Every time there is a crisis in Kenya, the country’s fault lines begin to show, whether it is inefficient or corrupt institutions or a leadership that is only interested in its own survival.
During the deeply polarised 2013 and 2017 elections, for example, Kenya’s electoral body showed itself to be either unable or unwilling to conduct fair and transparent elections. Corruption scandals involving past and current electoral commissioners failed to get the commissioners removed, and questions about the validity of the tallying process have not yet been fully answered.
During the Moi regime, as the country’s economy stagnated under the weight of corruption and economic mismanagement, the judiciary proved to be an enemy of the people, always siding with the corrupt. Kamlesh Pattni, one of the masterminds of the Goldenberg Scandal, which almost brought the country to its knees, remains a free man to this day.
After the Westgate Mall terrorist attack in September 2013, Kenyans were horrified to learn that instead of subduing the terrorists and helping hostages within the mall to escape, security officers, including the Kenya Defence Force, had gone on a looting spree in the mall, whose shops were emptied of nearly everything during the four-day siege.
Kamlesh Pattni, one of the masterminds of the Goldenberg Scandal, which almost brought the country to its knees, remains a free man to this day
Under the debt-ridden Jubilee administration, Kenyans have watched their standard of living deteriorate considerably as the promised economic growth fails to reach the majority of the country’s population and as mega scandals, including importation of contaminated food and daylight robbery in government institutions, continue unabated. President Uhuru Kenyatta’s promise to bring corrupt individuals—including the “big fish”—to book has yet to result in convictions or to gain the trust of a cynical citizenry for whom corruption has become a way of life, thanks to the myriad bribes demanded every time they want a government service. With rising Chinese debt and now the coronavirus pandemic, Kenya’s economic future looks even bleaker.
But no matter what the crisis, the Kenya Police is the one institution that consistently fails to live up to its promise and motto (Utumishi kwa Wote – Service to All), as was demonstrated on 27th March when a nationwide indefinite curfew was imposed from 7 p.m. to 5 a.m. in response to the global coronavirus pandemic. Images of Kenyans being badly beaten and humiliated by police officers minutes after 7 p.m. began surfacing on social media. “The curfew has worsened the security in the country. The police are part of the insecurity. Chaos ahead”, posted a Kenyan on Twitter.
As with all types of police brutality in the country, the victims were mostly the poor. Informal settlements in Nairobi and other cities bore the brunt of police brutality during the curfew. (The clueless officers who beat up people with batons seemed completely unaware that they were putting their own lives at risk by violating the “social distancing” directive.)
“The curfew has worsened the security in the country. The police are part of the insecurity. Chaos ahead”
The level of the violence against civilians has once again underscored how poorly trained Kenya’s police “service” is and why it is the most dreaded institution in the country. While in other countries people run to the police for help, in Kenya, at least since the Daniel arap Moi “police state” days, most Kenyans, upon seeing a police officer, run the other way to avoid having to pay a bribe or being arrested on flimsy grounds. Stories of police officers actually assisting people in times of distress or during a crisis are few and far between. We hear of police reforms and “people-friendly” police uniforms, but we have yet to see their results. Police recruitment exercises are so riddled with corruption and rigging, it is not surprising that those who end up as police officers hardly qualify for the job.
Over the years, Kenyans have also become accustomed to riot police turning cities, and in particular low-income neighbourhoods, into battle zones. Officers who kill using live bullets are hardly ever prosecuted. Kenya is notorious for extrajudicial killings (mostly of young men in informal settlements) by the police, a fact that has also been highlighted by international human rights organisations. The Independent Police Oversight Authority—a body created by Kenya’s new constitution to keep police excesses in check—appears to be impotent in the face of all these human rights violations, partly because it has no authority to prosecute.
Police stations in Kenya are known for bribe-taking, and there have been reports of victims of crime being jailed instead of their statements being taken. As always, the poor, those without legal representation and the most vulnerable, such as street children and women vegetable hawkers, end up in police cells.
Meanwhile, the response of the police to the public outcry against the brutality inflicted on Kenyans during the curfew has been contemptuous and insensitive. The police spokesperson and other government officials have essentially blamed Kenyans for bringing the violence upon themselves by disobeying the curfew. Charles Owino, the police spokesperson, derided a news anchor for daring to ask him what instructions the police had been given to enforce the curfew, even suggesting that Kenyans are like “children” who need to be “disciplined”—an attitude reminiscent of the British colonial administration.
