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| 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.
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