Of Turkana's Nouveaux Riches And Their Warped Ideas

Kootoro Primary School, Lokichar Division, Turkana County. PHOTO: Lotiki Thomas

In her book, "The Shock Doctrine: The Rise Of Disaster Capitalism" , Naomi Klein - a Canadian author, social activist and filmmaker - discusses the aftermath of disasters, changes and how governments, corporate world, and elite (both within and without government circles) contently smile whenever disasters strike.

Disasters - of any proportion - she points out, offer a lifeline to hitherto redundant, politically incorrect ideals and/or policies. 

Disasters - to the advantage of this tiny clique - achieve one mission: They disorient public thinking and reactions to that of immediate results. They deactivate (so to say) public collective critical thinking to question the interventions of their governments, leaders and even the business world.

Simply speaking, such episodes lead to the development of accept-it-all-without-question population.

And so, a question pops up: Is it possible to turn around this tide of "disaster profiteering" and inject a dose of self-reflection to the public (especially during moments of extreme resource scarcity)?

Anti-capitalism aside; what interests me in this book - and which I seek to demonstrate here - is the unholy marriage between profit-leaning professionals (read all of us with tools to stimulate meaningful change) and the underdevelopment that is prevalent in our localities. 

My home county Turkana comes to mind. Those of us who write about this land and its people do not agree with the assertions that Turkana County is poor. I still firmly stand by my earlier statement that poverty – wait, underdevelopment in Turkana - is to a greater extent manufactured from within. 

It's purely the handiwork of a withdrawal syndrome that has taken over the minds of most of us. It's no news talking about poverty fifty years after independence declaration and countless anti-poverty interventions that have little to show in terms of poverty reduction.

Of course, there is much to show if we base our anti-poverty analysis on the number of pot-bellied local sons romping our villages and the oceans of alcohol flooding tiny towns like Lodwar. 

So, what is it about Turkana's nouveaux riches?

Personally, I find no reason to pin down this group just because they are economically endowed than a majority of people out there. It's this group's care-free, do-nothingness, fence-seating that need a total clean up.

Some few months ago, one of my readers raised a matter that up to this day torments me to the core. The reader wanted to know why Turkana widows do not enjoy some sort of economic freedom that - presumably - will put them at par with other members of the community. 

He went ahead to rightly underline that since the county confronts many bloody conflicts arising from banditry and cross-border attacks which leave behind long queues of widows and orphans, why has it taken long for local leadership (plus local professional bodies) to pick up this matter and offer a lasting solution to this crucial constituency?

Again, why are all "solutions" starting and ending with distributions of goodies - foodstuffs, clothing etc and not solid answers that will leave these people empowered and energized to rebuild their lives - by themselves?

I think I know why such kinds of questions still dominate our interactions. People - a majority of us - have started seeing some light. Now, unlike before, the cattle herder of Lokori and the fishmonger of Kalokol are conscious of the fallacy dolled around by their sons and daughters. 

They know they are victims of - in Naomi Klein's words - orchestrated raids on the public sphere in the wake of catastrophic events, combined with treatment of disasters as exciting market opportunities...

And thus arise some painful questions: If all professionals end up in drinking holes, who will eliminate mental stagnation pinning down our people?

If all good ideas remain locked within us, when will our children know there is a different way of doing things, and that, this way is what is badly needed to fight poverty and entrenched hopelessness?

If all clever minds shy away from talking to their village folks how do we expect these people to learn?

A little soul-searching is needed to bring us back on the road to inclusive progress. We must act.

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Email:  lemoseh89@gmail.com. Twitter:  @mlemukol. 

It's Preposterous To Bank On Selfish Politicians

Photo Credit: Internet Sources

From the look of things and the public discourse on social media, one would be excused to conclude that the Kenyan society has been wired to believe that all solutions - no matter what - must originate from the political class.

There is a growing feeling that the more powers a politician wields, the better he delivers on his duties.

This partly explains why we - government and citizens alike - are quick to push for legal changes ostensibly to cure an existential problem that (maybe) stems from our own mistakes, omissions or outright mediocrity.

Whether this assertion is right is yet to be proved. But one thing I know is that powers devoid of solid human effort will take us nowhere. It's completely out of touch to believe that princely looking officials will bring heavens to our door steps. 

No, no, no it doesn't work that way. Only hopeless populations will entertain such thoughts - and practices. 

Which brings us to another level: What makes a population hopeless? Does this hopelessness offer a lifeline to one-sided politics? What is the way out of this?

