Statue of Jomo Kenyatta outside the Kenyatta International Conference
Centre, Nairobi. Being a fast learner, he would immediately dial retired
president Daniel Arap Moi’s number, hoping that the man to whom he
entrusted Kenya’s leadership would fill him in on the political
goings-on in the country. PHOTO | FILE
My
idle mind is at it again. You must by now know that when idle, my mind
has a habit of defying conventional wisdom and rather than become a
devil’s workshop, it chooses to delve into the realm of surreal
imagination.
As
Kenya marks 36 years since the founding father of the nation passed on,
I have found myself wondering how Mzee Jomo Kenyatta would react were
he to visit the country today.
Assuming
that he would appear during the day, I imagine him catching many
visitors hanging out at Parliament Gardens by surprise. He would marvel
at the myriad things which have changed since the last time he was here.
Immediately after leading the crowd in shouting three hearty Harambees, the old man’s attention would be caught by a young man who would be nonchalantly chatting with his friend on Whatsapp.
A curious Mzee would approach him and enquire; “Na wewe kijana ni nini hiyo unabeba
(what are you holding, young man)”? The lad would explain to him that
the fancy equipment on his hand is one of the many miracles that have
happened since he has been away.
He
would explain that it’s called a cell phone and can be used to, among
other things, chat on social networks. “Would you like to be my friend
on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Whatsapp or Google hangouts?” the boy
would ask.
“You
completely lost me there. In my day, there only used to be a few land
lines regulated by the East African Posts and Telecommunications
Corporation,” Mzee tell the young man after which he would seek to know
how the phone works when not being used to chat.
Being
a fast learner, he would immediately dial retired president Daniel Arap
Moi’s number, hoping that the man to whom he entrusted Kenya’s
leadership would fill him in on the political goings-on in the country.
Mr
Moi would be surprised to hear the booming voice of the man he had come
to revere in the 60s and 70s. But he would recover from the shock just
in good time to update his former boss on the key happenings while he
was away, including the fact that State house has had three occupants
since he left.
“Lakini Mzee najua utashangaa nikikwambia ni kijana gani inashikilia hiyo kiti kwa sasa (but I know you’ll be surprised to know who is the current occupant),” Moi would say.
HUNDREDS OF JOURNALISTS
Keen
to pay undivided attention to what his former deputy is about to tell
him, Mzee would shake off the youngsters pestering him for a ‘selfie’
and walk across Parliament Road to a nearby building. He would notice
that most buildings are tall and different. It would also take him a
while to cross the busy road and would notice that the modern cars look
“funny.”
Finally,
he would walk into one of the a skyscrapers that he would easily
recognize since it was still the same when he was president – KICC.
While there, he would find a café and ask for a cup of tea.
“Ati ni nani yuko ikulu sasa(Who is at State House now)?” he would resume his phone conversation with former president Moi. Ni ile kijana yako inaitwa Uhuru Muigai (it is your son Uhuru Muigai), Moi would say. The two would talk at length.
The
more they would carry on with the conversation, the more Mzee would
seem bewildered. He would look particularly disturbed when told that
there is a guy going around town calling himself ‘Baba’ in spite of the
fact that he does not hold any elective office.
By
this time, news of the Senior Kenyatta’s visit would have reached the
newsrooms of various media houses. Hundreds of journalists accompanied
by their cameramen would be swarming the place. So would politicians
from both sides of the political divide.
WHAT REFERENDUM?
A
BBC reporter, eager to be the first ‘international’ journalist to break
the juicy news of Kenyatta’s visit, would ask him what he thinks of
Kenya today.
After
taking a long sip from his teacup, Mzee would look at the journalist in
the eye and tell him; “Young man, I hear Her Majesty’s government has
been giving my son sleepless nights. I am it said that it can only have
essential contact with him. I hear the British have even boycotted our
Miraa, something that would stir the soul my good friend Jackson
Harvester Angaine. My honest answer to your question is that I’m happy
with the way my son is running the country. I would advise him to also
maintain only essential contact with the Britons.”
And as if forgetting that he was answering the reporter’s question, Mzee would go into a rant: “Nilifikiri kwamba tulijiondoa kwenye minyororo ya wabeberu (I thought we released ourselves from the yoke of colonial masters)!
An
NTV journalist would seek to know what the old man thinks of the call
for national referendum. “First of all, the word referendum is alien to
me as it did not exist in my days. Therefore, I have to do a little
research before I get back to you on that.”
