As a dark cloud overwhelmed my thoughts, I started whispering...
Find me a guitar I lament for you my agony,
Find me a microphone I voice my sorrows
Find me a pen I narrate for you a story that rip my heart apart
Find me time I tell you how helpless I feel
Helpless as I listen to the woman cry for her murdered child
Helpless as I watch her weeping in front of her raped daughter
Helpless as I see her finding comfort on her husband’s grave
Helpless as she tells me of her slaughtered son
Helpless as I gaze at her begging to exist
Helpless as I kneel with her begging her kind not to oppress her own
Helpless as I look at her calling on her maker for salvation
Helpless as I contemplate at her seeking hope from the horizon
Find her picking of what is left in the Rift Valley,
Find her re-purify her face in Lake Naivasha
Find her counting losses in tea plantation in Kerico
Find her echo in Nandi Hills calling for Peace….
Find me, helpless wondering if there is more I can do to help…
Last night the moon and I were talking, I found hope in helpess situation
Hope that exist within
Hope that looks beyond human greed
Hope that finds good in human spirit when evil surrounds
Hope that I see in the sky filled with smoke from burnt houses
Hope that I see in the horizon of my imagination
Hope that goes beyond the shadows of yesterday
Hope that over comes yesterday’s hatred
Hope that confronts my memory of conflict
Hope that looks beyond human eyes
Hope that sees present suffering ending
Hope that has faith in today’s youth, in the unborn generation
Hope that destroys selfish oppressors’ plans
Hope in hopeless crisis…
By David Mwambari
USIU 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Sacrifice, but for who and for what?
In 1950s and a large part of 1960s, the African young men and women who were interested in the fate of their colonial countries and continent were more concerned with liberating their people from European colonial rule.
These were the likes of Ghanaian Kwame Nkrumah, Tanzanian Mwalimu Nyerere, Kenyan Mzee Jomo Kenyatta, Nelson Madiba Mandela, Ms. Winnie Mandela, Patrice Lumumba - the list goes on. History validates their generation’s sacrifice as having fought for independence and for us their then unborn generation. Critics will focus more on their failures, forgetting that no human is immune to error. In post independence era, another group emerged blinded with greed, and lust for power.
In 1970s and1980s they enlarged their “society” giving birth to innocent minds poisoned in their socialization . Currently, Africa finds herself with a large, divided youthful society. The first group is composed of the elites whose character and thought process has been heavily intoxicated by western ideals, from language, to culture.
Their arrogance exhibits oppressors’ behaviour under a different skin color. They have learned from their fathers’ greedy hearts and looked up to their uncaring mothers’ souls. In their thinking, anything African is dismissed as uncivilized, a village up country is a no-go zone, and their definition of identity is influenced by television and magazines.
They are rarely found on the streets rioting for any issues that affect society; they are often found in bed on election day with a hangover from last nights heavy drinking. Their jobs are taken for granted; they earn fat salaries and bank it overseas and save some to purchase alcohol for their fellow hypocrite friends. Should the country plunge into a civil war, genocide or any other crisis, they are the first to be flown out of the country.
There is another group of young people whose struggles begin at birth – people from the lower class. Their childhood is marked by hard labour before and after school, that is, if they can afford the resources or get permission to attend (especially young girls).
They have to be exceptionally lucky and bright to make it through high school to university. Their first salary is spent on educating their siblings, feeding their parents if not helping a cousin or relative with long term illness called dependency. Should the country plunge into a civil war, genocide, or any other crisis, they will be brutally beaten, listed for the military as well as put on frontlines in any battles, and if not killed they walk or run long distances to cross into the nearest border.
Africa is a land where the rich dictate the present and future of their country and network to dishonor the continent. Their greed causes uncertainty to the unborn children and their networks expand from the Cape to Cairo. In the last three years, the young people from the middle class and from wealthy families, mentored and guided with their parents ganged up, and started the journey of lying to the poor, majority young voters.
They (poor, young voters) were told there is such a thing as their voices being heard through the ballot box. For once they went out in numbers believing that their majority cries for change matter. The events around the country yesterday were an illustration of this deeply divided society.
Unlike a few weeks ago when riots began, the Pentagon (as the ODM opposition leadership calls themselves) were on the streets surrounded by their blind supporters. Alongside, the 4WDs and SUVs were moving slowly, as they arrived in the city center and the police confronted them.
Dispersed by tear gas and live bullets, the rich and so called “leaders” entered their cars and drove off to the nearest five star hotels, where they were welcomed with a cup of tea. The rioters ran for their lives on foot, without a direction, and if caught by police, were brutally beaten. Even those who were in the city for other reasons assuming the situation is back to normal were caught and not spared by the tear gas.
The police special force is composed of the young people whose learning in the academy seems to have concentrated on how to kill their own brothers and sisters without pity - perhaps with orders from a government minister, a police boss probably somewhere heavily guarded, occasionally sipping the best wine or warm beer.