Many theories have been propounded on the subject of hopelessness of peoples and how this state impacts both on peoples' lives, the environment in which they live and the general body-politic governing them. 

One such thinker is Paulo Freire who until his death in 1997 was a Brazilian educator and philosopher whose advocacy of critical pedagogy gave rise to his book "The Pedagogy Of The Oppressed".

In this title, he examines the genesis of oppression, its manifestations and growth. Besides, he tries to figure out the connection between the mind of the oppressed and the oppressive conditions in which s/he is subjected to.

Not all oppression, he observes, must be blamed on external oppressors. Other forms of oppression are nurtured and promoted by the oppressed themselves. 

A society promotes its own destruction the moment it fully renders itself susceptible to manipulation. It must not – at all times - assume the role of a bystander. 

Can the Kenyan society - based on Freire's analysis - be said to be hopeless as a result of external forces (read selfish politicos)?

Recent terror attacks coupled with many other challenges bedeviling us have clearly shown our fissures.

Our sense of national outrage needs a big boost. We shamelessly believe that any trouble in one part of the country (like the terrorist killings at Garissa University) is not our trouble as long as our (personal) interests remain intact.

This absence of a solid national outrage is the fodder that keeps mediocre politics growing. Mark you; the specificity of politics is unique to every society. Ours is built on indifference and short-term-ism. 

It's obviously clear that a society that practices politics of indifference breeds politicians whose DNA is indifference.

So, why are we surprised when our leaders seem not to connect to our sufferance? Why are we complaining of their thieving nature when we solidly stand behind them with the full knowledge of their shortcomings?

Who is the enemy? Who deserves condemnation? Isn't it time for us Kenyans to step aside and soul-search?

Bloodbath, hunger, corruption, subversion of the rule of law, marginalization, and disregard of people’s standing as the primary builders of the nation and many other ills stalking us need more than our two-minute mumblings and online brouhaha.

We must move beyond this for real impact to flow.

For those of us whose heads are heavy for fear of testing new grounds, it’s time we admitted that it's preposterous to bank our hopes on a selfish political class we collectively created. We have the tools to deconstruct it.

The greatness of Kenya is in how we act - individually and collectively.

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Email:  lemoseh89@gmail.com. Twitter:  @mlemukol. 

Will Garissa University Massacre Reignite Our Collective Efforts?

For how long shall we bank our hopes to eliminate poverty, foster strong social relations, and enhance security of citizens and their properties on a big-bellied political class that shares not in the tribulations of a majority of us?  Has it not dawned on us that our lethargic bureaucracy badly needs a citizen-driven monitoring for service delivery to materialize?

Some issues just cannot add up. Some commentators have already pointed it out. The matter is known to all: Our hope is built on quick sand. We think big but do little when it comes to real work. We envision a peace-loving nation even when our individual contributions go against the very fundamentals of a peaceful nation.

So, what is wrong with us? Is there a way out?

I have confronted a great deal of political literature describing destinies of peoples, communities and even nations. Destiny of a nation, it's said, depends on two pillars: the collectives (the governed) and those charged with leadership responsibilities (leaders).

Both sides must work together for mutual benefits to occur. The former, in its capacity as the anchor of the socio-political construct wields an "invisible power" that keeps the latter working (of course for the benefit of all).

This "invisible power", as Gustave Le Bon points out in  "The Crowd" finds its "visible form" when the crowd (the governed) becomes aware of its place and responsibilities. 

Which brings us to our point: With the unending terrorist killings, endless political rhetoric, officialdom's in-fighting, high-level corruption, care-free government response to Wananchis' concerns et al squeezing our nation's heart, hasn't the "Kenyan crowd" found a reason to assert its position and push for national renewal?

It takes no schooling to decipher the collective role of a people. All one needs is this: Hope followed by action.

Isn't it then immoral for the Kenyan people to expect to live in peace when shielding of those charged with the cardinal duty of securing the nation is the order of the day? 

No, political involvement of a people has nothing to do with their failure to check government inadequacies. It's simple and clear: The "Kenyan crowd" sees things differently. Its perspective is that of individual first and of group second. It suffers from self-imposed blindness.

So, will things be different now that terrorists have slaughtered 147 young minds? Or will the Garissa University massacre just pass like that - like many others before? Will the Kenyan public now own up the process and push for enhanced security?

One thing is evident. The student population won't stomach this pain forever. Mark you; this group knows the undercurrents stalking our security structures. 

