Book Review - The Zanzibar Chest

Following is a book review:

The Zanzibar Chest: A Story of Life, Love, and Death in Foreign Lands
By Aidan Hartley; Atlantic Monthly Press, NY, 2003


This book is half memoir and half biography. The Kenyan connection comes via the memoir. Author Aidan Hartley was born to a British family in Nairobi. His childhood was spent in Tanganyika, at school in England and at the family home in Malindi. Scion of a family of empire builders, Hartley’s father was a colonial official, rancher, aid agricultural advisor and humanitarian worker. Rarely at home, Hartley’s father was constantly seeking adventure on the dusty plains of the continent. Thus, the son mythologized his father and imbued himself too in the call of Africa. Aidan followed the family path, but in the ways open to him in the 1980s and 1990s. He became a foreign correspondent for Reuters.

In the book Hartley reflects nostalgically on the Africa he knew as a child, an Africa that passed away due to independence, corruption and population pressures. Yet Hartley does not criticize much, he just reports. As a young adult Hartley signed on as a journalist and was soon smothered in the adrenalin of the profession caught up in a never ending series of wars, famines and disasters. He recounted marching for months with Tigrean rebels as they toppled Mengistu in Ethiopia. He was there in Somalia off-and-on for years as warlords – Hartley claims to have coined the term for Somalia – battled each other, looted the nation and ravaged humanitarian assistance. Hartley was also there in Rwanda as genocide swept the land. He walked into Kigali with rebel forces, bunkered down as fighting raged about and chronicled in very human terms the unfolding catastrophe.

The memoir gives an inside look at foreign correspondents. Home based in Nairobi, they were a colorful lot, fueled not just by the constant flow of new horror, but also by liquor, drugs and sex. They called the impetus of needing vibrant new copy every day, “feeding the beast.” And they did their best to comply.

Hartley’s talent as a writer is clear. His taunt prose paints vivid pictures of violence, death and famine. The details – for example, rescuing a still twitching child from a mass grave or a conversation with an abandoned stringer in the ruins of his Mogadishu home - provide the realism that makes the narrative compelling. Additionally, Hartley’s honesty, reflections on his actions, motives and feelings provide credible depth to his journal.

Juxtaposed among the journalistic memoir is another story - that of Peter Davey, a colonial era friend of his father who died in 1947 in Aden. Burned out from war, Hartley found Davey’s diaries carefully stashed in a Zanzibar chest in the family home in Malindi. Hartley then tells Davey’s tale of intrigue and mystery on the Arab peninsula filling in connections to his own family and even his name – the Irish spelling of Aden. Strangely enough, the mix of stories works. As did Hartley, the reader too needs respite from the flow of degradation, misery and violence of the reporter’s memoir.

The Zanzibar Chest is gripping read and highly recommended. The book is a couple of years old. Copies are available from on-line bookstores, but also check out your local library.

Opinion - Kenya must seize the moment!

I applaud the recent agreement signed by President Kibaki and now new Prime Minister Raila Odinga. This start to cooperation between warring camps bodes well for return to peace within the nation and the prospects for crafting more permanent solutions to long standing problems. But first, the two principals need to decide on a cabinet. Kenya especially needs dynamic ministers who can lead and act and translate noble sounding rhetoric into reality that improves the lot of the wanainchi.

Many wounds need salve. The tribal clashes that rendered the nation are mostly over – for the time being – but underlying issues of access to land, land ownership and freedom of movement and residence must be sorted out. Also, a new government must debate reparations for victims of conflict. Security forces have to cope with roving bands of tribal militia. And if the issues of returning to normal were not tough enough, Kenya must also cope with an economy devastated by the troubles. Many businesses are defunct, the transportation sector crippled, schooling interrupted, agricultural production halved and tourism all but halted. Additionally, thousands of internally displaced people require shelter, food and water.

Resolving these myriad issues will require determination, resources and political compromise, but that is the task before the new government. Outside help is certainly available, but it is incumbent upon the collective leadership of Kenya to take the lead. History (and the Kenyan people) will judge them on the record of their achievements.

Book Review - Acts of Faith

This is a review of a novel, Acts of Faith, by Philip Caputo. It was published by Vintage Books, NY, in 2005.

This novel set in Kenya and Sudan revolves around humanitarian efforts to aid stricken people in war torn southern Sudan. That is a large topic and author Caputo strives to include something for everyone. For example, the cast of characters include a jaundiced Kenyan soccer player searching for meaning; a vivacious white settler, who out of guilt, engages in good works; cynical mercenary pilots; a dew-eyed young missionary overwhelmed with Africa; a driven evangelist who is also a sharp businessman; a romantic SPLA commander and an Africa-seasoned, wise priest. There are many others, but those are central to the various plots that swirl around.

Themes in the novel include the logistics and economics of food aid, gun running, Kenyan bureaucratic corruption, slavery in Sudan, redemption by external Christian groups, sensationalist journalism, Janjaweed raids, the awful impact of warfare upon civilian populations, love, and lust.

