On Sunday June 16, 2019, President Uhuru Kenyatta woke up to a bad day. While attending a public meeting called by the Akurinu, a religious denomination, at Moi International Sports Centre in Kasarani, he let down his guard, lost his cool and went ethnic on an event beamed live on a nationwide television channel.
To be fair, this was not the first time the president was exposing his soft underbelly; he has been angry before, railing against his real and perceived enemies, swearing and threatening to deal with them at an appropriate time. But on this day, unable to contain himself, he went ballistic, switched to his vernacular Kikuyu language, shouted and presumably talked down to the people he was addressing. He was visibly piqued, a sign that the president has of late been increasingly irritable, a veritable shortcoming for a leader who holds the highest office in the land.
So what provoked this outburst? Let us briefly recap the events of the day. The Akurinu, a Kikuyu religious entity (the Akurinus are not a homogenous group) were holding their annual general conference. President Uhuru honoured their invitation and attended. In 2018, he did not attend; Deputy President William Ruto presided over the event. President Uhuru arrived before his deputy and was warmly received by the Akurinu leaders. Whatever his reason, or reasons, for arriving after the president, Ruto, when he showed up, received a warmer reception than the president.
Two things stand out. One, by arriving after the president, the deputy president had obviously stood up to Uhuru. The louder applause he got from the delegates upstaged the president’s own lukewarm reception. Two, and more fundamentally, the powerful yet subtle message from the Akurinu was that they held the deputy president in higher esteem than the president. Could this have been the trigger for President Uhuru’s fulmination in the Kikuyu language?
It is claimed that in 2018, when Deputy President William Ruto attended the Akurinu meeting, he gave them Sh10 million and a six-acre piece of land. As he is wont to do to buy loyalty and votes, he allegedly promised them more cash and more land. For the longest time, the Akurinu have been looking for suitable land to build a college to train their own clerics.
The Akurinu are a conservative, traditional Kikuyu sect whose religious faith is a fusion of Kikuyu cultural norms and Christian beliefs. They are often referred to as African Sikhs because of the white turbans they wear. The first Akurinu church was started in 1922, ostensibly after Mwene Nyaga (God) spoke to the first Mkurinu and asked him to pray for his land. The “apparition” led to the formation of a religious movement, the Akurinu Church. Since then, the Akurinu believe it is their prayers that have been holding this country together.
It is claimed that in 2018, when Deputy President William Ruto attended the Akurinu meeting, he gave them Sh10 million and a six-acre piece of land. As he is wont to do to buy loyalty and votes, he allegedly promised them more cash and more land.
“Apparently, when the president failed to attend their meeting last year, his deputy seized the moment and rose up to the occasion,” said a Jubilee Party politician and former MP from Central Kenya, who did not want to be named because he is not authorised to speak on behalf of the party. “This has been the crux of the matter: the president has always seemed to take a back seat on some of the more important duties and obligations. Every time we had an audience with him, throughout his first term, we reminded him of his obligations to the nation and his Kikuyu people in particular. We told him he had a deputy who was very proactive and politically agile. He therefore needed to be on top of his game and firmly in control, but he always brushed aside our concerns…now he is reaping the fruits.”
The politician said that instead of President Uhuru scaring away the rebels in the Jubilee Party, he had emboldened them. “What was all that anger the president exhibited at Kasarani about? Who was it directed at? Why had the president used a public podium to address intra-party squabbles?” The ground had shifted, or was shifting. The president’s centre seemed not to hold right before his own eyes and the clock was ticking away, added the politician.
Thiong’o Gichuhi, a Mkurinu friend, told me that the Akurinu have not been happy with President Uhuru’s leadership. “Since 2017, the Akurinu leadership had been trying to reach President Uhuru and Mama Ngina Kenyatta to tell them that God is not happy with the Kenyatta rulership and all not well in the House of Mumbi,” said Thiongó.
“The Akurinu worship and believe in the God of the Agikuyu, even though they regard themselves as Christians,” said Thiongó. “You may not know this, all Akurinu churches are built in a way that if you are kneeling down to pray, you face Mt Kenya.”
The Akurinu have been “revolting” against President Uhuru’s rule, even though they have not been public about it, said Thiongó. “Although the Akurinu at Kasarani praised President Uhuru publicly, I can tell you they have been seething with anger for apparently assuming and neglecting their entreaties.” Was President Uhuru then, also projecting his anger at the Akurinu for “disrespecting” him, by “stomping their feet,” when the Ruto arrived, well after the president?
“All that diatribe by President Uhuru at Kasarani was directed at the Central Kenya (rebel) MPs, who have refused to kowtow to his plethora of demands, among them, to stop hanging out with the DP,” said one of the rebel MPs, who spoke in strict confidence and who sought anonymity because of fear of a backlash from Jubilee Party mandarins allied to the president. Among the MPs from Central Kenya considered to be “rebellious” include Kimani Ichungwa, the MP for Kikuyu constituency in Kiambu County, Ndindi Nyoro, the MP for Kiharu constituency in Murang’a County, and Alice Wahome, the MP for Kandara constituency, also in Murang’a County.
On July 23, Ndindi Nyoro posted the following on his Facebook timeline: “In their desperate machinations to silence all perceived DP William Ruto’s supporters, they are arranging to ‘deal’ with some of us using all manner of issues. It has dawned on Uhuru that he is an outgoing president…an outgoing president has no stranglehold on MPs whose fates are clearly no longer tied to his ending presidential favours. His fury and veiled threats against Central Kenya MPs are neither here nor there…any sensible politician from Mt Kenya knows that his 2022 fortunes are not with President Uhuru, but with the next probable leader, whose chances of ascending to the presidential seat are practical and predictable.” (That probable leader to them is Deputy President Ruto, who they have openly backed.)
It is a paradox that President Uhuru now does not want Jubilee MPs from Central Kenya to associate with Deputy President Ruto, said the MP, “yet in his first term, he encouraged the opposite thing. That is the person we were asked to work with, it is the person we have worked with since 2013. We know him, we understand him, but above all, he has also worked with us. It is rather a bit late to introduce a new person to us. In any case we have not found any fault with him.”
In a surprise twist, the Central Kenya MPs in Ruto’s camp are now castigating President Uhuru’s rule and finding fault with his current political modus operandi. “I will tell you this, and this is a fact – Uhuru today would not be president were it not for Ruto – it is just as straight forward as that and it is something we want to drum into our people,” the MP said. “It is also a fact, the president, also, several times in his first term reiterated to us that he would be succeeded by Ruto once he finishes his tenure. He would not only be succeeded by Ruto, he told us, he would publicly campaign for him. If there is anything that has changed, he should explicitly communicate it to us.”
