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THE TRUMP PHENOMENON IS REAL: How the Counterculture Inspired Trumpism

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The Great U S of A

“If democracy is someday to regain control of capitalism, it must start by recognising that the concrete institutions in which democracy and capitalism are embodied need to be reinvented again and again.” (Piketty 2014: 570).

During the run-up to the US elections in November, a number of my African colleagues and friends told me that Trump would win the presidency. Several even opined that something good would come out of it in the end. Experience has taught me to treat such counterintuitive observations with a degree of cautious respect. But this particular appraisal was a tricky proposition.

Trump ran more on outrage with the status quo, homespun economic nationalism, and anti-Hillary sentiment than workable policies for reversing the domestic malaise framing his rude political rhetoric. The Tea Party crowd flocked to Trump’s campaign, presenting Trump with the kind of political stage suited to his unconventional and often reptilian behaviour. The national media feasted on Trump’s antics and divisive positions, but the condescending coverage of the campaign of a candidate who started out as an outlier also camouflaged the more clinical aspects of his strategy to defeat Hillary Clinton.

The poll numbers and sophisticated data analyses dismissed the likelihood of a Trump victory. But then the same electorate who twice elected Obama by sizeable majorities propelled his polar opposite into the White House.

For the many millions of Americans and others around the world distressed by the Trump campaign, the implications of his electoral-college victory was like waking up to a collective nightmare. Most of my friends, family and colleagues were stunned. Anger and agitation quickly replaced the shock. Obama’s bleak reaction, “Well, it’s not the Apocalypse,” offered little comfort.

This added up to a lot to think about as I made my way back to the US for the first time since 2004, arriving in the country two days after Trump’s inauguration. I was told to expect massive changes. My destination was Salt Lake City, the capital of Utah, socially the most conservative of the red states of the American West.

Exposure to racist theology like that of the Church of Latter Day Saints was a primary motivator for the black power salute at the 1968 Olympics in Mexico. Tommy Smith won the 200 metres in world record time followed by John Carlos in third place. The medallists mounted the podium barefoot, to symbolise the poverty of their African-American community, and raised black-gloved fists in defiance during the raising of the American flag. The protest triggered an explosion of institutional indignation and recriminations portraying Smith and Carlos as Nazis and traitors

For decades, many Americans considered the Mormon-dominated state to be a quasi-theocratic no-go zone with a unique past that set Utah apart from other ultra-conservative Western states like Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, and the Dakotas.

During my two previous trips I had found a large and variegated landscape of rangeland, desert, and mountains, with a large inland sea thrown in to boot. I found many similarities between Utah and Marsabit and the Lake Turkana region, including its traditional spatial and social separation from the rest of the country.

Mormons fleeing religious persecution in the East settled in Utah at a time when almost everyone else was heading to California. The Territory of Utah was officially recognised in 1851. It was the only Western state to allow slavery, and attempted to secede from the Union shortly afterwards. Washington was compelled to send in the army. Brigham Young, who had succeeded the religion’s founder, Joseph Smith, capitulated, but with the promise that the government would grant the Mormons autonomy to live according to their religion. The Church of Latter Day Saints has dominated the state’s economy and government ever since.

The Book of Mormon stated that the indigenous peoples the white settlers found in their new home originally came from the Middle East, but had divided into two antagonistic groups. The “Lamanites” were idolaters revealed to have extinguished a population of “Nephrite” Hebrews who had migrated to the New World several hundred years before the coming of Christ. Mormon scripture saw dark skin as a curse from God for wickedness, but otherwise taught that peoples of colour who converted and abandoned their culture would become white over time.

Exposure to this racist theology was a primary motivator for the black power salute at the 1968 Olympics in Mexico. Tommy Smith won the 200 metres in world record time followed by John Carlos in third place. The medallists mounted the podium barefoot, to symbolise the poverty of their African-American community, and raised black-gloved fists in defiance during the raising of the American flag. The protest triggered an explosion of institutional indignation and recriminations portraying Smith and Carlos as Nazis and traitors. The firestorm also curtailed the running career of the Australian silver medallist who in solidarity wore the same human rights badge pinned to the Americans’ jerseys.

It was a radicalising moment: I compiled a comprehensive report of the protest and the conditions leading up to it for a high school project. The racism of the church of Latter Day Saints added to my impressions of the state based on the gruesome fate of the Westward-bound Donner party caravan and the numerous massacres of the local Amerindian communities during the early days of the territory. Many of us growing up at that time saw Utah as the American equivalent of Albania or North Korea.

The Civil Rights movement had already done most of the heavy lifting. This in turn provided a platform for the anti-war movement. Before long, what began as a political movement for peace and racial inclusion coalesced into a much broader social upheaval

Utah has evolved during the intervening decades. The US government has resettled refugees of diverse backgrounds in the state. Salt Lake City’s industry-friendly environment also attracted the tech companies relocating from California, bringing the formerly isolated state into the American mainstream over the past two decades. Readily available jobs, a reasonable cost of living, and a network of Kenyan friends and family already established in the former no-go zone attracted several of my kids to Salt Lake City.

The growing cultural diversity has not altered the state’s bedrock conservatism. Mitt Romney and George Bush Jr still received a phenomenal 72 per cent of Utah’s vote in 2012 and 2008. Although Donald Trump’s tally did not reach these heights in 2016, the sum of these factors designated this most red of states an appropriate re-entry point for my tour of Trump’s America.

Steve Bannon, the Breitbart News executive who became one of the key architects of the Trump campaign, declared that if you want to change politics you have to change culture first. There was the angst on the surface and uncertainty lurking underneath, but was the Republican clean sweep of White House, the Senate, and House of representatives really a marker of far-reaching culture change?

THE COUNTERCULTURAL ROOTS OF THE TRUMP PRESIDENCY

Bannon clearly arrived at his change-the-culture thesis by observing the counterculture that emerged while my generation came of age, a phenomenon that reshaped American society and politics along the way.

The post-World War II period was an era of unprecedented prosperity, middle-class growth and technological progress for the USA. Politics was something that our parents followed as it came around in four-year cycles. America was a truly great place to grow up, as long as you could keep the fear of nuclear Armageddon, and other industrial-scale threats, at a safe distance.

For the young Americans growing up in customisable bubbles coloured by the scientific advances underpinning the futuristic orientation of American society, that was harder to do as the 1960s wore on. The raised fists in Mexico City — along with other radicalising events like the Vietnam war, the violent suppression of the Yippie protests at the Chicago Democratic Convention, and the river in Cleveland that actually caught fire and burnt for 17 days — confirmed my own doubts about how wonderful everything was or was supposed to be.

The Civil Rights movement had already done most of the heavy lifting. This in turn provided a platform for the anti-war movement. Before long, what began as a political movement for peace and racial inclusion coalesced into a much broader social upheaval. The country entered a state of agitation sustained by an expanding range of worthy causes from the conditions of migrant farm workers to rampant industrial pollution. Much of the conflict was generational, and reflected a polarising explosion of new memes, pheromones, and mind-altering visions.

As the awakening and the activism of the Vietnam era ran its course, American conservatives felt increasingly isolated. Not only had their values been shunted aside, the country’s conservative hard core saw the reforms and new liberalism as a direct threat to the sources of their wealth. Conservative partisans like Steve Bannon may have missed the party, but they were taking notes

The sentiment at the time was that only a far-reaching cultural reorientation could triumph against the entrenched political order and the military-industrial complex controlling it. The mix of hot politics and cool culture was always more about challenging the conventional assumptions underpinning American exceptionalism than the political revolution advocated by the far-left fringe.

Waves of new music, innovative lifestyles, radical role models, and more mundane concerns like promoting healthy dietary choices rocked the national status quo. People started searching for alternatives to the mindless consumption of the planet’s limited resources. Tabs, buttons, and mushrooms opened up new internal vistas that encouraged interest in ancient cultures and their spiritual religious traditions. We probed the mystical symbols adorning the dollar bill and investigated the esoteric philosophies guiding the new nation’s founding fathers.

The combination of protests, new cultural orientations, and developments in the war zones of Southeast Asia shifted public opinion. Withdrawal from Vietnam accompanied progress on other fronts from race relations to female liberation. New legislation addressed discrimination based on colour, creed, and gender, reined in the CIA, and created the Environmental Protection Agency to control serial polluters.

The ship had been righted, the course of the nation redirected, and use of the term “politically correct” offered backhanded acknowledgement of the nation’s cultural makeover in politics. In the end, many of the political attitudes engendered by the counterculture followed long hair, frayed jeans, and recreational marijuana use into mainstream America.

The changes, affected over a relatively short period, had made America even more exceptional in our eyes. But some observers disagreed. The eminent anthropologist Marvin Harris opined that the main impact of the counterculture was selling a lot of records. Iconoclastic musician Frank Zappa said that rock music’s potential revolutionary impact had been felt mostly in the textile industry. Cultural revolution did little to change the nation’s political structures and economy.

As the awakening and the activism of the Vietnam era ran its course, American conservatives felt increasingly isolated. Their champion, the embattled president Nixon, resigned office in disgrace. Not only had their values been shunted aside, the country’s conservative hard core saw the reforms and new liberalism as a direct threat to the sources of their wealth. They were still wealthy, but had become dinosaurs inhabiting a political landscape dominated by progressive ideas and proponents of activist government. Conservative partisans like Steve Bannon may have missed the party, but they were taking notes.