The police, the rioters and the displaced have something in common; they are both manipulated by the rich, to carry out their political agenda. They all go home on empty stomachs while the bosses enjoy feasts prepared by a well-qualified chef. These two groups tune in for news in the evening to watch and listen to their day re-played on the screen or radio.
The poor ignorant person proudly explains how he is sacrificing for democracy and freedom for his country as the rich look at their political interests while calculating their economic losses or gains.
“You, as young people, should be at the forefront of making sacrifices for Africa. Often, in Africa, instead of young people being at the forefront of the struggle for social justice, they are at the forefront of the struggle for privileges.” - President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda.
And so as we watched a young man making faces at the police on Wednesday protests in Kisumu City on television, and in a split of a second he was shot and lying down dead, this question came to mind: sacrifice for who? Then I was looking into the eyes of a thirteen-year old girl seated in front of her mother’s tent in a displaced camp, I asked myself: sacrifice for what?
Our African young generation has a challenge to address the social inequalities, or else we will continue to submit to the manipulation of the rich with their partners in crime wherever they are in the world.
‘If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few
who are rich’.
John F. Kennedy, inaugural address, January 20, 1961
By David Mwambari.
The author is an International Relations scholar at the United States International University-Nairobi
These were the likes of Ghanaian Kwame Nkrumah, Tanzanian Mwalimu Nyerere, Kenyan Mzee Jomo Kenyatta, Nelson Madiba Mandela, Ms. Winnie Mandela, Patrice Lumumba - the list goes on. History validates their generation’s sacrifice as having fought for independence and for us their then unborn generation. Critics will focus more on their failures, forgetting that no human is immune to error. In post independence era, another group emerged blinded with greed, and lust for power.
In 1970s and1980s they enlarged their “society” giving birth to innocent minds poisoned in their socialization . Currently, Africa finds herself with a large, divided youthful society. The first group is composed of the elites whose character and thought process has been heavily intoxicated by western ideals, from language, to culture.
Their arrogance exhibits oppressors’ behaviour under a different skin color. They have learned from their fathers’ greedy hearts and looked up to their uncaring mothers’ souls. In their thinking, anything African is dismissed as uncivilized, a village up country is a no-go zone, and their definition of identity is influenced by television and magazines.
They are rarely found on the streets rioting for any issues that affect society; they are often found in bed on election day with a hangover from last nights heavy drinking. Their jobs are taken for granted; they earn fat salaries and bank it overseas and save some to purchase alcohol for their fellow hypocrite friends. Should the country plunge into a civil war, genocide or any other crisis, they are the first to be flown out of the country.
There is another group of young people whose struggles begin at birth – people from the lower class. Their childhood is marked by hard labour before and after school, that is, if they can afford the resources or get permission to attend (especially young girls).
They have to be exceptionally lucky and bright to make it through high school to university. Their first salary is spent on educating their siblings, feeding their parents if not helping a cousin or relative with long term illness called dependency. Should the country plunge into a civil war, genocide, or any other crisis, they will be brutally beaten, listed for the military as well as put on frontlines in any battles, and if not killed they walk or run long distances to cross into the nearest border.
Africa is a land where the rich dictate the present and future of their country and network to dishonor the continent. Their greed causes uncertainty to the unborn children and their networks expand from the Cape to Cairo. In the last three years, the young people from the middle class and from wealthy families, mentored and guided with their parents ganged up, and started the journey of lying to the poor, majority young voters.
They (poor, young voters) were told there is such a thing as their voices being heard through the ballot box. For once they went out in numbers believing that their majority cries for change matter. The events around the country yesterday were an illustration of this deeply divided society.
Unlike a few weeks ago when riots began, the Pentagon (as the ODM opposition leadership calls themselves) were on the streets surrounded by their blind supporters. Alongside, the 4WDs and SUVs were moving slowly, as they arrived in the city center and the police confronted them.
Dispersed by tear gas and live bullets, the rich and so called “leaders” entered their cars and drove off to the nearest five star hotels, where they were welcomed with a cup of tea. The rioters ran for their lives on foot, without a direction, and if caught by police, were brutally beaten. Even those who were in the city for other reasons assuming the situation is back to normal were caught and not spared by the tear gas.
The police special force is composed of the young people whose learning in the academy seems to have concentrated on how to kill their own brothers and sisters without pity - perhaps with orders from a government minister, a police boss probably somewhere heavily guarded, occasionally sipping the best wine or warm beer.
The police, the rioters and the displaced have something in common; they are both manipulated by the rich, to carry out their political agenda. They all go home on empty stomachs while the bosses enjoy feasts prepared by a well-qualified chef. These two groups tune in for news in the evening to watch and listen to their day re-played on the screen or radio.