The worst part is that the people who were attacked by the police were not deliberately defying the curfew; many were just caught up in the transport chaos and delays precipitated by the curfew and “social distancing” directives. Some using the Likoni ferry in Mombasa found themselves in an unusual situation where the ferries (which have proved to be a dangerous mode of transport in Kenya due to their age and state of dilapidation—another consequence of corruption) had been overwhelmed. A man using the ferry who was badly beaten by the police died from the injuries inflicted on him.
It again feels as if the country is in the midst of a civil war. In 2007-08, as the country was hurtling towards what appeared like a civil war, the police unleashed violence on innocent civilians simply because they could. Traumatised Kenyans who hoped that the presence of police officers and other security agents would protect them from the post-election violence that had engulfed many parts of the country were in for a shock: the police turned against them, shooting innocent people whose only fault was that they happened to be in the “wrong” neighbourhood. Who can forget the image of the young man who was shot and killed in January 2008 by anti-riot police in Kisumu? Or those of people in Kibera and Mathare being shot at and teargassed for no reason other than that they were protesting?
The Waki Commission and human rights reports found that a large number of the casualties during that period were the result of police or security officers’ bullets. When the nation is in a crisis, the police turns against civilians. During the last election, civilians, including children, were shot at randomly. One baby lost her life.
The reality on the ground
The government’s response to the coronavirus pandemic has so far been swift. The health ministry has kept citizens informed of the spread of the virus in the country and the steps taken to quarantine people arriving from abroad, though I am not sure about the value of a night-time curfew if people can mingle during the day. The closure of bars and restaurants, in my view, was sufficient to impose a curfew on those who are likely to spend their evenings outside the home socialising.
President Kenyatta also announced a raft of tax breaks for the poorest percentile, and reduced VAT on items. These are praiseworthy efforts, but like India, which imposed a nationwide lockdown, and has seen the mass exodus of informal workers from cities such as Mumbai and New Delhi (some of whom were sprayed with bleach by the authorities when they returned to their villages), the government has failed to factor in the reality of the majority of citizens’ lives. What does a tax exemption mean to a hawker or a construction worker whose earnings have dwindled to next to nothing as a result of the curfew and social distancing directive? What does working from home look like to someone whose house is a cramped shack in a slum? How does someone who does not own a fridge stock up for a week or more? What do the majority of people in the informal sector do to earn a living when their work is dependent on people not social distancing? How will small businesses where each customer counts survive?
This is not to say that Kenya is exceptional and should not learn from other countries facing the same crisis. The United States and Italy were slow to respond to the pandemic, and as a result, are likely to see many casualties that could have been avoided. (In the interest of humanity, President Donald Trump should lift sanctions against Iran, which is facing a growing coronavirus crisis.) But any directive to handle the crisis must be made bearing in mind the reality on the ground. It would be a shame if more people in Kenya died, not because of the virus, but because they starved to death or because of a preventable illness. Already in India analysts are predicting that malnutrition and starvation levels are set to rise in the country, where more than 80 per cent of the workforce is informal. We must also not forget that there are other diseases in Africa that are likely to kill more people than COVID-19. About 400,000 people in Africa die from malaria each year.
There are things the government can do to take into account the reality of Kenyans’ lives. For instance, instead of relying on an unreliable, corrupt and brutal police service, citizens should be encouraged to monitor their own communities and neighbourhoods. Kenyans willingly abided by the social distancing directive, so it is likely they will voluntarily obey a curfew. If the police is called in to enforce the curfew, it should be instructed not to use violence; those disobeying the instruction should be disciplined.
Secondly, if containment is a strategy to stop the spread of the virus, then people could easily be tested in situ. Mass testing has proved to be extremely effective in countries such as South Korea and Germany. Mobile clinics could go around cities and villages providing this service. Those found with the virus could be quarantined, while those free of it could be allowed to continue with their daily lives—but within certain limits.