The setting in Lokichokio (the gritty northwestern Kenyan base for Sudanese relief operations), Nairobi, and the Nuba mountains is authentic. Obviously well researched, Caputo realistically captures the feeling of the places that he describes well. Swahili usage was minimal, but accurate.

The reader will be overwhelmed as the various threads of stories make their appearance, but eventually they do coalesce into a coherent stream. The characters too start off as stereotypical profiles, but as the story moves along they too fill out and become more realistic.

The fate of the characters and the thrust of the plot aside, underlying questions being addressed in this novel are those of the utility and/or futility of western aid in catastrophic situations. Does such aid really help? Is it manipulated for private gain? Just what is the cost of such business? Morally, what is acceptable? And how to sort out motives? Does why folks engage really matter to recipients or only to the donor? Caputo does not provide any direct answers to such questions, but he does lay issues so that readers might consider them.

In conclusion, this was quite a readable and entertaining novel, indeed even a must read for those engaged in humanitarian operations or missionary undertakings.

Concern for Kenya

Following is an appeal for calm that I wrote as Vice President of the Friends of Kenya. It is also posted on the FOK web site (www.friendsofkenya.org).

Statement of Concern

The board of Friends of Kenya and, as we well know, many members of our organization have followed events in Kenya over the past month with a great sense of sadness, concern and apprehension. We send our condolences to the families who have lost loved ones and our pole to those who have been displaced. We hope that peace will be restored soon in Kenya

As a non-political organization, FOK has always refrained from expressing political views. We will continue to adhere to that policy and thus cannot support either President Kibaki or challenger Odinga.

However, we can and do take a stand in support of the Kenyan people. We support all Kenyan people at this time of crisis. We abhor ethnic enmity and tribal violence. We adamantly stand for truth and justice and call for the cessation of the senseless hostility that divides Kenyans from each other. We endorse the efforts of UN and African mediators to craft, along with Kenyan leaders from both sides, resolution to the crisis.

The toll in Kenya in lives, homes, jobs and prospects is already much too high. We deplore the destruction of neighborhoods and especially of the social comity that enabled Kenyans to mix together without rancor in pursuit of national development. It should be of highest priority to regain that lost ground, that togetherness, that sense of nationhood, that sense of being Kenyan. Success in pursuit of this goal will require a workable political settlement between the warring factions which is something that only they can author. The world insists that they achieve this. But beyond that Kenyans themselves will have to set aside suspicions and fears. Each person will have to take the brave steps to instill peace and forgiveness in his or her heart and to extend that peace to fellow citizens.

Friends of Kenya as an organization composed of individuals who harbor a great respect for Kenya want Kenyans to know of our concern for them and their nation at this time of crisis. We pray for peace and for reconciliation so that the nation that we all love so fondly might regain the vibrancy and the tolerance that served so well for generations.

Tribalism in Kenya

Understanding Tribalism in Kenya

Recent rioting, score settling, ethnic cleansing and other tribally motivated violence in Kenya was sparked in the aftermath of the December 27, 2007 presidential election when incumbent president Mwai Kibaki, a Kikuyu, flat out stole the election. Opponent Raila Odinga, a Luo, had led in all polls and by early counts seemed to be almost a million votes ahead as tallies came in. When that reality struck, Kibaki and his “Kikuyu mafia” inner circle simply had the results changed to assure a second term. They were probably prepared to do this all along and probably correctly assessed they could get away with it. So far, they have succeeded, but not without turmoil.

It is not genocide

First, despite the horrific video clips of mobs and police running amuck, it is important to understand that what is happening in Kenya is not genocide. The situation is not analogous to what transpired in Rwanda or to what is ongoing in Darfur. In Kenya there is no government policy of extermination of an ethnic group. There are no government backed armed militias. There is no official propaganda machine egging murder on. In short, tribal violence in Kenya is not genocide; nor have killings occurred on a truly massive scale.

It is also important to point out that tribalism in Kenya is not atavistic. It does not arise from ancient hatreds or warfare from cultures clashing over the eons. In fact, the two opposing groups, the Luo of western Kenya from the shores of Lake Victoria and the Kikuyu from central Kenya surrounding Mt. Kenya, had little contact with one another until the 20th century. Accordingly, Kenya’s tribalism is a relatively new phenomenon. It is a product of modern times arising from colonialism, urbanization, the population explosion and independent Kenya’s political culture. Yet, however induced, the tension and the hatred are very real and quite damaging.

Historically apart

Traditionally in Kenya, tribes lived in their own distinct areas with their own cultures, i.e. language, customs, myths of origin, etc. People interacted from time to time with neighboring tribes with some sporatic clashing over cattle or land, but given the space available in lightly populated east Africa, what long term animosities that there were grew up between the nomadic cattle keepers – the Masai – and their sedentary neighbors – the Kikuyu and Kamba. The Luo and Kikuyu were separated by miles of inhospitable Masai and Nandi land. With the coming of Europeans, being Kenya’s largest groups as well as chiefly farmers, the Luo and the Kikuyu accepted outside ways, especially Christianity and education (the two often went hand-in-hand). Individuals from these tribes were at the forefront of early politics. Many moved from home areas to work on European farms or to the towns and cities. Thus the ethnic mix of present day Kenya began.