The poor ignorant person proudly explains how he is sacrificing for democracy and freedom for his country as the rich look at their political interests while calculating their economic losses or gains.
“You, as young people, should be at the forefront of making sacrifices for Africa. Often, in Africa, instead of young people being at the forefront of the struggle for social justice, they are at the forefront of the struggle for privileges.” - President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda.
And so as we watched a young man making faces at the police on Wednesday protests in Kisumu City on television, and in a split of a second he was shot and lying down dead, this question came to mind: sacrifice for who? Then I was looking into the eyes of a thirteen-year old girl seated in front of her mother’s tent in a displaced camp, I asked myself: sacrifice for what?
Our African young generation has a challenge to address the social inequalities, or else we will continue to submit to the manipulation of the rich with their partners in crime wherever they are in the world.
‘If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few
who are rich’.
John F. Kennedy, inaugural address, January 20, 1961
By David Mwambari.
The author is an International Relations scholar at the United States International University-Nairobi
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The Situation in Kenya
We are still safe but tense. Even though there are nomore gun shots and no houses being burnt, people are going about their businesses in a very careful manner. Mathare is even more tense, and nobody wants to be out and about after dark.
I have now been working at the Mathare Slums for the last several days (my God, I don't even know how many days). Initially, when I went with my Mama na Dada colleagues to Moi Air Force Base, Mathare, on the 3rd January, it was only to assess the situation of women and children living outside the gate of the Barracks.
Our main aim was to offer counseling services to all the people living here, with a focus on women and children, to avoid them getting post-trauma stress disorders. We have been on the ground since then, starting as early as 6.30 a.m. and finishing at 5 p.m.
if we are lucky!
When we started, there was not much coordination, save for the security offered by the military personnel, as well as a little support in the form of food donations by drop-in well-wishers. On the second day, after speaking with Twalib, Sammy, Tanya, Mhesh, Carrie, Kiura, Japhet, and Amit, action started. Everyone has
been been on Mama na Dada started off with a few pencils and
crayons, and a few dozen sanitary pads and toilet rolls, and a lot of faith. After two days on the ground, we took over the coordination and all the logistics arrangements of the place.
We have 470 children, 387 adults and 23 pregnant mothers. I had no idea what I was letting myself into! During the one week that we have been here, I have had some very trying moments, especially listening to women whose husbands and children were either killed or hurt in the violence. There is such raw sadness on their faces, but this is not just because of the loss of their loved ones, but at the loss of friendship and neighborliness. Most of the people in this base are Kikuyus, and they can't understand how the Luos they have lived with all these years have now turned against them. It is ironic that most of the 20 plus volunteers I'm working with are Luos, serving Kikuyus. I know God has a purpose why He has put me and my colleagues in this position. For us to establish exactly how many people are really displaced and are staying there permanently, we had to be at the base - right across town from my house – at 6 a.m. to do registration!
By 12 noon, when World Food Programme brought some food to be distributed, we had over 3,000 people there, and we had to bring in a
contingency of two lorry loads of military personnel to hell! We are learning new tricks everyday. We now insist that anyone who wants to donate food does so at a particular time and we do distribution starting at 6.30 a,m. so that by the time the others come from the
village, we have finished. Of course there are always hiccups. There are many people who bring things and want press coverage or whatever credit for their donations, and today we had one who brought in clothes and insisted that she would distribute. We refused to get involved because we knew how dangerous it would
become. She did and most of the clothes were torn when people fought for them, and before she knew it, she was covered in dust from the stampede. It is not all bad. I have now acquired the name
"Teacher". When things were so confused the first day I went on the ground, I just took out my note book and tore papers and gave children, and as soon as I started giving the few near me, hundreds came out, and before long we were singing gospel songs and dancing our feet out. Several friends have now donated crayons,
pencils, books and other playing things, and when we have had our struggles with adults, we go for comfort to the children and just let go. The sad thing is that they all draw either guns, fire or people lying in bed.
We do not know how long this will go on. Today the peace talks collapsed, and I don't know what will happen as I did not watch news. Raila has now asked for Koffi Annan to be the mediator. Today there have been a few tense places, with some women demonstrators having been dispersed forcefully. I believe if all women talk and think peace, we will have peace, and this is what I'm doing, trying to talk and think peace myself, and trying very hard to get the women I'm working with to see why we all need to
think peace. We will overcome. Well, it is after midnight and I need to go to bed, so I'll try and attach some photos and hope they come
through.
By Joyce Oneko (Laywer, Human Rights Activist)
I have now been working at the Mathare Slums for the last several days (my God, I don't even know how many days). Initially, when I went with my Mama na Dada colleagues to Moi Air Force Base, Mathare, on the 3rd January, it was only to assess the situation of women and children living outside the gate of the Barracks.
Our main aim was to offer counseling services to all the people living here, with a focus on women and children, to avoid them getting post-trauma stress disorders. We have been on the ground since then, starting as early as 6.30 a.m. and finishing at 5 p.m.
if we are lucky!
