Resistance is mounting. Pimples of dissent are breaking out everywhere.
Last week one-or-other Kenyan women’s group mounted a campaign of denial of conjugal rights to their married men-folk (I kid you not). On the face of it, this was in an attempt to bring pressure to bear on the government and to have the men, now charged with pent-up energy, to demand change, if only in order to regain paradise lost. The call was, of course, the talking point of every radio station, cabbie and street vendor in town. The question on everyone’s lips was whether this applied to unmarried men – or were they allowed to carry on regardless. Talk shows were inundated with voices of indignation, with few, if any, of the callers seriously questioning the logic behind the call.
I wondered about the logic of the call for some time, until I met a serious feminist earlier this week – who was so well-informed she clearly had something to do with the call itself – and who told me quite plainly that there was no serious intent behind the call except to conscientise the men of Kenya that there are gender issues that need consideration too … Essentially she said “How can men have automatic conjugal rights that violate basic human rights”. And I guess she was right.
This place never ceases to amaze me with some of the people I encounter.
Two weeks or so ago, the residents of a few Nairobi ghettos started taking the law into their own hands and resorted to lynching a few (9, I think) Mungiki members who were known extortionists and racketeers in the midst of various ghetto communities. After the lynching, it took a week for Mungiki to react. They reacted true to form and took their usual “two for one”, massacring no less than 20 innocent people. The people were drawn, in the dead of night, to a fire started those same Mungiki members charged with exacting revenge for killings of their own. The events were followed by the usual hue and cry over Mungiki’s actions in Kenya and highlighted the tiredness of the people in having to deal with the Mungiki threat – but to no avail and a conspicuous lack of comment from government.
And last week some time, the State President and some senior MP’s had to flee a stone-throwing mob at a recent political talk-a-thon. They failed to appear at their next gig, obviously expecting the same, and were most likely to have got the same. The pictures of the ‘mob’ in the papers were of a very angry bunch of young people. Yes, kind sirs, the people are pissed off!
Raila Odinga, widely acknowledged – nay, almost universally acknowledged – to have won the last election by a vast majority (but having had it ‘stolen’ by the Kibaki camp) called for a snap election. He was simply put in his place by a government announcement – a government he is supposedly part of – and widespread news coverage to the effect that snap elections are not catered for in the constitution and therefore could not happen.
Funnily enough, corruption and stealing from the electorate are also not covered by the constitution but seem to be very much a part of the current government’s mandate. Raila tries, but his opposition - within the self-same government - is much too smart and wily for him. It’s exactly the same scenario as Mugabe-Morgan. Morgan got himself thoroughly Raila’d! (That is, given a position with title but with little effect!)
Raila also said that because his party dominated the legislature – which it does quite substantially – he should be appointed the Speaker of Parliament to properly handle the business of each day. He was talked down from this position too. He was even talked down from attending a certain inauguration in SA today – even though he was going to do this in his private capacity.
I have said it before – gladly – and I say it again … The days of this particular Kenyan government are coming to an end. Reform is on the political agenda but it seems likely it will take a few years to get from the menu to the table.
Kenyan politics is so fraught with platitudes and assertions of rectitude and justice in all its affairs that it beats me how the Kenyan people continue to stomach it all with relatively straight faces. But talk of significant change there is. Perhaps it will never amount to anything more than talk. For the next few years, the Kenyan people might just be dragged along in the ever-distant hope of a new political order…
Just a quick note about the extent of government corruption and the effect it has had (and still has) on the Kenyan economy …
I blogged a while ago about the fact that Kenyan coffee was amongst the best in the world and that coffee was once Kenya’s single largest foreign income earner. It turns out that it was not just Uganda’s aggressive marketing that lost Kenya its place in world coffee markets. It had much more to do with the fact that the State was paying so little to the growers that many chose to turn their land over to vegetables for local consumption instead! And when the coffee market started to fail, the government wanted to invest enough to resuscitate it, only to find that BILLIONS of Shillings had simply ‘disappeared’ from the coffee co-op’s coffers! And the coffee industry has never, ever recovered. The cost of this to the Kenyan people is inestimable.
There is a ‘culture of expectation’ in Kenya that is something of a sickness here. I have only slowly become aware of it. It is known as “halafu” – or “what do you have for me?” There is an expectation here that if you are earning well – or are simply perceived as such – you should ‘give’. Because you are in a better position than someone else means that you are supposed to give beyond the cost of services rendered, if any …
Don’t get me wrong. I am the first to support charity where charity might well be due. But what of people who are actually earning on a daily basis but who just want ‘more’ simply because you are perceived to have more. I can’t really support that. I say, Kenyans, call on your government to create minimum wage laws and to create jobs for you, the people. Don’t expect other, regular people to make up for the blatant shortcomings of your rulers!
