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From Game Changer to Railway to Nowhere: The Rise and Fall of Lunatic Line 2.0

8 min read. It goes without saying that the recently commissioned 120-kilometre Nairobi-Naivasha extension of the new railway line ending at Suswa is an economic puzzle, as the bulk of the cargo that comes through the port of Mombasa is either destined for Nairobi, or is in transit to Uganda and beyond. It is a misguided “if we build they will come” scheme since Suswa offers none of the advantages associated with a viable location for an industrial park.

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From Game Changer to Railway to Nowhere: The Rise and Fall of Lunatic Line 2.0
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Two weeks ago, Uhuru Kenyatta commissioned the 120-kilometre Nairobi-Naivasha extension of the new railway line commonly referred to as Phase 2A. Phase 1, which runs from Mombasa to Nairobi, was completed and launched with great fanfare in 2017. Not so this time round. On the day of the launch, a local daily headlined its story thus: “Uhuru to launch expensive SGR [Standard Gauge Railway] train to ‘nowhere.’” The “nowhere” caught on, with one international media house carrying the headline, “The railroad to nowhere China built has opened in Kenya” and another, “Kenya struggles to manage debt for railway to nowhere.”

The “nowhere” refers to Duka Moja (literally meaning “one shop”), a sleepy trading centre on the Maai Mahiu-Narok road where the railway line comes to an abrupt end. Duka Moja lies about 20 kilometres beyond the last train station at Suswa, a slightly busier cattle market about five kilometres down the highway turn-off at Maai Mahiu. There is little to take commuters there, unless one is a cattle trader. Naivasha town, which would be the destination for commuters, is a good 30 kilometres by road from the train station at Suswa but only an hour and a half’s drive from Nairobi. There being no station at Duka Moja means that the stretch will lie unused until “Phase 2B” is built—if it ever is.

The entire Phase 2A extension is an economic puzzle. The bulk of the cargo that comes through the port of Mombasa is either destined for Nairobi, or is in transit to Uganda and beyond. In 2018, the port handled 21.8 million metric tonnes of dry cargo of which 9.6 million tonnes—44 per cent—was transit cargo. This suggests only two logical destinations for rail freight: Nairobi and Malaba. After offloading in Nairobi, the only other logical line for rail freight is one that serves transit cargo, terminating at Kisumu or Malaba as the case may be.

In October 2018, we were informed that the financing agreement for Phase 2B, the 250-kilometre stretch from Naivasha to Kisumu, would be signed at the margins of the China-Africa Summit (FOCAC). Upon his return, Cabinet Secretary for Transport James Macharia informed the country that the Chinese authorities had asked for a feasibility study “of the whole project”. He was quick to add that he was confident that they would be able to produce one in no time, since they now had data from the Mombasa-Nairobi line which had by then been in operation for close to a year. There are two observations to be made here. Firstly, it is the Chinese who have been running the railway, and it is they, and not the government, who have the data on its operations. Secondly, CS Macharia implies that no feasibility study had been undertaken. This is not quite true. There exists a feasibility study for the Mombasa-Nairobi line carried out by the contractor, China Road and Bridge Company. The economic evaluation—which takes up 17 pages of the 143-page document—is the shoddiest thing of its kind that I have seen.

In April this year, the Kenyan delegation left for Beijing amid much fanfare, again anticipating that they would sign the financing of Phase 2B at the margins of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) Summit. This time China dropped the bombshell; the project would not be financed. The government had not been paying attention. A couple of weeks prior, China’s Ministry of Finance had released a document titled Debt Sustainability Framework for Participating Countries of the Belt and Road Initiative. It was posted on their website, and was the theme of China’s Finance Minister’s speech at that BRI summit. The long and short of it was that the era of chequebook diplomacy was over. China was bringing sovereign risk assessment on board. More interestingly, China had not formulated its own framework, stating in the document that it was adopting the IMF/World Bank Debt Sustainability Framework for Low Income Countries. Evidently, the administration had missed that memo.

Once the financing fell through, a hastily conceived “Plan B” proposing to revamp the old meter gauge line and integrate it with the new railway was unveiled. The initial announcement indicated that the revamped line would terminate in Kisumu at a cost of Sh40 billion ($400 million). Within days, this plan was abandoned in favour of another routing terminating at Malaba on the Kenya-Uganda border. It was to be a public-private partnership (PPP) project costing Sh20 billion ($200 million). The latest on these “Plan Bs” is that the Chinese contractor’s quotation far exceeds the government’s preliminary estimates.

In April this year, the Kenyan delegation left for Beijing amid much fanfare, again anticipating they would sign the financing of Phase 2B at the margins of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) Summit. This time China dropped the bombshell; the project would not be financed.

From the outset, the public has been led to believe that the SGR train has a freight capacity of more than 22 million metric tonnes. This column has challenged the operational feasibility of carrying this much freight on a single-track railway line, particularly one that is also used by passenger trains. A paper prepared for the Kenya Railways Board by the Kenya Institute for Public Policy Research and Analysis (KIPPRA), a government policy think-tank, puts the actual operational capacity at 9.75 million metric tonnes. These cargo capacity numbers imply that the railway is capable of carrying only transit or domestic cargo but not both (in 2018 the port handled 9.6 million tonnes of transit cargo).

