•Wednesday, September 20, 2006
no. that is the instinctive response that most kenyans minds can conjure up when this question is posed to them individually. we all know who is corrupt; the government, the police, the local authorities, the civil servants and the list goes on and on. this week’s events have made me ponder this question more introspectively and i doubt whether i am not wanting.
as suggested in an earlier post, john githongo, the anti-graft czar, once appointed as permanent secretary in charge of ethics and governance is stealing the headlines and news shots in kenya. his barter trade of words with the kenya anti corruption commission chief, justice aaron ringera, is the latest foamy opera in our local press. one of these men of eminence is lying, and the sentimental and judgemental Kenyan populace has no problem in guessing who is lying. githongo is infallible, what with his gadgetry tools of trade? one of his claims that justice aaron urged him over lunch to go slow on his revelations, if not false truth, will make justice ringera earn a barb for his gullibility, naivety and dunderheadness! justice ringera knows too well that his former law partner’s, one kiraitu murungi, sadistic and heinous laughter was broadcast all over the planet as he tried to dissuade githongo from stepping too much on the graft-infested, vomited-on big toe; in the words of former british envoy, edward clay.
as i vindictively searched my soul, i vainly tried to define corruption, then put my soul to the scales of this incriminating practice. a couple of events ran in my mind just as they would on judgement day. no need to fear the day, it will happen in a flash, a fraction of a nanosecond, a timeless event that mortals need not worry about coz destiny will be reflective. the worst would already have happened; seeing oneself on the other side of the divide.
straight from high school and into a middle-tier college, time came for me to register as a citizen of the republic. what a joy that finally i have graduated from the kaptula (shorts) club, and can actually sit in the chiefs baraza and stand in the council of elders or so i presumed. getting a national identity card was the first time i smelt corruption in the air. a dense, humid, suffocating and sulphurish smell. the chief needed me to contribute to a harambee which from the invitation card presented was already past tense. no questioning the intent and no way to circumvent it. the assistant chief, who always carried a rubber stamp and a faint ink pad in his kanzu also needed something small to refill the ink in order to serve the other countrymen better. my chief later premiered in a name and shame citizen radio programme, wembe wa citizen and was shaved bila maji.
worse was to come when i later went to collect my national id from the divisional headquarters. i was told to part with a fifty bob –that was big money then- to grease the knees of the clerk who was searching it from a heap of uncollected ids. i had to understand that robots operate mechanically and their joints needed to be oiled so often in order to control friction and curb rustiness including attitude and emotion corrosion. i offered to bring some lubricant and engine oil to grease the joints. this incensed the clerks and they were more than determined to tame this mjuaji from the city. i had just learnt some legal and economic lingual which i unleashed in a bid to hasten the popping up of my id. ‘this is unacceptable, a clear form of caveat emptor, the jurisprudence of ids is not in your jusrisdiction, ceteris paribus’. i saw the clerks smile and imagined i have really impressed them and my card was on the way. it was an impious smile, the lingual that came from the lips of the clerk failed to register in my courteous dictionary and i have never heard such ‘nice’ words to date. they were in fact closing for the weekend and i had to go back the next monday. it was ten o’clock on a friday morning.
i revisited the offices later after a month and tried to be ‘civil’ like the civil servants who were serving me. i had vowed not to break the law i was diligently studying. one is not supposed to enrich themselves through false pretences, i kept reciting. nationalistic citizens uphold the rule of the law. this maxim saw me all the way to the clerk’s supervisor, a lady who enjoyed, mockingly, hearing my teary story, up the ladder to the district officer after which i learned my tearful corruption filled lesson. they were all accomplices. well, it wasn’t as much as the one that david munyakei, the goldenberg whistle blower died learning. is there a place for honest people in kenya?
