Connect with us

Features

Unpacking the Supreme Court’s decision on the second election petition: Were standards lowered?

Published

on

Unpacking the Supreme Court’s decision on the second election petition: Were standards lowered?

The edifice of elections is crumbling in Kenya. As internal divisions eat away at the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission’s shiny surface, taking down several of the IEBC’s leaders, a softer, murkier layer of corruption scandals, mismanagement and political bias lies exposed. It is tempting to try and prop up what is left of the Commission, but the Kenyan electoral crisis runs much deeper than the IEBC. Indeed, weaknesses in the very foundation of the country’s electoral theory and system threaten to bring down far more than Kenya’s electoral body.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the Supreme Court’s judgment of the November 2017 presidential petition. This judgment – in which the Court ruled against the petitioners and upheld the conduct and result of the 26th October election – addressed several issues at the core of electoral theory and law in Kenya: universal suffrage, voter registration, violence, illegalities and irregularities and the independence of the IEBC. It was a chance to cement gains made in September, when the Court ruled that opaque irregularities and a series of illegal actions had tainted the credibility of the entire election process. Two months after that landmark decision, however, the Court took surprising positions on these fundamental issues. Its opinions, which were largely characterised by a startlingly low standard for adherence to the spirit of the law, now threaten the stability of the foundation of electoral processes in Kenya.

It was a chance to cement gains made in September, when the Court ruled that opaque irregularities and a series of illegal actions had tainted the credibility of the entire election process. Two months after that landmark decision, however, the Court took surprising positions on these fundamental issues.

This article examines the Court’s position on universal suffrage. Future analyses will cover the judgment’s implications on voter registration, election-related violence, illegalities and irregularities and the independence of the IEBC.

Universal suffrage

Universal suffrage, enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, can be thought of as the great equaliser in representative democracies. It empowers each and every citizen with the right and authority to elect and/or eliminate political representatives to and from office. Universal suffrage is thus the bedrock of credible elections.

In Kenya, it is a political right, laid out in Article 38 (2) and (3) of the Constitution:

(2) Every citizen has the right to free, fair and regular elections based on universal suffrage and the free expression of the will of the electors for—

(a) any elective public body or office established under this Constitution; or

(b) any office holder of any political party of which the citizen is a member.

(3) Every adult citizen has the right, without unreasonable restrictions —

(a) to be registered as a voter;

(b) to vote by secret ballot in any election or referendum; and

(c) to be a candidate for public office, or office within a political party of which they are a member and, if elected, to hold office.

The October 26th election, marked by a National Super Alliance (NASA)-led boycott and months of widespread intimidation and violence, was perhaps the ultimate test of Kenyan institutions’ commitment to universal suffrage. When faced with multiple and serious challenges that threatened the country’s peace and stability, how far was Kenya willing to go to promote and protect its citizens’ right to vote?

The IEBC’s eventual decision to completely cancel elections in the violence-affected areas affected the voting rights of approximately nine percent of the country’s registered voters.

In its Supreme Court petition challenging the validity of the October election, the Kura Yangu Sauti Yangu (KYSY) civil society coalition decried the Kenyan state’s failure to meet constitutional standards of universal suffrage. Specifically, KYSY castigated the IEBC, arguing that its decision to cancel elections in 27 constituencies contravened this “fundamental principle of the ballot”. If every citizen did not have an equally fair opportunity to cast a ballot, was universal suffrage upheld?

In its judgment, the Supreme Court acknowledged and reaffirmed the value of universal suffrage and the responsibility of duty bearers to ensure that it is fully realised. In fact, the Court cited numerous cases from around the world, emphasising the centrality and critical significance of not just the law but also of its implementation, writing that the practical administration of an election must give life to the law.

From Kenya, the judgment cited a 2014 Supreme Court case:

The overriding objective of the Elections Act is to functionalise and promote the right to vote. This requires a broad and liberal interpretation of the Act, so as to provide citizens with every opportunity to vote…

The Court also referred to two South African judgments:

The Constitution effectively confers the right to vote for legislative bodies at all levels of government…But the mere existence of the right to vote without proper arrangements for its effective exercise does nothing for a democracy; it is both empty and useless.

and

The right to vote by its very nature imposes positive obligations upon the legislature and the executive…this right which is fundamental to democracy requires proper arrangements to be made for its effective exercise. This is the task of the legislature and the executive which have the responsibility of providing the legal framework, and the infrastructure and resources necessary for the holding of free and fair elections.

Lowering of standards in the October election

There was no question that the October election was controversial and violent, marked by widespread intimidation, threats and attacks. In fact, in many NASA strongholds, citizens were faced with closed polling stations, barricaded roads and brutal police-citizen violence. In some areas, IEBC officials did not report to polling stations at all. The IEBC’s eventual decision to completely cancel elections in the violence-affected areas affected the voting rights of approximately nine percent of the country’s registered voters.