President Uhuru, in an abrupt deft manoeuvre, made peace with his chief opponent, Raila Odinga, on March 9, 2018. Prior to the political handshake, the president had hurled tongue-biting insults at Raila during the campaign period.
“President Uhuru did not tell us about the handshake, but we took it in our stride,” said the MP. “To date, many of us do not understand that handshake, shrouded in secrecy as it is, but then, why is the president unhappy with our association with Ruto. Is the DP not a member of the Jubilee Party, unlike Raila? When did associating with a fellow party member be considered a crime and doubling in oppositional politics?”
In a surprise twist, the Central Kenya MPs in Ruto’s camp are now castigating President Uhuru’s rule and finding fault with his current political modus operandi. “I will tell you this, and this is a fact – Uhuru today would not be president were it not for Ruto…”
The MP said the president did not tell the truth when he pointed out that were not for his help, some of the Central Kenya MPs would not have won their parliamentary seats. “That is not true at all: The president did not help any Central Kenya MP get to his current position – not in 2017. In 2013, it is true, any politician who wanted to win a seat in Central Kenya had to align himself with Uhuru Kenyatta. But it is a fact in 2017, some former MPs, governors and senators lost their seats because of his apparent lackadaisical attitude during the Jubilee Party nominations.”
It is now patently evident that President Uhuru’s tenure has been defined by incompetence – some structural, but many self-inflicted, observed the MP. “The self-inflicted exceed the structural difficulties. President Uhuru was negligent about his social habits. He let those habits interfere with his presidential responsibilities. He assumed a hands-off policy and became nonchalant while the deputy president has always remained politically active and pointed to his ambitions.”
No less than politicians such as Onesmus Kimani Ngunjiri and Moses Kuria have publicly pointed out President Uhuru’s shortcomings and his apparent and sudden about-turn on his deputy. In a video clip that went viral in June, 2019, Ngunjiri, the Jubilee MP for Bahati constituency in Nakuru County, rails against the president for his seemingly laissez-faire attitude towards presidential politics. “If it were not for Ruto, let me tell you before my God in heaven Uhuru would not be president today…he has no time for campaigning…Ruto is sober.”
On January 10, 2019, Ngunjiri was recorded telling the president that if he was tired of ruling, he should give way to his deputy, or call a presidential election so that the people could vote for William Ruto. He accused the president of worsening the economic wherewithal of the Kikuyu lot by his retroactive policies.
Kuria, the MP for Gatundu South, President Uhuru’s rural constituency, equally, in a video clip shot in July, 2019 states categorically that it is because of Ruto standing firmly by Uhuru’s side – both in 2013 and 2017 – that Uhuru defeated his chief enemy to become the president. Everything else, said Kuria, is a sideshow.
A former MCA from Nyeri County observed that as it is right now, the president is not sure of venturing into Central Kenya. “The ground is hostile and the electorate is currently not feeling him. They feel hugely disappointed by him, mainly because of the economic downturn and the political uncertainties that go with the economic slump.”
According to the politician, the Central Kenya people feel they have not been sufficiently told what the March 2018 handshake is really all about. “I am always on the ground, and all I hear about from the people is, if the handshake is about creating extra political seats, they will not support a referendum that is being ostensibly pushed by the Building the Bridges [an initiative that came out after the rapprochement between President Uhuru and opposition leader Raila Odinga].”
A former MCA from Nyeri County observed that as it is right now, the president is not sure of venturing into Central Kenya. “The ground is hostile and the electorate is currently not feeling him. They feel hugely disappointed by him, mainly because of the economic downturn and the political uncertainties that go with the economic slump.”
The politician opined that on four occasions, the president had planned to visit Central Kenya, and all four times he has deferred the visits since being re-elected on October 26, 2017. On July 11, Nyeri Governor Mutahi Kahiga, on Inooro Radio, said that the president had three weeks before a planned visit to his county, but postponed it at the last hour: “I want to tell the president that he is most welcome to visit my county, any time he is ready and we will heartily welcome him.”
The president has been itching to address the Kikuyu populace as he dresses down some of the Central Kenya MPs who have not been towing his political line, said a Jubilee Party politician from Kiambu County. So, the Akurinu meeting at Kasarani provided a perfect platform for President Uhuru to admonish the rebel MPs, as he sought to reassure the electorate that he still their president and has their interests at heart, from a controlled crowd and safe grounds as it were.
“With an electorate that feels thoroughly let down by his politics, and unsure of where he may be leading them, the president at Kasarani turned to the time-tested ploy of ethnicising national politics,” said the politician. “The president, by seeking to reassure his base, through speaking to them in vernacular, was implicitly reminding them to be cognizant of their (privileged) ethnicity, to dissuade them from questioning his nothing-to report-home-about performance.”
The pleasure and pain of Uthamaki
The last seven years of President Uhuru’s reign have brought both pleasure and pain to Uthamaki followers: Pleasure when they elected him in 2013 – and even in 2017 – but pain in between the two terms. In Uhuru’s second and last term, the pain in the Uthamaki kingdom has been deep and severe. Across Uthamaki land, the people have been hurting and they have come to the realisation that the politics of pleasure go side by side with pain.
If President Uhuru can cause them so much grief, they rationalise, then no politician is good – they are all bad. President Uhuru is bad because Raila is worse and Ruto has never been any good, so he is no better than either of them. But, because the deputy president has worked with President Uhuru, he can be tolerated. For the Kikuyu people, if Uhuru has failed to make a good president, no Kenyan politician can. Therefore, because all politicians are bad, let us just stick with Uhuru.
I have been repeatedly told by Kikuyus across the spectrum that they are done with voting – that voting for Uhuru in the second fresh presidential election held on October 26, 2017, was their last. Why is this so? Why did they not stop at the first presidential election that took place on August 8, 2017? It is because when they look ahead to 2022, instead of seeing light at the end of the tunnel (to use a cliché), they only see darkness. Darkness to them means they do not have a dependable and probable Kikuyu (male) politician that they can confidently bank on and vote for come 2022.
For now, they must perpetuate the political fiction that they are not looking to voting in the next general election because President Uhuru, their Muthamaki, has let them down terribly. If President Uhuru can let them down, then which president won’t let them down? In the logic of the Kikuyus, the failures of President Uhuru sum up the imagined failures of all the forthcoming presidential candidates. Hence, they will not waste their time again by waking up at 2am to line up for a non-Kikuyu.
If President Uhuru can cause them so much grief, they rationalise, then no politician is good – they are all bad. President Uhuru is bad because Raila is worse and Ruto has never been any good, so he is no better than either of them.
