Author: jamaapoa
•Friday, December 29, 2006
i am just about to change my calendars. i can't wait for 31st, to do it. it is a nostalgic moment, where a year goes and a new one comes. if only it were for real. but 2006 is too old, it can't go an extra month!

i am not used to consciously planning my life on years. however, for the last few years since leaving school i realized i needed a compass to mark my days. in school, time was so predictable and you could tell what would happen next. standard 3 to 4. 8 to form 1, form 4 to college or uni. you get to uni and its first year, second year and so on. you get to fifth year and your mind automatically reads 'job' as the next stage.

woe unto you! you step into the job market and you realise it is not automatic! you tarmac and pothole the city, its suburbs and estates until you get a sabbatical back to shagz to reorganize your thoughts. upcountry, you become an exemplar to those who dropped out. why it was not worth the toil! you crack your feet, scale your hands and depress your mind till you decide to rural-urban migrate again and face life like a man and not like a student. you are humbled as you spend days at industrial area looking for any, i mean any, job opening.

with a new mindset, you work your way through the indian boss, fake titles and no pay and build a resume that an upcoming bank can have a second look at. you get there as a clerk or teller and start a new life of paycuts as you pay for your day's deficits. with time you get a life and become a professional job hunter and a career interviewee till you get something close to your dream job. all this time you lose track of time and years. school holidays don't matter anymore and april, august and december are just any other months. so are years, 2004 is the same as 2005, ditto 2006. no change. no more papers.

with such a background i decided to make years some form of radar to check my progress and plan my life. what do i want to achieve this year? what did i accomplish in that year? is there any progress in my life? what changes do i need to make to better my life? how was i responsive to those i care about in that year? what do i need to do for them in the next year?. and so on. mind you, no new year resolutions! that's captivity.

what is my report card for 2006 like? i had four goals i wanted to achieve in 2006.

one, do something about my income. it had to grow in one way or another. in mind i had three ways of accomplishing this. change jobs, start a business and save and invest more. i did change jobs twice. i did start two businesses, one is already on its feet, the other is still having teething problems. a third has been re-planned to 2007 (i banned the word procrastination from my dictionary). i am now keen on what a sacco is and the nairobi stock exchange has played my game. but i am not happy about the spiraling expenses despite good budgets. that needs to be checked in the coming year. all the same, its good progress on this goal.

second, was to become a pastor. no kidding. my second goal would help me achieve my first goal. churches are a money minting business in kenya. all i needed was to scout for open space or playground, get some iron sheets and a fancy name like epistlic miracles celebration centre. but first i had to work hard to resume going to church every sunday. i had a 52 day calendar for all the 52 sundays. i intended to have them all marked. going to church is a good thing, a good way to start the week. you shift all your burdens to an invisible divine who calms your soul and gives your mind peace. what else do you need to succeed in life? that proved to be a tall order. first, the kind of stuff that has been pumped into my head over the years was grossly inconsistent with the pulpit and some stains inside there are to coarse that no extra-terrestrial detergent or magical powerfoam can clean it. furthermore, rushing on a sunday morning to secure a pew is not an enjoyable marathon. thank heavens for 2007, i can resuscitate my goals.

the third goal was to marry. i needed to see some semblance of mine jumping around. marry marry marry has no blessings. some things in life are just too close yet too far. i should not have gloated over this matter in one of the posts. but there is still hope. a survey carried by the nation newspapers prior to christmas said that 63% of kenyan ladies would spend christmas lonely. the survey's main question was, what happened to all the marriageable men? a marriage counselor once quoted to us that the ratio of marriageable men to marriageable women is 30% to 70%. well, these are just statistics but it is unpleasant to learn that i am in the category of the 70% men who are made to look bad if the statistics are extrapolated. is there some ova-bank somewhere?

the fourth was to finish school. it is three years now since i started my two-year post graduate course. i intended to get done with the course in 2006 but wapi! my consolation has been that the window is nine years before disqualification and i am not even half-way. so there is hope. and who said mba's get the best deals?, my mind keep wrestling. all the same it has to be done, soonest.