If the extension to Naivasha is to be of any use, it stands to reason that the railway should prioritise transit cargo. And if transit cargo can utilise all of the railway’s capacity, why then is the government hell-bent on forcing Nairobi-bound freight onto the railway? In order for it to comply with the terms of financing entered into with the lender, the Exim Bank of China, is the readily apparent reason. The loan is secured with an agreement referred to as “take or pay” which obliges Kenya Ports Authority (KPA) to deliver to the railway enough freight to service the debt, failing which KPA will cover the revenue deficit from its own sources.

According to a schedule attached to the agreement, the freight required to service the loans averages 5 million tonnes a year, equivalent to five trains a day between 2020 and 2029 when repayment of the first two loans for the Mombasa-Nairobi section will be completed. The freight comes down to two million tonnes a year thereafter, equivalent to two trains a day until 2034, the completion date for the second loan. A third loan, which financed Phase 2A, does not feature in the agreement as it had not been negotiated, but it is possible that the agreement was revised to factor it in.

Whatever the case, the contract is moot; the revenue streams are calculated at a tariff of $0.12 (Sh12) per km/tonne, which works out to $870 (Sh87,000) per 20-foot container of up to 15 tonnes from Mombasa to Nairobi, compared to the $500 that the railway is currently charging which translates to a rate of $0.069 per km/tonne. Even at this cost the railway cannot compete with trucking because of additional handling charges and “last mile” transport from the railway depot to the owners’ premises which, according to a government report, increase rail freight costs to US$1,420 (Ksh.142,000) compared to a total trucking cost of $850 (Sh85,000). If we use the current rate of $500 to calculate the freight required to pay the loan, KPA needs to deliver 10.4 million tonnes a year, which is more than the 9.75 million tonnes operational capacity given in the KIPPRA report.

On the ground, things are different. According to data published by the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics, the railway earned Sh4 billion from 2.9 million tonnes of freight last year, a rate of Sh2.91 per km/tonne. In the first two months of this year, it earned Sh959 million from 662,000 tonnes, a slight improvement in revenue yield to Sh2.99 per km/ton. Either way, the actual revenue per km/tonne is still just a quarter of the rate used to calculate the loan repayments. As this column has maintained from the outset, there was never a likelihood that the railway was going to pay its way. The debt was always going to be paid by the taxpayer. It is difficult to fathom why the government and the Chinese lender bothered with this shoddy securitisation charade for debt that has an implicit sovereign guarantee anyway.

Meanwhile, back on the ranch, the “railway to nowhere” epithet seems to have stung Uhuru Kenyatta: “Let me tell you. Mai Mahiu… Suswa is not nowhere. This is Kenya. And let me tell you. Whether you like it or not, once I am done with my work and go home, after 20 years when I come back here, Maai Mahiu and Suswa will be more developed than Nairobi.”

Kenyatta was alluding to the plans to set up industrial parks in that locality, some of which we are told will take advantage of the proximity to the geothermal power and steam resources in the region. This is another one of the administration’s misguided “if we build they will come” schemes. Before any further comment, it is worth remarking that Konza Technocity—which is also smack on the railway line—remains a field of dreams. The viability of locations for industrial parks is determined by their proximity to big markets, or raw materials, or labour. It is far from evident that Suswa offers any of these advantages. If we think about export processing for overseas markets, the most cost-effective location is at the coast. It does not make sense to transport raw materials hundreds of kilometres inland and the finished goods back to the port. This is one of the reasons why Athi River has struggled as an Export Processing Zone.

But even were Suswa a most inviting location for industrial parks, the Sh150 billion price tag is exorbitant. The first three berths of the Lamu Port—one of which has been completed—carry a price tag of $480 million. The cost of Phase 2A is enough to build another three (which would put Lamu port’s capacity on a par with Mombasa), plus a highway connecting Lamu to the interior; and you could throw in an airport together with all the housing and social amenities Lamu needs to become a viable port and industrial city.

There is reason to suspect that Mr. Kenyatta reacted in one of his uninhibited moments. The land at Suswa on which the railway terminates is part of an expansive holding—over 70,000 acres—known as Kedong Ranch. Owned by a company of the same name, Kedong Ranch Ltd, the land was expropriated from the Maasai community in the colonial era. Like many other holdings, it was not restituted to the community but instead became available for purchase under Jomo Kenyatta’s willing buyer-willing seller policy. In 1963, Prime Minister Jomo Kenyatta had given an undertaking to the Lancaster House constitutional conference that “tribal land” would be “entrenched in the tribal authority” and it would not be possible for anyone to “take away land belonging to another tribe.” He reneged on this undertaking.