“Just the other day in 2017, when Uhuru was campaigning, he went round Kikuyuland telling us the voters that we should not vote for Raila because he was a ‘kimundu kiu…mundu muguruki… an ogre…a mad man. Now he is full of praise of a ‘mad man’, parading him now as the best alternative for the Kikuyus. Has he stopped being an ogre, has he been cured of his madness?” asked a Central Kenya MP aligned to Ruto’s Tangatanga camp.
The politician told me that for the better part of the last 50 years, the Kikuyu political elite drummed into the Kikuyu voter to never forget that the Luo was his greatest enemy. That the Odinga family had a hideous agenda not only against the Kikuyu people, but against the country. The Luo and the Odinga family combined were a deadly threat to the existence of the Kikuyu. The cabal told the Kikuyu voter that Raila Odinga wants to be president so that he can “avenge” the mistreatment of his father Jaramogi, who was detained and harassed by Uhuru’s father Jomo Kenyatta.
“Ostensibly, that revenge the Kikuyu voter has been impressed upon is to be visited on him…it’s therefore incumbent upon him to jealously protect his survival by stopping his presidential ambitions,” said the MP from Central Kenya. “Now, in an about-turn, President Uhuru is asking Kikuyus very subtly that they cast their political net with the son of Jaramogi, Fifty years of socialising the people to view a particular family with political suspicion cannot be overturned overnight through political gamesmanship. Jomo Kenyatta’s quarrels with Jaramogi were nationalised by Jomo to draw in the entire Kikuyu community, in which, he persuaded them through secret oathing that the presidency was theirs and they should do everything in their power to protect it.”
At the height of the 2017 general elections’ heated campaigns, a diehard Uhuru supporter from Kiambu County told me unabashedly and matter of factly that Raila needed to be taken out for Muthamaki to rule effectively without hindrances. She outlined the hindrances as unnecessary oppositional politics, which always pushed back Uhuru’s efforts to develop the country.
As Kikuyus go through the politics of pain, they have been asking themselves conspiratorially and in hush-hush tones why Raila opted to shake Muthamaki’s hand, and hence joined the government. “Look now what is happening to politics and the government – it is because Raila is not in the opposition. There isn’t anyone to check the excesses of the government. They would not be as much theft as we are witnessing now because he would be calling out President Uhuru and his cohorts and shouting for all to hear about the runaway corruption.”
It is a twisted logic difficult to discern if you are not a typical Kikuyu: here are a people, schooled and socialised to embrace the politics of suffering (even with bitterness), yet to never ever think of imagining a president from outside of their ethnic circle. The logic goes something like this: If our own person can cause us all this suffering, what about a person from a different ethnic group? We will all be finished. So let’s stick with our own, who God will prevail upon to have mercy on us.
Inevitably, Raila Odinga, for all the time he has been in active and elective politics, was the political bogeyman of the Kikuyus. If Muthamaki was not performing, it was because of the oppositional noises generated by Raila and his group. When he helped form the Government of National Unity and became a non-executive Prime Minister in 2008, all the blame of President Mwai Kibaki’s failings were shifted to him. Then in March 2018, Raila recalibrated his politics and accepted to work with his political nemesis in the name of uniting a country that was on the brink of fracturing.
The logic goes something like this: If our own person can cause us all this suffering, what about a person from a different ethnic group? We will all be finished. So let’s stick with our own, who God will prevail upon to have mercy on us.
Not accustomed to political truths, Raila’s move confused the Kikuyus, who were denied a punching bag and smokescreen. They had no one who they could channel their political frustrations through and blame.
Now with the prospect of a Ruto (or Raila?) presidency in 2022, they have no one left to blame but themselves for believing the Uthamaki myth and betting on a horse that had a short shelf life, and which was not particularly interested in their plight. The chickens, it seems, are coming home to roost.
Support The Elephant.
The Elephant is helping to build a truly public platform, while producing consistent, quality investigations, opinions and analysis. The Elephant cannot survive and grow without your participation. Now, more than ever, it is vital for The Elephant to reach as many people as possible.
Your support helps protect The Elephant's independence and it means we can continue keeping the democratic space free, open and robust. Every contribution, however big or small, is so valuable for our collective future.
From Shifta to Terrorist: A Shifting Narrative Of Northern Kenya
A section of Kenyan citizens has been labelled dangerous to the main body of the country and denied a national identity and equal status with their fellow citizens.
As Kenya was celebrating her independence in 1963, the people of the Northern Frontier District were mourning the death of their dream of self-governance under British rule. In the spring of 1962, at the Lancaster House Conference, the region’s delegation had demanded self-determination for the NFD. The colonial government appointed an independent commission to look into the question and a referendum to determine the region’s future was subsequently held. The results of the plebiscite were however cancelled under suspicious circumstances even though they indicated that the overwhelming majority supported self-determination. The people felt cheated, and the north exploded in rebellion.
Northerners, especially those from the northeast, accuse the British colonial government of craftily handing over the region to Kenyatta. The colonialists had promised the separatists’ leaders that they would delay independence for the region to facilitate the orderly transition from colonial rule to self-rule.
The British played both sides after the Northern Frontier District delegation rejected the terms of independence and demanded a different path for the district. The colonial government decided to disregard the wishes of most of the inhabitants and handed over the region to the post-independence Kenyan government. Somalia protested the move, which further complicated the north’s struggle for independence.
What had been a people’s quest for self-rule became a political tussle between Kenya and Somalia. This issue has yet to be settled six decades later, and the north has become a victim of unending sabre-rattling. Kenya became independent on the 12th of December 1963 with Jomo Kenyatta as its Prime Minister. A State of Emergency was declared for the north-eastern region on the 27th of December 1963.
The Shifta war
The rebellion that followed the declaration of independence was, to the separatists, a struggle for self-determination. To the Kenyan government, the separatists were Shifta, the name used to reduce the separatists and the NFD population to bandits, outlaws, thieves, criminals, and murderers.
The Shifta label has stuck, although the events surrounding the coining of the term have been carefully erased from the history books. The Shifta narrative was meant to unite the rest of Kenya against the menace of the separatists. The media effectively adopted the new term as a standard reference to the rebels. Newspaper headlines reported shifta attacks almost daily throughout the period of the conflict.
The “war” was mainly skirmishing between the ill-equipped ragtag army of northern rebels and the Kenya military backed by British planes and tanks. It is the population in the north that bore the brunt of the fighting. The nomads had to sustain the fighters in their midst with their meagre resources while dodging the military operations and bombings.
