On the 2nd of September 2017, an angry President Kenyatta lashed out at the Judiciary after the Supreme Court invalidated the presidential election results, a full-frontal verbal attack against the judiciary by the head of state, unprecedented in the country’s history. In the past, manipulations of the judiciary were always carried out quietly through political manoeuvring, the public only coming to learn of the interference through the media. “We shall revisit this thing. We clearly have a problem”, Kenyatta said, referring to the judiciary. “Who even elected you? Were you? We have a problem and we must fix it”, he said, speaking on live television at State House in Nairobi after a meeting with governors and other elected officials from his Jubilee party.
The not so strange case of Governor Mike Sonko
At the beginning of December, the governor of Nairobi, Mike Mbuvi Sonko, was sensationally arrested in Voi on a number of charges including corruption. Unsurprisingly, the spectacle of his arrest dominated the media over the following days.
It was a most dramatic action, carried out against our most colourful and most controversial of governors, but deep down, no one was really surprised that the arrest of the governor of the capital city had been turned into a circus; sadly, it is something Kenyans have become inured to.
But this is partly because Mike Sonko is also an authentic grassroots populist with a genuine constituency of support especially among the poor of Eastern Nairobi who first elected him to parliament in 2010. Sonko’s life story is a weave of narratives that the poor relate to at a personal level. His life prior to entering politics was characterised by run-ins with the law, including an escape from prison in the 1990s. His unfiltered style of speaking and his acts of calculated philanthropy have turned him into something of a Robin Hood.
Once when Sonko, then a senator, was picked up by the police, a crowd of his supporters showed up outside the police station shouting, “Mwizi wetu, mwizi wetu!” (Our thief! Our thief!). While we in the generally ideologically vacuous middle-class cringe and guffaw, Sonko and others of his ilk have transformed Kenyan politics in ways similar to what Duterte has done in the Philippines, Trump in America, Urban in Hungary, etc. This is because it is clear to his supporters that Sonko hasn’t been conjured up by branding professionals and PR specialists—he is his own brand. Indeed, Sonko has been at the forefront of redefining what normal political behaviour is in Kenya; what politicians say and how they say it; what they do and how they do it—just how garish and outrageous a public officer can be. He simply doesn’t bother to pretend; if he feels it, he expresses it in the most dramatic manner possible. In the crudest of ways, “he keeps it real”. Moses Kuria is of the same populist mould, as are Aisha Jumwa in Malindi, Oscar Sudi in the Rift Valley, etc. Our politics is increasingly replete with men and women who say on the platform what is usually said in the bar or the bedroom.
While we in the generally ideologically vacuous middle-class cringe and guffaw, Sonko and others of his ilk have transformed Kenyan politics in ways similar to what Duterte has done in the Philippines, Trump in America, Urban in Hungary, etc.
This “explicit” truth has found currency; it excites the multitude who believe that the other politicians are mostly lying. The vulgarisation of the public discourse is now complete and wananchi seem to love it not least because, especially in these difficult economic times, it is also a slap in the face of the wincing, apparently clueless, middle class and its political representatives.
This type of politician, blunt and openly estranged from the truth—part performer and often entertainer—has become more influential in public affairs since 2013. This is a global phenomenon as the neo-liberal economic model fails vast swathes of the citizenry who have come to the realisation that companies, or cartels masquerading as companies, are today far more powerful than governments, judiciaries, parliaments and other governance institutions. Indeed, the grand “institutions” that for over half a century development professionals have insisted are the pillars of peaceful, prosperous, equitable and free societies are under strain in many places and have altogether ceased to function in others. In the field of anti-corruption, experts are whispering to each other that perhaps too much has been made of building institutions over the last 30 years. Some experts point out, for example, that on the corruption index the north of Italy consistently scores better than the south despite both regions sharing governance institutions for several generations. It has become clear that there are many countries where the shadow state—comprised of a vast network of informal relations between the civil service, politicians, business, the security sector, the church and the media among others—is more important to understand than the laws in place to fight graft.