In the Kedong case, the principal beneficiary was Muhotetu Farmers Company, a land-buying entity from Nyeri (Muhotetu is an acronym for “Muhoya” and “Tetu”, both localities in Nyeri County), which until recently owned 40.66 per cent of Kedong Ranch Ltd, according to documents filed in one of several court cases involving the company. Other shareholders include Family Circle Investments—with 6.83 per cent—Jackson Angaine and Jeremiah Nyaga. Angaine and Nyaga were respectively Minister for Lands and Settlement and Minister for Education in Jomo Kenyatta’s first post-independence government. It would have been very unusual in those days for people like Angaine and Nyaga to partake of such largesse without there being a share for the Kenyatta family.

But even were Suswa a most inviting location for industrial parks, the Sh150 billion price tag is exorbitant. The first three berths of the Lamu Port carry a price tag of $480 million. The cost of Phase 2A is enough to build another three plus a highway connecting Lamu to the interior

Two years ago, Muhotetu Farmers Company’s shareholding was acquired by a company going by the name of Newell Holdings Ltd. for Sh2.1 billion in a transaction that some shareholders have challenged in court as highly irregular. They claim that the company did not hold a general meeting to approve the deal, and that shareholders were not offered the right of first refusal (pre-emptive rights) as required by law. Suspicion is heightened by the claim by some shareholders that they were credited with the proceeds of the sale well before the date of the transaction. The import of this is that Muhotetu Farmers Company shareholders will have been excluded from compensation for the railway line terminating on the land, and from benefitting from the appreciation of value that may accrue from the proposed industrial parks—if they ever take off. We need not go to the trouble of sleuthing to establish who the owners and/or beneficial interests of Newell Holdings are as we can confidently surmise that they are powerful people within the government.

Not too long ago we saw Uhuru Kenyatta personally propositioning the leaders of Uganda and South Sudan with land grants in Suswa to build dry docks for their countries. If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, what else could it be but a duck?

As we say in Gĩkũyũ, ona ĩkĩhĩa mwene nĩ otaga (if a burning house cannot be salvaged, the owner might as well enjoy the warmth of the fire).

David Ndii
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David Ndii is a leading Kenyan economist and public intellectual.

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An IMF Straightjacket Is a Fitting End to Jubilee’s Reign of Hubris, Blunder, Plunder, Squander and Abracadabra

8 min read. Six years of fiscal profligacy have finally caught up with the Jubilee administration. Money is short, it now admits, and the begging bowl is out. The IMF has been in town and will be back again. But the cure could be worse than the disease as Jubilee prepares to don an IMF straightjacket for the remainder of its term.

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An IMF Straightjacket Is a Fitting End to the Jubilee’s Reign of Hubris, Blunder, Plunder, Squander and Abracadabra
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The economic management space has become rather lively of late. A few weeks ago, the National Treasury published an updated national debt register that spooked quite a few people. A couple of days later, it circulated a draft debt policy for comments in whose wake followed a stern memo from State House to all state agencies. The subject of the memo was austerity measures and the following three directives were addressed to state corporations: “(a) to immediately remit the entirety of identified surplus funds to the National Treasury; (b) to assign (transfer ownership) of all the Treasury Bills/Bonds currently held in the name/or for the benefit of the State Corporations/SAGAs to The National Treasury, including any accruing interest by Friday, 15 November 2018; (c) to remit the entirety of Appropriations-in-Aid (AiA) revenues to The National Treasury”

SAGAs stands for Semi-Autonomous Government Agencies. Appropriations-in-Aid is the money that government agencies raise from the public, usually in fees; court fines, licences and payments for services. This money is usually factored into their budgets—for instance, if an agency’s approved budget is Sh1 billion and it expects to collect Sh200 million, the Exchequer will budget to fund the balance of Sh800 million.

It turns out that this memo was the agenda of the event at which Uhuru Kenyatta made his “why are Kenyans broke?” faux pas. Evidently, he had summoned the state corporation bosses to read them the riot act on the directive. Hot on the heels of the State House meeting, it was reported that Parliament had passed an amendment to the Public Financial Management Act requiring that all public agencies centralise their banking with the Central Bank of Kenya.

Why the sudden zeal?

The answer may be found in a press release issued by the IMF on 22 November disclosing that the Fund had concluded a visit to the country to review recent economic developments. It also disclosed that another visit was planned for early next year “to hold discussions on a new precautionary stand-by facility.” A precautionary standby facility is a credit line that IMF member countries can draw on in the event of a shock that affects a country’s ability to meet its external payment obligations, for example, a petroleum price shock, or a global financial crisis of such severity that a country’s foreign exchange resources would not be sufficient to cover both imports and debt servicing.

The previous standby facility, which was due to expire in March 2018, was suspended in the run-up to the 2017 general election because of non-compliance. In early 2018, the administration sought and secured a six-month grace period during which it would negotiate a new one (with no money available during the grace period as the government was not compliant). The grace period was to expire in September, but in August the talks collapsed. Some of the conditions that the IMF sought were the removal of both the interest rate cap and the controversial VAT on fuel. The exchange rate policy may have been another sticking point, as the IMF claimed that the government was artificially propping up the shilling, a contention that the Central Bank has vigorously contested.