Kenya’s Colonial history clearly has something to do with it. Colonialism meant that the rich were seriously rich and the rest were subjugated under the economic yoke. When uhuru (freedom) came, the new black ‘masters’ simply continued in the same vein, perpetuating the self-same order of subjugation and subservience. Today, still, what the ‘average’ Kenyan gets paid is a crime and, in Nairobi, is nothing less than a crime against humanity.
Moving swiftly on: Last week I moved out of the ‘mansion’ in Spring Valley, to share a place in the leafy Nairobi suburb of Gigiri, home to the UN and the US Embassy (now under very serious armed guard and protection since the terrorist attack ten years ago). Jenny said that if I blog her again she WILL kill me, so I can’t say at whose place I am staying!
Spring Valley was just too expensive, given that I had non-deposit-paying tenants and massive electricity bills to foot. I am quite honestly relieved as I sit and view the Karura Forest and the monkeys prancing on the roof next door. The forest is huge and quite spectacular, completely surrounding Gigiri and all its inroads.
Martin, a driver from the office, assisted me with the move, bringing two of his friends and a large diesel pick-up for the task. We had just arrived at the Gigiri house of ‘my friend’ when Martin alerted me to the song playing on the Kikuyu radio station he was tuned to. It was the song that Mungiki sing. Perhaps because of the association alone, the song was nothing less than chilling.
The forest is a favourite spot for the unmarked graves of political dissidents. On Thursday morning I was sitting on the porch doing some work when I heard a lone, high velocity gunshot coming from just a few miles away. I wonder …
I had not seen that day’s Daily Nation but it seems that the gunshot coincided with the publication of 21 photographs and mention of people who have simply ‘disappeared’ over the last few months. The state mechanisms of silent but ruthless oppression ARE in evidence. Dominic, a cab driver I have become well-acquainted with since last week, tells me that those who ARE found bear simple, single-wound bullet holes in the front of the head. There are obviously some experienced executioners around. Enough on that. I have said it … Change is coming and let’s just hope it’s not too slow.
Aside from the absolutely fantastic road that leads from town to Gigiri (paid for by the UN), there’s a lot of road re-surfacing going on in and around Nairobi. And how welcome it is. I have commented on the roads just a little already but it seems that budgets have now been released into the public works fund to do what should have been done a few years ago. The Uhuru highway has been resurfaced from Mombasa Road in the south to just short of Westlands (which is ostensibly in the west, but is kinda in the north). While the tarring is done it creates absolute havoc but what a relief when the road opens the next day! Far fewer small, Japanese compact cars are disappearing, unexplained, on the highway these days!
Living in Gigiri for this short time now has given me one or two insights that cause me to retract at least some of what I have said earlier about Asian (lack of) integration …
I was sitting at the Village Market food court last week, simply watching the crowd, sipping on a cappuccino from Dorman's (“The Coffee Experts”). It was a Saturday afternoon and the place was
‘jum-pucked’. There’s this water feature that surrounds the food court.
Standing next to the meandering water was a lanky Kenyan girl bearing obvious signs of adolescent self-consciousness. Standing next to her was her overweight mzungu friend (who was not the least bit self-conscious). The two were waiting for ‘something to happen’. It was about ten minutes later when something indeed happened. The ‘girls’ were joined by the ‘guys’ …
There were three … The first, a suave Kenyan Asian, sporting a suitably ‘gelled’ hair-aberrant coiffure. The second, a black Kenyan wearing a Dolce & Gabanna T-shirt. The third, an mzungu blondie who was probably the most sloppily dressed individual I have yet to see in Kenya!
Much laughter and fun jostling ensued between them. What was interesting was that the mzungu was flirting with the black chick; the Asian was flirting with the mzungu chick - threatening to throw her into the water - while the black guy just surveyed the crowd looking for something interesting. The latter was doing the right thing in that his good looks meant he could be a little selective. The table of young girls next to me was quite abuzz with the prospect of being noticed.
So, yes folks, there is indeed hope for a more racially integrated Kenya in future. And if it is to be seen anywhere it has to be in Gigiri where the elite and future-King Kenyans are to be found … It was really good to see.
I suppose, in a lot of ways, the honeymoon phase of my Kenya experience is over. I am more aware of the shortfalls of the country, of the problems that abound and of the changes that need to come. But it leaves me no less enamoured with the place. It IS an extremely beautiful country with lovely people – people I feel far closer to than many of the violent, negligent, gun-toting individuals back home …
There are 42 distinct ‘tribes’ spread across Kenya’s wide plains and there has been very little mixing over the years. So far, I have blogged a few details pertaining to a few of the tribes. Not long ago, I blogged about the Maasai and their ‘loan’ of land in Ngong to fellow Kenyans (but not to Mungiki).
