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Follow the Money: How to Make Dirty Cash Clean Without Omo

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The really bold drug barons will set up their own banks to avoid all the hassle of bribing the numerous people from the police to banking officials; dodging the tedious procedures and the obvious scrutiny from government bureaucrats.

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Financial Flows
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Nairobi, Kenya

Look to Windward Trading, Who Looted Half a Billion

Two events of momentous proportions took place in Kenya since the beginning of this year.

On January 30, sons of the slain drug lord Ibrahim Akasha, Baktash Akasha and Ibrahim Akasha, Indian drug suspect Vijaygiri Goswami and Gulam Hussien, a Pakistan, were extradited to the US to face charges of drug trafficking. Since 2014, the Akashas had been fighting not to be deported to the US.

In March 2015, the four were arrested with 98 packets of suspected heroin. The US then issued an Interpol “red notice” for their capture and request for extradition. The Manhattan District Attorney said of the quartet when they arrived in New York: “Kenya drug trafficking organization with global ambitions”.

On March 3, 2017, a meeting quietly took place at the Treasury Building in Nairobi between National Treasury Permanent Secretary Kamau Thugge and Senator Ian Gorst from Jersey Island. The two officials representing their respective countries were concluding an agreement that finally returned money that had been stashed in the tax haven island.

Jersey had just returned Ksh380 million ($3.8 million), part of Ksh500 million ($5 million) that had been stolen by two senior Kenyan state bureaucrats in 2011 and hidden in the island’s banks, known for their secrecy and lax tax laws.

A former chairman of the rich and influential parastatal, Kenya Power and Lighting Company (KLPC), Samuel Gichuru and a former minister of energy, Chris Okemo, had conspired to loot public money, which they then expatriated to the tax haven. As is normal with such conspiratorial and illicit transactions, Gichuru formed a ‘phantom’ company, Windward Trading Ltd, that was then used to siphon out the Ksh500 million.

In June 2011, Jersey’s Attorney General requested the extradition of the two, and the United Kingdom, under whose jurisdiction the island falls, issued an arrest warrant. In February 2016, the Royal Court of Jersey finally confiscated the stashed money after the company pleaded guilty to four charges of laundering corrupt money.

Even though the money has been repatriated, the extradition case is still going on and the remaining Ksh120 million was retained to cover transactional charges incurred by the Jersey government.

In a country like Kenya, where state corruption is rife, money stolen from the public coffers by powerful civil servants and those close to power, invariably ends up stashed in foreign offshore accounts

The case illustrates how illicitly acquired money is hidden, transferred and invested in foreign banks through a labyrinthine maze of electronic transfers. Identical mechanisms, including dummy companies, are also used by companies and individuals to hide income from tax authorities in the countries where it is earned and to transfer it to low-tax jurisdictions. Through such illicit financial flows (IFFs), Africa loses, according to the Tax Justice Network-Africa, the equivalent of $10 for every $1 it receives in aid.

In 2016, the Panama Papers, the world’s biggest data leak, provided a glimpse into the scale of the problem. Briefly, the Panama Papers refer to 11.5 million data files leaked from the Panama-based law firm, Mossack Fonseca, the world’s fourth largest offshore law firm. The leak named individuals who included presidents, influential politicians, powerful bureaucrats and companies that use the law firm as a registering agent to channel their — oftentimes illegally acquired — money to jurisdictions with secretive and lenient tax laws. The files traced 191 individuals and 25 companies to Kenya.

“IFF is a generic term,” says Jared Maranga of Tax Justice Network-Africa (TJN-A), a pan- Africa research and advocacy organisation based in Nairobi. Maranga is an investments and tax policy expert. He says the terminology depends on the form and nature of how the money is being moved. ‘Generally speaking, there are three ways in which IFFs are facilitated: through state corruption, bilateral and multilateral treaties and tax incentives.’

The Washington DC research and advocacy group Global Financial Integrity defines IFFs as illegal movements of money or capital from one country to another. This movement of money is what is classified as ‘illicit flow’ — especially when the money is illegally earned, transferred, or used.

The advocacy group says IFFs originate from three main sources: commercial engagements — through tax evasion, inflating and manipulation of prices of goods; criminal activities such as drug and human trafficking, illegal arms trade and smuggling of contraband; and corruption by influential and powerful state officials.

Importers whose aim is to dodge paying tax use underhand tactics such as inflating the price of goods to evade or undercut Custom duties, VAT or income tax. Crime syndicates launder their illicit profits by mixing them with legal money earned from legitimate business such as buying and selling of used cars, for example. Bureaucrats create fake companies to transfer dirty or stolen money to a bank account in a foreign country. Huge sums of cash are also ferried across the border by human traffickers with the aim of depositing the money in a foreign country.

In a country like Kenya, where state corruption is rife, money stolen from the public coffers by powerful civil servants and those close to power, invariably ends up stashed in foreign offshore accounts. As a way of ‘cleaning’ it, the cash is used to buy real estate in developed countries in Europe and the Americas or invested in legitimate businesses through buying shares in multinational companies. In 2004, a report by report by the international risk consultancy Kroll commissioned by the Mwai Kibaki administration identified over Ksh130 billion ($1.3 billion) that relatives and associates of former President Daniel arap Moi had hidden in nearly 30 countries using a web of shell companies, secret trusts and frontmen.

IFFs have also provided drug barons with devious ways of moving their money without being detected. If the drugs trade itself is a dangerous and risky business, laundering the proceeds, which run into billions of shillings, is even a riskier undertaking.

In Kenya, drug lords have over time used both traditional and innovative means to hide and move their cash without attracting undue attention. And in situations where they cannot avoid detection, they have employed the time-tested methods of arm-twisting, bribery and coercion.

All the Major Banks Have Been Involved in Hiding Drugs Money

According to a 2009 report by the Financial Transactions and Reports Analysis Centre of Canada, drug traffickers launder approximately $100 million per year through the Kenyan financial system. ‘I’ll tell you this as a matter of fact,’ says Anselm Mbogo, a retired forensic auditor and banking fraud investigator, who in the course of a three-decade career worked in nearly every big local and international bank in Kenya. ‘All the major banks in Kenya have at one time or the other been involved in hiding or moving drugs money.’ Today, as a forensic consultant, his clients include some of his former employers. ‘The banks are still susceptible to money laundering by the drug lords,’ he says. ‘[That’s] basically because the drug barons have perfected the art of circumventing the 2012 Central Bank of Kenya (CBK) laws on money laundering and because bankers, just like any other human beings. are vulnerable to bribery and corruption.’

In a move to curb money laundering the CBK decreed that no more than $10,000 (Ksh1 million) could be deposited in a single transaction. It also developed regulations requiring banks to know their customers and their customers’ sources of funds, and to report any suspicious transactions.

Drug barons are attracted to heavy cash retail businesses, which move money on a daily basis. Retail businesses such as supermarket chains, matatus, pubs, are easy targets for cleaning illegal money because customers pay in cash

Laundering by banking officials is neither new nor is it about to end. ‘Four years ago, HSBC, a banking institution based in London, got into big trouble after it was found to have facilitated drugs money from Mexico,’ says Mbogo. HSBC bank was accused by the US federal banking authority of clearing suspicious travellers’ cheques worth of billions of dollars.

A Dynamic Three-Stage Process

Money-laundering is a dynamic three-stage process. The three stages are usually referred to as placement, layering and integration. Placement involves introducing the dirty cash into the financial system, perhaps mingling it with ‘clean’ funds to create an aura of legitimacy. Layering involves attempts to distance the money from its illegal source through layers of financial transactions. Integration makes the money available to the criminal as proceeds of legitimate commerce such as purchase of shares in business or investment in luxury goods and real estate.