lets get 2006 over and done with, 2007 could be better.

happy 2007, may it be prosperous and fruitful!
Author: jamaapoa
•Friday, December 29, 2006
part one
part two
...
until this time, all was quiet and calm except for the night cricket and the hum of the trees. the evening had a good aroma out of a tree that emits a delicious meal smell in the evening. seeing my antics, the small boys burst out laughing. my angel called out to me to remain calm so that i can resume my journey.

i carefully removed my shoes while lying on my stomach on the bridge while tightening my grip on the bridge even with my finger nails. i removed one shoe at a time and threw it across the bridge. i had to be careful lest i spin anticlockwise on the 'stick' bridge and make my experience worse. unfortunately, one of the shoes missed the riverbank and tumbled back into the water down the rapids giving a good example of what could happen if i lost my grip. i stuffed my socks into my packets. luckily for me, the saint guide had helped carry the package from my granny across.

i was getting numb and i had to get to the other side fast. i made an effort to re-balance myself on my two feet, but it proved to be a rope walking task and i gave up. i crawled my tense-self across the bridge to the much amusement of the kids and relief to my evening date. at least i made it across the river alive, otherwise i would not be blogging myself crazy.

reverends' daughters have good hearts and she made it easy for me all the way as i walked barefoot the rest of the journey home. reverends' daughters have dignity since that story never went past that evening. i never heard it doing rounds around the village and still got my moments of fame in the after-church parades. actually, i meant some reverends' daughters in the preceding statements. otherwise we believed the former in our growing up years. "jp, the reverend's daughter is looking for you" were statements that would make me spirit-filled back then.

after that, time went past as we went in different directions from the village in search of modernization and green pastures. distance drew a wedge to our bond and its been years since i heard from the reverend's daughter. last time i heard about her, she had flown to the u s of a. well, she could be reading this!
Author: jamaapoa
•Tuesday, December 19, 2006
i thought the perceived coffee boom will be reflected in the large scale coffee producers' annual reports. sasini tea and coffee company is one such company which released its annual report recently. sasini is currently trading at shs 160 with a 12 months high of shs 190 and a 12 month low of shs 24. despite turning a profit of 82m this year against a loss of 38m in 2005 - without considering the gains and losses arising from changes in fair value of biological assets - its coffee sector performed dismally.

an extract of sasini tea and coffee year end results for 2006 reads:

the results of the company for financial year ended 30 September 2006 show a profit after tax from operations of kshs 82 million. the company staged a recovery from the severe drought, which lasted from november 2006 to the end of february 2006, and had a serious impact on the results of the company for the six months ended 31 march 2006. turnover and profitability improved in the second half of the financial year with high production in the tea segment combined with buoyant prices at the tea auctions. the tea segment thus ended the year with a healthy profit.

the effect of the drought on the coffee segment was however severe, resulting in lower production. though price realisation was satisfactory, the coffee segment ended the year with losses. however, the coffee bushes are now carrying a heavy and healthy crop, which bodes well for the coming financial year.

the dairy and horticulture sectors remained profitable during the year and the revenue from forestry operations was also satisfactory.

the new initiatives taken by sasini are now coming to fruition. the constructing of the coffee mill is complete and will be operational in the new financial year 2006-07. the value addition initiative in the area of tea and coffee is proceeding satisfactorily and the whole range of branded sasini tea and coffee for the retail sector was launched early july 2006. the initial response from the market has been positive.

dividend for the entire year: kshs 1
bonus: 1 bonus share for every 5 held as at 14th Feb 2007
share split: ratio of 5 to 1 as at 14th feb 2007
Author: jamaapoa
•Tuesday, December 19, 2006
small scale coffee farmers in kenya are getting their backpack and pump sprayers ready to tend their arabica and robusta coffee bushes. the neglected leading kenyan cash crop export till the late eighties and early nighties has turned to be a gem! during that period, kenyan coffee prices took a nose-dive and the crop lost its lucrative payments.