British rule in the colony was founded on the principle of divide and conquer. British administrators accentuated differences and sought to play groups off against each other. So from the beginning of multi-tribal life, seeds of discontent were sewn. Mau Mau compounded such distinctions when the British recruited Luo and other tribesmen into “loyalist” forces to combat Kikuyu nationalism. Negative tribal stereotypes became embedded in popular belief. Lazy, uncircumcised, fish-eating Luos contrasted with clever, cheating, arrogant Kikuyus. And so forth.

With the achievement of independence in 1963, the spoils of government accrued to the victors. First President Jomo Kenyatta rode multi-tribal support to office, but his regime reverted both to the reality and to the perception of favoritism towards the Kikuyu. This manifested itself in greater government expenditures for social infrastructure in Kikuyu areas, corruption benefits to insiders, privileged access to governmental and parastatal jobs. Such favoritism for one group was coupled with blatant discrimination against the other, including intimidation of opponents and even assassinations. Politics since has essentially pitted Kikuyu against Luos, with each side attempting to attract other tribal groups to its banners. This political struggle continued even while Daniel arap Moi, a Kalenjin, was president. Even though Kalenjins emerged as new contenders in the graft game, divide and rule tribalism remained the basis for politics wherein Luo and Kikuyu leaders vied for prominence either inside Moi’s camp or in opposition to him.

During the last half of the last century as Kenya’s economy grew and its population expanded, there was more movement of people, especially Kikuyu tribesmen into Rift Valley Province in search of land at the expense of Masai and Kalenjin groups. Also, Kikuyus were becoming Kenya’s small traders and as such establishing themselves in cities, towns and villages throughout the country. As is true with Jews and Koreans in American ghettos, Kikuyu traders were resented by the local population that viewed them as exploitative. Such resentment was reinforced by national politics when patronage jobs, contracts, secondary and university school slots, etc. went to Kikuyus at the expense of other tribes. Consequently, Kikuyu economic success (humble as it might be) was seen as due to unfair factors. Thus, the ethnic pot boiled over onto both national and local fires.

Passions enflamed

Even though Luos and Kikuyus reluctantly joined forces to oust President Moi in 2002, the coalition between Kibaki and Odinga quickly dissolved, essentially because Kibaki reneged on the power sharing terms. It was back to winner take all, divide and rule. In 2007 the election was more clearly cast as tribal, Kikuyu and affiliates versus Luo and allies. Election issues of change, economic and social policies got subsumed into tribalism. It was time, Odinga supporters argued, to rotate the presidency; time to try to improve a system that was not performing. This theme struck a chord among voters who rallied to Raila’s banner. Entrenched Kikuyu interests in the presidency, in the administration, in the courts, in the military and in the private sector opposed dissolution of the status quo. So far, they have shown the power to prevail.

The outburst of violence in the wake of the stolen election has to be seen as the eruption of frustrations due to that egregious act; the arrogance of which underscored the stereotypical conviction of Kikuyu pride. The wave of anti-Kikuyu emotion expressed the pain of democracy usurped. Sadly, Kikuyu people became easy targets, blamed as a group for the actions of the Kibaki clique. Rioting also expresses itself in anti-government actions, challenges to the police and the disruption of civil order. As in any such mob scene, those engaged in violence while espousing political motives, quickly moved to acts of personal vengeance, destruction, looting and crime. Sadly, as elsewhere in Africa, Kenya has an abundance of unemployed bored young men who are willing participants in violence. Once they have the taste for this odd sort of adventure, it is difficult to restrain them. Now, it will be hard to avoid the emergence of rival tribal militias.

What can be done?

I fear the social fabric of Kenya has been irreparably torn. The clock cannot be turned back. Ethnic cleansing has occurred. Kikuyu have been driven out of some areas, Luos and Luhyas from others. Loss of relatives, friends, livelihoods, homes and opportunities will only entrench hatred in the hearts of victims. Slowly, of course, life will return to more peaceful patterns, but there will be a consolidation of tribal enclaves, greater separatism and sensitivity to tribal slights. Rioters will fade away and/or be beaten into submission by the police. A grievous price will have been paid, most perniciously in terms of people’s faith in each other, but also in terms of the economic system and in politics. The venom of tribalism will poison the society for years to come.

Both Kenyans and outside friends, including the U.S., seek modalities to defuse the immediate crisis. The first espoused option is to encourage the formation of a government of national unity including both Kibaki and Odinga. Essentially this asks the winner Odinga to be magnanimous in victory and to concede defeat to the man who cheated him out of his win. Second is to re-do the election. Neither looks especially promising. If there is no progress of this sort, donors and friends of Kenya will likely keep the government at arm’s length. This will have consequences in terms of bilateral relations, aid budgets and Kenya's prestige in the international community. Shunning Kenya will undoubtedly impact adversely on tourism. Kibaki’s team, however, is probably prepared to sit tight, weather the storm, grant a concession here or there, but otherwise to wield power as before. However, none of the possible resolutions or next moves can diminish the fact that tribalism is loose in the land and that Kenyans are worse off for it.