The conflict began on the 22nd of November 1963 when NFD rebels burnt down a camp in Garissa. The rebellion took its toll on the inhabitants, forcing them to flee in droves to the neighbouring countries of Somalia and Ethiopia. Kenyan security forces considered everyone a rebel and the Shifta label was liberally applied without discrimination to men and boys from the region. Villagisation and shooting of camel herds were used extensively by the government to force the nomadic pastoralists to settle.
The secessionists expected to receive arms and ammunitions from Somalia, but Somalia’s loud noises were more bark than a bite. Nothing of material import came from Somalia in the four years of the war.
While fanning the conflict through declarations and radio broadcasts, Somalia was unwilling to train, arm and fight alongside the secessionists. The significant material support provided to the Kenya government by the British and the superior training of the military forces eventually turned the tide of the war in Kenya’s favour.
The end of the war began in 1966 with the exodus of the nomadic population. By 1967, the secessionists were out of arms and had no resources to rely on as the nomads crossed the border into Somalia in droves in what is known as John kacarar (escaping John). The secessionists surrendered in groups throughout 1967.
Realising that the rebels were at the end of their tether, Somalia accepted peace terms with Kenya mediated by Zambian President Kenneth Kaunda. An agreement to end their differences and restore diplomatic relations was signed on the 14th of September 1967. The secessionist war effectively ended without any agreement with the secessionists themselves, without demobilisation, without any concession to the suffering population of the north and on terms that were never declared public to the residents of the NFD. Four years of bombings, shootings and plunder had left the northeastern region — where the fighting was concentrated — destitute.
Once the war was over, reconstruction failed to begin. The schism remained in place. The military went on with operations aimed at clearing the region of “shifta elements”. The cost of the war was never enumerated. The hopelessness that descended on a defeated community required leadership, which never came.
A new narrative of bandits roaming in the unsafe wild north began to take shape. Collective punishment was the modus operandi during this period. Whenever armed criminals committed a crime, the nearest settlements were decimated by the soldiers.
In the late 1970s, an incident occurred along the Kenya-Ethiopia border where a military vehicle was burnt. The locals claimed the action was perpetrated by armed Ethiopian militia. In what came to be known as the Malka Mari Massacre, the Kenyan military detained over two hundred men and stoned them to death. None of the men was armed, and the military did not fire a shot.
In the period that followed, poaching became rampant as the stockpiles of small arms fell into the hands of poachers. Overnight, the “Somali Poacher” was born. The parks were now under threat from a new breed of armed men motivated by nothing more than money, and allegedly backed by influential people close to the government. Throughout the 1970s, the Somali poacher terrorised Kenyan elephants, rhinos, and cheetahs.
The secessionist war effectively ended without any agreement with the secessionists themselves, without demobilisation, without any concession to the suffering population of the north.
In 1980, the security forces burned down Garissa after detaining and killing many of its inhabitants. This was an incident directly resulting from a disagreement between poachers and their contacts in government. A disgruntled poacher took matters into his own hands and killed several soldiers and other government officials.
The 1980s also saw the infamous Wagalla Massacre of 1984, where thousands were tortured and killed at an airstrip in Wajir, ostensibly during a military operation to curb banditry.
While Shifta and poachers were the competing narratives used by the government to explain its inability to bring the northern region under proper government control, the region suffered wanton neglect and underdevelopment.
The Somali-Ethiopia war ended in 1978, sparking the return of thousands who had fled the region during the war of secession as Somalia descended into clannism and corruption under military dictatorship. That same year, Vice-President Daniel Arap Moi gave a speech that sparked the alien debate when he threatened that the government would register all Somalis and deport anyone found to have allegiance to Somalia. It took 11 years for this policy to be implemented.
But the alienation of Somalis had begun earlier as it is recorded that police had raided Eastleigh and arrested Somali foreigners as early as 1970. Traders from the north-east were deemed vagrants and deported from areas in the Rift Valley and Central Kenya back to their home region.
Citizenship documents were tightly controlled, and a system of verification was put in place to make it impossible for the region’s inhabitants to register as citizens. The police were given orders to stop and ask for IDs from anyone looking like a Cushite, a Somali or other related tribes who were distinctively identifiable.
The pink card
In 1989, the famous Kenya-Somali verification and registration took place. The system was designed to catch anyone who could not be linked to a sub-location and known clan.
People had to state their family tree up to their sub-clans, and a pink card with these details was issued to the successful ones. The system was designed to force out of Kenya those unaffiliated to any of the groups “indigenous” to the country.
It is estimated that at one point hundreds were crossing the border into neighbouring countries daily. People were detained, women with young children appeared in court accused of being in the country illegally. Suspected aliens were loaded on military lorries and dropped off in Liboi across the Kenya-Somali border. Many families, especially those elites with businesses, crossed into Uganda and left for Europe or America. The pink cards eventually became available for a fee, and it is believed registration officials took hefty bribes in the process. The verification and registration were suspended after two harrowing years during which homes were raided, their inhabitants detained, and property was lost when entire families were deported with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.
As the “aliens” narrative waxed and waned, a new event triggered the updating of the terminology.
In 1991, the Somalia government of Siad Barre collapsed, spilling hundreds of thousands of refugees into the neighbouring countries. Kenya was grappling with its fear of Somalis and now had to face the eventuality of hosting desperate refugees, including the deposed president.
But the alienation of Somalis had begun earlier as it is recorded that police had raided Eastleigh and arrested Somali foreigners as early as 1970.
The refugees were allowed in and settled in camps where they were fed and housed by the UNHCR and other humanitarian agencies. Throughout the 1990s, Somalia was controlled by warlords who divided the country into green zones, fought viciously among themselves and continued to spill out new refugees.
Apart from participating in efforts at reconciliation and in hosting refugees and facilitating their resettlement in Europe and America, Kenya stayed out of Somalia’s affairs. As the refugees were too many to be housed in the sprawling camps in Dadaab, Dagahaley and Kakuma, some ended up living in towns with the alien cards issued by the UNHCR as identification.
The idea of controlling the movement of refugees soon became fashionable. For the security forces it is difficult to differentiate between locals and refugees and soldiers engaged in random stop-and-searches and nighttime raids in the main towns to flush out illegal aliens.
The controls placed on refugees living in towns illegally sparked lucrative human trafficking where the police and traffickers facilitated the movement of people from the Somali border to the interior. IDs and passports became available for those who could pay but were impossible to acquire for genuine inhabitants of northern Kenya.