fast forward to the millennium and i was handling some procurement worth slightly over five million kenya shillings. one supplier came with a wonderful proposal, "give us this tender and we will buy you lunch worth 10 per cent of the total contract". just straight from campus, sleeping on the floor with a black and white great wall television and a meko gas cooker was all that ran in my mind at the hearing of that proposal. half a million bob would see me furnish my small abode lavishly, with no sweat and no loans! but wait a minute, did you say lunch worth half a million? eeh sir, no! today i was wondering whether i have not been assimilated into the business world of kick backs, rubbing backs and ‘networking’.
a while back, i had to spend a few days within the corridors of the central police station of one of our major towns. a former college mate was ‘inside’ and i was among the cloud mandated to see the process of ‘removing’ him through by activating the networks i have within the force. this pal of mine had been wrongfully criminalized by a business partner they had fallen out with, who was out to teach him a lesson. the lesson involved having my pal spend a few days in the cells then later have him released without being charged. spending in a cell is enough punishment that ensures you nearly go berserk, get molested by 'remand-birds' and escape with several hard-to-cure rashes. your self-esteem, business credibility and acumen suffer in the process too. what a way to bring a foe down. all you need to do is grease the palm of a cid officer and the job is as good as done. these cid guys are intelligent enough to imagine and manufacture a wild range of offences, once their brains are well oiled.
this was a hard task, unlike the campus days when all you needed to do was to round up a troupe of ‘comrades’, feed them with hooliganistic tendencies and direct them towards the central police station to rescue a comrade in distress. this time we were a group of five which comprised two budding lawyers. the counter attack was to foil the plan of my pal’s biz partner and ensure our pal did not spend in the cells. it took us over six hours to have our comrade out. no amount of legal jargon and pestering worked. the networks i thought would help failed too. but oiling the already greasy palms of the officer did the magic. this counter productive attack-retreat activity went on for a few more days and all palms involved in this game were sticky, smelly and blackened: our souls too.
as suggested in an earlier post, john githongo, the anti-graft czar, once appointed as permanent secretary in charge of ethics and governance is stealing the headlines and news shots in kenya. his barter trade of words with the kenya anti corruption commission chief, justice aaron ringera, is the latest foamy opera in our local press. one of these men of eminence is lying, and the sentimental and judgemental Kenyan populace has no problem in guessing who is lying. githongo is infallible, what with his gadgetry tools of trade? one of his claims that justice aaron urged him over lunch to go slow on his revelations, if not false truth, will make justice ringera earn a barb for his gullibility, naivety and dunderheadness! justice ringera knows too well that his former law partner’s, one kiraitu murungi, sadistic and heinous laughter was broadcast all over the planet as he tried to dissuade githongo from stepping too much on the graft-infested, vomited-on big toe; in the words of former british envoy, edward clay.
as i vindictively searched my soul, i vainly tried to define corruption, then put my soul to the scales of this incriminating practice. a couple of events ran in my mind just as they would on judgement day. no need to fear the day, it will happen in a flash, a fraction of a nanosecond, a timeless event that mortals need not worry about coz destiny will be reflective. the worst would already have happened; seeing oneself on the other side of the divide.
straight from high school and into a middle-tier college, time came for me to register as a citizen of the republic. what a joy that finally i have graduated from the kaptula (shorts) club, and can actually sit in the chiefs baraza and stand in the council of elders or so i presumed. getting a national identity card was the first time i smelt corruption in the air. a dense, humid, suffocating and sulphurish smell. the chief needed me to contribute to a harambee which from the invitation card presented was already past tense. no questioning the intent and no way to circumvent it. the assistant chief, who always carried a rubber stamp and a faint ink pad in his kanzu also needed something small to refill the ink in order to serve the other countrymen better. my chief later premiered in a name and shame citizen radio programme, wembe wa citizen and was shaved bila maji.