Because illicit money generated from the drug business has to be infused into the financial system, it involves an intricate web of people and movement to ensure no paper trail is left behind. First, the money is ‘broken up’ into different amounts, even in different currencies, then moved around different accounts, to effectively obscure the audit trail. Once this is successfully done, the owner can access his clean money.

‘A couple of years ago. if you recall, a new entrant into Nairobi politics, inadvertently boasted that he ran 200 bank accounts,’ says Mbogo. ‘Just ask yourself, why would a person need 200 accounts, never mind the only business he was known to be engaged in was running some matatus in the city?’

According to Mbogo’s banking fraud investigations in Kenya, secondhand car bazaars and real estate construction businesses are the closest we have to drug money being laundered. ‘Let’s put it this way, drug barons are attracted to heavy cash retail businesses, that move money on a daily basis,’ says Mbogo. ‘Retail businesses such as supermarket chains, investing in the running of matatus, running a pub business, are easy targets for cleaning illegal money because customers pay in cash; hence it is easy to create fake transactions and receipts, which are reported as business sales when depositing cash on a daily basis.’

A big time building materials hardware company does not have to receive “illegal” money directly from a drug baron. All it needs to do is ask the property developer, in this case the money launderer, to deposit the money into a certain account

Big time supermarkets chains deliver huge volumes of cash, sometimes 4-5 time a day to banks. ‘The banks, in all fairness, cannot suspect that some of this money could be from illicit drug profiteering. On a good day, the biggest supermarket chain in Kenya deposits anything between Ksh30 million and Ksh50 million,’ says Mbogo. ‘The same applies to the matatu industry and bar owners. They deposit money on a daily basis, oftentimes 2 to 3 times depending on the briskness of the business.’

Eliud Njoroge, one of the few hedge fund managers in the country, says supermarket stocks are a good investment for drug kingpins. ‘They will identify a popular and fast growing supermarket chain and buy into it by way of stocks, which are in hundreds of millions of shillings. The yearly dividends that accrue, will be clean money, never mind the dirty money that was injected into the business through buying its shares.’

The forensic auditor avers that the proliferation of car bazaars in Nairobi coincided with the increased drug trade in this part of the world, when the Indian Ocean littoral was identified as an important ‘unmanned’ route. In the secondhand car businesses, you can claim to be banking money every day from fake car sales. With the setting up of a legitimate motor car business as a front company, the drug money is infused into the financial system legally through the opening of multiple accounts that handle money accrued from sales.

The other popular way that illicit drug money has been injected into the financial system is through the property development projects. ‘Just like the proliferation of secondhand car marts, it is also not a coincidence that the boom in the real estate industry has taken place in the past couple of years,’ observes Mbogo.

Like a supermarket, real estate development is a heavy cash business that involves employing casual labourers who are paid daily, or sometimes weekly. It also involves the buying and hiring of expensive heavy machinery (not on a daily business though), and building materials on a daily basis. ‘The construction business is favoured by drug barons because it facilitates what we call trading in goods,’ says the forensic auditor.

‘A big time building materials hardware company does not have to receive “illegal” money directly from a drug baron. All it needs to do is ask the property developer, in this case the money launderer, to deposit the money into a certain account. Once that is done, he can then go to the hardware shop and be given all the materials he has paid for. There is no money exchange, but there is value for money, which leaves no paper trail.’

The introduction of mobile money 10 years ago was a blessing to the drug barons, says Mbogo. The barons today have maximised the use of M-Pesa, Safaricom’s mobile money transfer innovation that mainly targeted Kenyans who did not have banking facilitates. There are 60,000 plus M-Pesa agents countrywide, as opposed to 840 bank branches in the country.

Today, a simple e-mail sent from Swindon, southeast London by a Kenyan living in the UK, to a fellow Kenyan in Nairobi can facilitate the moving of millions of shillings without actual movement of the money itself

‘Just like trading in goods to exchange value for cash, customers who use M-Pesa exchange cash for virtual value that goes into their phone. This allows them to buy goods, transfer money and even receive credit. Drug barons nowadays are moving huge amounts of money through M-Pesa in multiple credit lines, which allows them to even withdraw the money in another country. ‘Mobile transactions are made through text messages and therefore are difficult to trace,’ says Mbogo.

Safaricom, the company that runs the M-Pesa banking facility, recently said since 2016, Kenyans have been moving on average Ksh16 billion ($160 million) a day. The maximum amount one can transfer in a single transaction is Ksh140,000 ($1,400). ‘Let’s assume a drug lord operates or has access to upward of 10 mobile phone lines. He is capable of moving Ksh140,000 in all these credit lines, every day, every week, every month, several times over. In a year, he will have moved a humungous amount of money, running into hundreds of millions of shillings, without raising an eyebrow from the concerned authorities,’ explains Mbogo.

And There’s Always Been Hawala

One of the oldest forms of sending and transferring money without moving the money itself, Hawala, an Indian concept used in many centuries, is still as attractive to drug barons as it is to people who either do not have bank accounts or want to avoid the banking system altogether. ‘Today, a simple e-mail sent from Swindon, southeast London by a Kenyan living in the UK, to a fellow Kenyan in Nairobi can facilitate the moving of millions of shillings without actual movement of the money itself.’ Mbogo says he once traced an e-mail correspondence between the UK and Nairobi’s River Road that talked of money transfer. ‘The system works on trust, there is no paper work, the e-mail is written in coded language, you’d have to be knowledgeable in the language to know what’s being talked about.’

The really bold drug barons will set up their own banks to avoid all the hassle of bribing the numerous people from the police to banking officials; dodging the tedious procedures and the obvious scrutiny from government bureaucrats. ‘In this county, we have had such banks, some OF whose operations have been suspended, but I can tell you as night follows day, the banks are still very much in operation,’ says Mbogo.

 


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Mr Kahura is a senior writer for The Elephant.

Politics

The Real Story Behind the Hustler Narrative

Deputy President William Ruto’s political campaign is not a class struggle; it is a struggle for power – for himself. He is organising and mobilising his political base the same way the political sons of the late Daniel arap Moi organised their politics – through transactional methods that exploited human need, greed and ambitions for power.

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The Real Story Behind the Hustler Narrative
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Deputy President William Samoei Ruto has hit the campaign trail hard. He has provocatively billed the next presidential election the “hustlers versus dynasties” duel, which broadcast journalist Joe Ageyo thinks is new to Kenya’s politics.

In a Citizen TV talk show, Ageyo suggested that Ruto might be doing politics differently, mobilising and organising his political base along the dominant social-economic cleavages, and not the usual ethnic-regional conundrum – often presented as transient ethnic kingpin coalitions during general elections.

Certainly, Ruto’s invocation of an existing socio-economic cleavage between those in power and unemployed youth lends Kenya’s notoriously ethnicised politics a class overtone. Has William Ruto, a wealthy, self-styled born-again Christian politician, whose long political journey that began earnestly as the organising secretary of the surreptitious Youth for Kanu 92 (YK’92), undergone a Road-to-Damascus-like political conversion? Or is this vintage Ruto, grabbing any opportunity he can find to ruthlessly pursue his interests to achieve his lifelong dream of becoming president?

Hustler nation

Speaking in Nyamira County recently, Ruto said, “Some people are telling us sons of hustlers cannot be president. That your father must be known. That he must be rich for you to become the president. We are telling them that even a child of a boda boda or a kiosk operator or mtoto wa anayevuta mkokoteni (child of a cart pusher) can lead this country.” In a country that is tottering on the brink of economic meltdown, a youth budge and political despair, this is music to the ears of a desperate youthful population.