a bulk of kenya coffee is the arabica type, a high quality used by roasters to blend other world coffee. unfortunately it has been controlled by a local cartel called kpcu and an alleged international cartel in germany. these two has ensured that farmers get a poor bargain for their sweat.

many farmers ended up uprooting the crop, burnt it for charcoal, cut it down for building rafts and trimmed it to give way for subsistence farming. yet there are those who struggled with the hard years, tendering their green oil, trusting and hoping there will be a time when their hard work would be fruitful.

along the way, there were hopes of better coffee when the kshs 500m export stabilisation (stabex) fund was invented and distributed. but the effects of this fund never got the coffee industry up its feet since it was diverted for other political urgencies. then came the tussle of tetu coffee marketing company which promised heaven to farmers who barely earned a kenya shilling from a kilogram of their berries.

tetu coffee plc promised 50 shillings per kilo of coffee berries with 50 per cent being paid upfront on delivery and the other half once the sale is done. this plan never got the coffee tree to bulge again under the weight of its fruit. it generated controversy and tetu coffee never saw the light of day. maybe afterwards through shady deals. the bone of contention was their demand for exclusive rights in marketing kenyan coffee and that they get to deal with the farmer directly not through kpcu or the coffee auction.

now, small scale coffee farmers are back to their farms and are tending their bushes religiously. this is as a result of the good prices their coffee is fetching in the market. they are being paid between 24 and 33 shillings for a kilo of coffee delivered; a great leap from the less than one shilling the product attracted over 10 years ago. what is precipitating this rise in coffee prices? that, i am yet to know.

some info on stabex fund

some info on tetu coffee plc

Author: jamaapoa
•Tuesday, December 19, 2006
... continued

what lay before us, was a thin eucalyptus tree laid out as the bridge to the other side of the river. it was thick enough to hold the weight of a man, but you could tell from the way it was swinging to the evening wind, it was no safe bet. it was a guarantee to dash your head on the rocks and be drowned away through the rapids in the dead of the night. no serious man or woman would do their jig on that trunk. i pointed out this to my angelic guide. up to this time, she had not realised the seriousness of my theory. it never occurred to her that one could not use the bridge. everyone else used it!

"you know, jp, i used this bridge in the morning and i use it whenever i use this route home" she assuringly told me.

"it appears too risky for me, i think we should go back" i insisted.

she retorted,"are you in your right mind, can you imagine the distance you have to cover home if we were to go back. if everyone else uses it, you can to!" she added.

to prove the point, she went across the bridge and back, tenderly balancing her slender fish-trimmed weight on the swaggering trunk. talk of body aerodynamics!

i soon realized fast that i had no options. one, going all the way was out of question. swimming across was scaring, the torrents, tension and inexperience in such a huge river was a quick recipe for disaster. it could not be compared to the friendly and tiny muddy streams we used to splash our afternoons off. cowardice is not a village man ally especially after creating a huge rapport with the princessly daughter. i could hardly wait for sunday to do the juakali parade to my club.

by the time, i was thin-like and tall, the kind that are thin and tall such that when they walk they appear like they would fall head first and they have to hasten their legs to avoid the face-dash fall. maybe that would help in making it across the bridge. a group of kids, who had come to untether their cows and goats as was the evening routine, had now gotten interested in the conversation about the bridge and were eagerly awaiting the grand march by the king.

one uninvited lad proved his machoism by criss-crossing the bridge severally to show how easy it was to do it. in the face of calamity, a man got to do, what a man got to do. i crossed the bridge!

no, i did not cross the bridge, i started crossing the bridge. as was the rule, in such circumstances, just don't look down. focus ahead and don't worry about the water or whether the feet will step on the trunk or on the air immediately above the water. somehow at the time the feet 'developed' some eyes to ensure you stepped right. we believed about the possibility of feet having eyes from some hunting experiences.

