We are mere pawns in this game

Three weeks ago, I was one among 14-plus million Kenyans who voted for my representatives in the country’s political leadership. In fact, I was among the minority in the county and since I had not been shy about revealing my preferences, I had been endlessly taunted by my neighbours, relatives and acquaintances. I took the ribbing well, mainly because those things don’t excite me too much, but when the whole election razzmatazz ended up in the Supreme Court, a few of those chaps, infuriated by the turn of events, started taking me on as though I was responsible for denying them the presidency. It wasn’t funny.

This presidency thing, I asked one of my more voluble interlocutors, what is in it for you?

Since he had no sensible answer, he launched into a scathing tirade on how outgoing President Uhuru Kenyatta had let the Gema nation down, taken development to Nyanza and was now intent on foisting on them a man they had rejected in the past, and so on and so forth. I looked at the chap sadly as he spouted the familiar propagandistic drivel that had long been rampant in central Kenya, and wished him luck at the apex court. Whoever wins, I told him, I will be a loyal subject to him.

Endless turmoil

Kenyans, it appears, enjoy nothing more than endless turmoil during which they can hate on one another publicly and with complete impunity. That way, they can temporarily escape the drudgery of their own existence by blaming others for their woes and instead live vicariously through the successes of their political leaders. How else can one explain why, after every five years, too many seem to believe the world will come to an end if their preferred candidate is not elected president, governor or MP?

There must be some deep psychological explanation for this cyclical mass hysteria. Politics has become one of the ways in which Kenyans project their anger and frustration at the unfairness of daily existence. Since they cannot explain to themselves why they are unable to feed their families adequately, why their children are always out of school for lack of fees, or even why they live in slums when others live in opulence, they take it out on their neighbours, other communities and the rest of the world, but never on themselves for choosing the wrong leaders.

All of this comes out immediately after elections when they either dance themselves lame in celebration if their man, woman or political party wins, or seethe in deep frustration if things do not go the way they wished. How come Kenyans have become like the dog that chases a car at full speed and when it catches up, has no clue what to do with it?

Hapless onlookers

Now we are back to snapping at each other because one politician believes his victory was stolen by the other. Why is it that we don’t realise we are all hapless onlookers in the great affairs of the nation and keep quiet? Now we are back to keeping our eyes glued on the TV and our ears on the radio, as though our lives depend on the petition verdict to be delivered by seven judges.

And we are back to insulting one another in social media where anonymity lends great courage to craven cyber-warriors who would otherwise be cowering in their dens – people who have no idea why they are fighting one another. This, of course, is not to downplay the role that social media play on our lives. For their entertainment value alone, Twitter and Facebook platforms have no equal. They are also responsible for informing– and disinforming – Kenyans in equal measure, and for this reason alone, they have proved to be very useful propaganda tools.

As a nation, we really must seek ways to reduce the tensions that have always defined our politics every election year. We were told the 2010 Constitution had all the answers. That turned out to be a fib. We were told the Building Bridges Initiative would solve the winner-take-all conundrum responsible for the cut-throat competition; it aborted on a constitutional technicality. Now we are right back where we started. When shall we ever learn that only a very tiny minority of privileged individuals have any stake in this game of politics?

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On Wednesday, I was taken aback to see a headline in the sports section of this newspaper saying one of my favourite African presidents, Liberia’s George Weah, had come to the end of the road. At first I thought he had been toppled only to discover that the US government had merely accused him of ignoring corruption allegations against three of his top aides. The reason I like Mr Weah is that he happens to be, not just your ordinary African leader who routinely do such things, but a hip hop artiste of note –he raps when things go bad in his country. But now it emerges he has changed tune and taken to belting out hot reggae numbers with consummate ease. Quite a versatile chap, this King George.

Mr Ngwiri is a consultant editor. [email protected]