The deputy president’s chief critics remind him that surnames have hardly ever handicapped one’s presidential ambitions. Jomo Kenyatta, Daniel arap Moi, and Mwai Kibaki’s became president, and their fathers’ names were totally unknown to Kenyans. Only Uhuru Kenyatta, who Ruto ably assisted to win the presidency in the last two presidential elections, has a father who is known to Kenyans because he was the country’s first president.

Ruto, the self-styled spokesman of “the hustler nation,” also stated, “On dealing with hustlers, Raila should leave that to me. He does not understand the plight of hustlers. He is the son of a vice president and he was born being driven around.”

So why does Ruto proudly claim to be the “hustler-in-chief”? Hustler means different things to different people, but for many Kenyan youth, it signifies humble beginnings or means of eking out a living – respectable or otherwise. Being a hustler means one has found a way to stay afloat, particularly in hard economic times. The ambivalent feelings this word evokes match the legal and moral ambiguities that Ruto has built around his political career.

The deputy president has the gall to identify with the very youth whose present and future the Jubilee government has committed to misery by mismanaging the economy. He is appealing to youthful voters who will comprise the majority of first-time voters in 2022.

Wheelbarrownomics

But more than assuming their identity, what the deputy president has ably done is to locate the youths’ anxiety: their discontentment and deep frustration with the government. Frederick Kariuki, 29, a qualified accountant and a budding entrepreneur in Nairobi, is the latest convert to the political movement that is seemingly sweeping the country: The Hustlers. He told us that Ruto’s “wheelbarrownomics” (a word coined by Kenyan economist David Ndii) has struck the right note with the youth who believe Ruto could be their saviour.

“Those talking ill of the wheelbarrow gifts are pretenders to middle class, pedantic mandarins associated with President Uhuru’s wing of the Jubilee Party that is fighting Ruto. After lying to youth during the 2017 presidential campaigns, afraid and embarrassed by the swelling hordes of youth without work who are threatening to explode, the government belatedly came up with kazi mtaani (casual wage labour). What is the difference between kazi mtaani, where college graduates are being supplied with slashers for cutting grass and paid 400 shillings (which is still stolen from them) and Ruto’s dishing of wheelbarrows and push carts?” posed Kariuki.

The deputy president has the gall to identify with the very youth whose present and future the Jubilee government has committed to misery by mismanaging the economy. He is appealing to youthful voters who will comprise the majority of first-time voters in 2022.

“Ruto has correctly seized the moment to sell his hustler narrative, which has caught on like bush fire, even if it means bringing down a government he helped install in power. And why not? He has outwitted his nemesis through his tactical political manoeuvres and that’s what realpolitik is all about.

“A wheelbarrow costs 4,000 shillings and a pushcart 20,000 shillings. A cursory visit to Nairobi markets – Gikomba, Githurai and Marigiti – will show you what difference a wheelbarrow can make to a fruits’ hawker. The wheelbarrow is what many youth are using to hawk their wares. Many a youth in the ghetto, hoping to enter into the business of selling water, cannot because they simply can’t raise 20,000 shillings. Ruto then comes along and gives you a push cart. Between kazi mtaani and wage labour of unguaranteed 400 shillings, which would you rather have? What has President Uhuru’s government and those politicians criticising Ruto offered the youth? Nothing. They should keep quiet. I’ll be voting Ruto very early in the morning and pushing his agenda between now and 2022.”

Muigai, a friend from Fly Over, which is 50 kilometres from Nairobi and on the Nairobi-Nakuru highway, returned to the country just after the 2017 double presidential elections. Despite being armed with a college degree from a prestigious university, he has yet to find work. He was full of expectations; at 24 years of age, he believed the world was his oyster. But every single day, he sees his word crumbling before him.

His relatives encouraged him to come back home because they believed that Uhuru Kenyatta would create jobs for the youth, especially Kikuyu youth. “Since returning home, I’ve seen my family’s increasing disenchantment with President Uhuru Kenyatta,” said Muigai.

“At Soko Mjinga Market, the wheelbarrow is king, and they dare criticise Ruto? What has Uhuru himself offered other than destroying our businesses?” asked Muigai’s angry maternal uncle. “The Building the Bridges Initiative? They may say all they want about Ruto, that’s the person we’ll be voting for and we cannot wait to do it. The Kenyatta family will know we’re no longer their slaves.”

The underdog narrative

When Ruto teamed up with Uhuru in 2013 to form the Jubilee coalition, he wore shirts emblazoned with the president’s name. In April 2011, Mama Ngina Kenyatta, at Gatundu Grounds at the Kenyatta family’s ancestral home in Kiambu County, lay hands on her son Uhuru and his International Criminal Court (ICC) co-accused William Ruto after stating: “I’m sure Uhuru and Ruto will go to The Hague and come back so that we can proceed with nation building.”

Ruto had already set his eyes on the prize: the presidency. He was supposedly the smarter one of Jubilee’s so-called “dynamic duo” who reeled off “facts and figures” at political rallies as he rode on Uhuru’s back, family name, and deep-state connections to the State House. For a man who was tried at the ICC for crimes against humanity, allegedly for his role in the 2007/8 post-election violence against the Gikuyu walala hoi of Rift Valley region, he has successfully circumvented the established Gikuyu elite gatekeepers since 2013, and won the hearts and minds of a significant cross-section of the Gikuyu rank and file.

“I’m from Ishaweri, in Gatundu and I can tell you, there’s nothing to report home about the president coming from our midst,” said Peterson Njuguna. “The Gatundu youth spend their time drinking illicit liquor, loitering and engaging in petty crime. In Gatundu, poverty glares you in the face. Why? The president cares less about them. He doesn’t know who they are, he’s least bothered whether they drink themselves to death or not, and here he and his minions are criticising Ruto who dares to give the youth some equipment.

Ruto had already set his eyes on the prize: the presidency. He was supposedly the smarter one of Jubilee’s so-called “dynamic duo” who reeled off “facts and figures” at political rallies as he rode on Uhuru’s back, family name, and deep-state connections to the State House.

“The Kenyatta family is so mean, they never mix with anyone, leave alone offering any kind of help or hope. But they will be quick to rubbish anyone who seemingly steps in to do something. So what if Ruto is doing it for politics? What has Uhuru himself done for politics? I’ve heard some Kenyans ask: how many wheelbarrows can you give people? Here is a government that promised the youth jobs and more jobs under their watch. Instead what happened? They have systematically presided over the destruction of the economy, so that they can offer slashers to graduates and President Uhuru loyalists have the temerity to talk about Ruto’s symbolism. Uhuru should just go home and leave us alone. We can’t wait for him to bring along the BBI, that’s the day he’ll know the fury of an awakened lot.”

Ruto’s love for his hustler tag dovetails with his “chicken-seller-who-became-president” fib. With every media appearance featuring a jua kali artisan, a wheelbarrow, or an evangelical clergyman, his public image is that of a God-chosen wretched of the earth’s presidential candidate in 2022.

An evangelical group of Christians in Nairobi who have already aligned themselves with Ruto’s campaign told us that the deputy president is indeed “a fearful man of God and God is prepping him to take over the reins of power after Uhuru Kenyatta. His wife (Rachel) is a prayerful woman and they have even erected an altar of the Lord in their house, so they wake up at night to fervently pray and commune with God”.

The group reminded us that Ruto has been very helpful to churches, contributing to their expansion and growth. The group did not seem to be bothered by the source of the money: “It is not for us to judge, the temple of the Lord is for all of us – the righteous and the wicked. At the end of the day, it’s God to judge. There are people who talk a lot, yet we’ve never seen what they have done for the house of God.”

