Kisumu post election (photo: Mital Shah)

A FORMER RESIDENT MOURNS THE LOSS OF THE KENYA SHE ONCE KNEW

It was considered the most peaceful country in East Africa, the safe haven in a region stricken with political turmoil. On December 27th, 2007, that all changed. After Kenya’s most anticipated presidential election ever, President Mwai Kibaki was pronounced the winner. The opposition, Raila Odinga of the Orange Democratic Movement (ODM), refused to accept defeat.

Many Kenyans - including the election officials and the European Union - were skeptical of the results because they noticed a number of flaws, and corruption is a well-known tyrant within the country’s government. Both parties have been accused of rigging the results, but the next day, despite the dispute of election results, Kibaki was once again sworn in as the President of Kenya.

With less than 250,000 votes separating the two rivals, members of the opposition didn’t believe the accuracy of the outcome, so they took it the streets. Riots, looting, fires, machete and gun battles hit all three of the nation’s largest cities, Kisumu, Mombasa and Nairobi. Tribal violence is hitting the country harder than it has in decades. President Kibaki is a member of the Kikuyu tribe and Odinga member of the Luo tribe. (The Luo has traditionally resented the Kikuyu because of the Kikuyu’s political and economic power.)

Roadblocks were formed with rocks, phone poles and burning tires. The mere mention of your name could have you murdered. In a months time, over 800 people have been killed and hundreds of thousands more displaced. This is has become the new image of Kenya and this is how it will be remembered.

This past summer, I was in Kisumu working at a community center in Mambaleo, about 30 minutes outside the city. During my time there, Kenya had lived up to its promise of peace. Though corruption and crime were definitely present, once you became familiar with the way things worked, it was a considerably safe place to work and play. Kisumu is also home to Raila Odingo and the largest concentration of the Luo tribe.

One evening I went to Boma’s, a popular place for live bands and dancing, to meet Odinga. One of my friends grew up with him and invited us to have drinks with the presidential candidate. ODM paraphernalia was everywhere. Odinga was named the people’s president and the place was roaring with Kenyans chanting his name. He invited us into his sitting area, shook our hands and offered us drinks. To reflect back on that five month old meeting and come to terms with the amount of havoc resulting from this election feels so surreal.

Violence surrounding Kenya’s elections are nothing new. In fact, one of the first things I was asked when telling people I was going to Kenya was if it was an election year. Though election conflict was anticipated, no one was ready for one of this magnitude. The tourism industry has plummeted and the Kenyan economy, which was one of the strongest in all of Africa, is severely wounded. Constant flair ups of violence occur throughout the country, especially in the Nairobi slums. Pictures of woman and children crying and huddled in large groups awaiting aid surface daily.

This is just not the Kenya I came to know and appreciate.

Mital Shah, aka Mits, a life long resident of Kisumu and good friend, recently sent me pictures of Oginga Odinga Rd. This is the city’s central business district and a place I spent many hours shopping, eating, dancing and experiencing Kenyan life. According to the African Press International, 90 percent of the shops have been burned down and looted. It also reports that Oginga Odinga Rd., a place that was once the heart of the rustle and bustle of the city, is now a ghost town.

Almost everyday, I paid my 20 shillings (about .30 cents) and took the number 10 matatu (a Kenyan bus),to Oginga Odinga Rd. to take care of whatever the day’s business entailed. People hustling jewelry, tomatoes, onions, shoes, belts, old shirts and water cans lined the streets. Shops, restaurants, and internet cafés were filled with mazungus (Kiswahili for white person/tourist), locals, men, women and street kids. Pimped out overcrowded matatus rolled in blaring music ranging from Ohangla and Hip-Hop to Celine Dion. Taxis, tuk tuks (3-wheeled taxis), and bota botas (bicycle taxis), waited by the road negotiating ride fares.The closer you got to the lake the air smelled of  fried tilapia, sukuma wiki and Tusker beer. That is now gone.  Kenyan newspapers report that it looks like a war zone and estimate that it will take 10-15 years to rebuild Kisumu.

Mits, an Asian-Kenyan and one of the few people I have been able to communicate with, shared that “most places were down to rubbles… Asian places were damaged completely and burnt.” When I asked him about the food shortage he said, “It’s getting better, but damn expensive.”

At this point, I think about the people back in Mambaleo: Allan and Gastive, my two housemates during my time there; Irene, someone who became a dear friend; Derrick, a student of mine who came by the community center everyday to play on the computers; Imani, who made the best chicken in Mambaleo; and the countless others at St. Anne’s Academy. All I can do, for now, is pray they are safe.

Last week, Kabaki and Odinga came together for a peace talk and hope seemed to glimmer in the eyes of everyone. But that changed very quickly. On January 30, an ODM freshman member of parliament, Melitus Mugabe, was shot just outside his home in Nairobi and the next day, a second opposition legislator was killed. Riots have flared up again and peace doesn’t seem to be on anyone’s agenda. Odinga wants another election or a recount, and Kibaki isn’t giving up power.

Despite the downward spiral, Kenya is home to many and for a short time, me.

The images we see are just a small portion of Kenya’s present reality. We don’t see the Annes, Mildreds and Derricks, nor do most people watching the events unravel from the West know Kenya’s history well enough to understand the underlying issues that are fueling this conflict. We can’t comprehend that just as New York, Philly, Oakland and Los Angeles are home to us, Kisumu is home to millions. Mits has been a volunteer security guard, helping to stop the looting. In the midst of the turmoil he has recieved threats. When suggested he leave, he replied,”Hunh, leave out of fear? No way. I was born here.”