October holiday galore

At the rate at which we are going, you’d probably be forgiven if you thought it is January 2007. After all, we have had quite a number of holidays so far this October, and there are more on the way.

Hope you had a happy Kenyatta Day, and are now enjoying the fruits of independence dear readers. What a glorious day of remembrance it was, perched on my favourite seat in the pub, debating the virtues and vices of a Narc administration gone wrong, of a country’s hopes and dreams bungled over the years. Sometimes, I sit here and wonder where those 43 years have gone, watching this fledgling nation’s fortunes wane over the years and we are now international beggars of repute. Who would have thought, all those years ago, that a promising band of new leaders would have started this sorry state of affairs and misrule? How much more ironic could it be, that a batch of mau mau "rebels" who fought for independence, could have probably charted a better path for Kenya had they not been pushed aside by the educated politicians we call the ‘founding fathers’? Oops, I almost forgot, Kenyatta day is a holiday for patriots who appreciate their independence heroes, and as we all know, patriots never question the motives nor the decisions of those in charge.

So with a bottle of Tusker on my fist, fresh from Ruaraka the home of the top taxpayers in Kenya: Exactly from whom are we celebrating this independence? I mean, as a Kenyan in this dark day and age, I've found myself anything but independent. Sure, I sit in the safe boundaries of this country, getting paid real Kenyan money to offer my services to an employer who appreciates my input, but Kenyan politicians have recently demonstrated to all and sundry that they are out of touch with the reality in the country. Fuck, I drove an imported (and used) Japanese vehicle to the bar, fuelled by Saudi Arabian oil, and I'm wearing a used American shirt sewn together by young Third World Asian hands. My used shoes were stitched together in the Philippines, the glass I'm drinking from was wrought in France, and the musicians prancing across the television screen have American names. Believe it or not, the very streets you walk on in Nairobi have been designed abroad for colossal amounts of money. Could it be possible, in all this vanity and self-worship, that a day dedicated to an event that took place many years ago is just a sham? Perhaps in the same manner that a King depends upon the taxes of his rulers to live his life of luxury, that we sit on this throne funded not by our own taxes but by the efforts of seemingly trivial loans from several foreign coffers? Consider this tonight; when you sit in front of your TV and watch the news (without Swaleh Mdoe to tickle your funny bone) to find out what Kibaki was up to, we depend upon:

• The World Bank and the Interfering Mother Fuckers (IMF) for loans to fund our spending;
• The Western world for our used clothing;
• The Internet for cracked computer software;
• Europe for our cell phones;
• Japan and Germany for automotive engineering;
• South Africa for eggs;
• Pakistan for rice;
• Tanzania for electricity poles;
• The USA and the UK for approvals;
• The Middle East for our petroleum (and those masochistic oil company cartels to boot);
• Scandinavia for premium liquors; and
• Uganda and Tanzania for bullshit political support and general jackassery.

Once upon a time, a mob of pissed-off patriots had had enough shit from their oppressors and packed up for the bush to fight for a better way. A new way. And a New Kenya. On this Kenyatta Day weekend, you should remember exactly what that New Kenya has become: a charade of political clowns and executive pimps, whoring your patriotic asses out for the fat shilling in the offshore bank account. The government tells you the lies, the media relays the lies, and you, the gullible Kenyan, lives the lies. The Narc dream, the vision, the role of our leaders to spur exponential economic growth and the elimination of poverty and tribalism is a vast illusion. No, Central province, the motorcade finally crossed River Chania, there was no Mumbi nor Gikuyu, and your President is a lying bastard. No, Western Kenya, there will probably never be a Luhya president. No Kalenjinland, William Ruto does not think about you even once, he just needs power to enrich himself, and he’ll never be president anyway. No, Maasailand, 'your' land will never be returned, so stop bitching and move on with life.

So I beg you, on this weekend commemorating the imprisonment and deaths of our independence heroes, to look up from your feet and the newspapers, and pay attention to what is actually happening. You're not celebrating independence from anything, not your past of letting Kenyans die of Malaria as drugs rotted away in Nairobi godowns and Ministers drove multimillion limousines, your legacy of igniting and ignoring tribal genocides as we approach elections, the reputation of your leaders for exploiting the voters. You're not celebrating your right to sniff pussy in K-Street, your ability masturbate in the sovereign abodes of your household and to own your own land. You're not celebrating your freedom from international oil pricing, the effect the Central Bank’s controls have had on the fate of our agricultural exports, or what the KRA is going to do to your economy. And you're certainly not celebrating what those mau mau fighters had in mind when they armed themselves and went into the bush to push out the mbeberu.

You're celebrating their ignorance.

Ignorance of what Kenya would become, ignorance of all those dead Kenyans across the Rift Valley, ignorance of where your tax money is going or what those MPs are doing or who's raping who as the police watched. Ignorance of exactly what that flag you squirm to attention when it is hoisted and lowered signifies.

And your own ignorance that right now, that in your own country, a Kenyan is dying from a curable disease, another child goes without an education and a homestead is burning.

An elected official probably lit the match. A highly paid appointed spokesperson briefed the gathered press. A police officer held you back from the side of the road. A cameraman was robbed of his film. An editor, a total stranger, warped the words you read. An unfamiliar face on the TV read them to you in that assuring voice, with Swaleh Mdoe chained and en route to a probable deportation. And you believed them.

You believed every word they told you.

So why don't you believe me?

Ponder this: The Asian community controls about 70% of the Kenyan economy, their vote does not count in elections (except in some wards in Westlands and Kisumu!) and yet yesterday they were celebrating Diwali, their new year and yet this was not a Public Holiday. Our Muslim brethren on the other hand, control a smaller portion of the economy, mainly at the coast and the vast nothingness that is the North Eastern Province, and when they break their fast, it is a Public Holiday (as shall be on Tuesday 24 October). Christians on the other hand, make up the masses, their politicians double up as their tribal chieftains and the richest people on the land (coincidence? Nah), their vote counts, they control the smallest portion of the economy, mainly through the chieftains and yet you and me engage in a lot of chest thumping over freeing the land from the colonialists, while the benefits are clearly ending up elsewhere!

The only entity of which you're operating independently is the truth.

Celebrate that, fellow brainwashed Kenyans.