Instead of relying on an unreliable, corrupt and brutal police service, citizens should be encouraged to monitor their own communities and neighbourhoods
The United Nations and other international organisations are already mobilising funds for poor countries to help them deal with the crisis. Could these funds be used for mass testing in countries like Kenya? (On the other hand, in times of disaster UN and other donor funds have been known to be diverted to non-target groups, so this is something we should bear in mind. It would be a shame if funds sent to Kenya end up in the wrong hands, as they did when some funds meant for HIV/AIDS patients ended up being stolen by the funds’ managers.)
There is no doubt that the crisis we are now facing is unprecedented. But it would be a double tragedy if the pandemic were to end up killing not just those who have the virus, but also those who cannot afford to eat because they have no source of income. President Kenyatta has said that he has set aside a kitty for poor and vulnerable groups. The question that is on everyone’s mind is: How can we trust a government that has been notorious for stealing from the mouths of babes to implement any kind of cash transfer programme when those in charge might be tempted to steal some or all of it? And how will these vulnerable people be identified given that the country, including government departments, has virtually come to a halt?
At a time like this we should not be questioning our government, or the police. But because we live in Kenya, these questions appear normal in these abnormal times. Will Kenya rise to the occasion and finally fix all that is broken, starting with the police? Will the coronavirus pandemic offer us an opportunity to save us from ourselves?
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SAPs – Season Two: Why Kenyans Fear Another IMF Loan
The Jubilee government would have us believe that the country is economically healthy but the reality is that the IMF has come in precisely because Kenya is in a financial crisis.
Never did I imagine that opposing an International Monetary Fund (IMF) loan to Kenya would be viewed by the Kenyan authorities as a criminal act. But that is exactly what transpired last week when activist Mutemi Kiama was arrested and charged with “abuse of digital gadgets”, “hurting the presidency”, “creating public disorder” and other vaguely-worded offences. Mutemi’s arrest was prompted by his Twitter post of an image of President Uhuru Kenyatta with the following caption: “This is to notify the world . . . that the person whose photograph and names appear above is not authorised to act or transact on behalf of the citizens of the Republic of Kenya and that the nation and future generations shall not be held liable for any penalties of bad loans negotiated and/or borrowed by him.” He was released on a cash bail of KSh.500,000 with an order prohibiting him from using his social media accounts or speaking about COVID-19-related loans.
Mutemi is one among more than 200,000 Kenyans who have signed a petition to the IMF to halt a KSh257 billion (US$2.3 billion) loan to Kenya, which was ostensibly obtained to cushion the country against the negative economic impact of COVID-19. Kenya is not the only country whose citizens have opposed an IMF loan. Protests against IMF loans have been taking place in many countries, including Argentina, where people took to the streets in 2018 when the country took a US$50 billion loan from the IMF. In 2016, Eqyptian authorities were forced to lower fuel prices following demonstrations against an IMF-backed decision to eliminate fuel subsidies. Similar protests have also taken place in Jordan, Lebanon and Ecuador in recent years.
Why would a country’s citizens be against a loan given by an international financial institution such as the IMF? Well, for those Kenyans who survived (or barely survived) the IMF-World Bank Structural Adjustment Programmes (SAPs) of the 1980s and 90s, the answer is obvious. SAPs came with stringent conditions attached, which led to many layoffs in the civil service and removal of subsidies for essential services, such as health and education, which led to increasing levels of hardship and precarity, especially among middle- and low-income groups. African countries undergoing SAPs experienced what is often referred to as “a lost development decade” as belt-tightening measures stalled development programmes and stunted economic opportunities.
In addition, borrowing African countries lost their independence in matters related to economic policy. Since lenders, such as the World Bank and the IMF, decide national economic policy – for instance, by determining things like budget management, exchange rates and public sector involvement in the economy – they became the de facto policy and decision-making authorities in the countries that took their loans. This is why, in much of the 1980s and 1990s, the arrival of a World Bank or IMF delegation to Nairobi often got Kenyans very worried.