When we started, there was not much coordination, save for the security offered by the military personnel, as well as a little support in the form of food donations by drop-in well-wishers. On the second day, after speaking with Twalib, Sammy, Tanya, Mhesh, Carrie, Kiura, Japhet, and Amit, action started. Everyone has
been been on Mama na Dada started off with a few pencils and
crayons, and a few dozen sanitary pads and toilet rolls, and a lot of faith. After two days on the ground, we took over the coordination and all the logistics arrangements of the place.
We have 470 children, 387 adults and 23 pregnant mothers. I had no idea what I was letting myself into! During the one week that we have been here, I have had some very trying moments, especially listening to women whose husbands and children were either killed or hurt in the violence. There is such raw sadness on their faces, but this is not just because of the loss of their loved ones, but at the loss of friendship and neighborliness. Most of the people in this base are Kikuyus, and they can't understand how the Luos they have lived with all these years have now turned against them. It is ironic that most of the 20 plus volunteers I'm working with are Luos, serving Kikuyus. I know God has a purpose why He has put me and my colleagues in this position. For us to establish exactly how many people are really displaced and are staying there permanently, we had to be at the base - right across town from my house – at 6 a.m. to do registration!
By 12 noon, when World Food Programme brought some food to be distributed, we had over 3,000 people there, and we had to bring in a
contingency of two lorry loads of military personnel to hell! We are learning new tricks everyday. We now insist that anyone who wants to donate food does so at a particular time and we do distribution starting at 6.30 a,m. so that by the time the others come from the
village, we have finished. Of course there are always hiccups. There are many people who bring things and want press coverage or whatever credit for their donations, and today we had one who brought in clothes and insisted that she would distribute. We refused to get involved because we knew how dangerous it would
become. She did and most of the clothes were torn when people fought for them, and before she knew it, she was covered in dust from the stampede. It is not all bad. I have now acquired the name
"Teacher". When things were so confused the first day I went on the ground, I just took out my note book and tore papers and gave children, and as soon as I started giving the few near me, hundreds came out, and before long we were singing gospel songs and dancing our feet out. Several friends have now donated crayons,
pencils, books and other playing things, and when we have had our struggles with adults, we go for comfort to the children and just let go. The sad thing is that they all draw either guns, fire or people lying in bed.
We do not know how long this will go on. Today the peace talks collapsed, and I don't know what will happen as I did not watch news. Raila has now asked for Koffi Annan to be the mediator. Today there have been a few tense places, with some women demonstrators having been dispersed forcefully. I believe if all women talk and think peace, we will have peace, and this is what I'm doing, trying to talk and think peace myself, and trying very hard to get the women I'm working with to see why we all need to
think peace. We will overcome. Well, it is after midnight and I need to go to bed, so I'll try and attach some photos and hope they come
through.
By Joyce Oneko (Laywer, Human Rights Activist)
Untitled
The mouth of my pen is dry
The ink is shy and the paper untempting
The tears of the nation have drowned my spirits
The fires and fears have imprisoned most
The bullets ringing in the night ushered in the new year
Screams of pain and death rang through the midnight hour
And As Kenya bleeds, as our motherland burns
The powers that be dance on our heads and emotions
The powers that be call on outside mediators
While the problem lays within the very soul of Kenyans
The fire burns from regimes past and those long forgotten
The pain soars higher than our smoke filled skies
And the children watch on in innocent bewilderment
At the loss of their simple homes
At the helplessness of their crying mothers
and at the mercilessness of their angered fathers
...at the despair of their disillusioned brothers and sisters
they queue in line for entrance into temporary shelters.
Our choice of men how erroneous and regretful
Their hunger for power strangles our very core
Women and children scurry for shelter at any corner
Away from flames that have engulfed a nation of brotherhood
Brothers and sisters poisoned to hate those not of kin
Poisoned in history, past and present.
The newly homeless refugees hold out a hand, for a loaf and cloth
Yet the puppet masters smile into the cameras
Ironically wishing us a prosperous new year
Calling for mass action and peace on earth
Waltzing with the mighty and holy from lands afar
Yet the locals dare not go hunting for basic essentials
For fear of what lays in that looting jungle
Or the indiscriminate bullets that scatter us like rabbits
Some even sing and chant in hope of more glory and fame
Singing of peace and praying for salvation
In stiletto shoes and low-cut halter tops
camera-lights-action, we sing for peace!
And like bees we flock to the nearest shelter in jamuhuri
But safe and secure it must be, unlike mathare
To lend a hand and wait for a shot in the evening news
and maybe a model snap, in the Daily Nation
What is this fire that burns in the heart of our motherland
What is this fear that turns one community against a another
Who planted the seed that blooms an evil weed
That weed that chokes the harvest of our forefathers and mothers?