This is a global phenomenon as the neo-liberal economic model fails vast swathes of the citizenry who have come to the realisation that companies, or cartels masquerading as companies, are today far more powerful than governments
Under these circumstances, promises made are not kept and the wider public has realised that there isn’t even much effort being made to keep them. The 2013 Jubilee manifesto is a striking example of this trend. Indeed, it has become clear that many of its policy proposals were a fiction or an opportunity to create slush funds disguised as policy proposals, the verbiage therein being part of the theatre in which we willingly or unwillingly participate. It makes for a toxic environment, bereft of trust and goodwill. Unfortunately, given the current strains, the mechanisms of a modern society’s self-correction—in particular the elections that allow for regular renewal—have in many countries been captured by a tiny elite.
The Building Bridges Initiative (BBI) that emerged out of a political truce between Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga in March last year was to some another opportunity for a political reboot. This was especially the case following the 2017 election debacle that left the regime bereft of legitimacy. But it is the scale of these expectations that caused the BBI report to underwhelm and disappoint so many. The BBI team rose out of the Kenyan political swamp and led the population to believe that they would tell us how to drain it. Instead, they seem only to continue wallowing in it, deepening the disconcerting confusion prevailing in these times of economic austerity. It is in this light that we must understand how figures like Sonko have come to occupy so much political bandwidth.
It is within this context Uhuru Kenyatta has overseen the most corrupt administration in Kenya’s history while at the same time having his technical agencies expend the greatest amount of energy and resources purporting to fight corruption. This incongruity is derived partly from Kenyatta’s own familial circumstances; he speaks eloquently against conflict of interest in public service while sitting on a fortune created by that very conflict of interest.
Kenya’s elite consensus: Let’s eat!
Elites generally compete for power in Kenya so they can “eat”; development is extracurricular. Within the elite, however, a consensus is necessary for the “eating” to be “inclusive”. Competition, especially for lucrative public works contracts, is fiercest and most intense as the size of the pie shrinks and the elite fragments. This almost always leads to a dramatic decline in civic hygiene, often to civil rancour and sometimes even to civil strife.
Our transforming political culture has left us in an invidious position. For the first time, even though we know that all politicians lie, now we really cannot tell the truth from the lies so we mistrust everything. This infectious condition has helped exacerbate the split in the ruling Jubilee party; there are now two powerful amalgams of competing political and commercial interests—Jubilee A (behind Kenyatta and Odinga) and Jubilee B (allied to Deputy President William Ruto). A host of other smaller political parties hover around these two giants, negotiating their place at the trough.
The coarsening of public debate has been fuelled in part by the immediacy and anonymity social media provides, but overall it has made serious debate on shared challenges all the more difficult in a complex, rapidly changing, ideologically vacant, intellectually dumbed down but emotionally charged environment. From Kenya’s independence until the early 1990s, eloquent sycophancy was easier to interpret and manage because every mwananchi knew that it was just that—sycophantic babble. Sometimes we even pitied the babblers: “Poor fellow, having to embarrass themselves to keep the president happy”. The sycophant’s lies were different from those of today’s populists who push buttons related exclusively to group fears, antagonisms, worries and stereotypes. In the golden age of the sycophant, from 1963 to 1992, a number of important economic, political and social pillars remained true, retained their integrity and became the beacons that informed public discourse. Even in the most oppressive days of Jomo Kenyatta and Daniel arap Moi, Kenyans could trust the Kenya National Examinations Council (KNEC); a degree from a Kenyan university was a serious instrument of achievement; the government’s budget, read once a year, was treated as credible; the church was an institution to which the truth could comfortably retreat; the Kenya Army was considered professional and clean; the headlines of the Daily Nation and the Standard and magazines like the Weekly Review, Gitobu Imanyara’s original Nairobi Law Monthly, Society, Beyond, The People and others, were not doubted, and the IMF, World Bank, etc., were believed. This is the case no more—many named here have been bastardised or had doubts cast upon their credibility.
And so it is that even as Mike Sonko fights his corruption and other charges, there are many more Sonkos waiting to emerge over the coming few years.
(Additional research by Salma Mwangola)
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.
Joint UN, Ethiopia Atrocities Report: Poison Fruit of Poisonous Tree
By excluding the voices of the majority of victims, the UN violated its cardinal principle of a victim-centred investigation.