IT’S NOT REALLY ABOUT TRUMP

The Koch brothers are ferociously independent heirs to one of the largest private corporations in the United States. Like the Bush family and their cronies, their father, Fred Koch, built up his fortune during the 1930s, training Bolshevik engineers and selling his advanced oil refining technology and refineries to Stalin and Hitler’s Germany. His children’s nanny was a Hitler sympathiser, and after the war Fred Koch became a strong supporter of the rabidly anti-Communist John Birch Society to assuage his guilt over aiding the USSR. He transferred his extreme libertarian values to his sons, and after his death in 1967, Charles and David Koch bought out their two more liberal minded siblings.

In Dark Money, a book first released in 2016, Jane Mayer tells the story of how the Koch Brothers assembled a network of 400 über-wealthy industrialists. Mayer’s documentation of their activities reads like a virtual symphony of corporate crime in the form of fraud, tax avoidance, violations of workplace safety and employee welfare, foreign bribery, and environmental violations

Under the brothers, Koch Industries became the country’s second wealthiest private corporation, and they parlayed their financial muscle into the single most influential political machine in the country. Their first venture, David Koch’s run for the presidency on the Libertarian Party ticket in 1980, failed miserably. Plan B was based on a totally different approach. It began with annual summits attended by a handpicked list of like-minded individuals opposed to most forms of government regulation and taxation.

In Dark Money, a book first released in 2016, Jane Mayer tells the story of how the Koch Brothers assembled a network of 400 über-wealthy industrialists who leveraged their money and influence to penetrate the American political system for their personal financial benefit. The brothers are the sixth and seventh wealthiest Americans and their combined wealth makes them number one. Most of those they recruited belong to the top .01% of the country’s wealthiest billionaires and are known as the “invisible rich” because they operate private companies that shield them from public scrutiny and government rules for fiscal disclosure.

Mayer’s documentation of their activities reads like a virtual symphony of corporate crime in the form of fraud, tax avoidance, violations of workplace safety and employee welfare, foreign bribery, and environmental violations. Over several decades, this network, or the Kochtopus as it was dubbed by one analyst, spent billions of dollars funnelled through tax-free foundations and charities exempted from public oversight to promote their objectives.

The Koch summits provided the institutional foundation and financial support for a long-term strategy based on three overlapping components: The reformulation of libertarian ideology in terms of ideas and concepts enabling its propagation within mainstream society; the creation of institutions for translating this free-market ideology into policy positions and legislation; and building political vehicles on the ground for placing politicians aligned with their ideas and policies into public office.

Most of the Koch-networked and -funded institutions and political action committees, like Americans for Prosperity, flew underneath the radar. At the same time, an array of media personalities, talk show hosts, and academic celebrities duplicated the role that rock musicians, intellectuals and artists, political activists, and outspoken athletes like Mohammed Ali played in energising the masses several decades before. They elevated the role of divisive social issues like abortion rights in the political arena, fuelling the culture wars that influenced otherwise politically moderate citizens.

The Koch network funded think tanks based in respected universities to reinforce their anti-government ideology and critiques of public spending. Covertly funded political action committees were used to gain control of executive offices and legislative bodies. Over a period of 40 years, the Koch Brothers and their clique of archconservative supporters patiently cultivated a right-wing movement, often with more power to block and obstruct than to legislate their own agenda.

An array of media personalities, talk show hosts, and academic celebrities duplicated the role that rock musicians, intellectuals and artists, political activists, and outspoken athletes like Mohammed Ali played in energising the masses several decades before. They elevated the role of divisive social issues like abortion rights in the political arena

But despite the inroads and influence generated by their free-flowing money, the Koch network still lacked a nation-wide vehicle for mobilising grassroots supporters.

ENTER BARACK OBAMA, PURSUED BY MAD HATTERS

Help came from an unexpected source.

The election of Barrack Obama in 2008 triggered the formation of the anti-government Tea Party movement. Its emergence enabled the Koch network to dedicate their annual summit in 2009 to organise an all-out assault on the Democrats during the 2010 mid-term elections. Tea Party candidates defeated Democrat and mainstream Republican incumbents as the GOP regained control of the House and Senate. The trend continued in 2012, even though Obama retained the White House with a 5.5 million-vote margin of victory.

Despite their growing clout within the federal and state governments, the Koch-Tea Party coalition could not field a viable presidential candidate of their own creation, as demonstrated by the succession of inchoate candidates like Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, Rand Paul, Rick Santorum, Ben Carson, Michelle Bachmann, and the pizza king Herman Cain.

The problem was about to repeat itself in 2016, until along came the Donald. Trump blitzed the field, reducing both establishment candidates like Jeb Bush and Tea Party aspirants to props in his carnival-style campaign. He proceeded to tweet himself into the White House, portraying himself as a new and independent force in American politics.

That he was. “I even did without a guitar and piano,” he quipped, a jibe referring to the star power Hillary Clinton trundled out at the end of her self-satisfied campaign.

Actually, the Trump team had something much better. Cambridge Analytica is a company dedicated to “the use of data to change behaviour,” or in the case of the 2016 election, using emotional manipulation based on psychological profiling to induce people to vote against their own socioeconomic interest. Electoral analysts confirm that CA helped sway the vote in key swing states like Florida, North Carolina, and Michigan, but their advanced analytics arguably required the distortionary prism cultivated by the alt-right players like Breitbart News and Steve Bannon to be effective.

THE REAL HOMELAND INSECURITY

It is easy to denigrate Trump the person. But Trump the politician scored some important points on my political scorecard. I had witnessed the beginning of the decline overtaking rural areas in the American South, and now even communities and people in America’s heartland who did everything by the book to adapt to the industrial decline still couldn’t win. The economic nationalism agenda clearly spoke to their concerns, even if it was short on viable solutions.

Despite their growing clout within the federal and state governments, the Koch-Tea Party coalition could not field a viable presidential candidate of their own creation, as demonstrated by the succession of inchoate candidates like Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, Rand Paul, Rick Santorum, Ben Carson, Michelle Bachmann, and the pizza king Herman Cain. The problem was about to repeat itself in 2016, until along came the Donald

A Trump versus Bernie Sanders contest focusing debate on the overlapping issues at the core of both candidates’ campaigns would have been much better for the country and the eventual winner. That did not happen thanks to the Democratic National Committee’s pro-Hillary machinations. Instead, we got a noisy post-truth spectacle that made one candidate look like a sleazy demagogue while the other came across as an opportunistic mannikin compromised by special interests.

The country emerged from the polls more polarised than ever, and the acrimony of the aftermath offered little hope for improvement. The fact that Trump was not part of the Kochtopus and the Koch brothers did not support his campaign offered some hope: Maybe the guy would revert to the former Democrat who was cool with Dennis Rodman on The Celebrity Apprentice. But then again, Vice President Michael Pence was a Koch-funded poodle; Trump promptly loaded his Cabinet with Koch partisans like Betsy DeVoss and Ben Carson.

It was not easy to see where my friend’s “something good will come out this” would come from with these people in charge.

A few days after I arrived in Utah, Trump announced his Muslim travel ban. A wave of spontaneous protests erupted as airport authorities detained several hundred arrivals from abroad including a former Middle Eastern head of state. The mainstream media went into overdrive and anti-Trump posts proliferated on social media, many of them creative, incisive, and entertaining. This and the breaking news about Russia drove a former State Department official to lament that the US has become a “Banana Republic.”

Although a federal judge declared the ban unconstitutional on the first working day following the executive order, a Utah-based friend from Lamu, spooked by the ban, still felt it necessary to travel back to Kenya to escort his wife, who had just received her long-awaited US visa, past airport immigration and security. More significantly, three days later, the LDS church issued a statement opposing the ban.

I argued that the election was the best thing that happened for progressive forces in decades. It woke people up, and saved the world from a hawkish and dissembling Hillary. At least the decades of drift culminating in the aristocratic takeover of party and state by the Clinton dynasty were over

This was unexpected news, as was a University of Utah study that reported most Muslim immigrants found the state more welcoming and adjusting to the US easier in Utah’s family oriented and no-alcohol Mormon culture. I also discovered that the religion’s founder and prophet, Joseph Smith, was actually an abolitionist, and that the Utah territory granted women the right to vote in 1870, 50 years before the federal government legislated universal suffrage by passing the 19th Amendment (Congress responded by disenfranchising Utah women with the Edmunds–Tucker Act, which was designed to weaken the Mormons politically and punish them for polygamy).

Red America is not as monolithic as it may appear in media political narratives. I spent Super Bowl Sunday in Salt Lake City with a houseful of Mexican relatives. More of them were more upset with the New England Patriot’s last minute Trump-style victory than worried about Trump’s wall.

I visited blue America. We convened a large family gathering in Los Angeles, and spent time with friends in San Francisco. There were a lot of Teslas and other electric cars, and a few self-driving vehicles on the freeways, their passengers contently working on phones and tablets.

THE COMING SECESSION OF HOTEL CALIFORNIA?

California is the high-tech future. But it is also the land of a new long-tail market peasantry. Internet-savvy entrepreneurs were surviving by reselling appliances and other recycled items. Co-operatives in the form of Internet-based groups were pooling their knowledge to utilise the online economy.

I have in-laws in LA who subsist by swapping coupons and minimising household costs through scientific shopping for bargains and stocking their freezer with food reduced for clearance.

Despite their struggle to keep body and soul intact, every month they host poetry readings and other cultural events in their home that are attended by dozens of friends and associates more concerned with the fate of the country than their own declining incomes.

The two coasts had emerged as the centre of anti-Trump activism, and some of the protests, like the student protests in Berkeley that forced the administration to cancel an appearance by the Breitbart editor, Milo Yiannopoulos, crossed the line, violating basic constitutional and democratic principles. When I mentioned the retrogressive nature of some of these developments, my friends in California ranted about the new regime and talked about secession in terms that recalled my conversations with the Mombasa Republican Council’s leadership.