By Jedida Oneko (Kenyan Poet, Activist, Journalist)
The ink is shy and the paper untempting
The tears of the nation have drowned my spirits
The fires and fears have imprisoned most
The bullets ringing in the night ushered in the new year
Screams of pain and death rang through the midnight hour
And As Kenya bleeds, as our motherland burns
The powers that be dance on our heads and emotions
The powers that be call on outside mediators
While the problem lays within the very soul of Kenyans
The fire burns from regimes past and those long forgotten
The pain soars higher than our smoke filled skies
And the children watch on in innocent bewilderment
At the loss of their simple homes
At the helplessness of their crying mothers
and at the mercilessness of their angered fathers
...at the despair of their disillusioned brothers and sisters
they queue in line for entrance into temporary shelters.
Our choice of men how erroneous and regretful
Their hunger for power strangles our very core
Women and children scurry for shelter at any corner
Away from flames that have engulfed a nation of brotherhood
Brothers and sisters poisoned to hate those not of kin
Poisoned in history, past and present.
The newly homeless refugees hold out a hand, for a loaf and cloth
Yet the puppet masters smile into the cameras
Ironically wishing us a prosperous new year
Calling for mass action and peace on earth
Waltzing with the mighty and holy from lands afar
Yet the locals dare not go hunting for basic essentials
For fear of what lays in that looting jungle
Or the indiscriminate bullets that scatter us like rabbits
Some even sing and chant in hope of more glory and fame
Singing of peace and praying for salvation
In stiletto shoes and low-cut halter tops
camera-lights-action, we sing for peace!
And like bees we flock to the nearest shelter in jamuhuri
But safe and secure it must be, unlike mathare
To lend a hand and wait for a shot in the evening news
and maybe a model snap, in the Daily Nation
What is this fire that burns in the heart of our motherland
What is this fear that turns one community against a another
Who planted the seed that blooms an evil weed
That weed that chokes the harvest of our forefathers and mothers?
By Jedida Oneko (Kenyan Poet, Activist, Journalist)
We must go back to history
An Understanding of The Recent Political Violence in Kenya
Ladies and gentlemen, it is indeed sad as to what is happening in Kenya. I do believe that most of the people on this blog are either Kenyans....or like myself call Kenya 'my second home'.
Who would have thought that this beacon of peace in the heart of a volatile region could fall into the hands of the devil and turn neighbour against neighbour, friend against friend.
I happened to be in Rwanda on the 27th of December and actually remember being in the Kigali museum for Genocide. It was my fourth time being there and as I bettered my understranding on what happened, it opened my eyes to understand the Kenyan question from a totally different perspective.
If we trace back to the history of kenya, which I guess most of us are conversant with, you will recall that during the time that Kenyatta was in detention, a then Jaramogi Oginga Odinga was acting president for Kanu which was the rulling party in Kenya. At the time, the Beberus (British colonialists ) had wanted to grant Kenya its independence. As it were, the party of choice was KANU which represented the major 'ethnic groups' as opposed to KADU which represented the smaller groups. With Kenyatta in detention, Jaramogi O Odinga was granted the opportunity to be the countries first leader. To the dismay of the colonialists and the suprise of many nationals, Jaramogi showed great humility by declaring that there is no Uhuru (Peace) without Kenyatta and thus he will await the release of his comrad that he may take over the reigns.
So it came to pass that on may 21st Aug 1961 he was released and took over party reigns handed to him by Jaramogi. He was later the first prime minister of Kenya.
The problem in Kenya after independence as is in most African countries vis a vis pre and post independence is the issue of land and land redistribution. The agreement between the the then party mambers of KANU was to adress the issue of land redistribution and ensure that it was equally distributed to Kenyans. Areas that were most affected were the then called 'white highlands' which stretched from Aberdares, Naivasha, Nakuru, Kitale and other fertile parts withtin those regions.
Kenyatta however went against the...what would be translated today as 'M.O.U' between the party members and met with the white settlers, came to an agreement, but when it came to the issue of distribution Kikuyu's were given the first priority.
This is why we find today that many areas in Rift valley are occupied by Kikuyus. I am not saying that it is wrong for one to own land in an area that is not their ancestral home...any Kenyan is allowed to own land wherever they wish within the country, but has to do so legally.
Coming back to the violence in Kenya that we witnessed recently, the western Media and some people trying to distort the true picture of what happened, have tried to make it look like a Luo vs Kikuyu war. well if we clearly look at the statistics of worst hit areas and where ethnicity was an issue, then we have to look at Rift valley province.
Ethnic clashes in this area did not start after the elections were announced, they started way back in the late eighties/early nineties.
Why? LAND. Most fertile land was occupied by people from another ethnic community and calls to gain back what belonged to the indigenous communities started being sounded.
These violent clashes have never been as wide spread as they are today and that can be attributed to the political climate of the day.