I heard very recently that Nairobi is actually a Maa word meaning “place of clear waters” and that Nairobi is actually also Maasai land. This accounts for the fact that Martin and I nearly crashed into a cow crossing the road in Hurlingham the other day. This lone, leading cow was followed shortly by a great many others, and also by a Maasai herder that was taking them walkabout for a bit of grazing.
The Maasai have free grazing rights throughout Nairobi. Some years back, when the government of the day (Moi’s era, I think) tried to limit these grazing rights, the Maasai stated quite baldly that if the State wanted to limit their grazing, the State could quite simply give the Maasai land back! Did I hear the word “Whoa” emanating from Parliament Avenue?
And today, evidently, it is not uncommon for an informal, aspiring Keith Kirsten to lose all his potted stock to a Maasai herder’s hungry husbandry!
Vooi tog!One other bit of local lore ... I said before that the Kamba people are reputed to have ‘magic’. They are also reputed to be ‘lazy’, which is evidently why many Kamba men are gardeners and choose to loll around in the sun, in someone’s back yard! But as far as the magic goes, there is this story about the Kamba wife who was ‘fooling around’ a bit. She had this lover over one night (no doubt while hubby was riding his bicycle around town in the dead of night). They were kinda done with the throes of passion when the errant lover found that he could not ‘disengage’ … He was unable to ‘remove himself’ from his trespass! In time, the impish, round-headed Kamba husband returned home and scrutinized the scene to his satisfaction, issuing what were no doubt sufficient warnings to both parties. Once he was done with his diatribe he removed a cigarette lighter from his pocket and simply clicked it on … and the trespasser was freed of his bondage.
This story is so much a part of local legend that I have heard it separately from a few people already. Legend has it too that Kamba people don’t need to lock their doors at night. No-one dare enter their houses without permission!
You know it’s the rainy season in Kenya when there is constant advertising on radio for free mosquito nets and when all the supermarkets feature prominent promotions for anti-malarial potions and treatments. But the rainy season is truly beautiful, even if a little inconvenient at times … If you are walking in areas where there are no pavements (which are plenty) you have to slush around in the mud and have to beware each and every passing car and truck for fear of getting drenched in mud.
You know it’s rainy season in Kenya when one of your Meru staff gets constant calls from his Dad, imploring him to give up on the academic stuff and come help with the miraa farm. I told said researcher it might not be a bad idea considering the number of people I see chewing miraa (khat) these days! He declined.
I am toying with the idea of developing a ‘Kenya IQ’ test. Here are the first three questions …
Kikuyu is to money as Luo is to…
a) miraa
b) mosquito
c) mirror
Kikuyu is to money as Meru is to...
a) miraa
b) mosquito
c) mirror
Kikuyu is to money as Turkana is to...
a) miraa
b) mosquito
c) mirror
(Correct answers are c, a, b)
I suppose some indication of a country’s ‘spirit’ has to be drawn from the words one learns at the very start of one’s experience in the foreign land. In Kenya it has to do with the words themselves but also with the WAY in which these words are spoken. I have mentioned it before and give it brief mention here again: The Kenyan people speak beautifully, whether in their native tongue – Swahili mainly – or in English. There is music to their speak that is indescribably beautiful. So I won’t try to describe it … Just know it to be true.
The first word you learn in Kenya, because you hear it so often, is “Karibu” (you are welcome) or “Karibu sana” (you are very welcome). Then, quite quickly, you learn to say the appropriate “Thank you” (asante) or asante sana. Early on, you also hear “pole sana” (pronounced pour-lair), meaning “I am sorry” (for you and/or your experience) and the seemingly similar (yet quite distinct) “pole-pole” meaning “slowly”.
The personal pronouns of “you” (wewe) or “me” (mimi) follow quite quickly, as do …
Wapi? Where?
Nini? What?
Lini? When?
Nani? Who?
Gani? Which (type)?
Yakho You (different context to ‘wewe’)
Uko You (another context)
Hapa Here
Hapo There
Aenda I go
Twende We go
Mingi Big
Kubwa Huge
Kidogo Small
Kwa With
Kutoka kwa From
Na And/with/have (and a few other meanings)
Nzuri Good, fine
Poa(poh-ah) Very good, Beautiful, Pretty
Etcetera, etcetera.
And I absolutely love the use of the term “ni-nini” meaning a “what-what” - or what South Africans would call a ‘dingis’. Another expression that I love is “si ndyo?”, meaning “not so?”. Many a statement, on just about any subject, is followed by “si ndyo?” – “wouldn’t you say so, isn’t it true?” It is beautifully self-affirming and a statement to the effect that the orator is certainly being truthful in what he or she is saying.