I responded by arguing that the election was the best thing that happened for progressive forces in decades. It woke people up, and saved the world from a hawkish and dissembling Hillary. Contributions to the American Civil Liberties Union were spiking; at least the decades of drift culminating in the aristocratic takeover of party and state by the Clinton dynasty were over.

Other developments of the past several months painted a much more nuanced picture of the state of the nation. San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick revisited the spirit of the Mexico Olympic protest by refusing to stand for the national anthem. In pro-Trump Louisiana, the city of New Orleans took down the statue of Robert E. Lee — the state’s last remaining symbol of the Confederacy. John McCain penned an incisive op-ed in the New York Times underscoring the importance of human rights in foreign policy as an extension of domestic American values. Bob Dylan, the first poet of the counterculture, became a Nobel laureate.

The United States is a highly dualistic nation held together by a strong political centre. The nation’s political trajectory has consistently zigzagged between right and left of centre over the course of my lifetime. The transition from Obama to Trump was consistent with this dialectic

After the election, the website for the largest Tea Party PAC crowed that it took the anti-war movement 25 years to elect one of their own to the White House while they had done the same over the course of two electoral cycles. In reality, the success rate of Tea Party candidates peaked in 2012. Now minority politicians with names like Chokwe Lumumba and Khalid Kamau were winning seats in local government. Unheralded candidates recently won by-elections for seats in New Hampshire and New Jersey districts that had never elected a Democrat.

In his book What’s Wrong With Kansas, Thomas Frank describes how conservatives used religion and the culture wars to flip the formerly progressive state into a Republican stronghold. A decade later, the economy is tanking, while the state’s model education system deteriorates due to the spending cuts instituted by the Koch-supported Governor. Back in another flyover state, there are helped wanted signs everywhere and the Utah economy is booming. The difference is not accidental.

After I returned to Kenya, Bloomberg News published an article entitled How Utah is Keeping the American Dream Alive. The writer begins by confessing, “There’s no getting around it: For a girl raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, Salt Lake City is a very weird place.” She then proceeds to detail how the state government is collaborating with Latter Day Saints agencies to provide social protection for the poor while providing job training addressing local demand for skilled and semi-skilled labour. The formula is generating Scandinavian levels of social mobility in a state with a small but committed civil service and the country’s lowest per capita expenditure on education.

FACING AN UNEXCEPTIONAL FUTURE?

In 2017, I found a country not so different from the one I left on the brink of electing Barack Obama. Communication was efficient and uncomplicated; people were without exception polite, helpful, and friendly. The malls were filled with new versions of the usual stuff, and if you shopped smart most of it was much cheaper than it would cost in Kenya. Smoking reefer was laissez faire or just legal. The junk food was healthier, and the country was awash with innovative ideas and creative content. East Africa has changed so much more during the interim. But appearances can be deceptive.

Truth will make a comeback, and there is a world of well-informed and innovative solutions out there to get things going. Once again, it’s looking like my African friends got it right

The United States is a highly dualistic nation held together by a strong political centre. The nation’s political trajectory has consistently zigzagged between right and left of centre over the course of my lifetime. This makes for a lot of contradictions, but also for a more purple Republic over the long run. The transition from Obama to Trump was consistent with this dialectic, which is also a source of American democracy’s distinctive pattern of continuous change and incremental reform. President Trump is the latest exhibit in this tradition, but there are caveats.

The problem is not that Trump’s diagnoses of the nation’s problems were not on target. His vision for making America Great Again, in contrast, is informed by nostalgia, special interests, and backward-looking solutions. Trump’s proposed budget and tax cuts will injure the less educated and economically insecure voters who flocked to his rallies. The jobs at the Carrier factory Trump “saved” from being outsourced to Mexico are to be automated. Many elements of the economic nationalism he showcased on the stump are already in remission, and he is retreating from the foreign policy positions he used to whip up the crowds. He turned the government’s Middle East foreign policy over to the Saudis in exchange for a large order of weapons.

The future of the middle class is uncertain. The accelerating pace of machine learning and artificial intelligence may bring about the economic singularity within a generation. The country I grew up in was about exploration, problem solving, and optimising potential as we moved forward. Now I sense that for many Americans, the future is as murky as the Great Salt Lake on a cloudy winter day.

EVIL WINNERS WHO INVESTED IN PSEUDO-CHARITIES

The Koch Brothers and their friends tried to manufacture a new political culture based on libertarian values, but are really perpetuating the same financial industrial royalty presidents from Jefferson to Eisenhower warned us about. The likes of Bill Gates and Warren Buffet are following the tradition of other American philanthropists guided by noblesse oblige; the super wealthy populating the alt-right are evil winners who invested in pseudo-charities dedicated to advancing their own narrow interests.

Things were humming along until an outsider crashed the party.

Now the Trump presidency is unravelling in the face of problems largely of his own making. Our institutions are engaged, and my only hope is Trump & Co stay in office long enough to take down the whole prevaricating, alternative fact, toxic waste emitting and hate-mongering circus. We have seen worse, and I don’t begrudge the sincere citizens who played their trump card on the Donald having their day in the sun. But now it’s time to sort out the unprecedented crisis of inequality facing capitalism everywhere. Truth will make a comeback, and there is a world of well-informed and innovative solutions out there to get things going.

Once again, it’s looking like my African friends got it right.

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Chief Black Hawk went down in flames over Somalia in the early 1990s. This is a missive from beyond the grave, exclusive to The Elephant.

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SAP – SEASON TWO: Who is driving civil service reform in Uganda? The people or the IMF?

Ugandans should be alarmed that issues settled in the 1990s are having to be revisited in 2018. By MARY SERUMAGA

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SAP - SEASON TWO: Who is driving civil service reform in Uganda? The people or the IMF?

Two recent announcements made in Uganda recently create a sense of history repeating itself. The first, a plan to reduce the number of ministries, departments and agencies; 24 out of 29 agencies and authorities, regulating everything from road building to cotton and coffee development, will either be put back in parent ministries, merged with other authorities or abolished. Potential savings run to billions of shillings a year in salaries alone. The second edict followed a few weeks later; it was to freeze allowances payable to civil servants.

Both come against the background of broadening the tax base to increase revenue and are a repeat of similar measures under the Civil Service Reform Programme (CSRP) of 1992 to 1997. All three interventions are aimed at increasing resources available for loan servicing, service delivery and improving efficiency (in that order).

SAP II: Who are the drivers?

On the face of it, it looks as though the government is finally getting serious about improving service delivery. The president has been praised in offline and social media for these visionary interventions. Unfortunately, none of it is new. If anything, Ugandans should be alarmed that issues settled in the 1990s are having to be revisited in 2018. In 2018, as in 1992, the government is in negotiations with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for bailout loans and it is the IMF driving the reforms.

Reduction of expenditure on administration is simply one conditionality of the new Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP II) as it was in SAP I. This should not be necessary in 2018, particularly because in the 1990s, the programme included a component called “Developing Establishment Control Mechanisms” that intended to keep the size and structure (i.e. the establishment) of the civil service affordable. Had those been effectively put in place, there would have been no crisis in the cost of the administration today.

THE NEW SCRAMBLE FOR EAST AFRICA: How rising debt and IMF loans have shielded kleptocrats and stunted human development in the region

Read also: THE NEW SCRAMBLE FOR EAST AFRICA: How rising debt and IMF loans have shielded kleptocrats and stunted human development in the region

In the first SAP programme, there was an attempt to bring the public on board. Programme components were made public, and privatization – the most controversial aspect of the programme – even had a strategic communications office that branded and shared information about the programme through mass media and drama.

In contrast, in 2018, when the National Resistance Movement (NRM) has exhausted the goodwill and patience of many, SAP II is being rolled out by stealth. A meeting on increasing the tax base was recently invaded by an activist demanding to know why she as a citizen was not privy to the decision-making.

Apart from the three interventions announced, the rest of SAP II remains a mystery. The nature and size of the financial package sought (new loan, rolled-over old loan or capitalisation of interest etc.) and the conditionalities Uganda has signed up for in order to qualify remain a secret. In other words, Ugandans don’t know how broke they are and how much more debt they are taking on and for how long.

Given the recent unprecedented but inevitable challenge to the NRM’s monopoly of political power by the People Power movement, what is certain is that Uganda’s development partners (DPs) will prepare for a successor regime willing to continue to carry illegitimate debt. Put another way, lenders will not accept a repudiation of loans wasted or stolen by the current regime, but will lend more money to cover the bad debts. The transition to this regime is known by a code called Rule of Law. The laws in question are those governing the enforcement of exploitative agreements with corrupt leaders.

Apart from the three interventions announced, the rest of SAP II remains a mystery. The nature and size of the financial package sought (new loan, rolled-over old loan or capitalisation of interest etc.) and the conditionalities Uganda has signed up for in order to qualify remain a secret. In other words, Ugandans don’t know how broke they are and how much more debt they are taking on and for how long.

At the same time, opposition to the economic crimes of the NRM government and demands for structural change is called “hooliganism”. The privileged few to whom the NRM regime has channeled economic opportunities are working overtime to project the violence of the state (all victims were either shot or bludgeoned) on unarmed demonstrators and innocent bystanders.

In their reluctant statements on the atrocities of August 2018, the UK and European Union called for the government and its victims – civil society – “to cooperate to ensure that the events that had caused suffering to Ugandan citizens and damaged the country’s global image were addressed swiftly and transparently with full respect for the Rule of Law”. The implication is that somehow the victims contributed to the attack.

All of this is underpinned by militarising public order. Repressive public order laws were first used to try and suffocate the independence movements of the 1940s and 50s. In the 21st century they are being implemented by a military trained and equipped to maim and kill supporters of the People Power movement. It seems civil disobedience as a means of political expression is not a privilege to be enjoyed by dollar-a-day people whose immunisation and ARVs are gifts from foreign governments.