While Somalis and their Cushite cousins were getting used to the “alien” idea, a new term landed on Kenya’s shores: terrorism. International terrorists bombed the American embassy in Kenya in 1998. The perpetrators had names similar to those of the northerners and the refugees. The “terrorist” label did not stick for another decade and during this period Somali businesspeople invested heavily in the Eastleigh suburb of Nairobi, creating a vibrant market where initially had been an unremarkable residential estate with a few wholesale and retail shops.
This economic boom coincided with the emergence of piracy on the Somali shores of the Indian Ocean. Suddenly the Kenyan media were reporting that piracy money was flooding the markets and making life costly for the residents. The Somali pirates were real, but this was part of international piracy having its operations on the lawless Somali coast. How the piracy money was siphoned into Kenya was never explained. The piracy issue occasionally crops up when overzealous reporters make disparaging references to piracy and the real estate boom in Kenya.
In 2011 Kenya sent troops into Somalia in an operation dubbed “Linda Nchi” after a tourist was kidnapped at the coast and probably taken across the border. There were other cross-border raids. However, significant Al-Shabaab attacks in Kenya began in 2012 when Kenyan forces were integrated into the forces of the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM). As Kenya became embroiled in state-building in Somalia, with the creation of Jubaland floated as the reason for the invasion, Al-Shabaab started bringing its terrorism into Kenya.
In 2013, the Westgate Mall shootings led to the death of 67 people. More than 67 others also died in attacks in Mpeketoni in Lamu in 2014. The attacks on Garissa University attack were the worst, leading to 150 dead, many of them students. These brazen attacks were attributed to Al-Shabaab. Although the terror group had already internationalised and was recruiting with no regard to ethnicity, Kenyan Somalis became the target for blame, name-calling, and arrests.
In 2013, Human Rights Watch released a report titled “You are all terrorists”. The terrorist narrative drives xenophobia, arbitrary arrests, detention, and torture. After the terror attacks in 2014 in Eastleigh and Mpeketoni, the security forces conducted an indiscriminate door-to-door operation targeting anyone who did not have an ID card to hand. This security operation was dubbed Usalama Watch. Those who did not have the document were taken to Kasarani Stadium and held there for two weeks. About 900 people were taken to the stadium, the majority being young people who could not acquire IDs due to discriminatory bureaucratic procedures , and a haphazard and corrupt system that barred genuine citizens from receiving the document.
The verification and registration were suspended after two harrowing years during which homes were raided, their inhabitants detained, and property was lost.
Over half a century of negative portrayals of people from the north means that the official government policy is skewed when it applies to them. The acquisition of a passport is generally a straightforward process. To ensure that aliens from the north do not acquire this critical document, the immigration department and security agencies have an illegal and discriminatory step in place for border communities — vetting. It is not enough that a northerner provides sufficient genuine documentation. The applicant must appear before a group of government officials, security officers and appointed individuals to prove their citizenship. To pass this step, one must know their location chief, the genealogy of ones’ clan and other trivialities that are ordinarily unnecessary in life.
The emergence of one label does not lead to the dropping of the existing labels. Shifta, Poacher, Refugee, Pirate and Terrorist shape the thinking behind public actions. These negative portrayals have an impact on how national matters are debated and resolved.
A section of Kenyan citizens is considered as dangerous to the main body of the country. The secession war that ostensibly ended in 1967 is still being fought; the terms of the agreement that ended the war have never been the subject of a national conversation. Did the agreement include such important matters as citizenship, identity, development, and non-discrimination? The security agencies have not discarded their belligerent attitude towards the population and the civil service retains the policies of the 1960s towards the people of the north.
One must know their location chief, the genealogy of one’s clan and other trivialities that are ordinarily unnecessary in life.
National identity is at stake as those who rejected becoming part of Kenya at independence cannot have equal status with everyone else. They are aliens, and “they all look like”. The most dangerous portrayal is the association with terrorism; poachers and pirates are small fish compared to terrorists. In the last few years, enforced disappearances and extra-judicial killings related to the war on terror have become commonplace. It is hard to fight for the rights of one who is labelled a terrorist and is disappeared or killed.
Public association with a terror suspect is a stigma that nobody is willing to be associated with. Crimes are committed under cover of fighting terrorism, and there is nothing the targeted community can do about it. That is the power of a label; it obscures the truth, gives authorities cover to commit genocidal crimes and permits the practice of xenophobia in public.
The End of Abiy-Mania
When he ascended to power in April 2018 Abiy Ahmed elicited goodwill inside and outside Ethiopia but the continuing humanitarian crisis in the Tigray region is losing him friends.
Ethiopia will go to the polls on June 22, buffeted by various crises domestically and abroad. But the upcoming election has many echoes of the May 15 2005 election, whose impact continues to shape Ethiopia’s domestic politics and politics in the Horn of Africa. Central to Ethiopia’s current domestic crisis and the border dispute with Sudan, is the Abiy-Amhara compact.
The 15 May 2005 elections were the third national elections to be held under the 1994 constitution following the ouster of the Marxist-Leninist Derg. In the 1995 and 2000 elections, the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) government harassed the opposition parties, forcing the influential ones to boycott the polls, with the result that the EPRDF won both elections with over 90 per cent of the seats.
Ahead of the 2005 election, the EPDRF signalled the significant participation of the opposition parties so that Western observers—whose support was critical for Meles—would declare the elections to have been free and fair. The incumbent party acceded to the pre-election demands of some opposition parties, allowing in international election observers and giving the opposition parties a chance to sell their manifestos on the national broadcaster. These conditions were absent in the previous elections. While these were not among the chief demands of the opposition parties prior to the polls, they indicated reasonable good faith on the part of the government compared to previous elections.
As a result, for the first time in Ethiopia’s history, a nationwide multiparty competition seemed possible; neither the ruling party nor the opposition had ever faced a competitive election before.
Internal turmoil within the EPRDF preceded the election. The Central Committee of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF)—Prime Minister Meles Zenawi’s core support base—broke up into two rival factions in 2001. With his base in the Tigray heartland at risk, Meles took advantage of his central position within the broader EPRDF coalition and outmanoeuvred his rivals. He sacked several senior officials and successfully weathered the storm, but the fault line remained and emerged during the 2005 elections.
The pre-election period saw the unprecedented participation of the opposition parties and civil society organisations in the campaigns. Election Day went peacefully, and the early results in Addis Ababa and other major urban areas showed the opposition parties making significant electoral gains. According to unofficial preliminary results, the opposition had won 172 parliamentary seats—its most considerable showing yet in the 547-member assembly. On the night of the election, Prime Minister Meles Zenawi declared a one-month ban on public demonstrations in the capital and brought the Addis Ababa security forces (which would have come under the opposition’s command had they been sworn in) under the control of the Prime Minister’s office.