as boys, most sunday afternoons in the village, we would go fishing and swimming in our river or making and driving makeshift wooden vehicles down the hills or fruit gathering from those farms that had too ripe fruits whose owners didn't seem to have good use of them. other times we would have a hunting expedition in a forest that was two kilometres away. every boy with his dog and panga, we would hunt gazelles. they were rare and when you get one, it would most of the time outrun us and the dogs. we believed they were fast because its legs had a nose for easier breathing and eyes to see the way it would follow to escape our traps and obstacles. most of the time we would end up with wild rabbits or guinea fowls which we would roast and eat in the forest. we would later appear to our mothers with clean noses and give no hints of our wild encounters.

i was progressing on well across the thin bridge until i got to the centre of the bridge. a thought crossed my mind that i had my shoes on and that could make the rest of the trip across the bridge difficult. some thin sweat raced my feet and i felt slippery. i looked down and...disaster! all of a sudden i felt the bridge swagger wildly to the left, then right, then left and i saw myself gulping for breath down the rapids. that was not a gamble i was willing to take take and in a split second, i was clinching the bridge with my hands, feet , head and everything i got.

... to be continued
Author: jamaapoa
•Friday, December 15, 2006

usually, i have the luck of remembering what transpired in dreamland when i wake up. i find it intriguing that the mind can conjure up such extraordinary and weird experiences when not under conscious control. many a times i have toyed with the idea of having a cctv camera next to my bed. this would help me analyze the physiological reactions to my psychological night adventures.

so here i was, back in the village within the most serene and tranquil environment. clean air, tasteless water and quiet silence unlike the smoky, dense and dirty air that is at the capital. water has a funny taste -mombasa is worse- and the place is always breaking the decibel gauge in my eardrum. loads of noise pollution!

i relived a section of a day that happened over ten years ago, only that this time, in the dark of the night, it was twisted. i also had a second person in me who made me analyze the way i made decisions that day. it turned weird and i woke up in a sweaty mood.

in the course of the day i was flashing back on, i had been sent to deliver some message to the mum of a cousin of my dad. effectively, that’s my dad's aunt and traditionally, that's my granny. that is the best way to understand it without trying to split dnas. actually, the cousin is not a first cousin, but some form of cousin. the relations were explained to me but for my mind, it was too much to figure out the many levels of a cousin and how we came to share blood. we do use the cousin term generally and liberally anyway. it is common to pass of a suspicious relation in normal life as a cousin unlike previous generations where a true relation could be described without a sweat or 'cousinizing' him or her.

i had never been to that village before and i had to find my way from the scanty directions i was given. to get there, through the shortcut i was shown, i had to go up a hill, down the hill, cross a river and up another hill to the slopes of that hill where my granny lived. alternatively, i would have to use two matatus to get round to the village. it was an alternative but not an option, so i had to walk all the way, a journey that took close to two hours.

the drama part occurred when i was going back home. bearing in mind that i walked a lot in the morning and later got well fed at my host's place, i was tired, full, lazy and it was getting late. a son of my father's cousin -what do i call him, cousin?- offered to show me a route that would shorten my journey back by half. i obliged and we embarked on the journey home. just before he could show me the diversions to make, we met with our reverend's daughter who was walking home from a visit to my host's parish. she had attended some youth meeting and was headed back home. we weren't very close but we were a bit acquainted with each other.

in the village, there was something about a church minister's daughter, or a chief's daughter or a headmaster's daughter that would hold the breath of the village men. we thought in our nasty minds that it was beauty but in retrospect, i don’t think so. it was great pride to be associated with such a one. heaven on this occasion opened its doors to me, and i had a chance to cover good ground as we headed home.

her home was halfway through my journey. she happened to know the short-route home. i dismissed my cousin fast and started enjoying the much cherished company. after a few minutes of ice breaking, we were merrily chatting and laughing all the way home.

sincerely, we didn't laugh all the way home. the new route shortened the distance but like everything in life, there is no free lunch. as we went down the hill through the thick vegetation and tall indigenous trees, i was having a time of my life. soon we were at the foot of the hill and what lay in front shocked me. in front of us was the ferocious river i had crossed earlier in the day. it was wider now and seemed to have gained momentum, its rapids raging madly through the edgy rocks.

i had no problem crossing it in the morning since i had used a well constructed bridge. the reverend's daughter was unwary of what i now considered a huge predicament. i shook her back to reality. i did not have to. she was already in this world and was proceeding on to cross the bridge. she had used this route more than once, it was routine for her to cross the river.