This will be denied, of course. It will be pointed out that the United States withdrew support from the deadly Special Forces Command (SFC). But they didn’t uninstall the capacity for state terror. They withdrew after having created a killing machine.

The huge amounts spent on immunisation and ARVs will be given as evidence of goodwill. However, most people understand that the primary purpose of immunisation of livestock is not to change the outcome for the livestock (it will still be butchered) but to ensure that the farmer gets maximum economic benefit from it.

Nevertheless, the fall of the regime is a real possibility and its attempts to cling to power by increasing repression makes even tacit support by development partners increasingly untenable. Because repudiation of illegitimate debt is more likely to be successful following a Compaoré–style exit, all hands are on deck to frustrate the People Power movement that has the potential to bring it about sooner rather than later.

Alternative candidates to People Power are already positioning themselves for nomination as the leaders most likely to maintain the economic status quo. Their language of “conciliation” between the government and its victims and calls for Yoweri Museveni to casually apologise and announce a retirement plan minimise the latter’s culpability and indicate that should they take office, Museveni and his regime would not be held accountable for either economic crimes or the latest sustained wave of assaults, wounding and murder. They are playing for time while the new formation is crafted.

The risk is that by enabling Museveni’s government to continue the pretence of being in control of the economy, DPs are keeping Uganda in a holding pattern until they are ready to airdrop their preferred candidate in time for the 2021 elections. Those negotiations will be happening in background mode around about now.

Recent evidence of a concrete policy of impunity in exchange for continuity can be found in the DPs’ selective application of the law governing the type of international corruption that has brought Uganda’s economy to its knees. The decision not to charge Cheikh Gadio under the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act is, according to defence lawyer Robert Precht, “in part a political move – the US government wants to maintain good diplomatic relations with [its ally] Senegal.” The United States also wants to maintain diplomatic relations with Uganda, one of the two countries involved, and has declined to charge the Ugandan recipients of the bribes either.

The international media can be expected to continue doing its part by pitching for candidates on the basis of their “sophistication”, work and travel experience and general dining-at-Davos capabilities.

Meanwhile, SAP edition II announcements are being disguised as the head of state’s own initiatives. In a letter instructing his cabinet to reduce the number of agencies, Museveni asked, “Why have an agency when you have a department of government dealing with the same area of responsibility?” He conveniently forgot that these agencies were entities of his own creation in his system of patronage.

Agencies critical to Uganda’s economic health have suffered from the appointment of unqualified personnel, such as Jolly Kaguhangire, who with a certificate in secretarial work became an Assistant Commissioner in the Uganda Revenue Authority before moving up to be Executive Director of the Uganda Investment Authority. She was ousted only after staff, smothered by her relatives, petitioned the Ombudsman regarding her alleged “high level tribalism, mismanagement, corruption, favouritism [….]” In another example, Jolly Sabune, the permanent managing director of the Cotton Development Organisation, who failed in her mandate to add value to raw cotton, donated UGX500 million ($130,000) to political supporters of the regime and another UGX20 million (over $5,000 at today’s lower rates) of state funds to her brother’s wedding fund.

Meanwhile, SAP edition II announcements are being disguised as the head of state’s own initiatives. In a letter instructing his cabinet to reduce the number of agencies, Museveni asked, “Why have an agency when you have a department of government dealing with the same area of responsibility?” He conveniently forgot that these agencies were entities of his own creation in his system of patronage.

The proposed removal of over 100 government ministries and agencies is a re-run of the “downsizing” of the civil service in 1991/2. It was part of the SAP component called “Optimising the Size and the Structure of the Civil Service” that resulted in merged ministries, retrenchment and voluntary retirement. Mergers between ministries reduced the number of ministries from 38 to 22, and the staff complement was reduced by about half.

The new rightsized civil service was to benefit from pay rises on the smaller, more affordable payroll. Salary surveys of the private sector were done and comparable jobs in the civil service measured against them. It was decided that the gap would be closed by gradual salary enhancement. In preparation, allowances were to be monetised, i.e. allowances were to be abolished and replaced with a cash equivalent. Instead of a house, a public servant was entitled to a house allowance that he or she could use to rent a house or buy one on mortgage. Government houses were sold, with the sitting public servants given priority.

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Other allowances, such as cars, were meant to be withdrawn and public servants’ salaries increased to a level allowing them to buy and insure their own personal vehicles on easy credit terms. Credit agencies supplied the numbers necessary to calculate a new pay scale.

Government pool cars were auctioned. (Pool cars were those available to a group of entitled staff for work purposes but which were usually monopolised by senior civil servants. In addition to those assigned to them, they commandeered the rest to ferry their children around and take relatives to and from hospital etc.)

Difficulties in implementation surfaced early on. There was a lack of commitment to the efficiency principle on which CSRP was built. The size of the government began to balloon. The number of ministries rose from 22 in 1997 to 75 today, plus the 29 agencies. The Ministry of Finance was detached from the Ministry of Planning and Economic Development before being merged again. Several of the statutory bodies slated for reabsorption in parent ministries have been cited for financial mismanagement in a number of Auditor General reports, meaning the expected efficiencies did not materialise.

There were two types of allowances: duty facilitating (needed to carry out the work e.g. transport for school inspectors) and remunerative (perks that went with the status of the job). The push-back against abolishing duty facilitating allowances was justified and successful but other allowances began to be reinstated. Ministers who had benefitted from the car purchase scheme became entitled to each subsequent scheme. The car ownership schemes themselves were very generous to the beneficiaries and a burden to the taxpayer.

Pool cars made a comeback and budget item 1010 (transport) reaffirmed its position as one of the most used and most frequently over-spent budget items. The unintended consequence of CSRP on transport was that civil servants at the top of the pay scale received higher salaries and subsidised vehicles yet continued to have access to pool cars fuelled and maintained by the state.

Salary enhancement did materialise for the most senior public servants as well as specialist staff. Doctors and the judiciary received considerable increases although their pay still remained well below private sector levels.

More specialised agencies and authorities were set up over the years with salaries at par with, if not greater than, private sector salary structures. While the agencies with their private-sector level salaries drained the Treasury, corruption in them outstripped levels in the traditional civil service. The Uganda National Roads Authority, the Uganda Revenue Authority, the Cotton Development Organisation, the National Environment Management Authority, and the new National Identification and Registration Authority are cases in point.

Teachers, on the other hand, are so numerous that salary enhancement for them was deemed impossible at the time. Years later, secondary school teachers were given a boost while primary school teachers’ pay remained below what is considered a living wage. However, the removal of ghost teachers from the payroll gave hope that genuine teachers would eventually receive meaningful salaries from the savings. The number of teachers’ strikes since then indicates that this has not been the case. At the time of writing, teachers in one district are on strike after a seven-month delay in their pay.

What went wrong? A number of things. First, the divestment procedure itself featured in numerous financial scandals. The accounts of the privatisation programme have never been published.

Privatisation was expected to reduce the amount the government was paying in subsidies to inefficient parastatals, such as the Uganda Electricity Board (UEB), thus freeing up revenue for service delivery. Since UEB was divested, however, subsidies to the electricity distribution company, Umeme, have been described as astronomical in Parliament and in fact exceed pre-privatisation levels in this sector.

The sale of other assets, such as government houses and vehicles, was similarly disappointing. In the meantime, health units, such as Kalisizo Hospital, are only able to attract 20 percent of the staff required. A mandatory transfer to such places is seen as equivalent to being homeless, there being no accommodation considered suitable by qualified personnel. For this reason, many newly refurbished rural health centres remained unused for lack of personnel.

Privatisation was expected to reduce the amount the government was paying in subsidies to inefficient parastatals, such as the Uganda Electricity Board (UEB), thus freeing up revenue for service delivery. Since UEB was divested, however, subsidies to the electricity distribution company, Umeme, have been described as astronomical in Parliament and in fact exceed pre-privatisation levels in this sector.

There are insufficient funds for salary enhancement and service delivery generally. Cash management on such a tight budget requires a degree of fiscal discipline that is impossible to maintain in a system of patronage.

Concluding his assessment of the CSRP of 1989–2001, Dr. Yasin Olum states:

“very little has so far been achieved due to the socio-economic and political state in which the country is in today. Issues such as public accountability, competence, and corruption are still high on the agenda. These and issues related to physical infrastructure have equally to be addressed.”

Since then, as documented by this writer in 2016, unsuccessful parts of the programme were re-done with poor results and high price tags. It is unfortunate, but World Bank internal assessments have falsified some reports to disguise failures and justify further lending.

The saga continues in 2018 with a new programme to repeat financial management capacity – building in local government, UgIFT (Uganda Intergovernmental Fiscal Transfers Programme), has been approved at a total cost of US$787.59 million in 2017. So far the World Bank has approved US$200 million. No wonder SAP must now go undercover.

The People Power movement gaining momentum in Uganda to fight the impact of these injustices is being vigorously fought by the NRM and its beneficiaries. The government is undermining resistance with a two-pronged approach. On the one hand, urban artisans, drivers and other workers and “ghetto youths” (of whom between 60 and 80 per cent are unemployed) who are the prime movers in the movement are being appeased with cash handouts. For instance, the first batch of traders along Entebbe Highway received a total of UGX180 million ($47,000) and a truck. Youths in Kamwokya, in the constituency of R. Kyagulanyi, the leader of the People Power movement, were given UGX100 million (over $26,000) to share. The following week, taxi operators and market vendors in the central business district received or were promised UGX3 billion ($800,000). During the six stops he made in the CBD, the president chided the traders for voting against the NRM in three mayoral elections and promised to take care of their financial needs from then on. Naturally, Ugandans outside central urban areas are beginning to demand a share in the bonanza.