Book review - The Camel Bookmobile

The Camel Bookmobile

Marsha Hamilton

Harper Collins, New York, 2007

This novel has an odd, but quite descriptive title. The story revolves around a camel carried bookmobile that operates out of Garissa into Kenya’s northern reaches. The delivery of books to isolated nomadic villages brings into play the tension of the novel - the clash of worlds. Modern Africa and America represented by the books and the warm-hearted do-gooder young New York librarian on one hand and the tradition bound villagers of Midima on the other.

Books turn the village topsy turvy. Some welcome the introduction of new ideas and wider windows on the world. They – a teacher, a progressive grandmother and many youths – see that change in Kenya is inevitable and that the village or at least some villagers ought to join the outside world. Elders and cynics scorn the effort seeing it realistically as undermining the culture, tradition and bush knowledge that sustained the tribe for generations.

Our heroine Fi Sweeny brings her naiveté about Africa and western values to bear. She gets caught up in the inner tensions of village relationships where she herself is a catalyst interrupting the predictability of rural timelessness. As is true with PCVs, Fi learns more about love, hope, and life than she gives in her exchanges with villagers. The engaging story plays out against the backdrop of impending drought where the very survival of the semi-nomadic people is menaced.

The various elements of the plot and characters permit the author to observe alternatively cynically or sympathetically about the intrusions of the modern world into traditional life, the role of women and motivations behind humanitarian good works. The various characters are nicely developed. The village setting is authentically rendered. The story has good pace and keeps the reader guessing until the end.

East Africa - Paul Theroux's Dark Star Safari

Following is a review of Paul Theroux's latest travel book, which is now several years old. The review also appears on the web site of the Friends of Kenya.

Dark Star Safari by Paul Theroux,Houghton Mifflin, NY 2003

Dark Star Safari – Overland from Cairo to Cape Town marked Theroux’s return to Africa in the year 2000 after thirty years absence. He strove to travel the length of the continent as a solo voyager using local transportation such as buses, trucks and trains. Using his other travel books as models, he closely observed those whom he met and commented trenchantly, candidly and cynically about them. The value of the book is that Theroux writes so well that his observations ring of truthfulness – whether or not they are accurate. The compilation of anecdotes forms a body of work that paints a realistic picture of contemporary Africa. Furthermore, because he revisits territory and situations known to RPCVs, we have the advantage of seeing again places and people we once encountered.

Since this column focuses on Kenya, I will confine myself to comments about the East Africa section of Theroux’s journey, i.e. Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania. Theroux came down the great north road from Moyale on a cattle truck, an overlander truck and with a missionary. Because he was refused a ride, Theroux gave vent to his negative opinion of AID workers and their undertakings. “They were in general oafish self-dramatizing prigs, and often complete bastards.” Theroux, however, was an equal opportunity basher, noting the provinciality of Kenya’s northern residents who were apprehensive about troubles in Ethiopia, Theroux observed, “These ignorant inhabitants, traveling on a hideous road in an over-heated desert, in a neglected province of one of the most corrupt and distressed and crime-ridden countries in Africa, regarded sunny, threadbare, but dignified Ethiopia as a war zone.” As did the locals Theroux feared shifta bandits. He was told by a driver, however, “They do not want your life, bwana, they want your shoes.” Theroux reflected that indeed human life was cheap in Africa; shoes had more utility.

Seeing the slums outside Nairobi, Theroux said, “it was clear that the Kenya I had known was gone. I didn’t mind; perhaps the newness would make this trip all the more memorable.” Theroux did find a new Kenya, where inhabitants were savaged by Moi’s thugs, harassed on crowded crime ridden streets, governed by a self-serving ruling class, afflicted by HIV/AIDS and gripped by a sense of desperation that he encountered in all African cities. He noted that whenever a city grew bigger, “it got uglier, messier, more dangerous, an effect of bad planning, underfunding and graft.”

The author did not stay long in Nairobi but hurried on through Nakuru, Kericho and Kisumu. He was not impressed. He noted the lack of any modern development. He blamed ineffectual international assistance programs for being a complete waste of money, but also recognized that Africans themselves had botched most opportunities. He saw one “booming industry” upon leaving Kisumu – coffin makers – “a perfect image for a country that seemed terminally ill.”

Theroux returned to his personal past in Kampala where he had taught for several years at Makerere University. He found Uganda marginally better than Kenya; at least it was imbued with a sense of forward motion. In contacting old friends he discovered that the surroundings of the political debates had changed, but the underlying terms were the same. How to develop? Who should rule? How? What systems would work for Africa? Obviously there were no answers to these questions. While awaiting permission to board a lake ferry, Theroux wandered around the city he once knew and reflected on the changes wrought by thirty years in Uganda, in Ugandans, and in himself.

