When politicians dance, what do they mean?

The lucky souls who live in Kericho say the green town has just one of two weather patterns: either it is raining, or it is about to rain. Similarly, Kenya has just two political cycles: either we have just ended the last election, or we are getting ready for the next one. Anything in between is a pointless waste of time – and it sells no newsprint.

Election season in Kenya, which is, of course, all the time, is marked by that perennial staple of our politics, the political rally. And no self-respecting politician starts a rally simply by making a speech. When Sir Frederick Lugard traversed Africa a century ago, one thing struck him about Africans: the abundance of song and dance. “Africans”, he wrote, “dance at every given opportunity.” Kenya is no exception.

Referendum fever

When dignitaries show up, we first do a jig, long before the boring speeches are made and the food is shared out. Yes, a political rally in Kenya is nothing without food. The food doesn’t have to be actual grub, mind you: cash will do just fine.

And so, with Kenya gripped by referendum fever and campaign flu, our politicians are doing the rounds, holding rally after frenetic rally, and treating us to a never-ending show of political theatre – and some rather badly co-ordinated dance moves on stage, usually to bawdy music of one type or the other.

The clever people who study body language tell us that the way we dance holds clues about our personalities and our intentions. Our politicians are unwittingly giving away clues about their plans – using their dance moves. Here, then, is the definitive guide to what their dance moves mean.

Live for the limelight

First in line to bust a move are usually the extroverted politicians. These are professional politicians, and they live for the limelight. They want to take up half the stage, and will seem to forget that the dancing is supposed to culminate in a political speech of sorts. As they hit the dais, the ecstasy of the music and the occasion grabs them and shakes them violently.

Some have been known to make indeterminate grunting sounds at this moment, such is the heady nature of the music and the opium that is the crowd. Unless such politicians are forcefully reminded that it is a political occasion – usually by the switching off of the music – they could happily dance the whole day away.

This exuberance is indicative of a carefree personality who is always optimistic about life, has no idea what planning is, and is almost certain to make a corrupt, inept leader.

Then you have the neurotic, dancer-politician. This lot are characterised by the strange, sharp and jerky dancing motions they make, with their hands and feet apparently not co-ordinated at all. They refuse to be held hostage by the music and instead try to stab at everything that resembles a beat.

When in front of a large crowd, their dancing is reduced to small, pointless movements. These politicians are the nervous types, and they are unlikely to bargain much on behalf of their constituents. They think the whole world hates them, and they just want to run and hide. In previous lives, they were probably accountants. They are to be avoided, for they are almost certainly useless as politicians.

Happy-go-lucky

You then have the best politicians of all, the open-minded, agreeable types. These ones will usually have been forced into politics against their will: they are happy-go-lucky fellows who would rather be doing something else than running around in political caravans. Their dancing movements are smooth and very rhythmic, and just a little bit shy.

They make poor professional politicians, which is why they are the most effective leaders around. These are the people that villagers need to listen to, because they represent the most sensible group in the political cesspit. Kenya, sadly, has too few of these and too many of the former two categories!