It turns out then that the sudden flurry of activity may be all about impressing the IMF. Indeed, the centralisation of government banking—known as the Treasury Single Account (TSA)—is one of the IMF’s latest fads, And just as with IFMIS before it, TSA is supposed to be the silver bullet that will put an end to financial control woes.

There are at least two other developments that are consistent with the sort of demands that we can expect from the IMF.

First, the government has started to make wage bill noises again. The acting Treasury Cabinet Secretary was heard to lament at a conference convened to discuss the wage bill that it is consuming 48 per cent of revenue, way above the maximum of 35 per cent stipulated in the Public Finance Management Act. This appears to be a case of giving a dog a bad name. The total wage bill for the entire public sector including commercial enterprises was Sh600 billion, about 40 per cent of national revenue. But even this is misleading because commercial parastatals (Kenya Pipeline, Kenya Airports Authority, Central Bank, etc.) do not depend on government revenue. The consolidated public sector wage bill as a percentage of consolidated revenues is in the order of 34 per cent. This is not the first time that the government is cooking the wage bill figures.

It has also been reported that Kenya Power has applied for a 20 per cent tariff increase, in part to cover for the national government subsidy for low-income consumers. The IMF takes a dim view of subsidies of this kind and although this has not come into the public domain, I would expect the IMF to similarly take a dim view of the operational subsidy made to the SGR, which is even less defensible than the tariff subsidy.

Given that the same Jubilee administration that found IMF conditions unpalatable last year now appears to be bending over backwards to secure a deal, we are compelled to ask: what has changed?

Money is short. This year the government plans to borrow Sh700 billion. It plans to borrow Sh450 billion domestically, and Sh250 billion from foreign sources. Soft loans from development lenders are budgeted at Sh50 billion, leaving the balance of Sh200 billion to be sourced from commercial lenders, either by way of issuing sovereign bonds (Eurobonds) or by arranging syndicated bank loans. The Sh200 billion foreign borrowing is “net”, that is, over and above what the government will borrow to pay the principal installments on foreign bank loans (e.g. the Exim Bank of China SGR loans), and to refinance or roll-over maturing syndicated loans (thankfully, there are no Eurobonds maturing this year) amounting to Sh131 billion, bringing the total borrowing to Sh331 billion. As a rule, interest payments are paid out of revenue while the government aims to pay the principal by rolling-over or refinancing.

The government has access to three potential sources of this kind of money: budget support (also known as programme loans, issued by multilateral institutions, including the IMF itself), Eurobonds and syndicated loans. Of the three, the multilateral lenders are the cheapest, but they take long, come with conditions and usually require that an IMF programme be in place (although last year the World Bank did extend a programme loan without one).

Eurobonds are the next best option. The Government does not need an IMF deal to go to the sovereign bond market. Indeed, it did not have an IMF programme in place during its previous two bond issues: the debut issue in 2014 and the second one in February 2018. But circumstances do change. With as many as 20 African countries either already in or at high risk of debt distress, it may be that the market has signaled to the government that an IMF stand-by would be “an added advantage.” Indeed, the IMF itself has downgraded Kenya’s debt distress risk from low to medium.

Multilateral lenders are the cheapest, but they take long, come with conditions and usually require that an IMF programme be in place

For what it’s worth, the Jubilee administration is finally owning up to the fact that its finances are in a worse state than it has previously cared to admit. The new narrative heaps the blame on the now-suspended Treasury officials, Cabinet Secretary Rotich and Permanent Secretary Kamau Thugge. I was taken aback recently when a cabinet secretary who has a strong background in finance remarked that they were not aware how bad things were until Rotich and Thugge were booted out, while the central bank governor has been quoted blaming Rotich’s rosy revenue forecasts—which he has characterised as “abracadabra”—for encouraging the government to pile up debt. This is disingenuous because that is not how it is done. The borrowing is decided politically first, and then they cook the revenue numbers to show that we can afford it. The Governor has been part of the racket. It is also mean to mock one’s colleagues when they are in trouble, not to mention that the Central Bank has been deeply implicated in the Eurobond fraud cover-up under his watch. The Governor’s turn to be thrown under the bus may yet come, but I digress.

What is now inescapable is that six years of the most egregious fiscal profligacy has caught up with us. As this column argued a fortnight ago, the government is now hostage to fate—it can kick the can down the road and hope and pray that the crunch does not come this side of the election, in which case an IMF facility seems like a good cushion to have. But it comes with a health warning: the cure may be worse than the disease.

A couple of weeks ago, Lebanese people took to the streets and brought down the government in what has been dubbed the Whatsapp revolution. Those of us who are a bit long in the tooth remember Beirut as the byword for urban warfare. Lebanon’s sectarian warfare ended when its fractious and venal political elite worked out an inclusive eating arrangement of the kind that our equally venal eating chiefs are now crafting with handshakes, bridge building and whatnot. With no agencies of restraint, the chiefs finished the tax money and progressed to eating debt, chomping their way into a 150+ per cent of GDP debt (third highest in world after Japan and Greece) that is consuming half the government revenue in interest payments alone, and causing economic stagnation.