Though painful, I think it carries weight to admit some issues. Garissa University killings have just left a positive mark for Kenya. This unfortunate experience will bolster students’ voice vis-à-vis national matters.

Death of their colleagues negates the hitherto held affirmation that students are inconsequential and have little to contribute to the national narrative. History is clear on this. South Africa’s path to post-apartheid prosperity was tarred with students’ efforts.

 And this is where my fear comes in: are Kenyan leaders ready to shoulder the aftermath of another student massacre? Have they put in place elaborate processes to weed out the bad apples profiting from terror activities?

Now, are we ready to wall out the corrupt among us? The proposed Kenya-Somalia wall will NEVER stop terrorism. We must clean our house from within. The problem is with us. We must sort it out.

Interesting times await us. I hope Kenya will emerge the winner. Rest In Peace Garissa Victims.

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Email:  lemoseh89@gmail.com. Twitter:  @mlemukol.  

If I Don't Write For Turkana, Who Will?

Ordinarily, I would not bother to explain why I write what I write - that is, allocating more acres of my writing space to Turkana County matters. The reason, many think, is evident: that I come from that area, or belong to the people living over there, and so I am obliged to lean towards my people.

Tellingly, this observation is right. I need not belabour explaining why. Writers - of any proportion - identify their target groups. They serve as the link between them (the target groups) and the outside world (readers). Writers, I may say, are the spokespersons of their constituencies.

Which brings us to the heart of this talk: Why am I writing much about Turkana yet there's much out there to write about? Wouldn't it amount to a one-sided mentality to stick to a people you attribute your ancestry to and propagate subjective arguments as solid objective points? But still, is Lemukol a writer? I endevour to respond to these questions.

First, I must commend my readers for their boldness and curiosity. These questions, I believe, point to a bigger picture. That any written material that deviates from the dictates of readers is an exercise in futility.

My old man (may heavens bless him) ardently believed in the inherent capability of any human being to create, recreate, own and tell his/her story. He continually advocated for a complete shift from dependency of "external storytellers”. He was for one thing: For communities to stand up on their own and assert their positions, they must be capable of speaking for themselves. For him, community empowerment was inseparable from leaders’ ability to make known the standpoint of those they lead.

And so, can we confidently affirm that the Turkana people, or by extension, their northern Kenya colleagues, have participated in the propagation of their stories?

One thing comes to mind: Intellectual inferiority stems from inbuilt fear. This fear is, of course as a result of a defeatist mentality that elevates negativities at the expense of human dignity. 

Take the case of Turkana and its “hunger narrative”. Dignity ceases to exist the moment people accept to be referred to as the "face of hunger in Kenya" or such like phrases. 

I have seen some successful folks from northern Kenya proudly describing themselves as the "only blah blahs... from..." to win sympathy. It’s believed these people resort to this route to escape the burden of proving their worth as human beings and citizens of this great nation. 

I think this malady is centrally a software defect. It's a question of how people look at themselves. But again, it's worth noting that Kenya's media philosophy vi-à-vis northern Kenya is wholly defective. It begins and ends with the "usual suspects" - hunger, disease and war.

Which makes one wonder: aren't there any positive notes we can gather from these vast territory?

Don't we have educated sons and daughters from these lands who can challenge this media-inflicted one-sided-ism? 

I personally believe that for solid progress to take root, communities must possess the tools of communication. They must tell their story - as they wish. To point fingers at others for not telling our stories borders on hypocrisy. 

Victimhood is, in my view, a product of consistent narration of a people's "inability to do this or that." Playing victims could be rewarding in the short term – as in the case of attracting donations etc.

Truth be told, entrenched victimhood has nothing sweet to write home about. It will, in the long run, backfire against those clinging onto it. 

For pastoralists to be regarded as successful, they must as a matter of principle embrace a narrative that leverages on their strong points and capitalize on that to create wealth for themselves.

To stick our necks out and cry for help while folding hands borders on a mentality that sees no good in people's own ingenuity.

We must drain the swamps of minimalist thinking. Rewriting Turkana's story - and by extension, the story of Kenya's poor - must be the foremost responsibility of those who attribute their leanings to these groups. 

I therefore see myself as an embodiment of their pleadings. It's my duty to repaint Turkana's tarred image - for good. Until this is achieved, I have no business rejoicing for being "the only so and so from Turkana."

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Email: lemoseh89@gmail.com. Twitter: @mlemukol.