I was fascinated by how the term “mumbo jumbo” got into English, realising it must indeed have come somewhere from Swahili. Both “Jambo” and “Mambo” are terms of greeting in Swahili, with the latter being the more informal. Eventually I think I have worked it out: I can only assume that the Colonials, being greeted, but not knowing what was being said to them, adopted the term to denote stuff they couldn’t understand …
Pole sana! (I am very sorry for you)
In case you’re interested, a typical start-up conversation in Swahili will go as follows:
“Mambo?” (an informal greeting that, formally, means “what’s news?” but is used as in “Howzit?”)
Your reply might be:
“Poa!” or “poa sana!” or even “poa-poa sana!” (if you are feeling exceptional)
Alternatively, you might reply that you are “not bad”:
“Si mbaye”
Or “bad”:
“mbaye” (although very seldom used!)
On Fridays, particularly, you will be prone to reply:
“Salaama” (at peace) or “Salaama kabisa” (entirely peaceful).
If it is good looking, as it walks away you might want to comment:
“Mrembo sana!” (you’re HOT) and then, possibly, you might add:
“Uko na matako kubwa poa sana” (your ass is huge and quite beautiful!)
(A particularly African compliment of the highest order)
The later comment might be more appropriate if “it” is female …
Needless to say, I love the language. It is quite beautiful, being infused with Arabic that gives it a softness that is quite distinct from the Zulu or Xhosa languages that derive from the same root, Bantu tongue.
The number of words in common usage that derive from Swahili is quite startling. Just three:
Safari Journey/travel
Maluumi Special person
Simba Lion (as in Simba chips)
(there are many more I have come across but can't exactly remember now!)
I have a Swahili dictionary but because I am learning more ‘street’ Swahili (‘Sheng’) from friends, a great many of the words I know are either not in the dictionary are in entirely different usage.
In the dictionary, the word “mrembo” is said to mean ‘a well-dressed person’. On the street it means “HOT” (in the personal sense - as opposed to “moto” (pronounced more-tor) which means ‘warm/hot/fire’ in a slightly less personal way).
Enough Swahili linguistic didactics.
On the weekend after SA’s general Zumalection the SA High Commission hosted a “South Meets East” concert at the Kenya National Museum grounds. The only SA artist on the bill was Lira and she was supported by two Kenyan artists, Eric Wainana and Valerie.
Eric was very good, performing a few tracks in Luo. Brenda came with me and she translated the Luo lyrics - all suitably tongue-in-cheek and infused with political innuendo. But I think Eric should probably stick to Swahili because from people I have spoken to it seems that a lot of Kenyans don’t “get” what he is saying ... The Luo double meanings tend to be understood at face value.
Valerie was OK and I would venture to say that there are a great many Kenyan acts that should rather have been on the bill.
But as for Lira … She was absolutely GREAT. She started the set with a slow, sultry jazz piece and opened her singing with the greeting:
“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmbbbo?”
The crowd went absolutely WILD.
Her band was phenomenal and the drummer was so alive and funky he couldn’t stay in his seat. I had seen him in the gathering crowd earlier in the evening, with what looks like his brother (who plays keyboard and sax with the band). They were both dressed in Bosmont Hip-Hop Chic and memories of my friend, and fellow drummer, Ian Herman (ex Tananas, and now playing for Sting I believe), came to mind.
Lira finished her set with the award-winning “iXesha”. After she mentioned the title I was amazed to hear, all around me, Kenyans attempting the Xhosa back-of-the-tongue ‘click’ in the word (and largely failing). Kenyans REALLY LOVE the Xhosa clicking – at least some of the reason for Brenda Fassie’s popularity here.
Lira gave the song its introduction:
“iXesha means Time in Xhosa. And the title of this song really means …
Honey, baby, sweetheart, darling, honey-bunch, gorgeous ……
YOUR TIME IS UP!”
The response from the women in the crowd was nothing short of deafening and Lira had to wait a while before actually starting the song. What eventually followed was fantastic and I must admit to being just a little moved by her swaying, sassy performance (which I have on video).
At the end of the night I think Brenda was a little stunned by what she had seen. All she could say was:
“Wow, you South Africans have some GREAT performers!”
I’ll say.
I am specially fond of the old guy with the understated dance who wears the funky shirts. But I’m not so keen on the guy with the bipolar skull who is getting some kind of special place in SA society today.
Amani na mapenzi brothers and sisters.
B-)
Speaking to other Kenyans, mainly from the coast, I have heard stories of genies and what they can get up to if their master is properly paid and clearly instructed on the client’s wishes. I met a guy called Gilbert who told me he was forced to have sex in his car with a work colleague who had a crush on him. His brand new car refused to start and wouldn’t move when he tried to push it. Once he had done the deed with her, it started on the first turn.