What is now inescapable is that six years of the most egregious fiscal profligacy has caught up with us

On its knees, the government passed an austerity budget in July. The austerity budget coincided with an IMF mission which recommended “a credible medium term fiscal plan aiming for a substantial and sustained primary fiscal surplus.” Primary fiscal balance is the difference between government revenue and recurrent expenditure excluding interest. It is achieved by raising more taxes and cutting wages and O&M (operations & maintenance) spending. These cuts usually fall most heavily on social spending.

As the government set about imposing more austerity and raising taxes, it unveiled a tax on voice-over-IP (VOIP) calls in October, the idea being to protect tax revenue from regular voice calls. It was the last straw. Evidently, the eating chiefs had not realised that this was the social lifeline for the youth. The people took to the streets. Two weeks later, the government fell. Lebanon is now in full financial meltdown. The IMF is nowhere to be seen.

Mozambique had an IMF programme in place when it ran into debt payment difficulties that forced the government to disclose more than a billion dollars of secret “Tuna bonds” debt. Now, the purpose of an IMF programme is to help a country in payment difficulties, but because the secret debt violated the terms of the IMF deal, instead of bailing Mozambique out, the IMF led the other donors in suspending aid to the country. Instead of helping put out the fire, the fire brigade decided that teaching the culprits a lesson was more important than saving the victims. Mozambique’s economy went into free fall, where it remains. This is the very same IMF that cooked our books to cover up the Eurobond theft.

The borrowing is decided politically first, and then they cook the revenue numbers to show that we can afford it

What alternative does Uhuru Kenyatta have? In economics, we talk of the orthodox and heterodox approaches to dealing with a sovereign financial crisis.

The orthodox approach is a formulaic one-size-fits-all approach which adheres to one economic school of thought known as neoclassical economics. Its prescriptions are fiscal austerity and doctrinaire free market ideology. It is, as is readily apparent, the IMF prescription. Heterodox is another name for unorthodox, and refers to a pragmatic strategy that draws from the entire spectrum of economic ideas from Austrian to Marxist political economy and everything in between.

The dilemma governments have to face is that the orthodox cure is sometimes worse than the disease, but it’s the one with the money behind it. Heterodox approaches work better, but they require a resolve and an imagination that many governments are unable to muster, especially when they have their backs against the wall.

Can the Jubilee administration muster the resolve for a heterodox response? Doubtful.

Four years ago I contemplated the Jubilee administration ending precisely where it is headed, to wit: “I cannot think of a more fitting epitaph for the Jubilee administration’s reign of hubris and blunder, plunder and squander, than the rest of the term spent savouring copious helpings of humble pie in an IMF straightjacket. Choices do have consequences. Sobering.

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“We Have Failed Kenyans”: Lamentations for a Broken Nation

7 min read. When a seasoned Senator tells young people not to look to the National Assembly, the Executive or the Judiciary for answers to the spiraling debt, the closure of businesses, the extra-judicial killings of young people and the run-away unemployment, where else should they look?

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“We Have Failed Kenyan’s”: Lamentations for a Broken Nation
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I rarely follow the theatrics of Gatundu Member of Parliament Moses Kuria. But I was struck by his recent remarks – widely circulated in the press – that “as Parliament we have failed. Mea culpa. As a member of parliament and a member of the budget committee, we have failed Kenyans . . . We have told Kenyans this romantic story that all is well . . . I want to say that we have lied to Kenyans, first of all. And the second thing is that we have failed in our oversight responsibility . . . .”

One might have dismissed Moses Kuria as that maverick known for saying ridiculous things. But then, shortly after this, there was another admission of failure from another member of the National Assembly. This time it was Senator James Orengo in response to a challenge from the youth attending an event celebrating Prof. Yash Pal Ghai. Mr. Happy Olal of the Dandora Social Justice Centre had put Senator Orengo on the spot for handing the Executive a blank check and failing to play their oversight role on the debt ceiling, unemployment, extra-judicial killings of the youth, and all the many other ills plaguing Kenyans.

“I wanted to appeal here that sometimes we look for solutions where there are no solutions. Like when you are talking about parliament and looking for a solution in parliament. I think you are absolutely mistaken. . . .”, said Senator Orengo.

I can hardly recall a time in our political history when political stalwarts such as Senator Orengo openly admitted to us that they had failed in their legislative and oversight responsibilities. This is the country that produced firebrands like George Anyona, Chelagat Mutai, Martin Shikuku, Jean-Marie Seroney, and JM Kariuki during the repressive regime of Jomo Kenyatta. And in the infamous Nyayo era, Orengo was one of the “Seven Bearded Sisters” (along with Abuya Abuya, Chelagat Mutai, Onyango Midika, Mwashengu wa Mwachofi, Lawrence Sifuna, Chibule wa Tsuma, and Koigi wa Wamwere), who gave Daniel Arap Moi’s regime sleepless nghts.