The joint United Nations (UN) and Ethiopian Human Rights Commission (EHRC) investigation is like a ham omelette: the chicken is involved, but the pig is committed. In this investigation, the UN only reluctantly became involved in demonstrating its efforts in investigating atrocity crimes, while the EHRC was committed to defending the government of Ethiopia – the architect of the war on Tigray.
Various reports on the investigation into atrocity crimes committed in Tigray are expected to be released in the coming weeks.
The report of the joint UN and EHRC investigation was released on 3 November 2021. The much-anticipated report by the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights, and the determination by the United States government on whether genocide against Tigrayans has been committed, are also expected to be released in the near future. These reports will be markedly different from the discredited report of the joint investigation.
The joint investigation’s report failed to establish facts because the Joint Investigation Team (JIT) had no access to the location it purported to cover and where most of the crimes are presumed to have been committed. Due to what the report calls “challenges and constraints”, the joint investigation was unable to access atrocity zones. It also underreported on, and failed to include, infamous atrocity zones in Tigray, including Axum, Abi Addi, Hagere Selam, Togoga, Irob, Adwa, Adrigrat, Hawzen, Gijet, and Maryam Dengelat as well as the Tigrayan bodies that washed up in Sudan on the Nile River. As in most cases, the worst atrocity zones in Tigray were located in active battlefields. Yet, the investigators were able to visit and interview witnesses in parts of Tigray that had been ethnically cleansed.
Moreover, the report downplayed the concerns of victims. The UN Basic Principles on Right to Remedy and Reparations, under Principle 8, define victims as:
[P]ersons who individually or collectively suffered harm, including physical or mental injury, emotional suffering, economic loss or substantial impairment of their fundamental rights, through acts or omissions that constitute gross violations of international human rights law, or serious violations of international humanitarian law. Where appropriate, and in accordance with domestic law, the term “victim” also includes the immediate family or dependants of the direct victim and persons who have suffered harm in intervening to assist victims in distress or to prevent victimisation.
The final report did not include the findings of extensive interviews that the UN conducted with Tigrayan refugees from the second week of November 2020 through to the end of December 2020. These interviews were held in refugee camps in Sudan, with victims and witnesses of human rights violations of various kinds and to different degrees. According to some informants, the report was submitted to Michelle Bachelet, the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, in January 2021. However, for unclear reasons, the findings of this investigation have not yet been made public, and there is no mention of it in the joint report. Informants say that few staff members of the Office of The High Commissioner for Human Rights in Addis Ababa raised questions regarding the integrity of the investigation carried out by their colleagues in Sudan.
The voices of victims and witnesses of atrocious crimes who gave their accounts in complete confidence in the UN have been deliberately disregarded. Instead, the UN issued the report authored jointly with the EHRC while concealing the report its office in Sudan had produced earlier. This amounts to subversion of investigations and victims’ right to truth and remedy – a violation of international law. Reports indicate that the government of Ethiopia curtailed the UN’s role in the investigation including by expelling one of the UN investigators.
Witnesses were reluctant to participate in an inquiry involving the EHRC. As one of the challenges, the report mentions the “perceptions of bias against the EHRC in some parts of Tigray where some potential interviewees declined to be interviewed by the JIT because of the presence of EHRC personnel”. This is a deliberate understatement.
Tigrayan victims and Tigray authorities rejected the joint investigation from the outset and declared their non-cooperation. In a recent report the Guardian asserts, “Especially damaging has been the growing perception among Tigrayans, about 6% of Ethiopia’s population, that the commission is partial towards the federal government and hostile to the TPLF.”
The voices of victims and witnesses of atrocious crimes who gave their accounts in complete confidence in the UN have been deliberately disregarded.
Victims are right to fear reprisals by Ethiopian, Eritrean and Amhara forces, and this fear silenced many and reinforced victims’ non-cooperation since the EHRC was involved. Conversely, perpetrators believe they can get away with their crimes when the EHRC is leading the investigation.
A principal at the core of the concept of justice is redressing the wrongs done to victims. The interests of victims should thus remain central to any investigation. In Tigray, women are the principal victims of the war, and a deliberate campaign of rape and sexual violence has been as typical as murder.
