By Dominic Odipo

Every time I hear President Kibaki spew unpresidential invective from a public platform, my mind races back to a rally held at the New Nyanza General Hospital, Kisumu in October 1969.

Tom Mboya had been dead hardly three months and Nyanza Province was still seething with anti-government sentiment. But, incredibly, President Kenyatta chose this particular moment to travel to Kisumu, ostensibly to officially open the new Russian-funded hospital.

By the time Kenyatta stood to address the seething crowds, the atmosphere was ready to explode. Then, as if by design, the President proceeded to ignite it.

Using words and phrases that cannot be printed here, the President took on the crowd, effectively daring the people to do what they wanted. Referring to the lower anatomy of their mothers in words that make Kibaki’s pumbavu and mavi ya kuku sound like chicken feed, Kenyatta left no doubt he was the boss and could say and do anything he wanted.

As Kenyatta’s motorcade drove out of town on the way back to Nairobi, his security detail opened fire on unarmed bystanders who, naturally, were incensed, not only by Mboya’s assassination, but also by the President’s abusive statements, which had been carried live on national radio. Scores of innocent people were killed that evening in Kisumu by the Presidential guard detail. And so, in a sense, Mboya never died alone. But that is another story.

When you look back 40 years, 1969 looms much larger in our history than it did then. Five months before Mboya was struck down on a Nairobi street, CMG Argwings Kodhek, one of the most senior Luo ministers in Government, died mysteriously on what is today known as Argwings Kodhek Road.

According to some reports, it was an ordinary road accident akin to that which would later claim the life of Barack Obama Sr 13 years later. According to others, it was not.

In any case, the Luo community lost two of its most prominent political leaders within a span of five months in 1969.

Back in Nairobi, Kenyatta banned the opposition Kenya Peoples Union and sent all its top brass, including party leader, Oginga Odinga, into detention. This was the first time Kenyans came face to face with the reality of post-independence political detention without trial on such a large scale.

Overnight, Nyanza Province was emasculated of its top political leadership. Two months later, a general election was held and scores of political neophytes from Nyanza elected to Parliament.

Even though Kenyatta never formally turned Kenya into a one-party state, it was not until 1993 that formal multi-party activity returned to Parliament. By banning the only opposition party before the 1969 General Election, the Government effectively rigged the 1969 poll globally in favour of its own supporters.

Before 1969, political elections in Kenya had been as free and fair as such elections ever get. Then, in 1969, the culture of rigging elections long before the first vote was cast set in. In a sense, therefore, we are still reaping the fruits of the poisonous and murderous politics of 1969.

True, Mboya’s was not our first post-independence political assassination. Pio Gama Pinto, the socialist strategist, had already been killed in 1965. But Mboya was no Pinto. Mboya was gunning for the presidency and it was difficult to see how he could be stopped politically.

The public does not know exactly why Mboya was killed. But there are one or two things are sure: Mboya was not killed over some secret extra-marital affair or business deal gone sour. He was killed because of his political activities and, particularly, the increasing likelihood he could make it to the presidency.

So what, really, was the year 1969 in our brief history? It was the year we first lost a senior Cabinet minister in what was then described as a road accident. It was the year of the biggest political assassination in our history.

It was the year the president first took on a partisan crowd and addressed it in unprintable terms. It was the year the Presidential guard first shot down scores of unarmed citizens. It was the year a major opposition party was first banned and its top brass detained. And, for the first time in post-independence Kenya, general elections were rigged, ex ante, as scores of eligible candidates were disqualified in advance.

In a word, 1969 was the year of the birth of political impunity in this country.

—The writer (dominicOdipo@yahoo.co.uk) is a lecturer and consultant in Nairobi.