Finally aboard a rail-car carrier to Mwanza, Theroux entered into a Zen like state that would successfully carry him across the lake, on by rail to Dar and via the TanZam towards Malawi. Although he enjoyed the people, Theroux observed, “The dogmatic, motto-chanting Tanzanians had been humbled. No one talked of imperialism and neocolonialism now, nor of the evils of capitalism – though they could have, for even capitalism had failed in Tanzania.”

Errors: I always stumble upon geographical mix-ups. I am surprised that “fact checkers” don’t do a better job. Talking about volcanoes, Theroux said that “Mt. Lengai in Rwanda” was erupting. However, Mt. Lengai is dormant and in Tanzania. All the Rwandan volcanoes are dormant, but Mts. Nyiragongo and Nyamulagira in neighboring Congo remain active. Theroux noted that he had hoped to visit “Kabila” in western Uganda to see chimpanzees. There is no Kabila. I assume he meant Kabale Forest where chimps are easily seen. Similarly, he listed Lake Tanzania as one of the East African great lakes. Its name is Tanganyika.

Theroux ‘s journey began before East Africa and continued on afterwards. His take on other countries and people encountered are equally realistic, albeit amusing or infuriating. Theroux wanted to be in-the-mix, but not of it. He sought to retain a dispassionate perspective, but never hesitated to share scathing judgments. He was proud of his undertaking, but arrogant in judging that the sojourns, travels, observations and works of others were somehow less noble. Even so, a reader cannot help but like the guy. He went and did it and told it like he saw it.


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Kenya - Not so Ferocious African Bees

As a Peace Corps Volunteer in Kenya in the late sixties, I shared a ramshackle European farm house with two other PCVs. Despite its dilapidation, it was certainly not a rural African hut. We had indoor plumbing, running water (when the 1913 vintage pump could be coaxed into operation), electrical outlets (but no generator), even a phone line and telephone number (but no instrument). Nonetheless, it was acceptable shelter.

What did remain magnificent, however, were the flowers. We had a profusion of roses, day lilies and flowering bushes of all types. Orange and lime trees continued to produce abundantly. The most redolent white trumpet shaped flowers grew on bushes some ten feet high. We called them the bee trees because they attracted bees. Hundreds, if not thousands, buzzed around incessantly. When the indoor plumbing was inoperative on account of lack of water, the dash through the bee trees to the outdoor facility had to be timed so as not to agitate the bees. Even so, we got used to them and coexisted amiably.

One of my housemates, Dennis, observed one day that the bees were getting louder and flying constantly around the windows to his room. Investigation behind the shrubs showed that, sure enough, bees were streaming in and out of the crawl space. Our Nandi tribesman night watchman, confirmed that bees had moved in and were making honey. He proposed a solution. He said he had some friends who knew bees and collected honey. In exchange for the bulk of the honey, they would rid us of the hive. We cut the deal. Within a day or two, one of the experts inspected the site. He said his team would return when the time was right.

We waited expectantly, but no one showed. The dry hot days stretched out. The bees buzzed. Dennis could not sleep at night from the hum below. Finally, the rains began, first in the afternoon, followed by a long evening soak. The next rainy night the bee men arrived. In the pouring rain, they stripped naked, busted into the crawl space, pushed a smoky torch under the house (I feared they’d burn the whole place down) and began passing out buckets of honey comb. Soon they located the queen, placed her and a quivering mass of insects into a paper box to cart off to more salubrious surroundings.

With some delight one of the bee men told me that bees did not associate wet hairless human skin with the enemy. However, they would attack furry creatures with frenzy. Woe be to the bee man who was not shaven! The night, the smoke and the rain also confused the bees, impeded flying and communication.

We got a half bucket of delicious honey out of the deal and patched up the hole the next morning.

Kenya - The Struggle for Democracy

This is a book review of a new academic oriented collection of essays about Kenya's democractic prospects.

Kenya – The Struggle for Democracy

Godwin R. Murunga & Shadrack W. Nasong’o, editors

Zed Books, NY, 2007

Kenya – The Struggle for Democracy, still hot from the printer, is a compilation of scholarly essays about contemporary Kenya. The individual pieces are honest and blunt. Authors make no effort to hide prejudices that are aimed at colonialism, the Kenyatta and Moi regimes. Judgments on the Kibaki era are hedged, but various contributors fear it too is becoming engulfed in the same vortex of oligarchic power that has plagued Kenya for generations.

The editors state at the outset that contributors to the book are young academics not tainted by sell-out to the system. Further, the editors claim, young academics never benefited from mentoring that ought to have been their due from the previous generation (who did sell out). This is only the first of many themes of opportunities lost that run through the tome.

Readers be warned that Kenya – The Struggle for Democracy is an academic book replete with footnotes and citations of other learned works. Language too is quite erudite – often it seems deliberately so – sentences occasionally need several readings in order to make sense. Yet, there is a great deal of extremely good sense in this book.