The deputy president casts himself as the rich and powerful politician who rose from selling chicken to the dizzy heights of the presidency. His grass-to-grace underdog narrative, his “humble” birth vis-à-vis his rivals’ “privilege”, and his difficult childhood encapsulate the identity, dreams and aspirations of millions of unemployed youth. Like Donald Trump in 2016, he is using the rhetoric of the “outsider” who has come to save an underclass trampled on by the undeserving upper class.

Ruto has set the political tone of the 2022 presidential election; the rest are merely reacting to it. Ruto’s presidential campaign has seized on something that resonates with many, especially the have-nots in difficult economic times. The “hustler’s narrative” serves Ruto’s campaign as a moral allegory for anyone who loves a good underdog story.

The narrative has also cast Ruto as the would-be saviour of the Kenyan have-nots, someone who feels and knows their suffering. He is the God-fearing, battle-ready general, leading the war against the Raila Odinga-aided Kenyatta family political gimmicks. It sets the hungry underclass against the Uhuru-Raila attempts to monopolise Kenya’s state power and economy through the Building Bridges Initiative (BBI).

No one exemplifies the success of this hustler narrative than the Ngara Market traders, who specialise in second-hand (mitumba) clothes in downtown Nairobi. When we paid them a visit on one sunny Saturday afternoon, we found them in the middle of a heated argument about Ruto’s brand of politics.

“My wife was teacher in a private school until a few weeks ago,” said one trader. “Then one morning, the school proprietor sent her an email telling her he had converted the school premises into exhibition stalls. That was it. My wife was reduced to a hawker, peddling avocados on a wheelbarrow.

The narrative has also cast Ruto as the would-be saviour of the Kenyan have-nots, someone who feels and knows their suffering. He is the God-fearing, battle-ready general, leading the war against the Raila Odinga-aided Kenyatta family political gimmicks.

“We cannot wait for Uhuru and Baba (Raila Odinga) to bring on the BBI referendum. They’ve been telling us Ruto is the government thief. Is he the one who stole COVID-19 money?” asked one of the traders. “If Ruto is a thief, it is because they have been stealing together with Uhuru.”

Said Kipkemei Bunei, “Ruto is a thief who has been giving back (to the society). What have the other thieves been doing?”

Ruto’s campaign infantilises the 2022 presidential debate by deflecting adult conversations that would scrutinise his long political career since he burst into the national limelight in 1990s. He tells the rags-to-riches chicken seller-hustler story to stoke the youth’s anger against the very government he is still a part of, but which is now being propped up by Raila Odinga and his ODM party. The narrative flattens the complex histories of political families and individuals – an erasure ably aided by Raila’s support of the incompetent Jubilee government.   The hustlers’ rallying call rattles his competitors and rouses his supporters. He only needs to mention the word “dynasty” to communicate who his political enemies are.

“Ruto has won the war of narratives,” said Gakuo Munene, who has openly stated he will support the deputy president in his presidential bid for 2022.

The electoral strategy is clear: set the majority without known surnames against the minority who have widely recognised surnames because their fathers were cabinet ministers, vice presidents, or even president. And the “hustlers” are spoilt for choice.

Ruto might have belatedly discovered the great socio-economic divide between the walala-hoi and the walala-hai in Kenya. However, to merely acknowledge that such a deep rift exists, to crudely name it as “hustler versus dynasties”, and to constantly remind the walala-hoi of their suffering is not to wage a class struggle. As Thandika Mkandawire, citing Karl Marx, observed, “The existence of class may portend class struggles, but it does not automatically trigger them. It is not enough that classes exist in themselves, they must also be for themselves.”

Ruto’s political campaign is not a class struggle; it is a struggle for power – for himself. He is organising and mobilising his political base the same way the political sons of the late Daniel arap Moi organised their politics – through transactional methods that exploited human need, greed, ambitions for power. Despite its class warfare undertones, Ruto’s acerbic political rhetoric is not a rallying call to the wretched of the earth to take on their oppressors or to organise for such a war.

Baronial politics

Like Francis Atwoli, the bejewelled trade unionist-turned-political kingmaker, who has taken to summoning the rich and powerful to his Kitengela home, Ruto also summons a few hand-picked hoi polloi to his palatial homes in Karen and Sugoi. Both Ruto and Atwoli perform acts that clearly show what power asymmetry is all about, who is the host and who is the guest, who pays the piper and who calls the tune, even though they have divergent political projects.

So, the jua kali artisans or the delegation of Christian clergy troop to Ruto’s official residence in Karen or Sugoi not as the deputy president’s equals, but as carefully selected guests with a prescribed role to play in Ruto’s political script. It has the hallmarks of what former Chief Justice Willy Mutunga calls “baronial politics”. Ruto has yet to discover progressive democratic politics. His “hustlers” are guests, not equals, who are summoned for PR stunts. Their images are exploited for whatever legitimacy a paid-for and stage-managed association with a jua kali artisan or a Christian pastor can lend his presidential bid.

True to script, the guests or delegates are paraded for the cameras next to wheelbarrows or beauty salon equipment as any lucky winner of a sports betting lottery would be. It sends a message to the walala-hoi to keep betting on Ruto’s leadership because that holds a lottery ticket that might just win big in the next grand draw if they elect him.

Ruto might have belatedly discovered the great socio-economic divide between the walala-hoi and the walala-hai in Kenya. However, to merely acknowledge that such a deep rift exists, to crudely name it as “hustler versus dynasties”, and to constantly remind the walala-hoi of their suffering is not to wage a class struggle.

Ruto seeks to distinguish himself from his nemeses by performing and publicising such acts. As the Elgeyo Marakwet Senator, Kipchumba Murkomen’s tweets suggest, such events show that Ruto, unlike Raila and Uhuru, is both rich and generous, a politician who gives motorcycles and car-washing machines to unemployed youth. However, his tweets say little about why thousands of hard working youth who desire to own small or medium-sized businesses cannot afford the start-up capital needed for such items, or why so many small and medium enterprises (SMEs) have shut down since the Jubilee Party took control of the government.

Ruto’s hustler narrative may tug at the heartstrings of the millions who are poor and unemployed, but it’s simply a pithy campaign phrase that is ideologically as empty as the Building Bridges Initiative – a promise of a qualitative change in living conditions that will not materialise because there is no qualitative change in the political leadership.

Ruto may now be viewed as being against the Kenyatta family’s political and financial interests, but he’s not yet a pro-democracy and pro-suffering citizens’ politician. He may successfully stoke and channel the anger of hungry citizens against the political elites, but there is no evidence yet that he’s organising along existing class cleavages, awakening the consciousness of the exploited about the nature and identity of their exploiters, or forming alliances with autonomous organisations of exploited classes.

For the first time in decades, Kenya’s middle class progressives – the numerically small and tenacious civil society groups, which have always punched above their weight – seem to have been totally eclipsed by Ruto’s middle class rabble-rousers. Kenya’s progressive middle class may still have a credible story to tell on democracy, constitutionalism, and the strengthening of devolution, but it seemingly has no candidate to stand with in the 2022 presidential election.

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The Fading Fortunes of Lamu Port

Dramatic geopolitical shifts taking place in the Horn of Africa suggest that Kenya might be staring at a white elephant project in Lamu. The much-hyped LAPSSET project no longer interests landlocked Ethiopia and South Sudan, which are now looking for sea trade routes in Eritrea, Somaliland and Djibouti.

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The Fading Fortunes of Lamu Port
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The first three of the proposed 32 berths at the Lamu port are almost ready for use. The state has postponed the official launch of the first berth several times since it was completed last year. The first launch was planned for December, with Maersk, a Danish-based container shipping line, indicating that it would call at the facility loaded with transshipment cargo.