"you call that a bridge?" i responded to her.

she had asked me why i looked startled and shaken. i pointed to the 'stick' she called a bridge. the bridge, that, in an instant spoilt my moonlight date. in my view, it was a stick and not a bridge. i had crossed rivers via log or tree trunk bridges but what was before us was none of the two. the tree trunks i had used before were huge and stable, several of them running in parallel to make a bridge. it was fun doing the balancing act on such trunks while carrying a load of grass or sack of maize or potatoes on your back. i was not phobic to water or to using such kind of bridges.

in fact i used to tease a primary school friend who would not use a bridge constructed using tree trunks. he would always fear falling and hitting a rock with his head despite the fact that we had rudimentary swimming lessons every sunday afternoon at the river. it would be so hard on him, such that we would always have to wait for him to go down or up the river looking for the nearest 'government' constructed bridge!

here i was, facing disaster in my eyes. the main issue at the moment was to be a man or not to be in village terms. if she went across, there was no way i could chicken out.

…to be continued...

Author: jamaapoa
•Tuesday, December 12, 2006

kaburi bila msalaba loosely translated ‘a grave without a cross’ gave me the first true feel of what went on during the struggle for kenya’s independence. before that, the civics lessons in lower primary school just gave me recitals of what went on during the struggle. the national anthem and national flag colors significance maybe set a foundation but it never made me understand what really went on. i would confidently answer during those exams that the red in the kenyan flag symbolized the blood that was shed in the struggle for independence, now i know much more than that.

kenya attained its independence on 12th december 1963 with jomo kenyatta as its first president. this was after a six month stint of having attained self internal rule on 1st june 1963 marked by appointment of kenyatta as the first kenyan prime minister. kenya later became a republic on 12th december 1964. today, kenya marks 43 years of independence.

kaburi bila msalaba, if my memory does not fail me was a story of how kenyan families suffered in the struggle for independence as many were detained, screened violently whether they belonged to the mau mau and separated form their beloved, many forever. a young bride was robbed off the joy of starting a family when her love went through the harsh hands of the british colonialists. she also had to go through the cruel process as she traced him and many other villagers suffered at the hands of the british, the maumau and their own sons nicknamed ‘kamatimu’ or homeguards for their loyalty to the british army. the story recounts the tribulations and agony of the lady as she tried to trace the grave of her man, a grave that had no mark and hence could not be traced.

reading this storybook at a young age and mostly in a tin-lamp lit kitchen besides a firewood fireplace, gave me the questioning mind that bothered my parents and grand parents. they had to explain to me what exactly happened during the state of emergeny. those stories created the fear and eeriness that they faced each evening either in detention at the concentration camp or at the villages they had been hounded into in order to curb their collaboration with the mau mau. every night they faced the reality that they might not see the sun rise again. my grandpa spent almost four years at the manyani detention camp where torture was the order of the day. my grandma would relive the sorrow of separation and mental agony of trying to balance double allegiance in order to live. loyalty to the british by day and duty to the maumau at night.

according to wangari maathai’s ‘unbowed one woman’s story’:

“new research indicates that in spite of the hysteria in the british press and the government, of the approximately four thousand people who died of mau mau activities, a total of thirty two were white settlers. in comparison, recent scholarship estimates that more than one hundred thousand africans, mostly kikuyus, may have died in concentration camps and emergency villages-on top of humiliation, loss of property, and trauma that families suffered. it is clear that terrorism was not confined to one side. interestingly, it is only very recently that the law in kenya has been changed so that mau maus are no longer described as ‘imaramuri’ (terrorists) but as freedom fighters”

in our young days we were told that the mau mau term is some form of a kikuyu anagram for ‘uma uma’ meaning ‘go go’ directed to the british settlers. the unbowed woman states thus: “in the early 1950s, frustrated by the slow pace of change, a guerilla war for independence was launched: the mau mau. while there are many theories about the origin of the term ‘mau mau’, the only one i find most interesting is this: in kikuyu, when beginning a list, you say, ‘maundu ni mau’-‘the main issues are…’-and then hold up three fingers to introduce them. for the mau mau, the three issues were land, freedom, and self-governance”

the sad bit of the jamhuri day story is that thousands of graves never got crosses, a sign of decent and honourable rights. the first government never compensated the freedom fighters adequately and most of the property was directed to the ‘homeguard’ oppressors. subsequent governments have failed to mark these graves effectively. not necessarily by erecting white crosses but living up to the ideals these noble men and women laboured for. neo-colonialism, corruption, greed and selfish leadership have failed to give millions of kenyans the full rights that these unsung heroes fought for. in retrospect, a lot has been achieved since the mau mau war. our foreparents fought their war, it is up to the current generation to fight the war that kenya faces. kenyans owe it to their forefathers and to history, to ensure that they no longer enslave themselves again economically, politically and socially.

for more about the untold struggle for independence grab caroline elkins “imperial reckoning: the untold story of britain's gulag in kenya

happy jamhuri day
Author: jamaapoa
•Monday, December 04, 2006

sometime in the last half of the 90’s a group of ‘moralists’ stole the national lime light for their passion of undressing what they considered incompletely dressed women. women would not be allowed to wear trousers, tight fitting clothes or mini-skirts in the streets of kenya, they argued. many were quick to dismiss them as a group of rowdy touts but as their actions escalated to major towns, there was cause for alarm.

elaborate expose’ of the group’s ritual and initiation ceremonies hit our screens and many thought it was the ‘thaai’ sect led by ngonya wa gakonya, now deceased, that many were familiar with. ‘thaai’ was a kikuyu religious sect that advocated a return to the worship of the kikuyu god, ‘mwene-nyaga’. mwene-nyaga (he who owns the ostriches) was worshipped under the mugumo (oak?) tree facing the snow-capped mount kirinyaga (has ostriches), now known as mount kenya, the tallest mountain in kenya. you would recognize the ‘thaai’ group by the way they rebelled against modernism by clothing in hide-made clothes and sandals. they had long dreadlocks akin to the maumau liberation fighters and were committed to sniffing the traditional tobacco ‘snuff’.

kenyans were wrong, the new grouping on their screens was no harmless worshippers. they were zealous in their anarchy business and had taken over the matatu sector for a while by the time they became public. you had to pay up to 60,000 kenya shillings or more as entry fee to operate your matatu in the routes they controlled. in addition you had to pay a daily protection fee. they were available for hire to cause terror and scare during political campaigns. they were no longer jeshi la mzee or jeshi la embakasi. they were mungiki and they had their nairobi base at the heart of eastlands, mainly dandora.

mungiki according to michuki, the internal security minister is a kikuyu word pronounced ‘muingi ki’ meaning ‘all people without exception’. their initiation rites include taking ‘muma’ or ‘oath’which binds the recruits to the ideals of this terror group and includes high penalties for defaulters: their clean shaven head! mungiki is also notorious for advocating forced female circumcision, otherwise regularized as female genital mutilation. their insatiable thirst for blood ensures that once a mungiki follower draws out a sword in an attack, it cannot go back to its sheath without being soaked in blood.

a story is told of how they terrorized an upcountry town after one of their own was set on fire by the public. one mungiki follower met an old man who was fleeing, drew out a sword ready to go for the old man’s neck as trained but sympathized with the grandpa. however he could not take back his sword without blood, so he asked the old man which part of his body needed trimming. the man chose the hand and the sword executed the ruling. any village that has been visited by the followers remains traumatized for long, daily reminded of the havoc the sect lives behind in form of deaths and maiming.