By excluding the voices of the majority of victims, the UN violated its cardinal principle of a victim-centred investigation. Justice entails that victims have the right to the truth and that those responsible for victimising people are held to account for their actions in a transparent fact-finding process and held liable for remedying the harm caused. The truth of what occurred should be established through the verification of facts and full public disclosure.
The joint investigation started on the wrong footing. The basis on which the decision to constitute a joint investigation was made, the terms of reference, the selection of the investigators, and the agreement between the UN and the EHRC have never been made public, despite many requests. They remain shrouded in secrecy.
Some claim that the EHRC was involved in this investigation for the UN to gain access to Ethiopia. Others argue that such a joint venture would help build local and national capacity for investigation. It is heartless to think of building local capacity at the expense of victims of mass atrocity crimes (rape, killings, displacement and destruction of livelihoods). In effect, in this investigation, though committed to addressing atrocity crimes, the UN has been allowed to play second fiddle to personalities of a national system. The UN offered a façade of independence and impartiality to the investigation. The decision to conduct this joint investigation politicized a process that could and should have been de-politicized.
Some claim that the EHRC was involved in this investigation for the UN to gain access to Ethiopia.
Given that a general situation of war, chaos and a breakdown in law and order has been deliberately created in Tigray to systematically and systemically commit atrocities, destroy infrastructure and loot property, fears of reprisal are real. Consequently, the victims had little confidence in the joint investigation’s impartiality, capability and mandate to establish the truth, let alone identify perpetrators – particularly those holding the highest offices of command, control and communication.
For these reasons, many Tigrayans denounced the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights for involving the EHRC. The investigation was, from the start, designed to fail the Tigrayan victims. Tigrayans consistently called for the UN to establish an international commission of inquiry equipped to investigate crimes of such magnitude and gravity.
What is more, the report subverted the core aim of a standard investigation. Investigations and findings should be based on verifiable evidence collected from the ground without any involvement from the parties to the conflict and institutions accused of bias. The UN also failed to follow its guidelines and precedence of establishing independent and international commissions of inquiry or international fact-finding missions, as it did in Burundi, South Sudan, Gaza, Syria, Libya, Sudan (Darfur), Côte d’Ivoire, and Lebanon. These exemplary investigations were comprehensive and served as historical records of grave violations of human rights and international humanitarian law, offered the victims truth, and ensured the legal and political accountability of those responsible. In addition to holding criminals accountable, such investigations are supposed to help in restitution, compensation, rehabilitation, satisfaction, and above all, guarantees of non-repetition of violations.
One asks why the UN thinks the atrocities committed in Tigray are less deserving.
All investigations need to include all alleged violations by any party. The prosecution also needs to include all responsible parties to ensure that no justice is victor’s justice. This is not only the right thing to do but also the most effective method of legitimizing the process, ensuring accountability, providing remedies, and fighting impunity. However, such a process should not apply bothsidesism as a method of investigation and attribution of culpability.
Pulling the wool over the eyes of the international community, the report created false equivalence to disguise the real perpetrators. There are more paragraphs about calls for the cessation of hostilities, reconciliation, and capacity building than accountability, attribution of culpability, and ending impunity. The report is crafted in a manner that covers up the ringleaders of the crimes, softens accountability, advances recommendations that permit impunity in the name of reconciliation, and establishes false equivalence among warring parties. One paragraph in the report, for example, states, “International mechanisms are complementary to and do not replace national mechanisms. In this regard, the JIT was told that national institutions such as the Office of the Federal Attorney General and military justice organs have initiated processes to hold perpetrators accountable, with some perpetrators already having been convicted and sentenced.” The report advances proposals on non-legal issues including political causes of the war, humanitarian consequences and capacity building of EHRC.
Pulling the wool over the eyes of the international community, the report created false equivalence to disguise the real perpetrators.
It is bizarre that the UN believes that the Ethiopian National Defence Force and the Attorney General of the Government of Ethiopia can ensure accountability. The Ethiopian National Defence Force is a principal party in the war, and the Attorney General remains the chief architect of massive profiling of Tigrayans living outside Tigray, rounding up Tigrayans and leading the campaign for their internment. Like the EHRC, the Attorney General has no prosecutorial independence to hold officials of the Ethiopian government accountable.
