Commentary (by Barrack Muluka) - Kenyans need to stare into their national soul

Ref: http://www.eastandard.net/news/?id=1143982939&cid=190
Published on March 8, 2008, 12:00 am

By Barrack Muluka

God’s dialogue with his soul is a theme I like going back to, every so often. It was the French Algerian, Albert Camus, who wrote about God’s searching soul. The very thought confounds you; it is absurd. For how would God dialogue with his soul?

But of course Albert Camus wrote strange things. He was an absurdist, finding joy in a bizarre existentialist philosophy.

No matter, the critical thought is that God could dialogue with his soul. Indeed, the significant point is that the godly soul is the searching soul. Or, to put it conversely, the searching soul is a godly soul. It is a restless soul. It does not accept things at their surface value. The mission of the godly soul is essentially a commitment to the pursuit of and, if possible, the realisation of eternal truths about itself.

Now we have heard it said that when elephants fight, the grass suffers. This is true about elephants and the grass. But is it not equally true that when elephants perform the jungle dance of love, the grass suffers no less than it does when they fight?

It seems to be the curse of the grass to pay the price of short memory. In the story of The Anthills of the Savannah, Chinua Achebe has eloquently told of the dilemma of the African grass.

When it rains, leafy tendrils display the flourish of their luxuriant colours. Merrily, they dance in the warm savannah sunshine. They are in the prime of their blossom. But soon it will be the dry season again. Then the grass must wither. It dries up. Now the hungry tongues of wild jungle fires mercilessly lick up the dry grasslands. They leave the terrain scorched and unsightly. That is until the next rains come. For, almost from nowhere, fresh grass springs up, again. But if only the grass of the new season knew what happened to the grass of the old season! If only the grass could know that it will suffer, regardless that the elephants fight, or that they make love.

It is possible that the Kenyan nation could engage in a brutally honest dialogue with its collective soul, at this critical national crossroads. Naturally, it has been a relief to see President Kibaki and Prime Minister-designate, Mr Raila Odinga – the two giant elephants of the Kenyan political jungle – shake hands (or shall we say shake trunks?) and look each other in the eye, smiling. Their delight has been infectious. For when the leaders disagreed, the people fought and killed each other.

Now the leaders are ready to make merry together and the people are happy, again; which is as it should be.

But, as the reigning dreamer of dreams, I fear hypnotism.

I know that Kenyans need to brutally stare into their national soul. They need to see beyond the feel-good factor of an extra motorcade and the rise of an expanded political guard. To the point, they need to see the difference between systems and governments.

Governments hardly change

Sometimes you have a rotten government operating a rotten system. Even if you throw out that government and replace it with what you consider to be a better one, nothing changes. For the new government must operate the same rotten old system.

A rotten system is not suddenly ameliorated just because we have a few more people to share in the loot of the rot. It is true that rot is often resident in the person. But a rotten gentleman cannot survive in an unsullied system. What is not clear is whether sullied women and men can be trusted to overthrow a rotten order and offer a fresh one. As the reigning dreamer of dreams, I have often doubted both the proclivity and the ability of the present national crop of leaders to reform our systems. I challenge them to prove me wrong, this time round.

The philosopher Thomas Paine says in The Rights of Man: "Every place has its Bastille and every Bastille has its despot."

As the dreamer of dreams, I am worried that the Grand Coalition Government in the making could reinvent itself as yet another monster on the national landscape. Why, I have seen that men and women are restlessly jostling for high office. I have seen that, as in the past, high office is going to be variously bestowed as a ‘gift’ to friends and loyalists. Merit and competence have no place in the scheme of things.

But that is not all; I have seen that our future governors are jostling for very specific positions. What, pray, do they want to siphon out of those offices? I have seen that there will be no political Opposition in Parliament for the next five years; that we have gone round to the good old one party days.

I have seen that the people who negotiated the peace we now enjoy were all Kanu’s children and one Kanu granddaughter. But have I not also read where the poet says: "That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called."

After they have shared the kingdom, the power and the glory, what will we share? My soul pines for the truth. I am not joining the party yet. Celebration at this moment would be precipitate. For we were promised 100 years of solitude in the Bastille called Kanu. And that which we call Kanu would smell as ‘sweet’, were it Kanu not called.

I want them to prove me wrong first. Then I will reach out for my drinking pipe, my dancing shoes and my snuffbox.

The writer (okwaromuluka@yahoo.com) is a publishing editor and media consultant with Mvule Africa Publishers.