worse was to come when i later went to collect my national id from the divisional headquarters. i was told to part with a fifty bob –that was big money then- to grease the knees of the clerk who was searching it from a heap of uncollected ids. i had to understand that robots operate mechanically and their joints needed to be oiled so often in order to control friction and curb rustiness including attitude and emotion corrosion. i offered to bring some lubricant and engine oil to grease the joints. this incensed the clerks and they were more than determined to tame this mjuaji from the city. i had just learnt some legal and economic lingual which i unleashed in a bid to hasten the popping up of my id. ‘this is unacceptable, a clear form of caveat emptor, the jurisprudence of ids is not in your jusrisdiction, ceteris paribus’. i saw the clerks smile and imagined i have really impressed them and my card was on the way. it was an impious smile, the lingual that came from the lips of the clerk failed to register in my courteous dictionary and i have never heard such ‘nice’ words to date. they were in fact closing for the weekend and i had to go back the next monday. it was ten o’clock on a friday morning.
i revisited the offices later after a month and tried to be ‘civil’ like the civil servants who were serving me. i had vowed not to break the law i was diligently studying. one is not supposed to enrich themselves through false pretences, i kept reciting. nationalistic citizens uphold the rule of the law. this maxim saw me all the way to the clerk’s supervisor, a lady who enjoyed, mockingly, hearing my teary story, up the ladder to the district officer after which i learned my tearful corruption filled lesson. they were all accomplices. well, it wasn’t as much as the one that david munyakei, the goldenberg whistle blower died learning. is there a place for honest people in kenya?
fast forward to the millennium and i was handling some procurement worth slightly over five million kenya shillings. one supplier came with a wonderful proposal, "give us this tender and we will buy you lunch worth 10 per cent of the total contract". just straight from campus, sleeping on the floor with a black and white great wall television and a meko gas cooker was all that ran in my mind at the hearing of that proposal. half a million bob would see me furnish my small abode lavishly, with no sweat and no loans! but wait a minute, did you say lunch worth half a million? eeh sir, no! today i was wondering whether i have not been assimilated into the business world of kick backs, rubbing backs and ‘networking’.
a while back, i had to spend a few days within the corridors of the central police station of one of our major towns. a former college mate was ‘inside’ and i was among the cloud mandated to see the process of ‘removing’ him through by activating the networks i have within the force. this pal of mine had been wrongfully criminalized by a business partner they had fallen out with, who was out to teach him a lesson. the lesson involved having my pal spend a few days in the cells then later have him released without being charged. spending in a cell is enough punishment that ensures you nearly go berserk, get molested by 'remand-birds' and escape with several hard-to-cure rashes. your self-esteem, business credibility and acumen suffer in the process too. what a way to bring a foe down. all you need to do is grease the palm of a cid officer and the job is as good as done. these cid guys are intelligent enough to imagine and manufacture a wild range of offences, once their brains are well oiled.
this was a hard task, unlike the campus days when all you needed to do was to round up a troupe of ‘comrades’, feed them with hooliganistic tendencies and direct them towards the central police station to rescue a comrade in distress. this time we were a group of five which comprised two budding lawyers. the counter attack was to foil the plan of my pal’s biz partner and ensure our pal did not spend in the cells. it took us over six hours to have our comrade out. no amount of legal jargon and pestering worked. the networks i thought would help failed too. but oiling the already greasy palms of the officer did the magic. this counter productive attack-retreat activity went on for a few more days and all palms involved in this game were sticky, smelly and blackened: our souls too.
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3 comments:
Pende tusipende we are all blighted by corruption in one way or another....
i feel you - personally i've had to do some "blackening" of the soul once in a while. i ain't proud at it, but just reflecting back on why you had to do it makes it somewhat manageable. our systems are laced with its toxicity and regardless of how much you want to avoid it, somehow it snares you.
@acolyte, true that corruption is a cancer that has all and sundry either infected and/or affected
@marazzmatazz, there are situations you find yourself in and you either have to dig a whole in the ground and bury yourself or 'blacken your soul' the easy way out. all the same it aint a pleasant feeling afterwards.
@eddie, we all blame our leaders but the general populace push those leaders to engage in corrupt deals to some extent. nevertheless, i feel there should be a way out from this vice. unlike aids its more of a bacteria than a virus, the right dose of antibiotics would do the trick.