Furthermore, many Ethiopians see only the victimization of their own group and not what their side has done to others. Dialogue, reconciliation and peace cannot be achieved while every fact is disputed. This report adds to the fierce dispute around the facts. For this very reason, many will continue to reject the report – as they did the investigation.
Overwhelming segments of the Tigrayan society reject the joint report. In particular, Tigrayans demand that the UN conduct its investigations, revealing Tigrayans’ high expectations of the UN’s ability to establish the truth based on which justice can be served.
Given the recent leaked audio recording that reveals the conspiracy against Tigrayans by some of the leaders in the UN Ethiopia office, one is forced to ask why Tigrayans have such high hopes in the UN. Many are left with no option but to reject outright the poison fruit of the so-called joint investigation, much as the victims, their families, the survivors and the Tigrayan community at large have done. By disregarding repeated calls for an international commission of inquiry, the UN has missed an opportunity for an empathetic and purposeful connection with the actual victims of the war.
Many atrocity situations such as in Rwanda, Darfur, Syria, and Burundi have been visited by the highest level officials of the international community. The highest-level officials of the UN, AU, IGAD and the US and EU leadership should travel to Tigray and other war-torn areas of Ethiopia. Even if permission from the government of Ethiopia for such high-level visits would have been difficult to secure, such attempts by high-level officials to visit the region would have demonstrated at least personal compassion and solidarity with victims. Such visits would have been viewed as both a symbolic and tangible commitment of leaders to end the war and the siege, and address impunity.
In the interests of the victims – and to place them at the centre of UN’s human rights work – the UN should authorize a UN-mandated commission of inquiry to investigate the atrocity crimes committed in Tigray and in other parts of the country.
No Country for Our Real Heroes: A Monument for the Mau Mau at Last, but No Land
Kenyans choose to forget that the Kenya Land and Freedom army (also known as Mau Mau) did not fight for a monument. They fought for land.
Mau Mau heroes now have a monument, but no land. Earlier this month, they were invited to the unveiling of this monument in Nairobi; a “memorial to the victims of torture and ill treatment during the colonial period 1952-1960.” They turned up in large numbers, the majority wearing bright red t-shirts emblazoned with the words “Shujaa wa Mau Mau” – Mau Mau hero.
In their hundreds, they were a sea of red and black amidst the green of Uhuru Park, watching avidly for when their monument would be unveiled in the section of this commons called “Freedom Corner.”
And while the British and Kenyan government and collaborating NGO representatives, all younger than the actual heroes, were sitting within an expansive white tent, these aging freedom fighters were sat under the hot sun, waiting for the official ceremony to begin. Some were said to have arrived as early as 6 am.
Finally, we could say, at least some recognition for our people who were classified as terrorists until 2003. Finally something to honour the bravery of all freedom fighters and the significance of that period in our history.
But, as social movement activist Gacheke Gachihi asked, what can we gain from a narrative that continues to posit them as “victim” instead of victor over the British? And even while recognizing the inhuman excesses meted out against them, what are the motivations for a rewriting of history that perpetuates a narrative of their victimhood and, as is appearing to be more and more the case, erases the full extent of their struggle?
Spoken interminably at the monument unveiling was the word “reconciliation,” followed closely by “ending” and “closure.” It seems that this monument is also meant to make us reconcile our past with all features of British imperialism; the £90,000 monument (an incessantly repeated figure) is where all further questions about the ravages of empire stop.
Inevitably, it seems also to be the national burial site for the land question.
Not one mention of it anywhere at this launch.
It was the elephant in the room, the solid yet invisible presence that no one spoke about. It was clumsily replaced by other buzzwords: reconciliation, closure, victimhood.
And while they turned up in their numbers, the show could definitely have gone on without the Kenya Land and Freedom army for in many ways these heroes were the appropriate props for the speeches and photo opportunities of innumerable people who were not Mau Mau, yet who will revel in the after glories of the praise that will come from being “important” at this event.
It is reported that these important characters then later went off to drink at the Norfolk, the oldest and, undoubtedly, most colonial of Nairobi’s hotels (even President Roosevelt stayed here in 1909 when he came to shoot half our wildlife to “collect specimens for the Smithsonian institute”) and whose terrace is “rumoured” to be the site where Africans were often shot for sport.