It is the members of this very same National Assembly that had defied single party autocracy and made the regime quiver with rage whenever they spoke, while the public cheered them on knowing that they were the “people’s watchman”. They braved detention without trial, police harassment and economic sabotage to play their oversight role. And yet here was one of the “Bearded Sisters” now telling young people to look elsewhere for leadership – not to him or to the National Assembly, extinguishing any little glimmer of hope among the youth that those who had fought for the political and socio-economic rights of the people would provide leadership in the struggle for social justice.

This blow might have been less painful had the country not been witnessing sustained assaults on another arm of government – the Judiciary. On 4 November, in a widely televised statement, Chief Justice David Maraga lamented efforts to undermine the judiciary, including through budget cuts. In an unprecedented hour-long speech, the Chief Justice described the ways in which powerful Cabinet Secretaries and Permanent Secretaries were trying to control the Judiciary.

Kumbe hii nchi iko na wenyewe” (so this country has its owners) . . . People are trying to cripple the Judiciary . . . They want to control the Judiciary. They want to make the Judiciary a puppet”, said the Chief Justice.

Those were profound words coming from the man who made history by nullifying the results of the election of the incumbent president, triggering a return to the ballot. For those who know the Chief Justice well, it took a lot of courage to speak up and defend the judiciary. What was not lost in his long-winded speech was that he was fed up of trying to appease the Executive and yet having his judges attacked and the Judiciary financially crippled.

And yet here was one of the “Bearded Sisters” now telling young people to look elsewhere for leadership – not to him or to the National Assembly

Nothing infuriates a descendant of Mogusii more than open disrespect and it was clear that he was incensed when the Chief Justice deviated from his prepared speech to denounce the abuse endured by his office. His conclusion that he would not go to anybody to beg for money for the judiciary evoked a Kisii saying which, loosely translated, means, “I don’t eat at yours”. It was a statement of defiance. It is no wonder that the budget cuts were reversed a few days later.

But the onslaught on the judiciary is unrelenting. There are moves to remove both the Chief Justice and his Deputy from office. The promised “revisiting” is taking various forms ranging from budget cuts to personal attacks against judges. Further constraining the functioning of the Judiciary, the President has refused to gazette newly appointed or promoted judges. This confirms the statement from the Chief Justice that the Executive is seeking to make the judiciary its puppet. With an Executive that is out of touch with the people and a legislature that has been castrated by the Executive, the Judiciary remains our last line of defence. But for how long?

The Executive has openly shown its inability to lead the country. There are endless speeches from the President asking us, “jameni mnataka nifanye nini?” (surely, what do you want me to do?). This has become the standard refrain from the President, whether in response to the rampant corruption or to questions on delivery of basic services. Lucia Ayela, a young woman living in Nairobi, very eloquently expressed the frustration of many In video clips that have since gone viral.

“Sir, do you even live in this country? . . . are you even aware of what is going on in your government . . . you do not relate to your subjects [sic] at all”, Ms. Ayela lamented.

Ms. Ayela joins a number of Kenyans who have been responding to the President’s questions to his cabinet about why the country is broke. In an interesting twist, these questions seem to be emerging even from media houses reportedly owned by the Kenyatta family. In her strongly worded Punchline in October, Ms. Ann Kiguta castigated the President for being uninspiring and claiming to be tired of his job. She reminded him that he had asked for the job (three times) and he needed to roll up his sleeves and perform it as energetically as when he was going around the country seeking the presidency. This was followed by an even more hard-hitting piece by Ms. Yvonne Okwara-Matole on Citizen TV. The courage we are seeing from the men and women who are directly calling the Executive to order should not be taken for granted. As we know all too well, in our country, such courage can cost careers and, sometimes, lives.

With an Executive that is out of touch with the people and a legislature that has been castrated by the Executive, the Judiciary remains our last line of defence

Observing how the Executive, the National Assembly, county governments and the Judiciary have been operating over the past two years, it is evident that they have, for various reasons, failed to live up to the spirit and the letter of the Constitution. Chapter one of the Constitution bestows “all sovereign power” on the people of Kenya. The organs of State have power vested in them only so that they may act on behalf of the people. In the event that all these organs fail the people, what recourse do we have?

When a seasoned Senator tells young people not to look to the National Assembly, the Executive or the Judiciary for answers to the spiraling debt, the closure of businesses, the extra-judicial killings of young people and the run-away unemployment, where else should they look? When the organs delegated to exercise the will of the people, prove their inability to carry out their mandate, what recourse do the people have? Well, one could think of three possible options for bringing about political change before the 2022 General Election.

First, and as the Katiba Institute has been educating us, we have the option of firing our members of parliament. The Constitution (Article 104) and the Elections Act 2011, provide for a procedure for recalling Members of the National Assembly. There has been no successful bid so far, although there are reports of a petition filed against the Member of Parliament for Molo, Francis Kuria Kimani. In any case, if discontent is with the entire legislature, there seems to be no easy path towards their mass recall.