The overall thrust of the book is to discuss in the Kenyan context the various elements that make up a democratic society. The basic charge against Kenya is that colonialism extended into Kenyattaism and Moism and even Kibakism without substantial change in the format of how government works, i.e. by coercion and intimidation. Although the leadership changed, authoritarian rule only became worse as Kenyatta and Moi expanded the powers of the presidency and then used those powers to assure their predominance. Yet against this backdrop, there was throughout an effort by many to push for democracy, popular participation and accountability. Topics covered in the book include the evolution of civil society organizations, the growth of religious movements and their political roles, the problems encountered by opposition political parties, the growth of youth movements and abuses of the same during multiparty elections, the stymied participation of women, missed opportunities by intellectuals, abuses perpetrated by the police, the impact of structural adjustment policies and the confusing roles of donors.

I judged the chapter on political parties to be among the most interesting, not only for its accurate history of the convoluted opposition to the Kenyatta and Moi regimes, but more on account of the analysis of why opposition did not function well and continues to operate poorly. The explanation that African polities do not accommodate a loyal opposition, i.e. you are either with me or an enemy, rings true in the Kenyan context, but is buttressed by the fact that no parties, expect perhaps KANU for a time, really have had any existence outside an electoral period. Beyond temporary coalitions designed solely to oust Moi, Kenya has no parties of issues –– only parties of “big men” who organize, pay for and selfishly direct “their” parties. This explains why Kenya has 55 registered parties, most of which are simply vehicles for personal ambitions. The author of this chapter argued that until political parties themselves become internally democratic they cannot become “democratic institutions” and realistically foment democracy.

The chapter on women explained convincingly how women were sidelined from national life during the last half century. The exclusion they experienced during colonial times arose mostly from the nature of their subsistence labor which kept them out of the “modern” sector and away from education. Such marginalization was augmented after independence when a perverted form of “traditional” patriarchy pushed them further into the corners of national life. Today Kenyan women account for only 6 percent of public figures; nearly last place in Africa. One solution might be an electoral system of proportional representation for Parliament. Countries with these systems, such as Rwanda (48 %), tend to have much higher proportions of women in public roles.

The discussion of intellectuals was a telling indictment by the author of his peers. He alleged that Kenyan intellectuals have not stood up to their responsibility to foster democracy. Several reasons for this lacuna are put forward: fear of reprisals,love of the good life, co-optation by the powers-that-be, failure of the older generation to give way to the new or simply shirking of duty. The introspection shown by this chapter demonstrates the guilt felt by many intellectuals for the failure of Kenya, both historically and currently, to achieve its democratic potential.

The chapter on the police provided details on how the police and security services evolved under Kenyatta and Moi to become the essential bulwark of presidential power. Instances of assassination, torture, and other egregious abuses of authority are cited as well as the erosion of the rule of law and the compromise of the judiciary. It is a troubling read, but necessary to understand the fear and intimidation that permeated political society and kept the opposition in check. The author hopes that under Kibaki abuses are being corrected, but gives little evidence that the system has undergone fundamental reform.

Finally, the book concludes with two chapters that link Kenya’s political troubles and tensions of the last half century to its economic woes. There were certainly causal links as bad decisions (both political and economic) and bad luck (mostly economic) led to a spiral of decline. The poor internal Kenyan economic dynamic was further destabilized by changing and contradictory policies imposed by the World Bank, IMF and donor nations. Although there is an effort to level blame for economic failures, there is more of an explanation of what happened and an appeal for consistency in the future.

Kenya – The Struggle for Democracy, is full of current information and realistic history. For those ready for a graduate-school level tome, it is a useful guide to crucial Kenyan issues.

Golf in Africa

Following is a piece that I wrote about my golfing experiences in Africa that was published in the April 2007 edition of the Foreign Service Journal.

Best and Worst Golf Courses

One valid subjective measure for rating an overseas post is the quality of the golf experience. In that spirit, I offer the following observations.

On becoming the consul in Mombasa, Kenya, I rented a house that backed up to the Nyali Club golf course. It was finally time for me to learn the game and become inculcated into the arcana of golf rules and, especially the formality of a British-origin club. I joined and, depending upon the season, played upon lush green fairways or hard-packed clay over fossilized coral rock. I regularly jumped my back fence for a few practice holes in the early evening. Baby monkeys carted off balls, doum palms ate them and the rough hid puff adders. Most refreshing during competitions was a cold fresh lime drink under the palm trees between nines.

The course in the middle of Kampala was full of ardent players. Thought modest, the prizes - a bicycle, a set of kitchen utensils or a bottle of scotch – were items beyond the reach of many players. Despite the fact that few players were British, an English sense of decorum prevailed. One did not fail to doff his hat upon entering the bar. Most entertaining were rule-committee arguments and rulings conducted in an open fashion over beers on the terrace. Real tension rose once a year in the regional competition organized on tribal lines; we foreigners were allocated any region where more players were needed. In keeping with Uganda’s strife plagued politics, the contest was war by other means. However, it all ended amicably in a huge drunk.