From the onset, it is important to point out that Lamu port was not premised as a transshipment hub. Rather, it targeted two transit markets: Ethiopia, with a population of over 100 million, and South Sudan a new state with a population of about 12 million that was anticipated to import a lot of materials for reconstruction after many years of war.

A year before his second term ended, President Mwai Kibaki was joined by the then Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi and South Sudan’s President Salva Kiir in laying down a foundation plaque of the project. The Sh2 trillion port, part of the Lamu Port South Sudan Ethiopia Transport Corridor (LAPSSET) was projected to contribute between 2 and 3 per cent of Gross Domestic Product (GDP) to Kenya’s economy.

But now questions are now being raised about the viability of the proposed Lamu port and even whether the project will be able to attract private investors to complete the remaining berths as initially envisaged.

When Uhuru Kenyatta succeeded Mwai Kibaki in 2013, his administration gave the LAPSSET project a wide berth. Instead, he threw his entire weight on the Standard Gauge Railway (SGR) line as his legacy project, which he finished earlier than scheduled.

The government has since failed to allocate sufficient resources to the project, with the first berths taking over 8 years to complete. For instance, the National Treasury will disburse Sh6 billion towards the project in the current financial year, which is down from the Sh10 billion allocated in the 2019/2020 fiscal year.

As Kenya was taking its time to develop LAPSSET infrastructural projects, dramatic geopolitical shifts were taking place in the Horn of Africa, which put into question whether the country was staring at another white elephant project in the making.

When Uhuru Kenyatta succeeded Mwai Kibaki in 2013, his administration gave the LAPSSET project a wide berth. Instead, he threw his entire weight on the Standard Gauge Railway (SGR) line as his legacy project, which he finished earlier than scheduled.

Dr. Kilonzo Mutule, who was a lead consultant in the project’s formative years, developed a concept paper on the LAPSSET project in 2008 and set some parameters for its economic viability. In his concept paper, Dr. Kilonzo identified six components of the project. In order to become a transport and commercial hub for the region, he noted, Kenya would have to, at a minimum, develop: (a) a commercial port of international standards capable of handling high volumes of containers and other goods traffic; (b) a free trade zone along with the port to foster the growth of trade and commercial activity to make the area into a  commercial hub; (c) a new beach resort city having facilities of international standards for native and international tourists; (d)  an airport capable of being an air hub for the region; (e) a railway network to enable movement of goods from the port and the free trade zone to other parts of Kenya and the countries of the region; and (f) a road highway network to support the capacity of the railway network and provide for greater movement of goods into more areas.

Lamu: The proposed sea route for Ethiopia and South Sudan

The LAPSSET project was envisaged as an immediate project for landlocked Ethiopia, which has over the years been desperately seeking connections to more sea routes. Its direct line of sight with Addis Ababa allowed for the shortest railway link between the Addis and Lamu.  Ethiopia’s dependence on imported goods had shifted 98 percent of its traffic to the Djibouti port, which was about 85 percent of the whole port’s traffic in 2009.

A study carried out by the African Trade Policy Centre (ATPC) in 2009 indicated that exorbitant charges incurred by Ethiopia at the port of Djibouti had seen the landlocked East African country’s economy hit the doldrums. An alternative port looked like a great idea for the country.

The high charges involved, reduced free time for imported cargo, and the inadequacy of storage facilities were some of the factors that had ballooned Ethiopia’s total logistics cost for its import and export of commodities, the study noted. “The estimated total transit costs have been consuming over 16 percent of Ethiopia’s foreign trade value, which is about $2 million per day, which literally bleeds the economy,” stated the study.

According to Dr. Kilonzo’s concept paper, the long-term solution to Ethiopia’s transport problems lay in the construction of a second port in Lamu. Indeed, Ethiopia had completed the building of a good tarmac road from Addis Ababa to Moyale quite a while ago.

For South Sudan, several options of seaports to that country left Lamu port as the most convenient route. The considerations for this choice took into account several factors, including security, number of borders to crossing points, nature of the terrain, length of the route, and accessibility to the West and East by sea.

South Sudan was expected to export crude oil. Traditionally, it has been doing so through a pipeline currently connecting its oil fields to the Red Sea at Port Sudan in Sudan, a country it had been at war with for many years. It was proposed that a pipeline be constructed alongside the railway line, thus linking the South Sudan’s oil fields to the Lamu Free Port. At Lamu, some of the crude would be refined for the sub-regional market while the rest would be exported to various destinations. Single Buoy Moorings (SBM) would be put in place at the port to facilitate tanker loading in the high seas. It was also proposed that a second pipeline going the opposite way could be constructed from the Lamu refinery to Addis Ababa to transport oil products to Ethiopia.

However, things have not been good for South Sudan, which has since independence from Sudan faced numerous challenges. The government has struggled to build new governance institutions while dealing with low human and institutional capacity. It has not been able to diversify revenue streams or to provide basic services to its population, half of which is estimated to be illiterate and living below the poverty line.

Enter Eritrea, Somaliland and Djibouti

But things now look completely different due to significant developments in Ethiopia, the main target market. Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, the new Ethiopian leader, accelerated efforts the country had undertaken in the last decade to tackle its logistics nightmares, which played out to Kenya’s disadvantage. The new prime minister forged a truce with Eritrea, an arch-rival player. He struck a deal with President Isaias Afwerki that included restoring Ethiopian access to the ports of Massawa and Assab.

Since Eritrea gained independence in the early 1990s, Ethiopia became a landlocked country, which hampered its ambitions to emerge as an economic and political powerhouse in the Horn of Africa. Eritrea, a former province of Ethiopia, hosted the major port for Ethiopia until 1998 when the border conflict between Ethiopia and Eritrea erupted. Ethiopia had been using Assab port, which is 887km northeast of Addis Ababa, as a major logistics hub.

Ethiopia has also put its focus on another port in Somaliland. With this new move, the Somaliland port of Berbera is set to become the most modern port in the Horn of Africa early next year when its first phase is completed. In a strange turn of events, and with Arab Gulf states’ growing interest in the Horn of Africa region due to geopolitical and strategic considerations, in May 2016, DP World, a global port mega-operator agreed to develop Berbera port and manage the facility for 30 years. Ethiopia acquired a 19% interest in the port project. The other partners in the project are DP World, with a 51% share, and Somaliland, with a 30% share. The total investment of the two-phased port project will reach $442 million. DP World will also create an economic free zone in the surrounding area, targeting a range of companies in sectors from logistics to manufacturing, and a road-based economic corridor connecting Berbera with Ethiopia.

Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, the new Ethiopian leader, accelerated efforts the country had undertaken in the last decade to tackle its logistics nightmares, which played out to Kenya’s disadvantage.

The port deal with Somaliland, a region that declared autonomy from Somalia in 1991, but which is still not internationally recognised by the international community, gave Somaliland some clout as an independent state. Port Berbera is now the closest sea route to Ethiopia, a journey of 11 hours by road. It has opened the route needed for huge growth in the import and export of livestock and agricultural produce.

The United Arab Emirates-based DP World Group port officials said that the port, which currently has the capacity to handle 150,000 container port traffic- Twenty-Foot Equivalent Units (TEUs), is expected to expand into handling one million TEUs of 20 and 40-foot mixed units, not so far from 1.3 TEUs Mombasa port is managing.

In addition, Djibouti has made far reaching development of its port. Djibouti International Free Trade Zone (DIFTZ) was officially inaugurated in July 2018. The initial phase, a 240-hectare zone, is the result of a $370 million investment and consists of three functional blocks located close to all of Djibouti’s major ports.The project also creates major business opportunities for Djibouti and East Africa as the region’s export manufacturing and processing capacity is expanded in key sectors such as food, automotive parts, textiles and packaging.