In those days (in the aftermath of a hike in oil prices in 1979 that saw most African countries experience a rise in import bills and a decline in export earnings), leaders of these international financial institutions were feared as much as the authoritarian Kenyan president, Daniel arap Moi, because with the stroke of a pen they could devalue the Kenyan currency overnight and get large chunks of the civil service fired. As Kenyan economist David Ndii pointed out recently at a press conference organised by the Linda Katiba campaign, when the IMF comes knocking, it essentially means the country is “under receivership”. It can no longer claim to determine its own economic policies. Countries essentially lose their sovereignty, a fact that seems to have eluded the technocrats who rushed to get this particular loan.
When he took office in 2002, President Mwai Kibaki kept the World Bank and the IMF at arm’s length, preferring to take no-strings-attached infrastructure loans from China. Kibaki’s “Look East” economic policy alarmed the Bretton Woods institutions and Western donors who had until then had a huge say in the country’s development trajectory, but it instilled a sense of pride and autonomy in Kenyans, which sadly, has been eroded by Uhuru and his inept cronies who have gone on loan fishing expeditions, including massive Eurobonds worth Sh692 billion (nearly $7 billion), which means that every Kenyan today has a debt of Sh137,000, more than three times what it was eight years ago when the Jubilee government came to power. By the end of last year, Kenya’s debt stood at nearly 70 per cent of GDP, up from 50 per cent at the end of 2015. This high level of debt can prove deadly for a country like Kenya that borrows in foreign currencies.
When the IMF comes knocking, it essentially means the country is “under receivership”.
The Jubilee government would have us believe that the fact that the IMF agreed to this loan is a sign that the country is economically healthy, but as Ndii noted, quite often the opposite is true: the IMF comes in precisely because a country is in a financial crisis. In Kenya’s case, this crisis has been precipitated by reckless borrowing by the Jubilee administration that has seen Kenya’s debt rise from KSh630 billion (about $6 billion at today’s exchange rate) when Kibaki took office in 2002, to a staggering KSh7.2 trillion (about US$70 billion) today, with not much to show for it, except a standard gauge railway (SGR) funded by Chinese loans that appears unable to pay for itself. As an article in a local daily pointed out, this is enough money to build 17 SGRs from Mombasa to Nairobi or 154 superhighways like the one from Nairobi to Thika. The tragedy is that many of these loans are unaccounted for; in fact, many Kenyans believe they are taken to line individual pockets. Uhuru Kenyatta has himself admitted that Kenya loses KSh2 billion a day to corruption in government. Some of these lost billions could actually be loans.
IMF loans with stringent conditions attached have often been presented as being the solution to a country’s economic woes – a belt-tightening measure that will instil fiscal discipline in a country’s economy by increasing revenue and decreasing expenditure. However, the real purpose of these loans, some argue, is to bring about major and fundamental policy changes at the national level – changes that reflect the neoliberal ethos of our time, complete with privatisation, free markets and deregulation.
The first ominous sign that the Kenyan government was about to embark on a perilous economic path was when the head of the IMF, Christine Lagarde, made an official visit to Kenya shortly after President Uhuru was elected in 2013. At that time, I remember tweeting that this was not a good omen; it indicated that the IMF was preparing to bring Kenya back into the IMF fold.
Naomi Klein’s book, The Shock Doctrine, shows how what she calls “disaster capitalism” has allowed the IMF, in particular, to administer “shock therapy” on nations reeling from natural or man-made disasters or high levels of external debt. This has led to unnecessary privatisation of state assets, government deregulation, massive layoffs of civil servants and reduction or elimination of subsidies, all of which can and do lead to increasing poverty and inequality. Klein is particularly critical of what is known as the Chicago School of Economics that she claims justifies greed, corruption, theft of public resources and personal enrichment as long as they advance the cause of free markets and neoliberalism. She shows how in nearly every country where the IMF “medicine” has been administered, inequality levels have escalated and poverty has become systemic.
Sometimes the IMF will create a pseudo-crisis in a country to force it to obtain an IMF bailout loan. Or, through carefully manipulated data, it will make the country look economically healthy so that it feels secure about applying for more loans. When that country can’t pay back the loans, which often happens, the IMF inflicts even more austerity measures (also known as “conditionalities”) on it, which lead to even more poverty and inequality.