Then it was dictatorship, where the people had to abide by what they were told and this sort of incubated the issue and people were not free to express themselves. In the 2002 elections, people finally got their chance to change the reigns and voted out a system that they thought had held them back from expressing themselves.
So in came a democratic government...one that allowed those who once had no voice to be heard. It gave courage to the weak, it opened the eye of those who had beeen blinded by an oppresive regime....it basically made people more aware of what belonged to them and that with an individual who represented them, they could finally reap the prosperity that everyone was talking about in Kenya.
Oranges and Bananas became the fruits of the day. One fruit (the Banana) represented those who were in the reigns while the Orange represented the common Mwanachi ( the common man).
This was the historical reforendum that finally showed that the Kenyan who had never had a chance to speak could finally be heard as he was the victor at the end of the day. The guy who had once formed KADU ( which was a party that represented the smaller ethnic groups)
was now finally after over 40 years of being marginalised, a voice to be reconed with.
This gave them the belief that they could finally challange for the presidency of the country and ahead they went to form the Orange Democratic Party. This party underwent alot of sanding before it became what it was just before the election and in the process a group that felt indeferent, removed itself from the final picture.
All in all, this was the party that represented most Ethnic communities as was evident in the pentagon members and affiliation by the youth and appeal to smaller communities.
After the elections were announced to their dismay, mayhem ensued. Ethnicity became an issue in most communities. The hate that had been incubated for over 40 years was finally unleashed and it is sad that it came out in the way it did. In as much as people think or are made to believe that it was a reaction to the results of the elections....SORRY but this is much deeper than that. As many people, including myself, tried to make sense of what happened in Rwanda, the answer was based on history. The only difference is that as the Rwandese was initially instigated by European colonialists, the kenyan question has alot to do with Kenyans themselves.
Therefore the only people who can solve the current situation are Kenyans themselves.
Timothy Nsengiyumva Mlay (Tanzanian Scholar)
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Another Rwanda?
Hi everyone,
Today’s post is going to be very brief. My good friend David Mwambari, an International Relations Scholar from Rwanda, has just published a piece on the Rwandan paper, the New Times. His article is a commentary on the recent violence in Kenya. David is a survivor of the Rwandan genocide of 1994. The article he has written today, tries to draw a parallel between Kenya’s tribal conflict and Rwanda’s.
To Read David’s article click on the "rip out this destructive greed" side link.
Is Kenya another Rwanda in the making?
Please post your comments by clicking on the link below. We look forward to hearing from you.
To read more about the Kenyan conflict check out the following wires.
The Standard
The Nation
CNN
BBC
REUTERS
ALJAZEERA
Cheers,
Mark Gaya
Today’s post is going to be very brief. My good friend David Mwambari, an International Relations Scholar from Rwanda, has just published a piece on the Rwandan paper, the New Times. His article is a commentary on the recent violence in Kenya. David is a survivor of the Rwandan genocide of 1994. The article he has written today, tries to draw a parallel between Kenya’s tribal conflict and Rwanda’s.
To Read David’s article click on the "rip out this destructive greed" side link.
Is Kenya another Rwanda in the making?
Please post your comments by clicking on the link below. We look forward to hearing from you.
To read more about the Kenyan conflict check out the following wires.
The Standard
The Nation
CNN
BBC
REUTERS
ALJAZEERA
Cheers,
Mark Gaya
Rip out this destructive greed for political power
In January 1995, a thirteen year old boy woke up and found himself in a foreign country, a peaceful one where there were no bullets flying over his head. In this foreign land there were no bombs or gangs threatening his existence.
This boy was thankful that he had been saved from not only a genocide that had claimed his own by his own but also a humanitarian crisis that had erupted in refugee camps that were in the then known Zaire.
There being no time to dwell on the past, the boy covered his wounds, started working as a child, went to school and forged on.
Today, thirteen years later, in the same country that offered him a second chance in life, the story is repeating itself.
His eyes open to a stadium full of displaced people, churches burning and gunshots close to his ears. January, 2008 has started off as a nightmare.
It is the same script. Even in this once-upon-a-time peaceful country, politicians are using a wrong, bloody card of ethnicity to acquire power, wealth and control.
So many questions come into mind; what is this desire for power that permits the burning of fifty-plus innocent children and women in what are referred to as Houses of the Almighty where the weak and vulnerable assume there is refuge?
What is this desire for power that allows a brother to drink his own siblings’ blood in broad day light?
In a church close to where the displaced are seeking refuge, on Sunday, a preacher asked the same question. Speaking as if disciplining his children, the man of God charged he got alarmed at the number of short messages (on his cell phone) he received from those lamenting that they and their own were being targeted.
But these messages did not come from dwellers of Kibera, Eldoret, Kisumu or Mombasa. They were from members of his own flock; the business owners and wealthy educated elite.