A
journalist named Muriithi from one of the NMG flagship stations would
seek to know what Mzee thinks of the public perception that his son only
talks tough but doesn’t follow that with commensurate action.
THREE POWERFUL 'HARAMBEES'
“Maybe
he is reading from the same script as his father. “I let my government
officials do their work without undue interference. But I do agree that a
lot has changed since. I would advise him to listen to those who say he
is not sincere when, instead of sacking and prosecuting those involved
in malfeasance, he just transfers them to other government departments.
In my day, that was a No! No!”
And
as if trying to make up for the time lost when one Stephen Kalonzo
Musyoka refused to answer his question, the same Muriithi would ask Mzee
whether he thinks his son respected the gender balance and equality in
the appointments he made recently.
The
old man would scratch his gray head and say; At least he is doing
better than me. My cabinet, for instance, did not have a single woman
and everyone was happy, at least that is what Mbiyu Koinange and I
thought.
He
would then excuse himself saying he has to see his family before
heading back to where he had come from. He would come down the steps of
KICC to find a crowd so huge that it would make a certain politician’s
recent homecoming from the US look like child play. Mzee would wave his
trademark fly whisk and do three “powerful” Harambees before heading for the house on the hill.
At
State House, Nairobi, the son would be very happy to see his dad. It
would be a major reunion as his large family joins him for early dinner.
They would talk about many things, including politics.
CART BEFORE THE HORSE
“But
Dad,” Uhuru would say after clearing his throat. “I have to admit that
being president is more challenging than I ever imagined. Many a times I
put on a face in public, but deep inside, I honestly wonder what I got
myself into. There is so much noise coming from right, left and…” But
Mzee would quickly interject;
“But
I see you are doing just fine. I like the idea of the Standard Gauge
Railway and the Free Maternity Care for mothers and babies. But I have a
problem with the thought of 4-year-olds becoming more computer savvy
than their own teachers. That’s sounds like putting the cart before the
horse. Secondly, If I were you, I would not hire a self-proclaimed
mortician as my chief legal advisor.
“Son”,
Mzee would say as he pulls Uhuru aside for a tete-a-tete after saying
Kwaheri to the rest of the family. “I really must go back but before I
do, let me give you my parting shot; If you want to succeed in this
presidency, you must seek God’s guidance.
Ask
him to give you a spirit of discernment to know who among your
officials in government really means well for the country. Most of the
people you see around you are driven by self-interest.
“As
your dad, I knew you as a good natured boy, but don’t let your
amiability ruin the country. If and when necessary, relieve the
officials of their duties and even have those who embezzle public funds
prosecuted. You must not only fight corruption but must also be seen to
be doing the same, even when those involved are your buddies or campaign
funders.
MORE CHEERFUL THAN USUAL
“Always
ask yourself: Of what good is it to gain and cushion a few friends and
lose a whole nation. No one, not even yourself, is more important than
the nation.
And it is
okay to swallow your pride. If, for example, you appoint someone who
cannot tell the difference between mattress fire and explosions, it does
not mean you are weak if you replace him with a more competent person.
I want you to succeed, and I will be cheering you on from wherever I will be. Don’t let me down son”.
“And
one last thing, deal with the ICC issue like a man. Seek justice not
only for yourself and your deputy but for all Kenyans, including the
victims.
The
journey back to Parliament Gardens would be a pleasant one for father
and son. Mzee would be elated to see that indeed, even the vehicle in
which his son uses to see him off is a Toyota and not a Land Rover or
any other such make from United Kingdom.
He
would remember his earlier conversation with a BBC reporter and pat his
son on the shoulder saying, “You are already doing well son, you are
doing well.”
The
son, looking more cheerful than usual, would say as he bids his dad
farewell; “Thank you Papa. You have made my day. Sometimes, when faced
with difficult situations, like the insecurity issue, or when I mull
over what to do with a man who the whole country is now calling baba, I
have found myself wishing I could reach you on Twitter or Facebook
because I know you can never mislead me.”
Looking
sad that he has to let his dad go, the son would give him a firm
handshake and say; “Papa I promise I’ll be my own man and I will make
you proud. Go well.”
But that kind of a conversation can only happen in my very idle mind.
Email: bmjmuriithi@gmail.com Twitter: @bmjmureithi
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