The course in Bangui became one of my favorites. It was not much of a course, with poorly mown fairways and oiled-sand greens, but it had very cold beer. As it happened either Political officer Stacy Kazacos, the only Central African Republic member Martin Yando, or I won every competition for about a year. This infuriated the largely French membership. My triumph was to capture the CAR national championship in 1995. Unfortunately, that was the last year it was played: the golf course succumbed to the ravages of civil strife, and has not reopened.

Kigali has a winding nine-hole course that crosses and recrosses an infernal stream. A challenging course, its fairways are narrow and grass greens unpredictable. The club had a mixed membership of Rwandans (mostly army officers who learned the game in Uganda) and international personnel. I tried to interest now-President Kagame in golf, but he preferred tennis (he rarely lost). Once a year we decorated the club house with left over July 4 bunting and played for the “American Cup.” We cooked hotdogs. I gave away putters, bags, balls to the winners.

Other memorable African courses that I know include Firestone East, located on a vast rubber plantation in Liberia. The main challenge was getting to and from the course, 40 miles from the capital. Players had to run a gauntlet of roadblocks manned by former dictator Charles Taylor’s goons and child soldiers.

The midtown course in Kinshasa is low lying with lots of water hazards. One rarely lost a ball, however, on account of the ever-present “crocodiles” – men who waited patiently by each pond, waded in and retrieved your ball for a small sum. In contrast the course in N’Djamena, Chad, had little vegetation but lots of sand. We carried around a swath of outdoor carpet to hit from into inconsistent oiled browns. Heat was the issue in Chad. It was already 95 degrees when we started at 9 a.m. and often 120 by the finish.

Djibouti’s course resembles Chad’s: sand and rock decorated by remnants of plastic trash bags. Heat and humidity, each about a 100, necessitated a dawn start. I would roust a caddy off his sleeping mat – they slept on the club veranda – and head out. One morning with a tail wind and good bounces, I had a legitimate sub-par round. The golf gods were telling me that even in Djibouti, they smile down on lunatics. A year later, my crowning achievement came on the course in Bujumbura. I aced hole number 12, a 180-yard, uphill par 3…bounce, bounce, in!

So which is the best or the worst? I can’t say. I liked them all. I needed them all! For without a golf course, any post is the pits.

Kenya - Who killed Robert Ouku?

On the morning of February 16, 1990 the Voice of Kenya radio announced that the mutilated and partially burned body of Robert Ouko, Kenya’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, had been found near his home in Koru. The minister had been reported as missing a day earlier.

Ouku’s death ushered in a long series of inquiries, investigations and speculations, but since the trail led into the highest reaches of Kenyan politics, further pursuit of culprits was stonewalled. No one has ever been charged with the crime.

Professors David William Cohen and E.S. Atieno Odhihambo wrote a book entitled The Risks of Knowledge: Investigations into the Death of the Hon. Minister John Robert Ouko in Kenya, 1990, Athens, Ohio University Press, 2004. The authors recount what is known and unknown about the minister’s death.

Risks of Knowledge is a difficult book to describe and an awkward one to read. It is an erudite mélange of scholarship, sensationalist reporting and stilted legalese. The authors have multiple goals that they spell out in the introduction. Foremost is to assess how the investigations into Foreign Minister Ouko’s murder transformed Kenyan society. The authors assert that the knowledge revealed both wittingly and unwittingly, shed light on ambition, corruption and the practice of politics by Kenya’s most powerful people. Among the consequences of the investigations was the exposure of various efforts to cover-up the high level involvement undertaken in order to confuse and keep the public in the dark. The authors stated that this objective failed as the brouhaha surrounding such blatant attempts to obfuscate led to expanded and ultimately successful efforts to reform and to democratize Kenya.

Like the investigations themselves, the book wanders around a bit jumping from the material at hand to ruminations on its meaning and impact. However, the book does provide a solid structure for revisiting the murder. In turn it highlights evidence of “the white car” seen by the housekeeper, the site of the death, the missing note that perhaps named the abductors, Ouko’s whereabouts in the days before the murder, the minister’s state of mind, corruption linked to the molasses factory, Ouko’s falling out with President Moi, theories of family problems, and special branch abuses. At times the book reads like a murder mystery, yet as the authors point out early, there are no conclusions as to who did it? or why? only mounting evidence that permits readers to draw their own conclusions. Nonetheless, the mounting evidence and the authors’ analysis of it provide fascinating insights into Kenyan political society.

I kept waiting for the authors to deliver a promised discussion of how the investigation elevated the status of servants (such persons including housekeeper Selina and herdsman Shikuku provided the bulk of the damning testimony), granting them credibility in a society that tended to ignore the thoughts and observations of the lower classes, but other than the statement to that effect there was little analysis of this facet.