Opposition parties boycotted their seats in parliament, alleging rigging by the incumbent. Their refusal to take up their seats in parliament handed Meles Zenawi and his party a third term in office. Meles interpreted his “mandate” as a licence to take the authoritarian path. Hundreds, if not thousands, of political opposition and human rights activists were arbitrarily detained, with some facing the spurious charge of treason. Ethiopian security forces killed almost 200 demonstrators in post-election protests in June and November 2005 and arrested tens of thousands of people.
With the domestic front “sorted”, Meles turned to regional matters. In December 2006, Ethiopia’s military intervened in Somalia to root out the Union of Islamic Courts (UIC), which had brought stability for the few months they were in charge. The Ethiopian forces captured Mogadishu in less than a week, and the UIC dissolved and surrendered political leadership to clan leaders.
Ethiopia’s ouster of the UIC tapped into a deep historical hostility between Somalia and Ethiopia, something Al Shabaab, the youth wing of the UIC, exploited with a mix of latent Somalia nationalism and anti-imperialism.
Ethiopia’s actions provided Al Shabaab with an opportunity to translate its rhetoric into action. Al Shabaab began targeting the nascent Somalia government, Ethiopian forces, the Transitional Federal Government security, political figures, and any Somalis collaborating with Ethiopia. Ethiopia’s and TFG’s heavy-handed counterinsurgency responses played into the hands of Al Shabaab.
Ethiopia’s incursion into Somalia took place three weeks after General John Abizaid, the commander of US forces from the Middle East to Afghanistan, had met with then Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi.
Sixteen years later, Ethiopia goes into another election whose consequences could transcend Ethiopia.
The limits of Abiy-Mania
When he ascended to power in April 2018, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed elicited a groundswell of collective goodwill inside and outside Ethiopia. He embarked at breakneck speed on reforms that just a few years earlier would have sounded far-fetched.
At home, Abiy released political prisoners, appointed the country’s first female as the ceremonial president and a cabinet half-filled by women. He nominated a once-jailed opposition leader as the new chairwoman of the electoral board. In the Horn of Africa region, Abiy had a rapprochement with Eritrea, a country with which Ethiopia had fought a bloody war between 1998 and 2000. Abiy also attempted to mediate the Sudan political crisis.
The Nobel Committee awarded Abiy the 2019 Nobel Peace Prize “For his efforts to achieve peace and international cooperation, particularly for his decisive initiative to resolve the border conflict with neighbouring Eritrea.”
Federalism vs centralisation
While the trigger for the Abiy-led military operation against the Regional Government of Tigray in the north of the country is the alleged attack of the federal army base by the Tigray Peoples Liberation Front (TPLF), the attack was only a symptom and not the actual cause.
The battle between Abiy and the TPLF and other groups is a battle between those who champion the multi-ethnic federalism constitution and those who prefer a centralised state. Abiy favours centralisation to federalism.
The Tigray region is not the first to bear the brunt of the military and federal security forces to achieve Abiy’s centralisation agenda. The Oromia and Sidama regions have also been at the receiving end of the violence of the federal security authorities.
Abiy embarked at breakneck speed on reforms that just a few years earlier would have sounded far-fetched.
Throughout its long history of state formation, Ethiopia was for thousands of years ruled by emperors under a monarchy with a unitary system of government. The last emperor, Haile Selassie, was deposed in 1974 and from then on until 1991, the country came under a dictatorship with a unitary system of government.
The creation of the EPRDF in 1989—an ethnic coalition of the Tigrayan Peoples’ Liberation Front, the Amhara National Democratic Movement (ANDM; later Amhara Democratic Party), the Oromo Peoples’ Democratic Organization (OPDO; later Oromo Democratic Party), and the Southern Ethiopian Peoples’ Democratic Movement (SEPDM)—had changed that.
Abiy’s shot across the bow was the dissolution of the EPDRF and the launching of the Prosperity Party (PP) on December 1 2019. The OPDO, ANDM, and SEPDM voted overwhelmingly to join the party, while the TPLF rejected the idea as “illegal and reactionary”. The timing of the move was convenient, coming just a few months before the election that was postponed because of the COVID-19 pandemic.
The EPDRF’s multi-ethnic federalism and the inclusion in the constitution of the right to secede for all “nations and nationalities and peoples” of the country were innovative breakthroughs in a country with 80 different ethnic groups. But the constitution was also a product of ideological foment and political necessity. The leaders who revolted against the Mengistu junta had emerged from the student movement that had adopted the “nationalities and the land question”, redefining Ethiopian statehood.
The Oromia and Sidama regions have also been at the receiving end of the violence of the federal security authorities.
While the multi-ethnic federalism has been imperfect, especially its implementation and the domination of the EPDRF by the TPLF, in a multi-ethnic country with historical and contemporary grievances against the state, federalism has acted as a safety valve against ethnic tension.
Abiy and Amhara expansionism
The Amharas are Abiy’s vociferous supporters at home. They, especially their elites, have an axe to grind with the TPLF for diluting their decades of uninterrupted state power and control. Amhara language and culture are the state’s language and culture, and the language and culture of the Orthodox Church which wields unfettered power. But with its political nous, its deep bureaucracy and know-how, the TPLF was always a challenging prospect for Abiy, a political novice with limited federal-level experience and hardly a political base. The connecting tissue of Abiy-Amhara unity is the lowest common denominator that is the fear and loathing of the TPLF. After dissolving the EPDR, a coalition in which the TPLF was a strong partner, the next step was to defeat the TPLF militarily. Even before the November military incursion into Tigray, Amhara militias were massed at the border with Tigray. If Abiy’s anti-TPLF move was intended to destroy them as a political force, for the Amharas this was an opportunity to regain some of the territories they had lost to Tigray in 1991.
Ethiopia also has a boundary dispute with Sudan. The dispute centres on the al-Fashaga region, Sudan’s fertile breadbasket located in Gedaref State, which borders Ethiopia’s Amhara region in the north-west. According to the Anglo-Ethiopian Treaty of 1902 the area belongs to Sudan and, unlike the regime of Omar al-Bashir, for the transitional government of Prime Minister Abdulla Hamdok, settling this dispute is a priority. However, the Abiy-Amhara alliance has made resolving the dispute complicated.
Sudan is also a critical factor in resolving the Tigray crisis; the country is the only remaining supply route for the TPLF as Eritrea is closed to them and bringing in supplies and fuel through other routes is risky. Sudan could also determine how the GERD dam conflict will be resolved. Unlike Egypt, Sudan could benefit from cheap electricity if the dam is filled, but the country will not countenance losing al-Fashaga. Abiy faces difficult choices: cede al-Fashaga to Sudan and gain a partner in the dam negotiations while also denying the TPLF a supply route or keep al-Fashaga and lose Sudan in the GERD dam discussions, leaving the TPLF to use the Sudan border for supplies.