It was thus surprising that the Court, in its consideration of the arguments, ruled that:

neither the State nor IEBC or any other State Organ failed to fulfill its duty to respect and guarantee the right to vote. To the contrary, the evidence adduced indicates that the State (particularly the Police and the Ministry of Interior and Co-ordination of National Government) took preventative action to safeguard the safety of election officials, voters, election material and infrastructure.

The Court’s decision rested largely on a series of communications between the IEBC and security forces before the elections. Indeed, the Court praised the IEBC’s and other institutions’ efforts to prepare for a difficult electoral environment. While it is clear that the IEBC did make an effort to ensure that it could safely proceed with its work, it is unclear how much the Commission and the police force actually did on Election Day to protect people’s right to access polling stations and to cast ballots.

A police force truly committed to protecting people’s right to vote may have, for instance, set up safe corridors for voters who did not wish to boycott the election. Police and other security forces could have provided special protection to IEBC officers in volatile areas and could have made arrangements to safeguard the environments around particularly problematic polling stations. Surely, protecting universal suffrage requires more than preventative plans; it also requires that those with power approach their jobs with a sense of active service to people whose rights may be threatened.

This ruling, which deemed preventative action to have been sufficient for the protection of universal suffrage, sets an extremely low standard. Given the Court’s acknowledgment of the importance of proactive implementation of the law, it is surprising that it did not take state institutions to task for their clear failure to develop innovative solutions and interventions.

Even if it was the case that many NASA supporters chose to stay away from the polls, in the interest of universal suffrage and to demonstrate its commitment to all voters, shouldn’t the IEBC and police have prioritised facilitation of voting for those who wanted to vote in these areas?

When it became clear that violence was preventing voting in certain constituencies, the IEBC was quick to decide that it would simply cancel elections in those constituencies. There was little, if any, public discussion about how to address the rights of people in these violence-affected areas that may have wished to cast their ballots. This approach seems to have rested on the assumption that everyone in areas that have traditionally been NASA strongholds chose to participate in violence and/or elected not to vote. Such assumptions are elementary, revealing a frighteningly superficial understanding of Kenya’s political environment. They also demonstrate a willingness to apply the law unequally, thereby disenfranchising and blatantly ignoring a portion of society.

The law allows the IEBC to cancel elections in certain areas if it is clear that the returns from those areas would not impact the final result. Nonetheless, it is worth considering the message this decision sends to voters. Even if it was the case that many NASA supporters chose to stay away from the polls, in the interest of universal suffrage and to demonstrate its commitment to all voters, shouldn’t the IEBC and police have prioritised facilitation of voting for those who wanted to vote in these areas?

In its judgment, the Court did not answer this central question. Instead, it skirted the point entirely in favour of laying blame. In fact, the Court said that since there was clear evidence that the IEBC and other State institutions took preventative action to try and ensure the safety of the IEBC staff and election materials, the blame for an environment that prevented voters from casting their ballots lay with “unidentified private citizens and political actors”.

Unfortunately, the Court’s determination seems to miss the point. The relevant issue is not the identity of the party/parties responsible for the violence; it is whether or not voters suffered “unreasonable restrictions” as they attempted to exercise their right to vote. Given that even the IEBC admitted that, despite its attempts to secure polling stations, some voters were unable to vote, it is clear that certain voters did indeed endure unreasonable restrictions on their franchise.

It is time for a much more progressive outlook on and approach to universal suffrage in Kenya.

It is time for a much more progressive outlook on and approach to universal suffrage in Kenya. The State must, of course, be prepared for possible challenges and so a response plan is necessary. However, State officers whose jobs include protecting and promoting universal suffrage must be more than responsive; they must integrate constitutional standards of public service into their every day jobs, especially around elections. Interventions that go beyond containing disturbances and violence to actively facilitating voting among those participating in elections are essential to furthering this most fundamental and sacred right.

Comments

Seema Shah is an elections expert with experience in North America, Asia and Africa. She holds a doctorate in Political Science, and her research focuses on electoral politics, with an emphasis on electoral integrity and electoral violence.

Continue Reading

Features

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

Published

on

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.

UGANDA: The Kennedy Doctrine – Matching Debt with Greed instead of Need

Read also: UGANDA: The Kennedy Doctrine – Matching Debt with Greed instead of Need

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.

SHOCK THERAPY: The Rise of Russian Oligarchs (and why Kenya could end up like the former Soviet Union)

Read also: SHOCK THERAPY: The Rise of Russian Oligarchs (and why Kenya could end up like the former Soviet Union)

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.

Continue Reading

Features

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

Published

on

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.

Continue Reading

Features

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

Published

on

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.

SHOCK THERAPY: The Rise of Russian Oligarchs (and why Kenya could end up like the former Soviet Union)

Read also: SHOCK THERAPY: The Rise of Russian Oligarchs (and why Kenya could end up like the former Soviet Union)

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.

“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.

HUNGER GAMES: Hard Times and Kenya’s Looming Economic Crisis

Read also: HUNGER GAMES: Hard Times and Kenya’s Looming Economic Crisis

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.

Hail the President

Podcast: The Ideology of Uthamaki

“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.

Continue Reading

Trending