivutha Kibwana and a whole host of such leaders, some of whom had indeed been unwilling recipients of the aforementioned government services. Others had found themselves so unwelcome in their home country they preferred trips 6000 miles in a plane to a shorter one of 6 feet in a wooden box.

‘The president,’ they’d howl, ‘Is way too powerful! We want an independent legislature! An independent judiciary! Some power should be taken from the president and given to a prime minister! Change the constitution!’

‘All right,’ the President said. ‘But here’s what I suggest. Let’s get some constitutional experts to do the actual review and then …’

That particular sentiment proved to be as unpopular as the entry of a third boy to a dining room containing two pieces of cake.

‘No!’ They howled. Let this be a people driven process! Let the people be asked what they want.’

And in yet another unsettling move, the president obliged.

It was at this point that a colossal gravy train slipped its moorings and chugged forth into the night.

The Constitutional Review Commission of Kenya came to light and was tasked with traversing the country and seeking people’s views. This they did, and for all intents and purposes, they did it well.

A national delegate conference was then held to discuss the findings and begin to draft the actual constitution.

This was the beginning of the end for the constitution.

Personally the events of the conference begun to seal the fate of the draft for me. From the very beginning it was extremely apparent that the motley crew of individuals that were anything but committed to the service of their country and their countrymen and women.

The initial stages of the conference were peppered with arguments about allowances, fees, salaries and payments. Attendance would peak dramatically at the tea and lunch breaks.

The nature of some of the participants left a lot to be desired. Head, shoulder, knees and toes above the rest was the members of parliament.

I will be the first to admit that I do not think much of politicians. As a matter of fact, I think very little of them. If I see five MPs standing somewhere it is my conviction that those are five MPs too many. I do not think they are honorable and have never, and will never refer to them as such.

You can tell they are lying every time their lips move. They are full of canned bullshit phrases like ‘We, as leaders’, ‘It is time to stop politicking and get to work’, ‘We work very hard for the betterment of our people’.

I deeply resent people who do not even make a token attempt to hide their selfishness. They do not even try. The first bill they passed was to hike their already astronomical salaries, for which I will be footing the bill. Their work consists of sitting in parliament and listening but even that they are unable to do. There is consistently a lack of quorum in government.

All they do is think of new and innovative ways to waste the money I have broken my back to earn.

No, I do not think much of them.

I have considered each day I have occasioned to run into a politician as a dark day indeed, and I have never troubled to hide it.

I even recall meeting some of the offspring of our immediate former foreign affairs minister who seemed amazed that I did not know his father.

‘Do you know my dad’s golf score?’ The boy asked.

‘No. And come to think of it, who the hell is your father?’

The boy seemed aghast.

‘You don’t know the minister? Do you know who my father is?’

Neurons fired and I took a closer look at that goofy smile. I told the boy that the best source of information with regards to his immediate parentage was his mother.

Of course it passed him completely by, but I digress.

Politicians generally turn everything they touch to ashes, and it was no different when it came to constitutional review.

One of the things the people across the country wanted was the ability to send their leaders packing of they displayed their usual gross ineptitude and negligence to duty. One of the most popular clauses was the recall clause.

It was no coincidence that the working group discussing this particular issue was composed mostly of MPs. It was gone quicker than taxpayer’s money at a party for MPs.

The NARC government came to power on a platform of change. Mwai Kibaki and his Merry Men and Women made a sweeping array of promises, and managed to break almost every single one.

It takes an exceptional man to break a promise that requires absolutely no effort to keep. Mwai Kibaki is this man.

He promised that he would not put his face on the money, a pretty easy promise to keep. But Mwai Kibaki is no ordinary man. In very short order indeed his face adorned the 40 shilling coin, as well as a 1000 and 5000 shilling coins.

His Merry Men appeared on TV and unblushingly told us that as a matter of fact the new coins were a pleasant surprise for the president, and what’s more he had no idea what they were doing.

Uh huh. Next the Army will invade a neighbouring country and present it to the president as a birthday surprise along with his cornflakes and potato juice. A president that does not know what his juniors are up to.

The other promise was the delivery of a constitution within 100 days.

Tasked with this responsibility was one of the president’s most trusted lieutenants, Kiraitu Muringi, the Justice and Constitutional Affairs minister. This gentleman’s mouth is unique in many aspects. One of these is its unique twist when he is in conversation. The other is its uncanny ability to host one of his feet, as he regularly inserts his foot into his mouth. The first manifestation of his foot and mouth was declaring to a stunned press that at no time had the president said 100 days.

He stood firm even in the face of video evidence.

He was later to lead the declare the Anglo Leasing scandal a scandal that never was, make enemies of every last woman in Kenya with appalling references to rape, followed by a laugh, declare the constitution a government matter and declare that the pro-constitution cabal of government was going to shake every corner of the nation after laughing off the 10 million dollar budget of the no team.

The review was rudely interrupted over a series of issues, chiefly that of the executive prime minister. Kenyans watched in amazement as reformers in the previous regime completely changed tunes. Those that had been calling for a powerful prime minister to check the excesses of the president rejected the idea in its entirety.

