My good mind begs to differ.
This mind concludes that: if I pursue truth and justice and lose all my freedoms, I have a problem; and, if I prefer ‘business as usual’, I still have a problem. I will attempt to demystify both myths.
First, the quest for truth and justice must be looked at in a deeper, wider context. It is not just about a stolen presidential vote any longer. It is about the origins and manifestations of political and economic disenfranchisement of a large segment of Kenyan citizens since independence, an issue that we have been content to sweep under the carpet. The disenfranchisement is clearly manifest in the distribution of national resources such as investment in infrastructure, education, health, agriculture, industries, land ownership, and finally, political appointments. Some regions are significantly more endowed and more developed than others. It is manifest in the voting patterns over time. But most significant of all, it was introduced at independence by President Kenyatta’s regime (1963-1978), perfected by his successor President Moi (1978-2002) and now has been refined and taken to a new level by the Kibaki regime (2002-to date).
The pursuit of truth and justice provides an opportunity to lift the carpet and really examine all of these problems soberly, responsibly and collectively. So while the immediate trigger was a stolen presidency, the issues that fuel it go further back and require serious consideration.
I believe in democracy and in respecting the voice of the citizenry. But democracy in absolute power regimes such as Kenya’s oftentimes must be earned. Unfortunately, the pursuit of truth and justice, comes at a steep price. Make no mistake; I do not condone the violence that is meted out to innocent people, the murders or the unwarranted destruction of property, but I would not be so naïve as to ignore the fact that something must be severely wrong, for what is it that turns a decent human being into a ruthless killing or destructive machine?
The second option, pursuing business as usual must also be examined from this same deeper and wider context. For these same reasons, it is not reasonable in the circumstances. Here is why:
This accepts the status quo. Perhaps because it is easier to resign oneself to the things one cannot change. It may be because one is not directly affected by the disenfranchisement or because one is so disenfranchised that there is no fight left. However, whether disenfranchised or not, I am a Kenyan. Theoretically, there are no preferred membership options. Whether I live a first or economy lifestyle, I share the same boundaries, the same towns, roads, schools, hospitals as the next Kenyan. I suffer the same governance problems and I am answerable to the same authorities. So whenever there is a national issue as is the case at hand, my life comes to a stand still as much as it does for the actual targets of the crackdown. In essence, what affects my neighbor, ultimately affects me.
Given this enlightenment, when do I accept the simple truth that in terms of consequences, there is no difference between those who pursue business as usual from those who seek truth and justice? Or the pretence that it is business as usual abets the meaningless massacre of Kenyans particularly those who pursue truth and justice? When do I realize that whatever the losing winner decrees to suppress those who pursue truth and justice affects my life? This is bigger than each of us, these are collective problems. I now know that without my peace; my neighbor’s peace remains elusive. Therefore we must examine all of the issues soberly, responsibly and collectively.
I am at a crossroads. I need to find a third way.
This mind concludes that: if I pursue truth and justice and lose all my freedoms, I have a problem; and, if I prefer ‘business as usual’, I still have a problem. I will attempt to demystify both myths.
First, the quest for truth and justice must be looked at in a deeper, wider context. It is not just about a stolen presidential vote any longer. It is about the origins and manifestations of political and economic disenfranchisement of a large segment of Kenyan citizens since independence, an issue that we have been content to sweep under the carpet. The disenfranchisement is clearly manifest in the distribution of national resources such as investment in infrastructure, education, health, agriculture, industries, land ownership, and finally, political appointments. Some regions are significantly more endowed and more developed than others. It is manifest in the voting patterns over time. But most significant of all, it was introduced at independence by President Kenyatta’s regime (1963-1978), perfected by his successor President Moi (1978-2002) and now has been refined and taken to a new level by the Kibaki regime (2002-to date).
The pursuit of truth and justice provides an opportunity to lift the carpet and really examine all of these problems soberly, responsibly and collectively. So while the immediate trigger was a stolen presidency, the issues that fuel it go further back and require serious consideration.
I believe in democracy and in respecting the voice of the citizenry. But democracy in absolute power regimes such as Kenya’s oftentimes must be earned. Unfortunately, the pursuit of truth and justice, comes at a steep price. Make no mistake; I do not condone the violence that is meted out to innocent people, the murders or the unwarranted destruction of property, but I would not be so naïve as to ignore the fact that something must be severely wrong, for what is it that turns a decent human being into a ruthless killing or destructive machine?
The second option, pursuing business as usual must also be examined from this same deeper and wider context. For these same reasons, it is not reasonable in the circumstances. Here is why:
This accepts the status quo. Perhaps because it is easier to resign oneself to the things one cannot change. It may be because one is not directly affected by the disenfranchisement or because one is so disenfranchised that there is no fight left. However, whether disenfranchised or not, I am a Kenyan. Theoretically, there are no preferred membership options. Whether I live a first or economy lifestyle, I share the same boundaries, the same towns, roads, schools, hospitals as the next Kenyan. I suffer the same governance problems and I am answerable to the same authorities. So whenever there is a national issue as is the case at hand, my life comes to a stand still as much as it does for the actual targets of the crackdown. In essence, what affects my neighbor, ultimately affects me.
Given this enlightenment, when do I accept the simple truth that in terms of consequences, there is no difference between those who pursue business as usual from those who seek truth and justice? Or the pretence that it is business as usual abets the meaningless massacre of Kenyans particularly those who pursue truth and justice? When do I realize that whatever the losing winner decrees to suppress those who pursue truth and justice affects my life? This is bigger than each of us, these are collective problems. I now know that without my peace; my neighbor’s peace remains elusive. Therefore we must examine all of the issues soberly, responsibly and collectively.
I am at a crossroads. I need to find a third way.
1 comment:
"so who is the person behind the wideopenkenyan blog reads like the dude is in the thick of things in Kisumu or somewhere like that but his profile says Washington, DC"
"nice blog - interesting reading"
"interesting blog in your status, btw are your family and friends okay over there?"
"2:15 PM its pretty interesting a little cynical"
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