Doraleh Multipurpose Port, Port of Ghoubet and Tadjourah have all been completed in recent years. The Doraleh Port is strategically located, connecting Asia, Africa, and Europe. It can handle between two and six million tonnes of cargo a year on its bulk terminal and breakbulk terminal respectively.

Another key milestone for Djibouti port is the standard gauge railway (SGR). A 750-kilometre SGR line connecting Addis Ababa with the port in Djibouti has since been constructed, cutting a three-day journey down to 12 hours. In an ambitious road-building programme, flagship projects include a 200km expressway connecting Hawassa, home to the country’s largest industrial park, with the capital Addis Ababa.

Djibouti has also received global attention due to its strategic location. Virtually, all of the sea trade between Asia and Europe passes along the Red Sea on its way to or from the Suez Canal. As a result, Gulf and Middle Eastern powers, China, the United States and France have developed great interest on this route. The country today hosts 5 military bases.

A different strategy

LAPSSET authority chief, Mr Sylvester Kasuku, in a TV interview this year, acknowledged that there is a need for a paradigm shift on rolling out the LAPSSET project partly due to the delay in developing onshore infrastructure to connect the corridor.

Apart from the construction of the first three berths, Lamu port has already been connected to the national power grid. The government has also constructed the 500-kilometre Isiolo-Moyale road. Lamu-Garsen route is already undergoing construction while the Garsen-Moyale route is being rehabilitated.

With a natural depth of 18 months, transshipment business should now be a key area of focus to keep Lamu port busy. However, a new strategy of marketing the port as a transshipment hub would be needed, according to Gilbert Langat, the Chief Executive Officer of Shippers Council of East Africa (SCEA), since as a country, Kenya has not performed well on this port business segment.

Out of 1.3million TEUs the port handled in Mombasa, transshipment cargo constituted a paltry 121,577 TEUs in 2018 and 211,604 TEUs in 2019. In February 2016, Phase I of Kipevu Container Terminal was completed, adding 550 000 TEUs to Mombasa port’s container capacity, which created room for country to experiment in transshipment cargo as a new business frontier for the port.  However, this berth is currently being used by Maersk, the biggest shipping line at the Mombasa port that commands over 30 per cent of the port’s cargo volume. Phase II is expected to provide an additional 450 000 TEU.

Kenya Ships Agents Association (KSAA) CEO, Juma Tellah, said that Mombasa port transshipment has a huge potential only if the government relaxes some of the measures it has put in place. Due to some challenges at Dar es Salaam port, some shipping lines occasionally use Mombasa for transshipment to Tanzania.

Port Berbera is now the closest sea route to Ethiopia, a journey of 11 hours by road. It has opened the route needed for huge growth in the import and export of livestock and agricultural produce.

The Kenya Revenue Authority (KRA) still requires shipping lines to lodge entries with customs. Although shipping lines successfully lobbied to be allowed to lodge the entries without the aid of freight forwarders, which came at an extra cost, the delays still take a huge toll. Shipping lines have been pushing for the use of inward and outward manifests to reconcile movement of cargo in and out of the port, which is a common practice all over the world.

Although the government has held its ground that this can only be canvassed through the East Africa Community Customs Management Act (EACCMA), Tanzania, a signatory, does not require shipping lines to lodge transshipment cargo entries, according to Tellah.

Zanzibar and other East African islands are popular destinations for Kenya’s transshipment cargo, with volumes going as far as the Far East. According to Langat, Lamu can also be an ideal location for the transshipment of goods destined for Europe.

The other option for making the LAPSSET corridor viable is for the counties it traverses to leverage on the project and open up their economies. The Government’s LAPSSET Corridor Development Plan has already divided the Northern Eastern region into nine growth areas: Lamu growth area, Garissa-Bura growth area, Wajir growth area, Moyale growth area, Lokichogio growth area, Turkana growth area, Isiolo-Meru Archers Post growth, area and the Mwingi growth area.

Each of the growth areas has an identified set of economic activities and investment opportunities that are set to spur economic growth of the area and the Northern Eastern region. These include the Isiolo-Meru area being a logistics centre along the corridor and a resort city and the Moyale, Wajir and Garissa-Bura growth areas mainly for the establishment of of Export Processing Zones for livestock and animal by-products.

Directly related to the Lamu port is the potential of Isiolo, Lokichogio and Moyale for the setting up of inland container depots, which may increase transport efficiency, and facilitate cross-border trade with neighbouring countries that will be linked by LAPSSET.

It is expected that public sector resources will be sourced to develop physical and social infrastructure to facilitate investment. To achieve such accelerated integrated development, the government should ensure an enabling business environment that fosters investment.

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No War, No Peace: Life and Death in Eritrea

Thirty years after Eritrea gained independence from Ethiopia, there has hardly been any meaningful development in this small nation in the Horn of Africa. On the contrary, the government’s authoritarian policies have undermined democracy and forced young people to flee the country.

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No War, No Peace: Life and Death in Eritrea
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Eritrea was an Italian colony from 1890 to 1941. Following the defeat of Italian forces by the Allied Forces during World War Two, Britain occupied Eritrea until its federation to Ethiopia in 1952. However, by 1962 Emperor Haile Selassie had annexed Eritrea, declaring that it was part of Ethiopia, and in this way ending the federation.

In 1961, a year before the annexation, the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) started an armed struggle for independence from Ethiopia. The armed struggle continued for 30 years against successive Ethiopian regimes until 1991, when the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF), who had replaced the ELF, defeated the Ethiopian forces in Eritrea. Eritrea became formally independent following a United Nations-supervised referendum in 1993.

From the beginning, the EPLF (now the People’s Front of Democracy and Justice – PFDJ)’s strategy for achieving liberation and national unity was for it to dominate all social, political, and economic spaces. The PFDJ implemented a highly centralised and opaque two-track system of administration: an unseen, powerful inner circle of elites; and public structures that projected an image of egalitarian self-sufficiency. This centralised and opaque model of governance continues today.

Since liberation, PFDJ has banned all opposition parties and treats all non-mass-movement organisations (i.e. independent civil society) with suspicion; hence there are no independent national civil society organisations in the country. Without any consultation, the PFDJ has nationalised all land; it has established a unitary form of government, and it has changed the administrative boundaries within the country. Despite these totalitarian tendencies, in 1994, the PFDJ, as the Provisional Government of Eritrea, set up the Constitutional Assembly to draft the Constitution. The task was completed in 1997. But the Constitution remains unimplemented.

Border dispute

In 1998, hostilities and war between Eritrea and Ethiopia resumed over border demarcation issues, particularly in the town of Bademe. By December 2000, the two countries signed the Algiers Peace Agreement and established the Eritrea Ethiopia Border Commission (EEBC) to determine the limits of their shared border.

The EEBC delivered its border decision on 13th April 2002, placing the town of Bademe, the flashpoint of the border conflict, on the Eritrean side. The Ethiopian government contested the allocation of Bademe to Eritrea. Therefore, a situation of “no war, no peace” ensued between the two countries as President Isaias Afewerki refused any dialogue on the issue because the parties had agreed that the decision of the EEBC was final and binding.

President Isaias Afwerki, who is also the chair of the PFDJ, took advantage of the strained relationship with Ethiopia to:

  1. indefinitely postpone the implementation of the 1997 Constitution as well as the general elections;
  2. arrest and disappear dissenters, especially University of Asmara students and the members of the government known as G15 who promoted a democratisation process (2001);
  3. close the independent media and arrest journalists (2001);
  4. abolish the Eritrean National Assembly (i.e. the Eritrean Parliament) (2002);
  5. maintain a high level of militarisation of the country.