My disclaimer: Since I lived briefly in Koru as a PCV (1968) and worked in that area for nearly two years, I easily recalled the physical geography relevant to the murder. Although I did not know the minister, I knew other “big men” who owned farms in the sugar zone. Additionally, I gleaned some understanding of the dynamics of Luo politics, at least from the perspective of the common man. Finally, from a later diplomatic posting in next door Uganda, I assisted Ouku’s brother Barrack Mbajah to join his son in the U.S. in 1991.

Those who served in Kenya during the early nineties undoubtedly recall the ongoing soap opera of the investigations, especially the commission’s months long hearings that were reported verbatim in the Daily Nation. All that verbiage will jump back out at you as you read this book. For others who knew Kenya before or after this event, this book serves as a good divider. Earlier observers of the political scene, recalling Mboya’s and Kariuki’s deaths, would perhaps not be terribly surprised, albeit disappointed, that assassination would occur again. Later observers will more realistically appreciate the political currents unleashed by Ouko’s death and the changes subsequently wrought. In any case, Risks of Knowledge is an interesting foray into a complex topic. If you have patience, it is an excellent read.

Kenya - Moon Rocket

I see it now in my mind’s eye – from my house in Songhor - wind blown tufts of light green sugar cane surging like a great sea on Kenya’s Kanu Plains to wash gently against the thousand foot heights of the Nandi Escarpment. Some thirty miles distant, Lake Victoria Nyanza glimmered in the late afternoon sun. The image is clear, yet complicated by the rush of other images, faces, smells, sounds - by the sheer exuberance of memories that so indelibly marked this time in my life.

I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Central Nyanza charged with supervising the construction of a rural water system designed to pipe potable water to 1200 farms on three government sponsored Settlement Sugar Schemes. I worked most closely with a group of eight men whom I trained in the skilled work of the project. When resting we kibitzed and talked. They had many questions.

Maurice almost always began. With a twinkle in his eye, he probed for the amazing differences he reckoned inherent between whites and blacks. He questioned me incessantly about why I had come to Kenya. I’m not sure he ever really understood my response. Maybe, presuming that I myself knew the answer, I couldn’t articulate it well. Altruism was beyond Maurice’s comprehension, but a thirst for adventure seemed to be a satisfactory motive. Another exchange went like this.

“Robert,” Maurice asked, “Is it true that Mzungus (Europeans) eat frogs?”

I pondered. “Yes,” I replied. “Some Mzungus eat frogs, but only the legs. When fried up they taste a bit like chicken.”

Maurice looked skeptical. “Really,” he frowned. “Frogs.” He concluded, “Mzungus are very weird.”

Inspired, I noted, “You know, Europeans think that eating termites is very strange.”

Maurice absorbed this information, then shot back with a surprised query. “Why?” he asked, “termites are good.”

A more telling exchange occurred in July 1969. Americans had just landed on the moon. The guys were very interested in this news - more intently than I would have expected.

“So Robert,” Maurice began, “Is it true that Americans have landed on the moon?”

“Yes,” I responded pointing to the wisp of a moon still visible in the morning sky. “They are up there now.”

This confirmation engendered discussion of rocket ships and airplanes, which demonstrated these poorly schooled rural men’s lack of appreciation for the science and the technological accomplishment of the moon trip. Francis who was more cynical than his colleagues observed, “If Americans can build airplanes then certainly they can build a rocket.” He was puzzled however, by the fact that it had taken so long to get to the moon. “After all,” he noted pointing again to the moon, “You can see it right there!” This again raised the question as to whether the landing had really happened.

Ligolo, older, taller and stronger with his front teeth knocked out in the traditional Luo style, and who rarely participated in these exchanges, cleared his throat. The men craned anxiously in his direction when he asked the crucial question. “So Robert,” he paused, “What color is God?”

I was stunned. I had no context for the question. Yet obviously it lay at the heart of their concern. James, the most worldly of the crew who sported sunglasses and who shed his family name Oyier in favor of Bondi in honor of agent 007, saw my consternation and came to my aid.

“Robert,” he said, “We Luo people believe that God takes several forms and that he lives, at times at least, on the moon. The issue goes to the nature of God. If God is good, he is black like Africans. However, if he is evil, he is red.” James continued, “Ligolo’s question is fair. If Americans have gone to the moon like you say, they must have seen God. So, what color is he?”

I admitted it was a good question, and with further discussion I learned more about Luo beliefs, but I had no answer. However, we agreed to look for the answer. I brought international editions of Time and Newsweek back from Kisumu the next week and we scrutinized the stories and pictures for evidence, but – of course – found none.

I realized afterwards that this was one of those quintessential moments when each of my friends took one more step into the modern world and away from tribal traditions. The trappings of old beliefs diminished against the onslaught of new reality.

Before too long the issue of God on the moon faded away. Soon Luo owned and operated sugar trucks and buses, perhaps subconsciously reflecting this religious heritage, soon started bearing names like “Moon Rocket” or “Apollo 12.”

In the years since, I have subsequently reflected with some sadness how man’s crowning technological achievement of the 20th Century unintentionally undermined beliefs that had sustained Luo people for generations.