The second prong is the militarisation of public order in anticipation of resistance to further economic outrages. A fourth announcement launched the ongoing nationwide recruitment drive of 24,000 youths for local defence units (LDUs). To understand the magnitude of this militia, compare it to the traditional Uganda Police Force establishment of 30,000.

LDUs are normally civilian patrols recruited by their neighbourhoods to carry out neighbourhood watch type tasks. However, the current drive has been launched and is being carried out by the military. According to Dr Kizza Besigye, the recruitment is a covert reinforcement of the Special Forces Command to be used to quell growing civil unrest. A creation of the NRM and the US government, the SFC has been responsible for most of the state brutality seen in recent years. It was established in the colonial era when Zanzibaris and Sudanese were used to subdue what became Uganda in the belief that atrocities are more effectively carried out by people foreign to the area where they are committed.

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Dr Besigye’s suspicion is borne out by the fact that it is the military carrying out the recruitment exercise and not civilian local councils. It was the army commander who announced the arrangements. New LDU members will be paid UGX200,000 per month as compared to the UGX10,000 per month their civilian bosses, the chairmen of local defence councils, are entitled to. The new LDUs will cost a total of US$20 million a year.

Note also that the military, parliament and some agencies have not been paid for two months although the funds were released by the Ministry of Finance. Like the cash handouts to urban dwellers, expenditure on the new militia was not provided for in the budget.

Public planning, public audits and People Power

Looking forward, the Ugandan public can avoid repeating the errors of the past by demystifying public finance altogether. The people of Uganda can and must take charge of decisions on whether or not to enter into further debt. And it must be the people who decide what is an acceptable level of service delivery.

The service delivery cycle – budget planning-implemention-audit – can only be diligently overseen by those it is meant to serve. What the public is unaware of is that an Auditor General can only cover so much ground and so audits are done selectively. Targets for audits are picked according to the materiality (relative size) of the budget item in question, meaning that average-sized accounts can be plundered or wasted in a serial fashion as long as they are not caught by the auditor’s net. The relatively new value-for-money audits are separate from annual audits and occur as and when the Auditor General deems them fit or when ordered by parliament.

Looking forward, the Ugandan public can avoid repeating the errors of the past by demystifying public finance altogether. The people of Uganda can and must take charge of decisions on whether or not to enter into further debt. And it must be the people who decide what is an acceptable level of service delivery.

Parliament (to which the Auditor General reports) has been so compromised that it is no longer feasible to leave public financial management oversight exclusively to it. Elected representatives are becoming clients of the Executive as was seen when they received cash for votes, most recently to defeat opposition to the mobile money tax. Furthermore, some recently-dropped members of Parliament’s Public Accounts Committee were alleged to have sat on reports implicating officials in major financial scandals for the benefit of the perpetrators.

Monitoring the quality and quantity (value-for-money) of services also needs to be devolved. For example, Service Delivery Surveys (SDSs) introduced in the late 1990s were an intervention that seemed to have promise. The idea was that government departments would survey public perception of their service delivery and respond appropriately. Not being overly enthusiastic about monitoring themselves, it is no surprise that allowances for the survey personnel and other logistics are often not available. SDSs have not caught on as a regular part of the budget cycle.

Legislation for public audits would allow end-users of public services, citizens who have intimate knowledge of a particular government entity, to carry out their own audits where they suspect they are receiving inadequate value for money. It is such people-driven initiatives that will bring fundamental change to the quality of life of ordinary Ugandans.

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IT’S THE ECONOMY, STUPID: Why the current push for a referendum is a distraction from the reforms Kenya needs

The history of Kenya is a story of distracting the people of Kenya from fundamental economic reforms that would allow the Kenyan people to participate in their economy and have institutions that serve them, rather than serve the interests of Western capital and its local caretakers in government. BY WANDIA NJOYA

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IT’S THE ECONOMY, STUPID: Why the current push for a referendum is a distraction from the reforms Kenya needs

The history of Kenya is a story of distracting the people of Kenya from fundamental economic reforms that would allow the Kenyan people to participate in their economy and have institutions that serve them, rather than serve the interests of Western capital and its local caretakers in government. The latest referendum push led by Raila Odinga, against our will, despite claiming otherwise, is just the latest installment in the process of scuttling economic and social reforms.

And yet, Raila’s insistence on a referendum to restructure political power is, strangely, a fulfillment of his father Jaramogi Oginga Odinga’s principles. Until recently, I held onto the romantic notion that Jaramogi was interested in fundamental social reform, and was opposed to the capitalist and feudal accumulation of wealth by the Kenyatta family and their fellow ethnic elites. That was until I stumbled about the work of Nicola Swainson, author of The Development of Corporate Capitalism in Kenya, 1918-1977. I now understand what Julius Malema calls the “arrangement” of Kenya very differently from before.

To understand the Jaramogi paradox, one must first go back to what happened with colonialism and independence. According to the popular story of independence, the Mau Mau peasants fought against foreign domination, and now Kenya is an independent country. An increasingly popular amendment to that narrative is that Jomo Kenyatta was never part of the Mau Mau, and that is why, after independence, he betrayed the Mau Mau cause, protected the white settlers and became a version of them. An additional amendment is that Jaramogi understood that it was “not yet uhuru,” and that by forming the Kenya People’s Union with Bildad Kaggia, he sought to promote land reform and politics based on issues, not identity.

Thankfully, more Kenyans are beginning to understand that the first president was never interested in freedom. But what remains is our view of the Europeans as all sharing the same interests. Understanding the different European interests is key to understanding what exactly Jaramogi stood for, and how Raila’s politics do conform to Jaramogi’s position, but at the same time do not serve the interests of Kenyans. ​

As Swainson explains, the settlers, the British government and the British corporations were all serving different interests. When the British East African Company landed in Kenya, it did not have white settlers in mind, and in fact, it only supported their stay in Kenya on the understanding that what the settlers would produce on the land would serve British corporations at home.

Thankfully, more Kenyans are beginning to understand that the first president was never interested in freedom. But what remains is our view of the Europeans as all sharing the same interests. Understanding the different European interests is key to understanding what exactly Jaramogi stood for, and how Raila’s politics do conform to Jaramogi’s position, but at the same time do not serve the interests of Kenyans. ​

However, the settlers didn’t play to script. They consistently fought against the colonial government’s control of land, agriculture and trade, and towards the 1950s, they were getting more control of agriculture and trade in the colony.  But the Achilles heel of the settlers was that they still needed the colonial government’s military might to force Africans off their own land, and to work on the colonial farms.

After the Second World War, the British homeland needed more resources for its recovery and started to put more pressure on the colonial government to expand the extraction of resources from the colonies. For more resources, the colonial government needed to expand trade and land ownership to Africans, and encourage the growth of an African middle class to help the British corporations. But the settlers would have none of it. As a result, the colonial government had a hard time pleasing both the settlers here and the government back home.

The stalemate ended in the 50s, when the peasants revolted against the settlers.

Of course, the settlers did not have the firepower to crush the rebellion, and so the British government sent its troops. But once in charge, the British government pressed the settlers to concede to more African involvement. This move allowed the British state and corporations to weaken the hand of the settlers and to strengthen their own. It also allowed more space for the compromised African elites who would not ask for radical social reform. Companies like Brooke Bond and East African Breweries, and later on Bamburi Cement, consolidated their positions in Kenya as the clueless Jomo Kinyatta initially told Kenyans that since the British were leaving, we could have the land back.

Jaramogi began his career before independence intending to be a businessman. As he explains in his book, Not Yet Uhuru, his initiation into politics came from the realisation that the British were putting obstacles in the path of African capital. African land was community-owned, which meant that Africans could not borrow loans because they did not have title deeds. Africans couldn’t form cooperatives unless the colonialists controlled the cooperatives. Africans couldn’t get credit and couldn’t buy shares. Africans couldn’t set up businesses in the towns, only in the “bush”. Town trading, even in Kisumu, was reserved for Asians.

The colonial government justified all this micro-managing of African entrepreneurship in the name of Africans needing to be protected from going into debt (the irony!). Jaramogi, therefore, understood that the obstacles to African capital were racial and political. He decided to join politics, because, in his words, “politics was the only sphere [of African advance] approved by the government.” That was when he quit teaching and ran for a seat in Central Nyanza African District Council. Thus Jaramogi entered politics as an indigenous capitalist.

At independence, Jaramogi would rudely discover that the fault lines of access to capital simply shifted from race to ethnicity. The Kikuyu elite fixed the economy so that even though Western corporations would continue to exploit the country, it was only the Kikuyu elite who could share in the exploitation. In other words, entrance into the comprador elite group was necessarily ethnic.

And, as Swainson explains, the Kenyatta government set into motion a series of laws to control access to capital. Laws required the British multinational corporations to employ African managers and board members, and to give them shares. One cabinet minister, whom Swainson doesn’t name, was so notorious for demanding ten percent of the start-up capital of Western multinational that he got the nickname “Mr Ten Per Cent.”  In 1975, the government wrote laws that allowed African elites to seize the businesses of Asians, and even though the law talked of non-citizens, Asians who were Kenyan citizens also lost their businesses.

At independence, Jaramogi would rudely discover that the fault lines of access to capital simply shifted from race to ethnicity. The Kikuyu elite fixed the economy so that even though Western corporations would continue to exploit the country, it was only the Kikuyu elite who could share in the exploitation. In other words, entrance into the comprador elite group was necessarily ethnic.