The Tigray conflict, which Abiy initially promised would be a straightforward law enforcement operation, has instead metastasised into a slow-grinding counterinsurgency operation. The continuing humanitarian crisis in the Tigray region is losing Abiy friends.
On May 23, the US State Department announced visa restrictions for any current or former Ethiopian or Eritrean government officials, members of the security forces, or other individuals—including Amhara regional and irregular forces and members of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF)—responsible for, or complicit in, undermining the resolution of the crisis in Tigray.
In a multi-ethnic country with historical and contemporary grievances against the state, federalism has acted as a safety valve against ethnic tension.
America’s sanctions came on the heels of the European Union’s suspension of budgetary support worth €88 million (US$107 million) until humanitarian agencies are granted access to people in need of aid in the northern Tigray region.
On the 7th of June 2021, Representatives Gregory Meeks (D-NY) and Michael McCaul (R-TX), who is also Chairman and Ranking Member of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, together with Karen Bass (D-CA) and Christopher H. Smith (R-NJ), respectively Chairwoman and Ranking Member of the House Foreign Affairs Subcommittee on Africa, Global Health and Global Human Rights, issued a joint statement after tabling a resolution condemning violence and human rights abuses in Ethiopia.
The sanctions come as Ethiopia awards its first telecom licence for US$850 million to a consortium that includes the UK’s Vodafone in what could herald the opening up of Ethiopia’s closed economy.
Before the EPDRF came into power, Ethiopia was a posterchild of famine and incessant conflict, especially under the Derg regime. Abiy and Amhara nationalism is bringing back the echoes of the Derg era and the upcoming June election is unlikely to resolve current crises; if anything, it will exacerbate them.
We Still Can’t Breathe: Chauvin’s Conviction Maintains the Status Quo
Chauvin is simply a cop who committed an action so ugly that he had to be made an example of so that America could get back to normal.
Sometimes even the “biggest” victories can ring hollow. That especially seems to be the case several months into 2021, and 11 odd months after George Floyd had his life snuffed out in front of a red-brick grocery store in South Minneapolis, around the corner from the “Little East Africa” neighbourhood. That Derek Chauvin, the cop who laid his blatancy in the form of a knee across Floyd’s neck in a gutter finally faced some form of consequence in the form of a guilty verdict, may, in and of itself be of little consequence in the grandest of schemes.
Yes, right now it seems as though the verdict that has come down harshly on Chauvin is a rebuke of all things heinous, nothing less than a massive moral victory for racial progress, black America and global equality.
Indeed, rainbows shall now shine through and if you listen to many pundits within the American (and for that matter, Western) broadcast media, racism against Black America has been solved once and for all — à la the presidential election of Barack Obama way back in those heady days of 2008.
Chauvin will be sentenced on June 25th of this year. Much of Black America is already lowering their expectations away from the 40-year maximum prison sentence.
Life is full of disappointments.
In itself, the Chauvin verdict is not one of them; it is just another opportunity for a larger collective sadness, another opportunity for an eventual letdown, a reminder of the global system of injustice that is, frankly, far as hell from ever being permanently resolved.
I haven’t been in Minneapolis since the end of May 2020, the Saturday following the Floyd killing, when the very landscape and fabric of the “Twin Cities” of Minnesota and Saint Paul were irrevocably changed. Walking around that day, the sense of despair was palpable. All of Lake Street — all seven kilometers of it — seemed to have been hit by varying degrees of madness. Some buildings were completely burnt out, husks of their former selves; others had smashed windows or had “BLACK OWNED BUSINESS: DON’T BURN!” scrawled in graffiti across the boarded-up doors. Thousands of people trudged around with shovels, cleaning up debris ahead of the inevitable next night of chaos.
In the weeks that followed, the protests spread across the United States, and even took root on a global scale, spreading as far as Nairobi, London, Kampala, Rome and dozens of other cities. In Minneapolis, all the tension of a tense superpower seemingly dying of its own hubris during the chaotic early months of the COVID-19 pandemic descended on an idyllic neighbourhood. By the day I arrived, May 30th, the United States National Guard was being deployed to put down any form of violence with their own forms of violence. But the damage had been done and the rest of the country was experiencing its own varying levels of chaos. At least two people were killed in Minneapolis alone (and at least 19 across the rest of the US, though this number seems to be low). Dozens of people were injured in Minneapolis alone (although the exact numbers are hard to confirm; personally I talked to at least three people who had sustained non-lethal injuries during the protests, so the real number could be much higher).
Thousands were injured across the US, with hundreds more incidents of police brutality filmed and shared widely. In Minneapolis there was approximately KSh 53 billion worth of damage related to the unrest. Bob Kroll, the president of the Police Officers Federation of Minneapolis who allegedly had white supremacist ties retired at the beginning of 2021. The Minneapolis Police Department was defunded following the reckoning that fell upon the Twin Cities in those warm early summer weeks.
Among pundit across America, talk of alliance and “listening” rapidly became the norm. Many leading neo-liberals put out statements, Republicans and Democrats alike. Trump ordered the beating up of peaceful protesters in front the White House and goodhearted liberals were shocked and appalled. Everyone said it was a “sea change” in American race-relations.
Less than three months after the George Floyd protests kicked off there was a “monumental change” — Jacob Blake was shot in the back by police in the city of Kenosha, in my home state of Wisconsin. The NBA boycotted games, more conversations were had and the world kept right on turning, same as it ever has.
When it comes down to issues of inequality, racism and oppression the status quo is always maintained, especially in America. Two steps forward and three steps back seems to be the pattern, one that is only reinforced by the pattern of police getting away with the murder of Black Americans — whether on tape or merely under “suspicious” circumstances in which “the officer felt their life was threatened and required a response of lethal force”.
Perhaps it is this constant pattern of impunity that has caused the most damage, a pattern that in the US can be traced to well before the 1992 Rodney King riots in Los Angeles, California. The riots were sparked off by the acquittal of cops who had been caught on film beating and kicking King senseless on the shoulder of a freeway.
It’s the same as it ever was.
Over the years since, especially in this age of social media ubiquity, incidents police violence against Black men, women and children have been caught on camera with horrifying regularity.
Horrifying, but not at all surprising. Everyone within the Black community in the US has long known the score. “Officers under threat” deaths, cases failing to be investigated, rumours of pistols being planted, delays in emergency responder times, ties to white supremacy, “warrior cops” getting more military equipment, stop-and-frisk policies, higher incarceration rates among Blacks, continual harassment, talking to children about keeping hands visible when dealing with police, media bias, fetishisation of police, the “Blue Lives Matter” movement — the list of systemic issues within US police forces could fill the remainder of this article.