To maintain a high level of militarisation, the government vertically integrated the National Service to the National Development Programme (i.e. the Warsay Yikaalo National Development Programme) and to Education. This integration allows the Eritrean government to move students into the National Service and the National Development Programme from high schools (i.e. Grade 12) and indefinitely extends the period of service of the conscripts, hence taking full control over the working population.

In 1998, hostilities and war between Eritrea and Ethiopia resumed over border demarcation issues, particularly in the town of Bademe. By December 2000, the two countries signed the Algiers Peace Agreement and established the Eritrea Ethiopia Border Commission (EEBC) to determine the limits of their shared border.

Through the integration of the National Service into the Warsay Yikaalo National Development Programme and Education, the government has limited the citizenship rights of conscripts who while in service cannot: legally obtain a mobile phone or SIM card; get or renew a business licence; access land; and access travel documents and exit visas. Deserters or objectors are denied any rights and cannot access state services. Thus, the official Eritrean concept of citizenship is intrinsically linked to conscription and the fulfilment of National Service duties.

The National Service is a combination of military training and civil service, working for little pay in non-military activities such as agriculture, the construction of roads, houses and buildings and mining. The Warsay National Development Programme relies on the deployment of te National Service (Warsay) and defence personnel (Yikaalo) as a labour force. The programme operates under the umbrella of the Ministry of Defence.

Since 2003, the government has closed the University of Asmara (the only university in the country). It has also required that all Eritrean students complete Grade 12 at the Sawa military training camp. Students who have not completed their final year of secondary school at Sawa and have not sat for the National School Certificat, cannot access college education. The PFDJ has replaced Asmara University with regional colleges, which are administered jointly by an academic director and a military director.

National Service conscripts work for an indefinite period on development projects, the administration of ministries and local authorities, as well as in PFDJ-owned businesses. Such work is carried out for very little pay and in conditions that a UN Commission of Inquiry on Human Rights in Eritrea described as “forced labour”.

The Eritrean authorities’ control over the people includes the restriction of movement both internally and externally. Therefore, all Eritreans aged five and above cannot leave the country without an exit visa. The government will not issue an exit visa to any Eritrean above the age of five, irrespective of their situation (i.e. family reunification, health, etc.)

The government’s control over the Eritrean people is a political, social and economic process of deprivation and human rights violations for which it refuses to take any responsibility. It is systematically impoverishing the population. Therefore, Eritrean youth face having to choose between the life of slave labour or exile. They describe their situation as slavery: “[The] situation in Eritrea and long time ago with slaves is the same. We build the houses of the elites without money. We work on farms of government officials for no money. If you are educated, they deploy you to anywhere…for a short time, you can tolerate it…but this is for life.”

Faced with accusations of human rights violations, the government reverts to “threat” mode. It labels any reference to human rights violations as “lies” and “ploys” of its enemies to undermine the state. The PFDJ Head of Political Affairs, Mr Yemane Gebreab, dismissed the findings of the Commission of Inquiry on Human rights by saying: “….[it is] really laughable……There is no basis to the claims of the Commission of Inquiry…”

The Eritrean authorities’ control over the people includes the restriction of movement both internally and externally. Therefore, all Eritreans aged five and above cannot leave the country without an exit visa.

In addition to taking control over the working population, the government also took control of the economic sectors, including finance, import and export, transport and construction. It has achieved control over the economic sphere through a process of unfair competition with private business, facilitated by the fact that it does not pay taxes and does not comply with labour, environmental, and other regulatory requirements. Also, as the regime has control over the working population, it has unlimited access to a large pool of free labour, effecting a net transfer of the workforce away from the private sector. This policy of moving human resources to labour sites identified and controlled by the government has crippled the private sector, especially the agricultural industry, which still relies to a large extent on subsistence farming.

The government’s control and domination of the economy have not increased economic activity or productivity. The economy is stagnating, further weakening the private sector and restricting economic opportunities for Eritreans.

Notwithstanding PFDJ’s rhetoric, Eritrean youth experience the state as an albatross around their necks. They understand the state in terms of spy networks; as a human rights violator curtailing civil, political, and economic rights and as the as the source of torture and deprivation. They see it as the source of all restrictions and deprivations. This is the reason why they flee the country.

Peace Agreement with Ethiopia and its aftermath

In April 2018, the Ethiopia Prime Minister Abiy announced the acceptance of the EEBC decision, in particular the allocation of the flashpoint town of Bademe to Eritrea. In this way, he started a process that led to the signing of the Ethiopia Eritrea Peace Agreement in July 2018, thus ending two decades of “no war, no peace”. The land borders opened to much jubilation in 2018. However, by April 2019, the Eritrean government had closed them all. So far, the only achievements of the Peace Agreement are the reopening of embassies and telecommunication lines and the resumption of flights.

The signing of the Peace Agreement immediately raised expectations that there would be a normalisation of relations between the two states. It also raised expectations regarding reforms within Eritrea that would lead to a reduction in the number of Eritrean youth fleeing the country. Soon after the signing of the Peace Agreement, the Eritrean Catholic priest Aba Teklemichael pointed to the sweeping reforms implemented by Prime Minister Abiy in Ethiopia, and urged the Eritrean government to also undertake necessary reforms in Eritrea and to democratise the government. By Easter 2019, the Eritrean Catholic bishops were also calling for a constitutional government and the rule of law. They also encouraged the government to release political prisoners and start a process of reconciliation within the country. However, to date there have been no reforms in the country, a state of affairs confirmed by the UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights in Eritrea who at the start of this year reported that she had: “ ……no tangible evidence of a meaningful and substantive improvement in the situation of human rights in Eritrea”.

The signing of the Peace Agreement immediately raised expectations that there would be a normalisation of relations between the two states. It also raised expectations regarding reforms within Eritrea that would lead to a reduction in the number of Eritrean youth fleeing the country.

The ongoing peace process is not transparent; it has mostly remained an elite political level agreement unable to deliver on the economic front or to resolve the issue of Bademe as both Prime Minister Abiy and President Isaias Afewerki have marginalised the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) for political motives. The Eritrean government has increasingly identified the Tigray State and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) as an existential threat to Eritrea, thus justifying the maintenance of a high level of militarisation. Consequently, Eritrean youth continue to flee the country. In 2018, UNHCR ranked Eritrea as the ninth-largest refugee-sending state in the world.

Ailing health sector

The totalitarian agenda of the Eritrean government did not spare the health sector either. The task of reconstructing the Eritrean health system after the liberation struggle and following the 1998-2000 Eritrea-Ethiopia border war was monumental. It was an undertaking that the late and former Minister of Health Saleh Meki undertook with passion, commitment, and zest from 1997 to 2009 when Ms Amina Nurhussein replaced him.

In his efforts rebuild the Eritrean health system, Saleh Meki sought to establish strategic partnerships with critical international health institutions, private practitioners, faith-based organisations, such as the Catholic Church, as well as professional members of the Eritrean diaspora. The former Minister of Health carried on with his efforts despite the enormous pressure to conform to the dictates of President Isaias Afwerki, and the concerns generated by the closure of international non-governmental organisations, as well as the restriction of movement imposed on all organisations working in the country. Against all the odds, he re-established the medical school known as the Orotta Medical School.

Saleh Meki died on 2nd October 2009. Soon after his death, all the medical missions of international organisations that he had worked so hard to bring to Eritrea ended. By 2011 the Eritrean Government forced the closure of all private medical clinics. And, by 2018 a total of 29 Catholic health facilities providing maternal and child health support and serving some of the more remote communities in the country were closed. The seizure and closure, of the Catholic health facilities was carried out in complete disregard to the health and safety of the patients, most of whom were left to fend for themselves.