The man continued to speak from his heart shaming those that identified themselves not as Kenyans but as Kikuyu, Luo, Kamba or otherwise.
“You have been coming to church for a year confessing that you are children of God. Isn’t that what the Bible says we are? No race or ethnicity among God’s children, we are all one,” he went on.
As if to emphasize his disappointment in his own congregation, the man asserted that the church is neither for Kikuyu or Luo.
“There is no segregation in our church leadership,” he retorted.
From the wealthy, elite congregation, one would tell there were some who would want revenge or those that were using their influence to incite the less fortunate in society to carry out their hearts’ desires for power. But as the preacher went on, some could not bear it anymore.
One member of the congregation who had earlier on been prayed for among those that lost their loved ones in the skirmishes finally stood up and walked out. From the illustration on his face, he had been hurt. Had the man of God been so insensitive in his comments?
His spouse turned back and looked at him but remained put in her seat, with her ears seeming to be paying more attention as if listening for both of them. It takes a lot for an African man to cry; the gentleman was weeping as he counted his losses.
Inside the church, two other pastors asked the congregation to bend and repent. Yes, the rich, famous and poor had all come to seek God’s intervention and had all been told that they were part of the problem.
As the pastor continued to invoke the writings in the holy book, everyone got on their knees and in the end, it was God’s children seeking his intervention.
This House of God was another refugee camp, a spiritual one…Both the spiritual and physical refugee camps though serve as a transition period for one to decide either to continue the road to hell or turn around and choose a positive path.
The Red Cross and other humanitarian agencies can’t take you anywhere; they are there for a short period while CNN, BBC and other local media still have cameras focusing on your crisis, and after they find a more desperate situation they leave your crisis as fast as they came.
They operate from the same mentality of desire for power, not only to control how your story is told but also to influence your actions by watching your own life re-played on a screen.
The preacher made his church options clear to the concerned political parties. One was sound: Put in place the suggested government of National Unity and plan new elections in a year.
There was an article written by The Sunday Nation Managing editor (one of the leading newspapers in Kenya) titled “Sweet Jesus, give me tears to cry for my country”.
This preacher seemed to have a lot of tears flowing in his heart as he continued to pray for his country’s future during a prayer session aired on all major media stations in Kenya from 6 p.m. to 7 p.m.
It is difficult to define peace as a concept, but one thing seems to be sure: peace has to be found within one’s heart before the person can give it to others.
The heart that desires this power and is blinded to the plea of a bleeding nation, knows no internal peace and cannot therefore be expected to give it.
This power-hungry heart finds roots in greed, adoration of materialism that drives one to lose his/her humanity. This heart knows no sister, brother, mother when it comes to look out for its own interests.
Day or night doesn’t matter, when or where; there is no room for reason - it is driven by selfish insanity. This power knows no color, or continental borders. Unfortunately, this power leaves bloody stains on the unborn children and gives young generations a burden to carry.
Ask the Banyarwanda of a thousand hills and they will tell you how thirteen years later they are still fighting the genocide ideology even among young ones who were toddlers during the Genocide.
Kenya, the country of the Rift Valley, the 7th wonder of the World, Masai Mara, the land with the white sand beaches in Mombasa, where Swahili culture has a home in Lamu, the country that gives refuge to its neighbours and settles disputes between brothers in one country, gives rest to those who are tired is still alive, wounded but on the road to healing and reconciliation.
The big boy wanted to tell you these stories, because his were not a priority to the world when they were unfolding. Few bothered to come and rescue his own.
His hope is that people of the world learned a lesson and now they can fly from wherever to initiate diplomatic negotiations, like Bishop Desmond Tutu did, Dr Jandayi Frazer (US Under-Secretary for Africa) did, President of Ghana has come this week, and other former regional presidents have come, or simply act from where you are like many other Kenyans are doing, to inform these power seeking hearts that there are other ways than spilling of innocent blood.
And for us who do not occupy these powerful offices, what is our role not just in Kenya, but Pakistan, Israel, DRC, Sudan, Iraq, Somalia, in your neighborhood, in your heart?
If we look around carefully there is a crisis caused by this greed for power! We are part of the problem as much as we are part of the solution.
By David Mwambari
The author is a Rwandan student at the United States University in Nairobi.
This boy was thankful that he had been saved from not only a genocide that had claimed his own by his own but also a humanitarian crisis that had erupted in refugee camps that were in the then known Zaire.
There being no time to dwell on the past, the boy covered his wounds, started working as a child, went to school and forged on.
Today, thirteen years later, in the same country that offered him a second chance in life, the story is repeating itself.
His eyes open to a stadium full of displaced people, churches burning and gunshots close to his ears. January, 2008 has started off as a nightmare.
It is the same script. Even in this once-upon-a-time peaceful country, politicians are using a wrong, bloody card of ethnicity to acquire power, wealth and control.