One of the president’s Merry Men, a longtime friend and golfing buddy named John Michuki told Kenyans that the constitutional change was purely to check the former president, and there was no need for any further changes. We could trust on the benevolence of Mwai Kibaki because he was a good guy.

Others in the conference objected to the change of tune and quicker than a minister to collect his teletubbies from his office after sacking, a section of the MPs walked out of the constitutional conference.

That was the nail in the coffin for the entire process. Not only had the people lost all semblance of control over the process, the MPs who had unceremoniously taken over were split down the middle.

MPs then had a series of retreats, workshops and accords during which the document deviated from the original draft more and more, and credence was given to the fact that the government riding roughshod over all opposition was writing a constitution that was to the benefit of the incumbent.

The most controversial of these was one held in the coastal town of Kilifi, during with government friendly MPs practically wrote the draft themselves. All objections were summarily ignored. And this is what became the draft that was forwarded to the Attorney General for proper drafting, and the referendum was in the pipeline.

Vinci

Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war was the clarion call when it came to the referendum itself. MPs from the pro and the anti constitution side drew daggers seeing as consensus had failed.

The electoral commission in its infinite wisdom settled upon a banana as a symbol for the yes and an orange as a symbol for the no. On retrospect this was not entirely a wise choice because barring their healthy benefits, they make excellent missiles.

On hindsight, the next time we have a referendum an excellent choice of symbols would be chips and chicken, or chocolate biscuits and cocoa.

The campaign process was the darkest and dirtiest game that has ever been seeing in decades. Politicians spent a sum total of a few seconds extolling or cursing the constitution and the rest of the time in vitriolic attacks on each other. Gutters all over the world are still complaining by having the MP’s talk described as gutter talk.

The IQ of an individual drops by 80% the instant they stand before a crowd with a microphone in hand.

Grown men cast doubts about the abilities of their colleagues because they were uncircumcised.

The president of a country called some of his people buffoons and chicken shit.

Ministers called MPs garbage.

Some claimed ex-army men were in training should their side lose.

Some called members of other tribes lazy people who depended on the sweat of other tribes.

It can be mentioned in passing that some of these members just 6 or so months ago were in Rwanda where they visited a number of sites of the genocide and they tearfully regretted the villainy of the human being.

The introduction of tribe into the equation it can be said with certainly was first played by the yes side. A cabal of the president’s kitchen cabinet told the masses that to vote for the constitution was to vote for their man, and to keep their man in power.

What these sterling intellects forgot was these very words were also heard by other communities (ah, the joys of TV) and the net effect of this was to instantly polarize the entire country into a situation of ‘us vs. them’.

Looking at the poll results was testament to this. In one province 97% voted one position and 3% the other. This either means that the people were all
- Of above average intelligence
- Of below average intelligence
- voting on nothing but tribal lines

Clearly the latter is the only possibility.

Making things till murkier were the antics from the government itself. About a month to the referendum the government embarked on a spree of bribery masquerading as generosity that left many speechless.

The first was the hand over of the Amboseli National park to the local county council, a move that was clearly aimed at influencing the vote of the Maasai community.

Then there was the matter of the forest land. Some months back the government ruthlessly ejected people that had illegally settled in the forest for reasons of destruction to Kenya’s dwindling forest cover and great harm to the environment. Then just before the referendum in a show of benevolence the government resettled people into the very same land, environmental objections notwithstanding. The president himself handed out title deeds!

Then there were high powered delegations to State House during which demands were made and promised. The delegations were all along tribal lines. Goodies dished out included airports, roads, relief food (yes, relief food!) and districts.

Civil servants who have for years been crying for salary increment to an uninterested government suddenly got the said hikes. Councilors, provincial administrators and others received handsome pay hikes as inducements to vote yes.

Blatant bribery from the same people who hurled vitriol at the former president when he used to do the very same thing!

Well! The joke was on the powers that be.

The government, despite its bribes, despite its deeper pockets and despite its array of leading lights had its backside handed to it on a plate as it was soundly defeated in the referendum.

Out of the 8 provinces, 7 said no. Out of 200 or so constituencies, 150 said no. Most of the ‘leading lights’ as they fondly call themselves were soundly defeated in their own home turf.

It was a great day indeed.

The voting was peaceful.

As the results trickled in a series of truths became apparent
- Kenyans are not as stupid as its politicians think they are, and will not allow their intelligence to be insulted
- Kenyans have become sly enough to accept gifts and then go on to vote they way they had intended to anyway. After all, the government would ordninarily take its time delivering them
- Politicians are not as popular as they think they are
- Kenyan youth are beginning to take voting and elections seriously
- You can’t buy Kenyans
- Politicians are the root cause of many of Kenya’s problems, and especially tribalism, which they continually fan for their own benefit
- When deeply moved, Kenyans will not stand for any nonsense
- The will of the people will ALWAYS rise to the top

Hopefully the grossly inflated egos in power (from all the parties) will learn a thing or two from this matter.

One can only trust that in sacking the entire cabinet, some of these fundamental truths have struck Mwai Kibaki. But one can only wait and see. In two weeks time we shall know.

Kenyans’ patience has worn thin. We will not stand for any nonsense from our politicians.

Lady JayDee – Distance