In this age of social media ubiquity, incidents of police violence against Black men, women and children have been caught on camera with horrifying regularity.
The American judicial system itself is inherently flawed. The narrative among much of the “upstanding” upper middle-class elements of society is that somehow race relations were, if not solved outright, repaired with a sustained “upward” trajectory somewhere around the funeral of civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. after his assassination in 1968.
They paint a rosy picture of race-relations in the US in which all segregationist judges were replaced with forward thinking progressives, where all cops with KKK ties were unceremoniously fired, where the ghosts of “Jim Crow” laws (designed to suppress, segregate and subjugate post-slavery Black America) simply faded into the distant memories of a bygone era. The result was a sort of racial Cold War, where proxy wars were fought through the war on drugs, mass incarceration, neoliberalism and police impunity.
“At least segregation is illegal now”, says White America when pressed, as if cities, schools, hospitals and police actions were not still segregated sans overt painted signs.
Such sentiments bled into the politics of the US’s two major parties, Republicans spearheading the “War on Drugs” under the Reagan presidency of the 1980s and the Clinton administration cutting social programmes and accelerating mass incarceration during the 90s under the all-American ideal of “pulling oneself up by your bootstraps”. Such proponents of America’s neo-liberal ethos cared little whether there were any boots to begin with.
Slowly the technology caught up with the reality, and the anger felt across the marginalised communities in America had a focal point on which to pour out their frustrations. The images were there on film, little snippets sent into cyberspace by countless onlookers. The anger was in the bloody and lifeless body of Michael Brown lying for hours in a Missouri street. It was in Eric Garner pleading that he couldn’t breathe while being choked to death by cops in New York City. It was in Philando Castille being shot and killed in his car seconds after telling the officer who had pulled him over that he had a licensed gun in the car and reached for his wallet. (This shooting also happened in the Twin Cities area of Minnesota.) It was in Breonna Taylor being shot dead on a no-knock warrant in Louisville, Kentucky only for the officers to be charged with “wanton endangerment” for firing bullets into a neighbouring apartment.
None of the officers in the above incidents were convicted. Some were never even brought into a courtroom.
On April 11th 2021, Daunte Wright was shot and killed by a cop during a traffic stop in a suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota. Details and footage of the incident are scant. The officer involved has been charged with second-degree manslaughter (a lesser charge than homicide in the US court system). Protests have sprung up around the US, youth wearing surgical masks — the hallmark of the smoldering COVID-19 pandemic — clashing with police and facing arrest, and “non-lethal weapons being deployed by officers to quell pockets of unrest”. This killing occurred at the epicentre of the “defund the police” movement — Minneapolis.
The cycle continues same as ever, two steps forward and three steps back in Black America’s quest for equitable treatment.
The police are just the visible agents of the systemic suppression of Black people that stretches far beyond the shores of the US.
If COVID-19 has shown up anything, it is the brutality of police worldwide. Most times their actions go on with impunity. Cops in Kenya beat up people without mercy and enforce curfew by leaving motorists stranded on highways. In Uganda cops extort commuters under threat of jail. In Rwanda the stranglehold on the nation continues to tighten under threat of harsh penalties.
There is no equality when it comes to the Global South, particularly for much of Africa whose suffering at the hands of the police echoes the oppression faced by the Black community in the US.
The cycle continues same as ever, two steps forward and three steps back in Black America’s quest for equitable treatment.
Through this lens of warranted cynicism, the “guilty” verdict handed down to Derek Chauvin by a jury in Minnesota is not a massive turning point. The very pundits stating that the verdict is such a monumental moment of change inherently prove that it is nothing remotely close to such a trend. There will be other failed indictments, other cops walking away, more cases of mysteriously “lost” body-cam footage. More will die, protests will spring up and be quelled with extreme prejudice.
Chauvin, the smirking killer that he is, did prove one thing and one thing only: where the “line” truly is, where the grey areas that the police hide behind blur over into black and white, from a “justified act of lethal self-defense from a frightened officer” into outright murder. His actions were so unquestionably heinous that they had to be dealt with. What Chauvin did derives directly from an ugly history; he lynched that man and at the time thought he would get away with it, hands in pockets, cocky half-smile on his face while his bodyweight cut off George Floyd’s air supply in that street gutter. Bystanders begged him to stop as the other officers watched in idle complicity. Paramedics were not allowed to give medical aid and Chauvin continued to apply pressure for minutes after Floyd had become non-responsive.
The systems, after all, stay much as they are in America. Profit margins must be maintained and “order” by way of the status quo must be upheld. The Twin Cities, of which Minneapolis is the more visible twin, would have simply exploded if the verdict had come back anything less than guilty. After a year of protests, COVID-19 lockdowns, electoral strangeness, Trumpian policies, political divisions, economic challenges and continued incidents of police violence, the tinderbox that was Minneapolis could not have handled Chauvin walking free out of the courthouse to appear on Fox News to “thank God”.
If that had happened the resulting violence would have dwarfed any incidents of unrest in America’s past. It is likely that weeks later clashes with police would be continuing on a nightly basis in dozens of cities across America. Minneapolis, where major corporates are headquartered, would have been engulfed in flames so huge the smoke would have been seen in the neighbouring state of Wisconsin.
The tinderbox that was Minneapolis could not have handled Chauvin walking free out of the courthouse to appear on Fox News to “thank God”.
Chauvin’s true legacy is that of an outlier, the ultimate talking-head example that “things are different now”, that something has truly been accomplished on a systemic level when it comes to police treatment of Black America.
In reality, Chauvin is simply a cop who committed an action so ugly that he had to be made an example of so that America could “get back to normal”.
For Black America in 2021 however, normal life is chockful of disappointments.
Politics1 week ago
From Shifta to Terrorist: A Shifting Narrative Of Northern Kenya
Long Reads2 weeks ago
Tanzania: The Dialectics of Maguphilia and Maguphobia
Politics2 weeks ago
The End of Abiy-Mania
Op-Eds2 weeks ago
BBI and Kenya’s Finest Jurists
Reflections2 weeks ago
Benjamin Ayimba: The Making of a Rugby Great
Op-Eds2 weeks ago
India’s COVID-19 Surge Is a Warning for Africa
Culture2 weeks ago
Forgotten Histories: Eugenics, Racism and Colonial Mental Doctors in Kenya
Long Reads5 days ago
The West and Its African Monsters Syndrome