So Jaramogi understood that it was not yet uhuru, and that the transactional economic relations between the exploited peasants and Western capital hadn’t really changed. Western capital had simply fired colonial settlers and replaced them with African (Kikuyu) elites to help Western capital to continue exploiting the majority of Kenyans. In other words, independence was just about replacing white chief executive officers with black ones and putting some black faces on the board – but the companies were still foreign-owned. And, as we now know, it was more difficult to fight against the black “nyapara” for Western capital, because they used ethnicity to erase the class distinctions between themselves and the ordinary Kenyans.

Since then, the obsession of Jaramogi and now of his son, is to reform this political set- up so as to open up the economy. The referendum is part of first seeking the political kingdom, with the promise that the economy will be added to it as well.

But in this 21st century, we need to refuse the formula of one first and the other later. We must fight for the economy now.

Jaramogi’s experience highlights the problem that we still have today. It’s difficult to make money if you are not in politics. The laws and economy are structured so that if you’re not a politician, or if you do not have politician friends, you can barely make it as an “entrepreneur”. And if you’re not a Kikuyu connected to the Kenyattas, it is even harder for you to join the elite. All you can do is negotiate with the Kenyatta elite or its ethnic representatives.

However, this relationship between politics and economics is now a catch-22 because you need money to run for office in order to be in a position to grow your business. This means that without education, poor people stand a slim chance of social mobility, unless they find the formula to steal. And stealing means that you can never go to jail because you have enough to bribe a judge, assuming charges are leveled against you in the first place.

Since independence, the role of the political class (almost synonymous with the Kikuyu elite), with the help of Western governments, has been to keep performing elections and ethnic politics to blind us to this reality. In the name of reform, they make Kenyans obsessed with the mathematics of the ethnic composition of government and probabilities of electoral success so that the Western capital involved in our exploitation continues to remain faceless and we do not see politicians as a mere comprador elite getting their 10 per cent.

That is why Kenya has gone through a succession of political reforms that do not fundamentally change the economic arithmetic. In 1963, KADU crossed the floor. We repealed Section 2A of the constitution and re-introduced multiparty elections three decades later. In 2005, we had a referendum. In 2008, a coalition government. In 2010, as a result of the chaos of 2008 and pressure from the international community, we finally got a constitution that puts the Kenyan people at the center of governance.

But with this last reform, some things have changed, although not nearly enough. With devolution, the people are starting to see fundamental changes that they had not seen for the previous fifty years. We have also now got bolder in demanding public participation in policy and governmental institutions. Kenyans are now demanding more, and are even more adamant about it.

Unfortunately, that is not what the political elites on either side want. Of course, the Kenyatta family maintains an interest in the status quo, where it controls the economy and reduces elections to a joke whose purpose is to justify why Western corporations must still trade in Kenya since Kenya has a “democracy”. Their son is sinking us into debt simply because he wants to build infrastructure and exploit our labour for capital.

In addition, the institutions of this country are still solidly colonial.  The politicians and their political appointees in government bodies still plan the country and the economy as if we Kenyans don’t exist. For example, healthcare reforms have not been to treat Kenyans, but to encourage medical tourism and Kenyan doctors trained by our taxes go abroad so that they can send remittances. Meanwhile the government imports a handful to Cuban doctors as a way of showing the finger to Kenyan ones.

Foreign ideas and foreigners have driven the recent education curriculum reforms, and the contempt for Kenyans is so bad that the government would only recognise the problems we have been talking about after they hired foreign experts to tell them the obvious. Land is being given away to foreign landowners in Laikipia and Isiolo, with Africans branded as threats to wildlife, which needs wazungu to conserve the environment.

​Our politicians have become so predatory that when our health is threatened by poisoned sugar, their first worry is that Western tourists and investors might hear the truth and not bring their money to Kenya.

Even politicians’ wives repeat the contempt for African Kenyans. The Kenya government organised Melania Trump’s visit to orphaned human and animal children, and the US First Lady wore colonial settler costume. In other words, Kenya is a country of no people, or no adults. Children have no parents and the job of the elite is to help the West help us.

Our politicians have become so predatory that when our health is threatened by poisoned sugar, their first worry is that Western tourists and investors might hear the truth and not bring their money to Kenya.

And for all these insults, all we get is managerialist lip service to Kenyans through plans like Kenya Vision 2030 and the Big 4 agenda. The fancy strategic plans have not prevented inequality from growing at a rate faster than before. According to Oxfam, 8,300 Kenyans own more wealth than the bottom 99.9 per cent (more than 44 million of us). Kids are still not going to school, and healthcare is still out of the reach of most Kenyans, yet the weak public services are still being privatised.

So we can no longer hold onto the Jaramogi-Raila ideal that our lives can improve only after we have more diverse ethnic representation in the top political office. The one thing that must remain is that the government must be accountable to the people. Armed with the constitution, Kenyans have made great strides in this endeavor, and we must not let politicians fool us into abandoning our struggle in the name of cutting down spending and reforming power sharing.

Photo: Oxfam Kenya

Most of all, the political class must realise that there is a new generation in Kenya. We have abandoned the naivete of the Nkrumah doctrine and have started to put a face to Western capital and ask what havoc it is wrecking in this Kenya. We now realise that referendums and elections cannot address our issues when the billionaires and their Western friends have the money to rig elections, compromise the electoral bodies and pay Cambridge Analytica millions of dollars to misinform and distract Kenyans from the real issues. So we don’t want an economic conversation after we’ve tinkered, yet again, with political succession problems. We want an economic conversation now.

During the Cold War, it was less easy to see the love affair between black Kenyan elites and white capital. The educated Kenyans were few and a majority of them were working for government. The population was smaller, and the government was funding social services in places where the educated Kenyans raised their kids. Also, the threat of Communism in the East and the strong welfare states in the West meant that the World Bank and the United States were more sympathetic to our government funding education and healthcare. But with the neoliberal turn and the fall of the USSR, Western governments no longer felt the same.

So as the World Bank reduced funding for social services, kids like me, with educated parents, started to see that our economic fortunes were worse than theirs. We can’t afford the same social services our parents afforded at our age. In addition, social media has enabled us to get live updates on the social struggles all over the world. We not only see Donald Trump, but also Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. We not only see Theresa May; we also follow Jeremy Corbyn. We listen to the conversations of people like Chris Hedges, Tariq Ali and Yanis Varoufakis.  Some of us have studied in the US and have been raised by Pan-Africanists. We don’t just hear about Frantz Fanon, Julius Nyerere, Thomas Sankara, Malcolm X, Angela Davis and James H. Cone. Now we also read them.

So we now see the face of capital more clearly than our parents did. And the more we ask questions about why our money doesn’t stretch as far, the more we see that the poor are worse off than us.

So we are not the generation of 1974 or 2008. We are no longer people who believe that our economic and social problems will be solved through mere political reshuffling without a conversation about the economy. We know that the problem is that white capital still runs this country and that our old school politicians want a referendum to make themselves, not us, comfortable. We know that a referendum will simply waste money on campaigns and popularity contests, the same money that politicians now say that we waste on counties and MPs. And in the end, the referendum will leave the logic of the market, driven by foreigners, very much intact.

What we need is economic reform. We want a government whose pillar of development is WE THE PEOPLE, because we Kenyans are talented, resourceful and simply awesome. We don’t want to hear more of foreign investors and tourists when we want to put our minds and muscles to work. We need the toxic relationship between the state and capital to end. Title deeds should no longer be used as loan security. We want a country that believes in us Africans and that will give us loans because they know we can do the work and succeed. If one does not use land, let them give it back to the public and the public will find someone who will use it. You should not be able to sell land, because you did not make it.

What we need is economic reform. We want a government whose pillar of development is WE THE PEOPLE, because we Kenyans are talented, resourceful and simply awesome.

We want an education that makes Kenyans proud to be human and African, and that encourages them to be creative.

We want universal healthcare because our people deserve to be healthy and live in dignity. That way, our people will also not be afraid to try new ideas because they will not be worrying about healthcare for mothers and kids.

We want a tourism industry that appreciates that the best tourists are WE Kenyans. The communities living alongside wildlife can offer us their homes, build hotels and take care of wildlife better than any foreign “conservationist” who inherited land from King George V.

The push for a referendum instead of economic reforms comes from a fundamental flaw in the Jaramogi doctrine:  the belief in indigenous capital as the main economic driver and that we need ethnic diversity in the top 1% of this nation to gain economic justice. And that we cannot get ethnically diverse capitalism before we get political reforms. This naive Jaramogi-Raila belief in indigenous capitalism forgets that capitalism is fundamentally designed to be ethnically exclusive, and ultimately racist.

We still honour Jaramogi for opening our eyes to the complicity of the Kenyattas in economic injustice. And we honour Raila for accepting to be the face of the spirited fight of the Kenyan people against the feudal, capitalist and Western-dominated arrangement that we call independence. However, one thing is clear from Raila’s political career: he’s not willing to extend his challenge to the status quo to the economic realm. That is why he gave up on the most legitimacy he ever had – the people’s presidency – as well as the economic boycott that was our best weapon to challenge Kenyatta’s and Western capital’s hold on Kenya.

The push for a referendum instead of economic reforms comes from a fundamental flaw in the Jaramogi doctrine:  the belief in indigenous capital as the main economic driver and that we need ethnic diversity in the top 1% of this nation to gain economic justice. And that we cannot get ethnically diverse capitalism before we get political reforms. This naive Jaramogi-Raila belief in indigenous capitalism forgets that capitalism is fundamentally designed to be ethnically exclusive, and ultimately racist.

We are a new generation. We have tasted the promise of the constitution in putting the people of Kenya at the steering wheel of our own destiny. We are not willing to destabilise the constitution and with it, the framework for public involvement at the counties through devolution, and the demand for public participation in national policy-making. We believe that we can have, and need to have, economic reforms before constitutional change. Most of all, we do not believe that freedom can ever be too expensive.