IMF and World Bank loans for infrastructure projects also benefit Western corporations. Private companies hire experts to ensure that these companies secure government contracts for big infrastructure projects funded by these international financial institutions. Companies in rich countries like the United States often hire people who will do the bidding on their behalf. In his international “word-of-mouth bestseller”, Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, John Perkins explains how in the 1970s when he worked for an international consulting firm, he was told that his job was to “funnel money from the World Bank, the US Agency for International Development and other foreign aid organisations into the coffers of huge corporations and the pockets of a few wealthy families who control the planet’s resources”.
Sometimes the IMF will create a pseudo-crisis in a country to force it to obtain an IMF bailout loan.
The tools to carry out this goal, his employer admitted unashamedly, could include “fraudulent financial reports, rigged elections, payoffs, extortion, sex and murder”. Perkins showed how in the 1970s, he became instrumental in brokering deals with countries ranging from Panama to Saudi Arabia where he convinced leaders to accept projects that were detrimental to their own people but which enormously benefitted US corporate interests.
“In the end, those leaders become ensnared in a web of debt that ensures their loyalty. We can draw on them whenever we desire – to satisfy our political, economic or military needs. In turn, they bolster their political positions by bringing industrial parks, power plants, and airports to their people. The owners of US engineering/construction companies become fabulously wealthy,” a colleague told him when he asked why his job was so important.
Kenyans, who are already suffering financially due to the COVID-19 pandemic which saw nearly 2 million jobs in the formal sector disappear last year, will now be confronted with austerity measures at precisely the time when they need government subsidies and social safety nets. Season Two of SAPs is likely to make life for Kenyans even more miserable in the short and medium term.
We will have to wait and see whether overall dissatisfaction with the government will influence the outcome of the 2022 elections. However, whoever wins that election will still have to contend with rising debt and unsustainable repayments that have become President Uhuru Kenyatta’s most enduring legacy.
Haiti: The Struggle for Democracy, Justice, Reparations and the Black Soul
Only the Haitian people can decide their own future. The dictatorship imposed by former president Jovenel Moïse and its imperialist enablers need to go – and make space for a people’s transition government.
Haiti is once again going through a profound crisis. Central to this is the struggle against the dictatorship imposed by former president Jovenel Moïse. Since last year Mr. Moise, after decreeing the dismissal of Parliament, has been ruling through decrees, permanently violating Haiti’s constitution. He has refused to leave power after his mandate ended on February 7, 2021, claiming that it ends on February 7 of next year, without any legal basis.
This disregard of the constitution is taking place despite multiple statements by the country’s main judicial bodies, such as the CSPJ (Superior Council of Judicial Power) and the Association of Haitian Lawyers. Numerous religious groups and numerous institutions that are representative of society have also spoken. At this time, there is a strike by the judiciary, which leaves the country without any public body of political power.
At the same time, this institutional crisis is framed in the insecurity that affects practically all sectors of Haitian society. An insecurity expressed through savage repressions of popular mobilizations by the PNH (Haitian National Police), which at the service of the executive power. They have attacked journalists and committed various massacres in poor neighborhoods. Throughout the country, there have been assassinations and arbitrary arrests of opponents.
Most recently, a judge of the High Court was detained under the pretext of promoting an alleged plot against the security of the State and to assassinate the president leading to the illegal and arbitrary revocation of three judges of this Court. This last period has also seen the creation of hundreds of armed groups that spread terror over the entire country and that respond to power, transforming kidnapping into a fairly prosperous industry for these criminals.
The 13 years of military occupation by United Nations troops through MINUSTAH and the operations of prolongation of guardianship through MINUJUSTH and BINUH have aggravated the Haitian crisis. They supported retrograde and undemocratic sectors who, along with gangsters, committed serious crimes against the Haitian people and their fundamental rights.
For this, the people of Haiti deserve a process of justice and reparations. They have paid dearly for the intervention of MINUSTAH: 30 THOUSAND DEAD from cholera transmitted by the soldiers, thousands of women raped, who now raise orphaned children. Nothing has changed in 13 years, more social inequality, poverty, more difficulties for the people. The absence of democracy stays the same.
The poor’s living conditions have worsened dramatically as a result of more than 30 years of neoliberal policies imposed by the International Financial Institutions (IFIs), a severe exchange rate crisis, the freezing of the minimum wage, and inflation above 20% during the last three years.