In the same manner, although article 145 of the Constitution provides for the impeachment of a president, it requires at least a “third of all members” moving a motion for the impeachment, “supported by at least two-thirds of all the members of the National Assembly.” As the ongoing impeachment process of the President of the United States has demonstrated, loyalty to the party tramps fidelity to the Constitution. With our National Assembly completely in the control of the Executive, impeachment is not a word you will be hearing in the corridors of parliament any time soon.

Second, the Executive and the National Assembly, having recognised that they have failed to fulfill their social contract with the voters, could resign. Prime Minister Hailemariam Desalegn of Ethiopia set a precedent in the region when he resigned in February after coming to terms with his inability to govern following violent crackdowns on protesters and a spiraling economy. However, there are no signs at all that this is an option that the Kenyan government is even taking under its considering.

Rather than seeking to renegotiate the broken social contract, the President is aggressively pushing for a change to the Constitution in what some have called a Ka-Putin attempt to return to power in an as yet to be created position of prime minister, at the end of his current term. Some political leaders, including Hon. Martha Karua, have warned the President not to attempt any such manoeuvre. The next few weeks will be critical in evaluating how far he intends to go in his bid to remain in power.

It would seem that the President is deaf to the cries of voters bewailing unemployment, increasing debt, business closures, lack of affordable health care and education, among a myriad grievances. The Building Bridges Initiative (BBI) that he has crafted together with his elder brother Rt. Hon. Raila Odinga, is mere horse trading between elites, an initiative meant to help an illegitimate President to govern, and an opposition leader who has betrayed millions of his supporters by turning his back on electoral justice, to save face

Third and last, the people – who hold sovereign power – could organise themselves to usher in political change. As David Ndii argues, this change could either be through internal realignment as was the case in Ethiopia or through popular mobilisation leading to the toppling of the regime Sudan-style. Whichever mode of change the people choose to use to exercise their sovereign power, it is clear that, like in Sudan and Ethiopia, the young people will have a critical role to play.

The Building Bridges Initiative that Uhuru has crafted together with his elder brother Odinga, is mere horse-trading between elites, an initiative meant to help an illegitimate President to govern, and an opposition leader who has betrayed millions of his supporters, to save face

There are already young people like Happy Olal of the Dandora Social Justice Center, who are showing the power of community organising. Phenomenal women like Jerotich Seii and the Energy 6 (E6) in the #SwitchoffKPLC campaign who are leading the charge. Small-scale traders in Mombasa holding “Black Monday” protests to raise their concerns on the effect of the Standard Railway Gauge (SGR) on their businesses. Students braving police brutality to demonstrate against insecurity around their campuses, very likely caused by the tough economic conditions facing workers who have been laid off, and graduates without jobs.

The Executive and the Legislature have an opportunity to listen to these diverse voices calling for change across the country. Rather than impose the BBI report and a referendum on Kenyans, they need to find ways of addressing the grievances from across the country. Signs that a people is demanding to exercise its sovereign power are apparent all over social media and it is clear that Kenya is a time bomb waiting only for a trigger to explode. It is in our power to either choose a peaceful path or to choose a painful and chaotic one. Time is not on our side.

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BBI: From “We the People” to “Fix the People”

5 min read. The Building Bridges Initiative is an ill-disguised attempt at social engineering, a “fix the people” approach to Kenya’s problems designed to veil ours eyes from the massive looting and the privatisation of public institutions. It is meant to dissuade us from expecting social and public solutions to our challenges as a country and to instead shoulder the blame and provide for ourselves the solutions to our problems. It is a declaration of war by the political class against the people of Kenya.

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BBI: From "We the People" to "Fix the People"
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On September 23, Kenyans began their week with the sad news that six children had lost their lives at Precious Talents, a private school in Ngando, a low-income neighborhood of Nairobi, following the collapse of one of the school’s poorly constructed buildings. Our belligerent Education Cabinet Secretary Prof. George Magoha rushed to the scene and, after inspecting the disaster and reading a written statement, fielded questions from the press.

In response to the first question about the provision of education for children from poor neighborhoods, the CS insinuated that the children had died because their parents had chosen not to take them to the public schools in the area. He said: “It comes to a matter of choice for parents. I am duly advised that the nearest public primary school from here is only two kilometers away. But then we are a democratic country and the role of the government must be restricted to ensuring that the . . . public primary schools available are safe enough.”

Magoha’s statement bares the soul and reveals the ideology of the Jubilee administration that is driving Kenya towards collapse. Statements from the government and those pundits that slavishly support it often trace the source of any disaster to the public—especially the victims—and to democracy. Government insiders and supporters portray the state as blameless, and fault Kenyans for wanting to participate democratically in the making of decisions that affect them, because by doing so, Kenyans put delays on the good work of the government. “We have good policies,” the government and business people say, “the problem is implementation.” An insider quoted by David Ndii demonstrates the arrogance and the condescending attitude of the people in government, saying that the president’s view of the public is that “commoners will always be complaining of something.”