There was no clear justification for the closure of the private health facilities. However, the closure of the Catholic health facilities was justified as an enforcement of the 1995 Proclamation to standardise and articulate religions institutions (Proclamation No 73 of 1995). The Proclamation prohibits religious bodies from engaging in social and welfare services. This position is contested by all faith-based organisations, especially since there was no consultation in the development of the law. The Eritrean Catholic bishops’ communication with the government on the seizure and closure of their health facilities point out that the facilities operated by abiding with all the requirements of the Ministry of Health.

Poor COVID-19 response

The closure of health facilities has reduced the number of available beds and the overall capacity of the health system. Hence, Eritrea, with a score of 0.434, was ranked 182nd out of 189 countries by the 2019 Human Development Index. The low Human Development Index combined with a hospital bed capacity of 7 beds for 10,000 people, and no available data as to the number of health professionals (i.e. doctors and nurses) available per 10,000 people, suggests that the situation might be even more dire. And the poor connectivity of the country (i.e. mobile phones, internet, broadbands) means that the country’s capacity to deal with pandemics such as COVID-19 is low.

The low capacity of the Eritrean health system to deal with the COVID-19 pandemic was also of concern to the diaspora Eritrean Healthcare Professionals Network (EHPN), which urged the Eritrean government to immediately implement the World ealth Orbanization (WHO) and Centre for Disease Control (CDC) guidelines and advisories to contain the pandemic. EHPN expressed concern that the country lacks the necessary prerequisites to implement hygiene measures because: “There is a shortage of water, disinfectants, laboratories that carry out diagnostic tests and medical professionals, including nursing and technical staff. There is also a lack of functioning intensive care units with adequate ventilation equipment needed to properly treat patients. The reality is that many Eritreans will not be able to seek and obtain medical treatment in their homeland or neighbouring countries. In short, the Eritrean health system is not adequately prepared for COVID 19.”

Fears regarding the poor state of the Eritrean health system were further heightened when the Eritrean government refused COVID-19 emergency supplies donated by the Chinese billionaire Jack Ma and his Alibaba Group. Mr Hagos “Kisha” Gebrehiwet, the head of Economic Affairs in the ruling PFDJ, justified the rejection of Jack Ma’s donation by saying that it was unsolicited.

The government’s willingness to reject donations has, however, launched a COVID-19 appeal among citizens. The appeal is remarkable for the lack of information as to how the funds raised will be used. There is no single COVID-19 emergency response bank account designated for the appeal; hence, in the diaspora, funds are collected in different foreign bank accounts set up by Eritrean embassies. Consequently, there is a real danger that the funds will never enter the country and will disappear into the government’s opaque offshore financial system. Also, there is no information as to how the Ministry of Health will use the funds. Reports by Eritrean human rights activists say the appeal is coerced, confirming the lack of transparency and accountability of the fundraising process.

There is also no transparency in the COVID-19 data that the Eritrean government is providing. It reported the first four COVID-positive cases on the 21st and 23rd of March. One patient was an Eritrean national resident in Norway, and the other three positive patients were Eritrean nationals returning from Dubai. Because of these events, by 26th March, the government banned all commercial passenger flights for two weeks. It also closed schools. And, by 1st April, it imposed COVID-19 lockdown measures.

Fears regarding the poor state of the Eritrean health system were further heightened when the Eritrean government refused COVID-19 emergency supplies donated by the Chinese billionaire Jack Ma and his Alibaba Group. Mr Hagos “Kisha” Gebrehiwet, the head of Economic Affairs in the ruling PFDJ, justified the rejection of Jack Ma’s donation by saying that it was unsolicited.

The lockdown measures did not include the closure of the Sawa military training camp or the release of political prisoners. The government has recently released 27 Christian prisoners, who were imprisoned without charge or trial for as long as sixteen years. Their release is conditional on their family lodging their property deeds with the government as a guarantee that the people released will not leave the country.

While maintaining a strict lockdown, the Eritrean government has allowed mass gatherings to celebrate the graduation of the 33rd round of Sawa military training camp graduates as well as the transfer of Grade 12 conscripts to the facility.

From 1st April to 18th April, the Eritrean government reported 39 COVID positive cases, all linked to Eritreans visiting or returning from their travels. Then, for two months, there were no new cases reported. After that, the number of COVID-positive cases increased, and by the 12th of October, Eritrea reported a total of 414 COVID-positive patients and 372 recoveries.

Though the government makes repeated references to quarantine centres, it has not shared a list of the centres, their location or capacity. It is also not reporting the daily number of COVID tests. Nor has it reported any COVID-related deaths or any community transmission of the virus. It continues to attribute all the new COVID cases to Eritreans returning through “irregular land and sea routes” from Ethiopia, Sudan, Djibouti and Yemen. But there is no explanation as to why so many nationals are travelling despite the government’s strict lockdown procedure that prohibits all movement between towns and that restricts te movement of any vehicles, including buses and taxis, which require movement permits. Such permits are not easy to obtain.

Finally, there are only five incidents of Ministry of Information reporting the number of individuals tested or in quarantine:

  1. 3,000 quarantined – 8th May 2020;
  2. 5,270 quarantined – 3rd June 2020;
  3. 7,158 nationals returned through irregular land and sea routes. Not clearly stated but the implication is that they were all quarantined – 14th June 2020;
  4. 18,000 citizens allegedly returned through irregular land and sea routes. This movement occurred in the last four months. Again, not clearly stated but the implication is that they were all quarantined – the 12th October 2020;
  5. 41,100 tests – 12th October 2020.

In a recent report, the Eritrean Ministry of Information asserted that the rate of COVID infection in the country was “a paltry 0.02%”, based on one (1) positive result during 4659 random tests done in Asmara”. The data shared by the government (41,100 tests and 414 COVID-positive cases) suggests that the rate of infection is just 1 per cent.

The COVID lockdown in Eritrea, like in other countries, has brought economic activities to a standstill. The difference between Eritrea and other countries is that the Eritrean economy was already on its knees before the lockdown and the Eritrean government has not made any attempt – beyond extorting donations from its citizens – to alleviate the suffering of the people with economic support packages. Consequently, Eritreans are hungry and desperate and have started to ignore strict lockdowns. They are on the streets selling all kinds of goods. Women are out in the streets, making tea and cooking food for sale. Family and friends describe Asmara, the capital city, as full of mobile tea shops.

In a recent report, the Eritrean Ministry of Information asserted that the rate of COVID infection in the country was “a paltry 0.02%”, based on one (1) positive result during 4659 random tests done in Asmara”. The data shared by the government (41,100 tests and 414 COVID-positive cases) suggests that the rate of infection is just 1 per cent.

The Eritrean Afars have, through the Red Sea Afar Human Rights Organisation (RSAHRO), issued a press statement, describing their situation under lockdown as a: “… siege imposed by the Eritrean regime on the citizens of the region.”. They warn of the danger of hunger in their area. They also describe confiscation of boats, camels and supplies by the military, closed health centres, unprepared quarantine centres, as well as lack of medical supplies. The human rights organisation also accuse General Tekle Manjus of confiscating trucks of emergency food sent from Asmara for distribution among the Afar.

The Afar coastal area is not the only area in danger of hunger. The information from Eritrea is that hunger is very real all over the country. The government media and social media accounts do not report the danger of hunger or any of the difficulties that the people are facing during this COVID-19 emergency. Their postings give the impression that Eritrea is doing just fine.

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