It should be emphasized that, despite this dramatic situation, the Haitian people remain firm and are constantly mobilizing to prevent the consolidation of a dictatorship by demanding the immediate leave of office by former President Jovenel Moïse.
Taking into account the importance of this struggle and that this dictatorial regime still has the support of imperialist governments such as the United States of America, Canada, France, and international organizations such as the UN, the OAS, and the EU, the IPA calls its members to contribute their full and active solidarity to the struggle of the Haitian people, and to sign this Petition that demands the end of the dictatorship as well as respect for the sovereignty and self-determination of the Haitian people, the establishment of a transition government led by Haitians to launch a process of authentic national reconstruction.
In addition to expressing our solidarity with the Haitian people’s resistance, we call for our organisations to demonstrate in front of the embassies of the imperialist countries and before the United Nations. Only the Haitian people can decide their future. Down with Moise and yes to a people’s transition government, until a constituent is democratically elected.
Deconstructing the Whiteness of Christ
While many African Christians can only imagine a white Jesus, others have actively promoted a vision of a brown or black Jesus, both in art and in ideology.
When images of a white preacher and actor going around Kenya playing Jesus turned up on social media in July 2019, people were rightly stunned by the white supremacist undertone of the images. They suggested that Africans were prone to seeing Jesus as white, promoting the white saviour narrative in the process. While it is true that the idea of a white Jesus has been prevalent in African Christianity even without a white actor, and many African Christians and churches still entertain images of Jesus as white because of the missionary legacy, many others have actively promoted a vision of Jesus as brown or black both in art an in ideology.
Images of a brown or black Jesus is as old as Christianity in Africa, especially finding a prominent place in Ethiopian Orthodox Church, which has been in existence for over sixteen hundred years. Eyob Derillo, a librarian at the British Library, recently brought up a steady diet of these images on Twitter. The image of Jesus as black has also been popularised through the artistic project known as Vie de Jesus Mafa (Life of Jesus Mafa) that was conducted in Cameroon.
The most radical expression of Jesus as a black person was however put forth by a young Kongolese woman called Kimpa Vita, who lived in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. Through the missionary work of the Portuguese, Kimpa Vita, who was a nganga or medicine woman, became a Christian. She taught that Jesus and his apostles were black and were in fact born in São Salvador, which was the capital of the Kongo at the time. Not only was Jesus transposed from Palestine to São Salvador, Jerusalem, which is a holy site for Christians, was also transposed to São Salvador, so that São Salvador became a holy site. Kimpa Vita was accused of preaching heresy by Portuguese missionaries and burnt at the stake in 1706.
It was not until the 20th century that another movement similar to Vita’s emerged in the Kongo. This younger movement was led by Simon Kimbangu, a preacher who went about healing and raising the dead, portraying himself as an emissary of Jesus. His followers sometimes see him as the Holy Spirit who was to come after Jesus, as prophesied in John 14:16. Just as Kimpa Vita saw São Salvador as the new Jerusalem, Kimbangu’s village of Nkamba became, and still is known as, the new Jerusalem. His followers still flock there for pilgrimage. Kimbangu was accused of threatening Belgian colonial rule and thrown in jail, where he died. Some have complained that Kimbangu seems to have eclipsed Jesus in the imagination of his followers for he is said to have been resurrected from the dead, like Jesus.
Kimbangu’s status among his followers is however similar to that of some of the leaders of what has been described as African Independent Churches or African Initiated Churches (AICs). These churches include the Zionist churches of Southern Africa, among which is the amaNazaretha of Isaiah Shembe. Shembe’s followers see him as a divine figure, similar to Jesus, and rather than going to Jerusalem for pilgrimage, his followers go to the holy city of Ekuphakameni in South Africa. The Cameroonian theologian, Fabien Eboussi Boulaga, in his Christianity Without Fetish, see leaders like Kimbangu and Shembe as doing for their people in our own time what Jesus did for his people in their own time—providing means of healing and deliverance in contexts of grinding oppression. Thus, rather than replacing Jesus, as they are often accused of doing, they are making Jesus relevant to their people. For many Christians in Africa, therefore, Jesus is already brown or black. Other Christians still need to catch up with this development if we are to avoid painful spectacles like the one that took place Kenya.
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