The implicit message behind such rhetoric is that nothing can be resolved socially or politically any more. After all, if every social challenge we face is caused by us, the people, then the response to the challenge must be to fix the behaviour, the values and the soul of the people. This “fix the people” approach to social problems is the very essence of the Building Bridges Initiative (BBI) document released by the government this week.

Bridge over Troubled People

This is not the first time that the state has used the “troubled people” rhetoric. Former President Moi often said that in order to save Kenyans who were too tribalistic for their own good he could not allow multi-party democracy to take root. This theme of a troubled people goes as far back as colonial rule, when British missionaries and settlers purported to have come to save us from ignorance, poverty, disease and backward cultures, a policy which the first president Jomo Kenyatta embraced and perpetuated with the only difference that he kept culture off our supposed list of shortcomings.

This “fix the people” approach to social problems is the very essence of the  Building Bridges Initiative document released by the government this week

What is different this time is that we are ruled by the most obviously incompetent regime to ever occupy State House. These days, Kenyans first gauge the president’s sobriety before they weigh what he has to say. The regime’s incompetence has been accompanied by massive looting of public coffers, and massive privatisation of public institutions and social services, the latest victim of which is Kenyatta National Hospital. For such an economic mess to be acceptable to the Kenyan public, it must be matched by a corresponding rhetoric.

And so, just like the Reaganomics that produced the portrait of the dysfunctional black family—with the absent black father and the “welfare queen” mother— politicians have pointed to Kenyan families and individuals as the cause of Kenya’s political problems.

These attacks on the family are driven by the need of the political elite to turn the public’s attention away from expecting social and public solutions to the challenges we face, and instead suggest private fixes at the level of our families or our values. If only citizens can manage themselves and their families, the logic goes, everything else will sort itself out.

That is why the BBI, the latest offering from Kenya’s political class in its endeavours to curtail fundamental social change, is largely a declaration of war by the political class against the people of Kenya. The document accuses Kenyans of not knowing their history, of lacking ethical sensibilities, and of not knowing how to raise their children.

Based on its own narrow diagnosis of Kenya’s social problems, the political class offers an even scarier remedy: intervene in our knowledge, our values and our family lives. BBI proposes that the state become the driver of historical memory and culture by providing a “thorough and definitive” history of Kenya supervised by a presidentially appointed “Official Historian.”

If only citizens can manage themselves and their families, the logic goes, everything else will sort itself out

​On the cultural front, the document proposes the development of a syllabus by the government for use in religious and cultural initiation ceremonies, and to ape the church marriage programmes by providing its own programmes to “strengthen parenting.” In education, the document seeks to partner with the private sector to create a “national volunteer network” that would play the same role as Teach For America, an initiative that has been accused of undermining public education in the US.

The process of this social engineering has already started with the competency-based curriculum, where the state has used children to manipulate Kenyan parents into accepting the urban, male-led, monogamous, nuclear family as the normative unit of the Kenyan state. Similarly, the control on the arts and humanities is nothing new. Using the deceptive idea of “talent,” the new education system has relegated the arts to the rubbish heap by tying this discipline to commercialisation and confining it to a narrow pathway. Recently, parliament reinforced this view of the arts by passing a Sessional paper that proposes to pay arts and humanities lecturers less than their counterparts in the sciences.

All these proposals are typical of governmentality. Rather than use violence to control the people, governmentality seeks to bend our ideas, our identity and our emotions to the service of the state. As Stephen J. Ball puts it, governmentality now seeks not to change what we do, but our motivation for doing it. The goal is to change our soul and to change who we are. That means that the interest of the political elite is not, as it claims, to change the status quo. The goal is to change the people to accept the status quo as not just natural, but also as moral, if not godly.

And we must understand that attempting to change the people is an act of desperation. Muigai Kenyatta is not just incompetent; he has lacked legitimacy ever since he became president in 2013, and the Kenyan people are getting tired of propping up a family that has nothing to show for having foisted two presidents upon Kenyans except the wealth it has amassed through power, which power it first acquired by an accident of history.

The goal is to change the people to accept the status quo as not just natural, but also as moral, if not godly.

The political elite, led by Raila Odinga, are hoping to use the fictitious numerical superiority of the Kikuyu, and so they are all tiptoeing around Kenyatta in the hope of succeeding him by inheriting his ethnic voter base.

The political elite and their supporting intellectuals are united in trying to save a colonial model of state that is already collapsing around the world, and so they are grasping at straws to manipulate Kenyans into pledging allegiance to them.

But the ruling elite cannot stop the tide that is already building from Chile to Lebanon to Algeria to the UK and the US; Kenyan people are part of that tide. Instead, they are busy building a “blame the people” bridge to each other and their families, hoping that the tide of the Kenyan people will flow under the political elite and leave the status quo intact.

Unfortunately for them, the tides are no respecters of bridges and eventually wash ill-constructed ones away.

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