the grapevine has it that the sect was formed during the mid eighties after the 1982 coup and got entrenched when the government of the time cracked its whip on mwakenya ‘dissidents’. a few years ago, i once sat and listened as a mungiki follower who was then a university student detailed how the sect operates and came into being. that was before the 2002 elections.

when in the early 90’s some parts of the rift valley were engulfed in tribal clashes which mainly affected the kikuyu community, the 80’s group was revived by young kikuyu men of the area in an attempt to forge a resistance to the blood shed that was being directed at the community.

they went into the forest where oath was administered by old men who participated in previous oaths. the mandate was to protect the community from further deaths. however, before the group had time to fully stamp their authority in the region, the clashes ended. unfortunately, many youths were still jobless as kenya faced an economic depression then. having no sources of income and with the rural urban migration turning a disappointment, the group turned to uncivil means of generating income. to survive, the group redefined its mission and coalesced around traditional religious teachings. it was to later redesign its mission to that of thuggery and extortionist, the matatu industry being a prime target for its lawlessness and loads of cash.

mungiki sect was able to attract the high and the mighty in the land with its following, penetrating the rank and file of key security sectors in kenya. politicians would hire them to cause fright and flight of their rivals. the police would not deter them as the group was worth tens of millions a day which was enough to keep the police on their side. it was no wonder to find that the 2003 government tried in vain to recover ex-army and ex-police land rovers which had being sold to the group prior to the 2002 elections.

ndura waruinge, became identified as the national chairman of the group and steered the group to more dreadful missions. oath taking became a serious affair and deserters were beheaded. ndura has since “seen the light” and is now a pastor of a church in nairobi. no doubt jesus saves lives. however, the question in the minds of many is how come he has escaped the wrath of his former servants, when they continue to behead other deserters? this will be his great undoing as he eyes and goes for the langata seat, currently being held by raila odinga. what a tall order?

maina njenga took up the mantle of revulsion from waruinge and is currently being charged in the courts while being held at the kamiti maximum prison. he and 30 others were caught last year in a kitengela ‘palace’ with illicit brew, oath taking paraphernalia and a flag belonging to the kenya national youth alliance (kenya) political party. the house has been under guard since then. ‘kenya’ party demonstrated last month for the release of what they termed as the only political prisoner in kenya today, maina njenga! how times change! maina njenga also ‘saw the light’ last week and is bent on following the footsteps of ndura waruinge. or is it meant to hoodwink the authorities? he truly came to save the lost and set the captives free.

what is the government doing to curb this group from unleashing more terror to hapless kenyans? 2007 is an election year when chaos and anarchy tend to thrive. this group needs to be stopped in its tracks. this year, it has been linked to the deathly confrontation of the police and the hawkers. the hawkers pay protection fee to this group and ‘licenses’ to operate in nairobi streets. the recent skirmishes in various nairobi slums have been linked to a clash of mungiki and other emergent gangs fighting over their turfs. slum dwellers have to pay this group to access basic facilities.

today, you cannot drive into dandora and some parts of kariobangi in eastlands without paying some fee. and you have to be out before dusk lest you encounter their wrath. some parts of central kenya are aware of the terror that the gang leaves in its wake whenever they go to bury one of their own. worse still the mungiki death signature of disembering various parts of their victim and leaving them in symmetric distance or a clean shaven head of a be-headed renegade is traumatic to all.

in 2003 when faced with the gigantic rise and rise of the mungiki, the then internal security minister, chris murungaru is rumoured to have authorized the “smoking off” of the mungiki followers in their bunkers. hundreds of mungikians suffocated to death in their foxholes! i leave that for the archaeologists to disapprove, prove and marvel at the history makers who turned into the millennium.

when all is said and done, who will protect the fearful kenyans from their own vicious, barbaric and heartless sons and daughters in the name of mungiki?