Meanwhile the actual shujaas then walked home, 80-year-old grandmothers bent over with no shoes walking through busy Nairobi to go back to their rural homes.
And in the the Nairobi headquarters of the Mau Mau, Mathare constituency, life continued as normal for Monica Wambui, a 101-year-old Mau Mau woman who has been living in her mabati tin house for the last 50 + years, and with no water, permanent shelter and still having to find her own firewood to cook.
And for this shujaa wa Mau Mau from Mathare, tells it all.
In this same place the descendants of these two heroes are caught in the spate of police killings that Mathare Social Justice Centre is working to document. And there will never be monuments for these young people who, in many ways, are also fighting for land.
A week later we are still being told about the £90,000 monument to “victims,” and being assailed constantly by the supposed generosity of the British government who solicited this monument at their “own” expense (one twitter commentator remarked that this money is likely to have been easily raised from all the exorbitant visa fees Kenyans are charged to visit the UK) .
And in all the hyper-buzz about this memorial we choose to forget that the Kenya Land and Freedom army did not fight for a monument.
They fought for land.
I Am Samuel
The government should support our creative industries, and allow every Kenyan’s voice to be heard, and everyone’s point of view to be listened to.
“I may not agree with what you say, but I’ll defend to the death your right to say it.”
We first got introduced to independent documentary filmmaking in 2013, at a gathering of Kenyan filmmakers in a small office of the nascent DocuBox film fund. Pete Murimi, director of I am Samuel, and I, producer, had no idea that it was possible to tell stories independent of a broadcaster or funder. As a service producer, I was used to receiving agency or broadcaster briefs and working according to spec. Pete, as a filmmaker at the UN, was familiar with that style of telling stories.
This intimate gathering of filmmakers (which included directors of The Letter, Kenya’s submission to the Oscars in 2020, and the director of New Moon, winner of Oscar-qualifying 2018 DIFF Best Documentary award) did not know that it was about to embark on an arduous multiple-year journey to tell their stories, and self-release at global festivals. But we all somehow made it through the strength of community and the determination to have complete agency over the stories we felt were important to tell. Pete and I were committed to telling stories of outsiders, people who did not accept the way things were, just because.
Voltaire’s quote above is our fallback when asked about freedom of expression, the freedom we committed to when we decided we wanted to tell these stories. We are a diverse country, with complicated, layered realities. Allowing storytellers to tell these stories, no matter whether you agree with them or not, is a move towards greater inclusivity, democracy, and tolerance.
Shot over five years, I Am Samuel tells the story of a queer man navigating the tension between his life in Nairobi and his rural childhood home. He and his partner Alex want to build a life together, but his father and mother want him to get married, have kids, and live the exact kind of life they have.
Allowing storytellers to tell these stories, no matter whether you agree with them or not, is a move towards greater inclusivity, democracy, and tolerance.
This was not an easy documentary to make. Samuel had to give up a lot of his privacy, and trust Pete and I, who were first-time independent filmmakers, balancing making this film with our day jobs. But Samuel allowed us into his life, without restriction. And that was a privilege that we could not afford to take lightly. Alfred Hitchcock once said, “In fiction films, the director is God; in documentary, God is the director.” We believe this to be true; life as it happens, with all its messiness and unpredictability, is what makes character-driven verité styles so difficult to do, but ultimately so rewarding.
I am Samuel was released at Hot Docs 2020, an international film festival that showcases stories from across the globe. It then toured the Human Rights Watch Film Festivals the world over and showed in South America, the Netherlands, and the UK. But our eventual goal was always to bring it back home. Because we felt this was a Kenyan story, we knew it would connect with audiences back home; mostly because Samuel’s lived reality as a queer, religious, traditional man is not unique. We applied for classification in Kenya to be able to screen it locally, and waited weeks for a response. We were asked to attend a meeting at the KFCB offices on Thursday 23rd September, but we were unable to make it in person. We then heard about the press conference, the ban, and the press release later that Thursday.
We are yet to receive a letter in writing or a certificate that shows our Kenyan rating.