So many questions come into mind; what is this desire for power that permits the burning of fifty-plus innocent children and women in what are referred to as Houses of the Almighty where the weak and vulnerable assume there is refuge?
What is this desire for power that allows a brother to drink his own siblings’ blood in broad day light?
In a church close to where the displaced are seeking refuge, on Sunday, a preacher asked the same question. Speaking as if disciplining his children, the man of God charged he got alarmed at the number of short messages (on his cell phone) he received from those lamenting that they and their own were being targeted.
But these messages did not come from dwellers of Kibera, Eldoret, Kisumu or Mombasa. They were from members of his own flock; the business owners and wealthy educated elite.
The man continued to speak from his heart shaming those that identified themselves not as Kenyans but as Kikuyu, Luo, Kamba or otherwise.
“You have been coming to church for a year confessing that you are children of God. Isn’t that what the Bible says we are? No race or ethnicity among God’s children, we are all one,” he went on.
As if to emphasize his disappointment in his own congregation, the man asserted that the church is neither for Kikuyu or Luo.
“There is no segregation in our church leadership,” he retorted.
From the wealthy, elite congregation, one would tell there were some who would want revenge or those that were using their influence to incite the less fortunate in society to carry out their hearts’ desires for power. But as the preacher went on, some could not bear it anymore.
One member of the congregation who had earlier on been prayed for among those that lost their loved ones in the skirmishes finally stood up and walked out. From the illustration on his face, he had been hurt. Had the man of God been so insensitive in his comments?
His spouse turned back and looked at him but remained put in her seat, with her ears seeming to be paying more attention as if listening for both of them. It takes a lot for an African man to cry; the gentleman was weeping as he counted his losses.
Inside the church, two other pastors asked the congregation to bend and repent. Yes, the rich, famous and poor had all come to seek God’s intervention and had all been told that they were part of the problem.
As the pastor continued to invoke the writings in the holy book, everyone got on their knees and in the end, it was God’s children seeking his intervention.
This House of God was another refugee camp, a spiritual one…Both the spiritual and physical refugee camps though serve as a transition period for one to decide either to continue the road to hell or turn around and choose a positive path.
The Red Cross and other humanitarian agencies can’t take you anywhere; they are there for a short period while CNN, BBC and other local media still have cameras focusing on your crisis, and after they find a more desperate situation they leave your crisis as fast as they came.
They operate from the same mentality of desire for power, not only to control how your story is told but also to influence your actions by watching your own life re-played on a screen.
The preacher made his church options clear to the concerned political parties. One was sound: Put in place the suggested government of National Unity and plan new elections in a year.
There was an article written by The Sunday Nation Managing editor (one of the leading newspapers in Kenya) titled “Sweet Jesus, give me tears to cry for my country”.
This preacher seemed to have a lot of tears flowing in his heart as he continued to pray for his country’s future during a prayer session aired on all major media stations in Kenya from 6 p.m. to 7 p.m.
It is difficult to define peace as a concept, but one thing seems to be sure: peace has to be found within one’s heart before the person can give it to others.
The heart that desires this power and is blinded to the plea of a bleeding nation, knows no internal peace and cannot therefore be expected to give it.
This power-hungry heart finds roots in greed, adoration of materialism that drives one to lose his/her humanity. This heart knows no sister, brother, mother when it comes to look out for its own interests.
Day or night doesn’t matter, when or where; there is no room for reason - it is driven by selfish insanity. This power knows no color, or continental borders. Unfortunately, this power leaves bloody stains on the unborn children and gives young generations a burden to carry.
Ask the Banyarwanda of a thousand hills and they will tell you how thirteen years later they are still fighting the genocide ideology even among young ones who were toddlers during the Genocide.
Kenya, the country of the Rift Valley, the 7th wonder of the World, Masai Mara, the land with the white sand beaches in Mombasa, where Swahili culture has a home in Lamu, the country that gives refuge to its neighbours and settles disputes between brothers in one country, gives rest to those who are tired is still alive, wounded but on the road to healing and reconciliation.
The big boy wanted to tell you these stories, because his were not a priority to the world when they were unfolding. Few bothered to come and rescue his own.
His hope is that people of the world learned a lesson and now they can fly from wherever to initiate diplomatic negotiations, like Bishop Desmond Tutu did, Dr Jandayi Frazer (US Under-Secretary for Africa) did, President of Ghana has come this week, and other former regional presidents have come, or simply act from where you are like many other Kenyans are doing, to inform these power seeking hearts that there are other ways than spilling of innocent blood.
And for us who do not occupy these powerful offices, what is our role not just in Kenya, but Pakistan, Israel, DRC, Sudan, Iraq, Somalia, in your neighborhood, in your heart?
If we look around carefully there is a crisis caused by this greed for power! We are part of the problem as much as we are part of the solution.
By David Mwambari
The author is a Rwandan student at the United States University in Nairobi.
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