So we are not seeking first the political kingdom on its own; we are seeking the political kingdom through the economic one. Once we cut down the economic stranglehold of the elites on the economy, we will get closer to a reality where a girl from Turkana or a boy from Kwale, through sheer will power, hard work and social support from an educated nation that is able to see through the ethnic and racist lies, can grow up to become the president of Kenya.

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UTHAMAKI, GOD AND THE ECONOMY: ‘Tano Tena’ fails to deliver the Kingdom of Prosperity

As the economy takes a turn for the worse, many of President Uhuru Kenyatta’s disappointed followers are seeking solace in religion. By DAUTI KAHURA

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UTHAMAKI, GOD AND THE ECONOMY: ‘Tano Tena’ fails to deliver the Kingdom of Prosperity

1 October 2018 was a market Monday just like any other that has come and gone at the Githurai fruits and vegetables market, one of the busiest markets in Nairobi that is located 10 km from the central business district. Githurai Market is busy because its catchment area spreads all the way to Thika town and its environs. Although the older and more famous Wakulima Market, aka Marigiti, located in Nairobi’s CBD, could be busier, its market reach is not as widespread and does not go as deep into the hinterland as Githurai Market does. But, just like Marigiti, Githurai’s produce is transported from as far as Mbeya in southern Tanzania and Soroti in eastern Uganda.

This year has been one of the toughest years that the market women at Githurai Market have faced in recent times. Six out of every ten traders at Githurai Market are women. The market is largely run by resilient and seasoned female fruit-and-vegetable sellers, all of whom are Kikuyus and who in the true sense of the word, are entrepreneurs, whose grasp of the trade encapsulates the dictum: What they did not teach you at Harvard (or Yale) School of Business.

It was not the first time I was going to Githurai Market; this year alone, I have made enough trips there to get to grips with what makes the market tick, engaging with the women traders, sharing lots of cups of tea and chapatis, as well as listening to their stories about the funnier side of the market’s shenanigans.

That the market women had great faith that the economy would improve and eventually stabilise had become a point of sore contention between them and me. I often asked them what miracle they expected President Uhuru Kenyatta to perform to wish away their economic woes.

All of this year, the market women have kept telling me how bad business has been. But strong-willed and tough-spirited as they are, they have held on to their undying optimism and belief that matters will eventually even out; in the long run, the economy will be fine and everything will flow smoothly. Their optimism is not pegged on any economic principle or the variables of fresh produce market dynamics, but on the presumption of a shared political-cum-tribal commonality through imagined ties with the ruling Kikuyu elite (referred to as Uthamaki). Hence, their presumed political correctness and unquestioned and unparalleled loyalty; in their minds, their Kikuyu tribe ought to serve as an economic shield, especially in tough economic times. “Uhuru ndangerika tuone uru. Kai twamucaguraga wake?” (Uhuru cannot let us suffer. That is not the reason we elected him.) The women’s unshaken faith in President Uhuru Kenyatta, in the face of very obvious economic turbulence, is truly puzzling, but also admirable.

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That the market women had great faith that the economy would improve and eventually stabilise had become a point of sore contention between them and me. I often asked them what miracle they expected President Uhuru Kenyatta to perform to wish away their economic woes. The country had mounting debts that ran into trillions of shillings, runaway theft that had crippled the state coffers in his first term and a Standard Gauge Railway project that had turned into a white elephant was gobbling Sh750 million in losses every month. Their chorus answer was always: “We should not keep saying the economy is bad. God is on our side and He will protect us.” It was a curt answer to a painful situation that threatened to fester indefinitely and which they were not prepared to talk about openly and publicly.

Sometime in July, when I told them that the government would impose Value Added Tax (VAT) on fuel come September, they outright rebuked me: “Aaah Uhuru ndangetikira.” (Nah, Uhuru will not consent to such an arrangement.) The VAT came and Kenyans immediately started experiencing the impact of the harsh tax. Matatu Saccos hiked fares overnight and kerosene prices shot up.

Meanwhile, the Githurai Market women’s optimism and faith in the person of President Uhuru was getting blurred and confusing. On this Monday, their spirits were beginning to break. It was 10.30am and the market was dull, inactive and quiet. The hustle and bustle had disappeared. The brisk business that used to be a permanent feature at the market throughout the week had whittled away. Something was just not working right, the unswerving belief in President Kenyatta’s “political abracadabra” and perpetual trust in the eternal Almighty notwithstanding.

To kill time as they waited for customers, the market women spontaneously formed a quasi-baraza and delved into the politics of the day. “Nitwarie caruruku,” said one woman, meaning “Let us brutally and honestly talk with one another other”. “Ithue nio ahari aa rua, no one riu uria turaria thina” (We are the people who do the lowest of the menial jobs, but look how now we are suffering). The Kikuyu idiom she used describes men who scrub and treat animal skins for a living. It is considered the lowliest job that any man could do.

“We supported Uhuru to the hilt but look at what he is doing to us now,” said one of the women. The trader said that President Uhuru had annoyed them so much that they did not want to have anything to do with him. It is obvious that it took a lot of courage to be publicly emotional about President Uhuru, a sacrosanct subject among Uthamaki loyalists, but the fact of the matter is that the market women are hurting financially and the prevailing political climate is anything but reassuring.

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“Ni gaitu ga gweciarira” (It is our very own son) had been the rallying call for the market women to come out in large numbers and vote for President Uhuru in the August 8 and repeat October 26 elections. In this ethnic logic, their son had let them down terribly and now they had their back against the wall: First, the VAT on fuel had increased the transport expenditure of many of the traders who bring in fresh produce from within and across the county’s boundaries by more than Sh5,000 per trip, per truck. Second, the economic hardship was slowly resuscitating the proscribed Mungiki gang.

The nefarious activities of the Mungiki was another taboo topic: in public, they defended the youth, arguing that as their sons, they offered protection to them at the market, ensuring it was not invaded by intruders. During the repeat presidential election on October 26, many of the so-called Nairobi Business Community (a pseudonym for Mungiki) ferried to the CBD were from Githurai. “If we didn’t have these youth, who would have protected the Kikuyu businesses in the city centre?” the women challenged me. But in private, the women dreaded “their sons”. The Mungiki blackmailed and extorted money from them. In the words of one market woman, “They reap where they do not sow.”

Githurai Market is completely under the control of Mungiki godfathers who live in the sprawling Githurai neighbourhoods, especially those bordering the railway. All the trucks that offload fresh produce pay protection fees to their agents. The police and the community are aware of these activities, but at Githurai Market and its environs, nobody mentions the M word; when the youth come to collect money, no banter is exchanged. The communication rules are very clearly spelt out – have the loot ready for the young man to pick up and no delays or asking unsolicited questions. “Now,” said one trader to me in low tones, “the godfathers are demanding cash from not only the trucks, but they have sent word that the traders should now start paying ‘Mungiki Tax’”. The traders know what will befall them if they refuse to pay up. “Mungiki don’t blackmail Luos, they don’t chop Luo heads, it’s our sons that they will start killing.”

Githurai Market is completely under the control of Mungiki godfathers who live in the sprawling Githurai neighbourhoods, especially those bordering the railway. All the trucks that offload fresh produce pay protection fees to their agents. The police and the community are aware of these activities, but at Githurai Market and its environs, nobody mentions the M word

At the Githurai roundabout, Mungiki youth had erected a banner that read: Githurai Chapter of Nairobi Business Community supports Uhuru Kenyatta. A month ago, their vibandas (sheds) mounted on the Thika superhighway’s shoulders were demolished by a combined force of regular police, Administration Police (AP) and city askaris. “Why is Uhuru so careless and merciless?” asked a woman trader in total confusion. “Why is he demolishing businesses run by these youths? Does he know what he is doing? The trader said President Uhuru in just one swoop had unleashed Mungiki youth on them. “Turihetukagira ku riu?” (Where will we be passing now?)

The market women, in their ingenuity, had come up with a super idea: summon all these youth and give them fresh produce, mostly fruits, on credit to sell on the roadsides. Whatever they could not sell, they could return. It was a win-win solution for the youth and the women traders. Now even that idea had been undone by President Uhuru: The Mungiki youth who had been conscripted by the Jubilee Party to ostensibly “protect” Kikuyu businesses in the city centre were about to turn on their own, as they always do when faced with economic hardship.

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The women now questioned the utilitarian value of President Uhuru’s presidency to them, specifically as members of the House of Mumbi. “Uthamaki wa Uhuru ututeithetie na ke? (How has President Uhuru’s presidency helped us?) “Tungethura kihii riua ritigethua?” (If we elect an uncircumcised man (to be the president), will the sun not set?) The reference to circumcision was directed at Raila Odinga, President Uhuru’s chief rival during the election.

Still, after releasing all their frustrations and anger against their muthamaki (king/ruler), the traders were agreed in unison that “Mwathani nii ngutukinyaniria” (The Lord will protect us). Then they broke into the chorus of a famous Kikuyu song: Onei! Ni Wendo Utarii Atia – Look! What Great Love without Measure.

Hutia ria keri Ngai wakwa
Ndige kuona marundurundu
Niigetha nyone wega Baba
Bururi uria ndi riragitira.

Touch me twice My Lord
That I stop seeing darkness
So that I can see clearly my Father
The promised country I desire.

That weekend, I had attended a graduation party in one of Nairobi’s leafy suburbs, and although it was an opportunity to make merry while the sun shone, the prevailing religious undertones of the gathering could not be missed: three evangelical pastors – two men and a woman – had been invited to offer up an abundance of prayers for the Bachelor of Arts graduate.