We were deeply disturbed by the discriminatory language used in explaining the ban: they described it as “blasphemous” and “unacceptable, and an affront to our culture and identity.” The restricted classification of the film contained a number of inaccuracies. It referenced a “marriage” that never happened and said we were “promoting a homosexual lifestyle”. The board noted a “clear and deliberate attempt by the producer to promote same-sex marriage as an acceptable way of life. This attempt is evident through the repeated confessions of the gay couple that what they feel for each other is normal and should be embraced as a way of life, as well as the characters’ body language, including scenes of kissing of two male lovers.”
We were simply filming people’s lived experiences.
By banning the film, KFCB is silencing a real Kenyan community and trampling on our rights as filmmakers to tell Samuel’s story. Every story is important. And we are all equal in the eyes of the law and before God, in line with the religion the film board is invoking in this ruling. The arts – from filmmakers and novelists to painters and comedians – hold a mirror up to society and show us some of the difficult realities from which we often try to shy away.
The Kenya Film Classification Board is trying to censor a part of Kenya that has always existed, is a lived reality for millions and will always be a part of us. Several high-profile Kenyans are queer, including government politicians and public figures, but the intolerant atmosphere created by discriminatory statements like those of the KFCB make it impossible for them to live openly – and allow other Kenyans to continue to discriminate, wrongfully so, against LGBTQ+ Kenyans. As I Am Samuel shows, prejudice forces LGBTQ+ Kenyans to live in the shadows, fearful of being beaten up, fired from their jobs, or evicted from their homes. Stigma puts pressure on their families, who fear that if their neighbours find out they have a gay child, they will be ostracised.
The arts – from filmmakers and novelists to painters and comedians – hold a mirror up to society and show us some of the difficult realities from which we often try to shy away.
In their press statement, the KFCB appealed for content that “promotes Kenya’s moral values and national aspirations”. What are these values? The KFCB is assuming that the values of all Kenyans are the same – conservative and Christian. But Kenya is a diverse country and it is the responsibility of our government to represent and serve everybody. Our differences should be acknowledged as a strength, and shown through our filmmaking. Kenya is Africa’s third biggest film producer, after Nigeria and Ghana, making 500 films a year. African filmmakers are attracting international acclaim. Softie won an award at the prestigious Sundance Film Festival last year. The United Nations recently said that the African film and audio-visual industry generates US$5 billion a year and has the potential to create 20 million jobs. I Am Samuel is the third LGBTQ+ film to be banned by the KFCB, following Stories of Our Lives (2014) and Rafiki (2018). Among other movies that have been banned by KFCB are The Wolf of Wall Street (2014) and Fifty Shades of Grey (2015).
Our film is a true record of Samuel’s lived experience Samuel. Gay African men, gay African people, should be recognised and have their rights respected. This includes the right to freedom of expression, freedom of association and freedom from discrimination. Samuel himself is a strong Christian, and Kenya has several LGBTQ+-friendly churches that provide a place for queer Kenyans to worship together. Banning of films is a blow to Kenyan filmmakers as our audience is inherently local, and we need to have a wide distribution to reach audiences, to go regional, to go global, for so many reasons: telling our own narratives, correcting the misguided ones, creating jobs, and widening our own imaginations, exponentially, of what is possible for us as Kenyans. The Lupita Nyong’os and Edi Gathegis of this world should not only exist in a rare and unexplored vacuum.
It is time for the government to accept and support our creative industries, and allow every Kenyan’s voice to be heard – because the banning also leaves us with questions about whether everyone’s point of view truly is listened to. The documentary has been released across Africa on the AfriDocs website, and we hope that African audiences will still get a chance to watch a film that is not accepted in its home country. . . yet.
Politics2 weeks ago
Vitu Kwa Ground ni Different! Anticipations, not Policy, Driving LAPSSET
Op-Eds2 weeks ago
Fighting the Good Fight: Announcing the Progressive International Observatory
Reflections1 week ago
The Hidden Lives of the Trees of Amsterdam
Culture1 week ago
The Politics of Street Names
Op-Eds1 week ago
I Am Samuel
Culture1 week ago
The Case for Reparations and Revisiting Colonial Atrocities
Reflections1 week ago
Breast Cancer: The Weight of Waiting
Politics1 week ago
Born Cattle Bandits? Not Us