This is the most important post I have written in a very long time and I am not ashamed to say that I write it with tears trickling down my cheeks.
My parents were not rich but I was
brought up fairly comfortably. I never went hungry and I was dropped at school
by car every day. I was never sent home even once because of my fees not being
paid.
But I am also very grateful for the
experience I had when I finished my sixth form and decided to move out of my
father’s house right away. The first thing that hit me hard was when I realized
that I could not afford to pay rent on my own anywhere near the Kileleshwa
neighbourhood where my dad resided at the time. Even the servants quarters
available in the area were way out of my reach as a freelance journalist and
aspiring writer. I ended up in Riruta a reasonable middle class estate at that
time but not far from the sprawling Kawangware slums. I was shocked that there
were pit latrines anywhere close to Nairobi and filthy ones at that. I was yet
to discover that this was sheer luxury compared to the good folks at Kibera who
do not have toilets at all and have to use paper bags which they then throw all
over the place. But I was overjoyed to be independent. I am grateful to God
every day that I was born the kind of person who can be comfortable virtually
anywhere.
That was the beginning of my
education on how most Kenyans live this life. Always the curious type I
ventured into many slum areas making friends easily and learning what I thought
would always be for my own consumption.
I learnt how most kids in this area
love to drink plenty of water because they are hungry most of the day and will
only have a single meal in a day (which more often than not will not even be
enough). And so they fill their stomach with water to dull the hunger pangs. I
went hungry myself many times as I struggled to prove to myself and my dad that
I was capable of taking care of myself.
I saw things that made me wonder
whether I was still in Kenya. One particular encounter in the Kibera slums just
floored me and has haunted me since.
In Kibera Kenyans who have gone
without food for a few days usually hang around on the roads and deliberately
throw themselves in front of a passing car that is not moving too fast. The
whole idea is to get some kind of payment “to go to hospital” from the “rich”
driver of the vehicle. And it works sometimes. The hungry young man may get hit
quite badly sometimes but at least he ends up with a few coins given to him to
go to hospital but which he will use to buy some food. I once asked a friend in
the slums if the people who do this do not fear death. His answer shocked me to
my bones. For people who live in these slum areas death is sometimes a welcome
escape from the life of hopelessness they live every day. And thus many of them
do not fear death. The immediate motive is to eat but if they die that is even
better because they will never need to worry again about what they will eat
tomorrow.
With this kind of background I get sick
hearing some NGO-type still burping and farting from her six course lunch
appear on national TV and give Kenyans wonderful theories about why Waititu
should be barred from contesting. Or the fat journalist still sweating from a
nyamachoma lunch who writes a column saying that TNA chaps are crazy to from
Waitutu for governor of Nairobi.
Well the low-lifes are the vast
majority of voters and fortunately there is nothing anybody can do about that
(unless you want to change the constitution and give the chaps at Lavington 3
votes for every single one cast by a low-life). These are the kind of people
supporting the political aspirations of Ferdinand Waititu and Michael Gideon
Sonko. They are not on social media and neither will they be able to leave a
comment here to praise this post despite the fact that internet access is so
cheap these days. They have other more basic needs to worry about. But the
truth is that Waititu speaks their language and so does Sonko. And that is why
you can be sure that those two individuals are as good as already elected.
Over the last few days I have read
and heard all kinds of comments about how stupid and ridiculous it is for
anybody to imagine Waititu as governor of Nairobi. They have really saddened
me.
I have realized that the divide
between the haves and the have-nothings has continued to widen considerably because
the experiences I describe above are from the late 80s. Between that time and
now a lot more has happened to worsen the lot of the less privileged in Kenya.
Meanwhile our leaders have continued to behave with arrogance and in a manner
that would suggest that it is not true that over 70% of Nairobians live in
slums. Is it any surprise that leaders like Waititu and Sonko have attracted
the constituency that they have?
I have coined the phrase low-lifes
from one of my relatives who really looks down on those less privileged Kenyans
and has no time for them. And yet they do not hail from a rich family, in fact she
walked to school in her time and was sent home several times for lack of fees. Indeed
I have noticed that the worst people are not even the rich but the middle class
and those aspiring to be associated with the well to do. I have watched with
amusement as some of my brothers get extremely UNcomfortable when I mix freely
with the so-called “low lifes.”
Our press is not any better because
it has become extremely elitist. Journalists write their stories as if they
were in Europe or somewhere in the United States. This would have been
laughable if it were not so tragic. And if we were not sitting on a time bomb
that will have to explode some day. I remember when I was trying to get into
journalism there used to be a small pub somewhere along Moi avenue where
journalists mixed freely with the public and many ordinary Kenyans. In those days
there were many journalists who lived in Eastlands and especially the parts of
Eastlands that are not well to do. In those days the newspapers were much more
readable and I wonder these days why the leading daily newspapers don’t simply
move to Muthaiga and do all their reporting and coverage there instead of
pretending that they represent the masses.
You can keep on looking down on
low-lifes, their thinking and political choices but be aware of the fact that
their day is coming. Don’t for a minute fool yourself that the walls
surrounding your leafy neighborhood house are high enough or that the dogs
roaming in your compound are fierce enough to protect you when the time comes.
I write this post well aware of the
fact that for all intents and purposes I am playing guitar music to goats.
Still I declare today that I stand with the low-lifes of Kenya and all my views
and opinions here will reflect that without any fear or embarrassment.
Waititu is the best governor that
Nairobi can ever have and if for no other reason at least his elevation will
delay the coming violent class wars when the low-lifes wake up one morning and
decide that they have had enough.
P.S. If this post did not make any
sense to you I recommend that you skip your 2 next meals (you can drink as much
water as you wish) and then come back and read this post when you are still
hungry. You may just begin to understand it then. There is no way burpers and
farters can comprehend the contents here and so I advice that you d not even
try.
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