When each of the pastors stood to administer The Word, it quickly became obvious that the prayer-warriors’ messages were not exactly geared towards the celebration of a degree in a time of austerity and tough economic times; they were meant to reassure the people assembled there – all Kikuyus – that although it was clearly evident that there was an air of political confusion and economic uncertainty a year into President Uhuru Kenyatta’s second and final term, this was not a time to despair or lose hope, but rather a time to recommit and rededicate oneself to God.

“We’re going through the hardest economic times in recent times and many of the businesses are doing terribly badly, some are even collapsing,” said the first pastor who was invited to speak by the master of ceremony. “But we cannot give up because we know the good God is watching over us.” The pastor said it was at times like this that the people ought to rediscover their relationship with God.

When each of the pastors stood to administer The Word, it quickly became obvious that the prayer-warriors’ messages…were meant to reassure the people assembled there – all Kikuyus – that although it was clearly evident that there was an air of political confusion and economic uncertainty a year into President Uhuru Kenyatta’s second and final term, this was not a time to despair or lose hope, but rather a time to recommit and rededicate oneself to God.

“The Lord Almighty must have a good reason for allowing us to undergo these trials and tribulations,” reaffirmed the pastor to a crowd that looked like it was hanging to his every word. “We’re a special people, anointed by God, to be an example to other communities, of our fearfulness to Him,” said the preacher man, pausing momentarily and peering into the peoples’ eyes to let the message sink in. “We are fearfully made, unlike the gentiles, who, we know, have been always setting traps for us. But all their tricks will come to naught.”

Speaking like he was now in a holy sanctuary, the pastor promised the gathering that the blood of the lamb was with them and Jesus Christ had thrown a protection ring around them. “We know, Lord Jesus Christ, you’re going to fight our battles on our behalf, even as you shame our mortal enemies.” Reminding the crowd that it should always be aware that it is surrounded by adversaries, he proclaimed that they were a chosen people and, therefore. they had nothing to fear.

“Always take comfort that the Lord’s people have never been admired or liked. Has anybody ever liked the Jews?” wondered the pastor, his deliberate comparison of the Kikuyus to the Jews slipped in for effect. “We’re going to triumph – but it’s incumbent upon us to be steadfast, because our Lord Jesus Christ is seated at the throne. I know many are beginning to question the reason why we now seem to suffer so, but this is not the time to question the Lord.” As he went to take his seat, he asked the people to sing with him the following chorus:

Nii ni gwenda Ngai umenyage ningenaga muno niwe
Tondu niujikaga wega na ukanyenda hingo ciothe
Irio ciothe iria ndiaga, mai maria nyuaga
Ona nguo cia kwihumba ciothe nowee uheaga
Muoyo naguo niwe waheire, niwe ugiragia ngue
Ungetheingia hinya waku, ndingiikara gathaa kamwe.

Lord, I want you to know that I’m much pleased by you
Because you take good care of me and love me so always
All the food I eat, the water that quenches my thirst
Even the clothes that I wear, it is you who has always provided
You gave me life and you protect me from dying
If you ever removed your almighty power, I wouldn’t last even for a second.

The second pastor, unlike the first, was more circumspect. “We’ve fundamental problems in Mt Kenya region,” boomed the pastor-cum-university don. “And if we don’t solve these issues decisively and promptly, it’s not going to augur well for the community. The Kikuyu people have a problem with money: “Kwina gathina haha Central…nitukwenda twicirie uhoro wa handu hau…na ndigutenderia muno.” (We’ve have a problem here in Central [Kenya]…and it’s incumbent on us to ponder over that issue…and I will not rub it in.)

The pastor observed that the Kikuyus had abnegated everything else for money. They only think of making more and more money, said the pastor. “It’s a problem the community must come to terms with, as it also tackles the other socio-cultural norms that the community has negated. As it is, things are not good now and the businessmen seated here know what I’m talking about: the economy is going south, state theft in the government has become the order of the day and you know what, a lot of that theft has been perpetrated by our very own people.

“Today our children are graduating from universities, every year in big numbers, but we don’t have anywhere to take them. Employment opportunities are shrinking by the day and doing business in this country has become extremely difficult, much worse than it was several years ago. But we cannot give up, because we must never allow the devil to triumph. Yet, we as the Kikuyu people, should, as a matter of urgency, ponder very seriously over these legitimate and pertinent issues that are afflicting the community – now and in the years to come – which we are afraid of talking about them openly and publicly.”

As he sat down he invited the crowd to sing along with him, the hymnal lyrical chorus that to many Kikuyus comes naturally to their lips, just like the Lord’s Prayer.

Ngukinyukia oo kahora
Njerekeire ya matuini
Naninjui ningakinya
Ngahuruke na mwathani
Niwega Ngai muhonokia
Nake Jesu ni mugate,
Roho waku munyotokia
Nii ndikahuta, kana nyote

Step by step
Heaven bound
I know I’ll reach
To rest with my Lord
Thank you God, my saviour
And Lord Jesus is my bread,
You holiness is a blessing
I’ll never go hungry or thirsty.

“In times of socio-economic and political distress, Kikuyus rediscover their prayerfulness and religiosity to numb their political confusion and mitigate their hard economic times with endless beseeching prayers. Every igogona (socio-cultural ceremony) is an opportunity to unearth and sing select religious songs to presumably comfort them,” an Anglican Church of Kenya elder from Waithaka parish recently pointed out to me.

As the graduation bash was coming to end, a businessman who has operated in downtown Nairobi for 28 years, and who I have known for 20 of those years, pulled me aside to moan about the economic meltdown that was taking place on Gaberone Road, Kirinyaga Road, Kombo Munyiri Road, Munyu Road, Nyamakima area, Ngariama Road and River Road, the strongholds of Kikuyu business.

“Businesses are shutting down in real time as we watch. What the heck is going on? Why is Uhuru doing this to us?” This was a lamentation from an Uthamaki fundamentalist who barely a year before had dismissed my economic projections as the musings of a person who did not have a proper grasp of national politics and the economic underpinnings of a country like Kenya that was supposedly led by a businessman.

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“For the very first time, in all my years as a businessman, I’m seeing tenants unable to pay shop rents,” he said. “Ona igitunyuo mwana, ni ikagirio mungu,” he proclaimed to me. The literal translation of this Kikuyu saying is that if you snatch a baby from an ape, the least you can do is throw a pumpkin at it to assuage its loss. Figuratively, the businessman was telling me that while they were not expecting saintly treatment from President Uhuru, the least he should have done is shielded them from the faltering economy so that their businesses would not collapse, and they would not be run out of town.

“Businesses are shutting down in real time as we watch. What the heck is going on? Why is Uhuru doing this to us?” This was a lamentation from an Uthamaki fundamentalist who barely a year before had dismissed my economic projections as the musings of a person who did not have a proper grasp of national politics and the economic underpinnings of a country like Kenya that was supposedly led by a businessman.

Businesses worst hit by the sudden tax collection regime are the hundreds of electronics shops at Nyamakima area south-east of River Road, said my business friend. Completely colonised by Kikuyu businessmen and women, it is famous for its trade in cereals pioneered by brazen Kikuyu women, who in a single day are known to collect hundreds of thousands of shillings. In the last twenty years or so, there has been an explosion of miniature electronics outlets lining the alleyways of Nyamakima, which have made scores of young men, especially from Murang’a County, rich.

“I know electronic shops that have been run out of town, unable to pay monthly rent and unable to import any more goods. In fact, many of my friends’ goods have been stuck at the Mombasa port because of being slapped with a sudden humungous tax,” said the businessman. “To complicate matters for the electronics businessmen, many of them have been accused of importing counterfeit goods from China. Has the government just discovered they have been importing contraband? Because of this, their goods have been impounded, and many have lost hundreds of millions of shillings.”

None of the businessmen can afford to import enough goods from China single-handedly, so they usually come together as a group and buy goods that can fill a 40-foot container. “So, it is very possible that some businessmen import substandard goods, but the government has never given them a catalogue of specifications of the types of electronics that they should bring into the country.” The businessman said four of his friends had shut their shops. “Today walk down River Road and Kirinyaga Road and Munyu Road, you will see prime business premises empty, their tenants having vacated them.”

After the nullification of the August 8, 2017 presidential election, businesspeople from downtown Nairobi came out in the open to show their undying support for Uhuru Kenyatta. They hung banners across the roads that read: Munyu Road Business Community Supports President Uhuru Kenyatta and Nyamakima Business Community Supports Uhuru Muigai Kenyatta. Others read: Ni Kumira Kumira, Wembe in ule ule.

“Just 12 months down the line, businessmen are gnashing their teeth,” said the entrepreneur. “The banners have since been pulled down and now they have printed new banners such as, Traders & Importers Association – Stop Killing Our Businesses.”

A scene in Muigai wa Njoroge’s video of his popular song, Mbari ya Kimeendero (The Oppressors’ Clan), shows some people carrying a banner reading: Matunda ya Tano Tena ni #Gutee…Stop Harassing Our Businessess (The Fruits of Five More [a rallying call for support for Uhuru Kenyatta’ second term] was a waste [of time]).” The popular singer reminds his listeners (and the President) that “the Nyamakima businessmen community celebrated your Tano Tena (five more [years]) victory by slaughtering many goats…now their goods have been razed down and declared fake…The person who bewitched us (Kikuyus) must have been paid real well,” concludes the lyricist.

As the preacher woman at the graduation ceremony concluded her prayers, she called on the people to join her in the chorus:

Thutha wa magirio ma thii enu
Jesu niakajoya anyinukie
Jesu wakwa hiuha mbara enu ni nene

After all the trials and tribulations of this world
Jesus (Christ) will take me home
My Lord Jesus, please come quickly,
the battle before me is big.

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