By Oyunga Pala

When a tribunal investigating an abuse of office incident involving deputy Chief Justice Nancy Baraza recommended her removal, I marveled at how things have changed. That a lowly security guard, Rebecca Kerubo, could bring down Kenya’s highest ranking female judicial officer, clearly shows the irony of justice.

This is a country where reputations are enhanced by sex scandals. People win enough admirers to start a church after engineering million dollar scams that loot public funds. Ministers even fraternise with drug barons and the most they get is disapproving looks in public.

Reputation

In the league of official abuse, Nancy Baraza’s scuffle with Kerubo was a misdemeanour, the equivalent of a schoolgirl caught trying her first cigarette. Not even her past record could salvage her reputation.

Nancy Baraza made her name in Fida-Kenya, as part of the formidable women lawyers who gained a reputation for defending women’s rights, especially poor abused women who could not afford legal representation.

But at the top judiciary echelons, you have to be seen to practise what you preach and on that score, the deputy CJ effectively shot herself in the foot.  I suppose after this incident with Nancy Baraza’s famous words, “You should know people”, ought to be paraphrased to read, “You should know people are watching”.

Rebecca Kerubo’s minor assault case was destined for burial in the gutter press back pages. Unfortunately for her, the Twitter vigilante online marshalled by self declared people’s watchman Robert Alai picked up the story. In a matter of hours. It became a trending topic that exploded into a furore for two whole days before the mainstream press caught with the events.  

Baraza totally underestimated Kerubo’s underdog appeal and she never imagined Kerubo would be incorruptible, turning down her  kitu kidogo offer. I empathise with the Deputy CJ. She clearly had no prior experience with watchmen. She was probably never compelled to jot her details down in a tattered hard cover book at the entrance of a public building.

Guarding authority

She probably never knew that the lack of an ID card could deny one entry into most of the city’s offices. Nobody ever told her that in Nairobi, when a security guard demands to inspect your boot at the entrance of a supermarket mall, it is best not to argue. It does not matter whether you own the building. While you may imagine you have the power, the security guard wields authority.

In a city that is lined by security guards in every corner, most Nairobians have learnt through experience never to make the mistake of getting into an argument with a security guard or matatu tout even when you believe they are in the wrong.

Line of fire

Security guards are everywhere and are generally amicable, hard working Kenyans holding the short end of the stick, accustomed to swallowing daily crap from the upper classes at their work stations.

They endure long hours, hostile work conditions, low pay and  are often the first casualties in the line of fire. They are ridiculed, dismissed on a whim and play a largely thankless role in securing other people’s lives. All through their trials, they are expected to remain courteous and vigilant.  

Therefore Kenyans know that when you find a security guard who is not smiling or responding to your jokes, it is best to fall back in line, submit to a body scan and sign the visitor’s book.

Addicted to the steeplechase

Many Kenyans were disappointed that Team Kenya did not achieve the highly anticipated clean sweep of the steeplechase event at London. The Frenchman Mahieddine Mekhissi-Benabbad, who lodged in between gold medalist Ezekiel Kemboi and bronze winner Abel Mutai, was a spoiler. He took previous champion’s Brimin Kipruto’s spot and that would never have happened if Brimin hadn’t tripped during the race.

The steeplechase is to Kenyans what football is to Brazilians. With seven Olympic titles dating back to the Mexico city games in 1968, you can understand why we are such sore losers.

I am surprised that Brand Kenya has not thought of branding steeplechase barriers. Steeplechase is a lifesaver at every Olympic games, the trusted friend who always comes through.

If Kenya ever failed to win a steeplechase gold medal, heads would roll and a commission of inquiry would be formed to investigate what would be described as a ‘dismal outing’.

As far athletics goes, steeplechase is arguably one of the toughest events of them all. It is not for sissies. The length of race may only be 3,000m but it loops around a track that it is designed to break your resolve. The steeplechase race appears to have been designed for horses. Probably after the official meant to deliver the horses disappeared with the cash, they changed tact and made competitors compete on the track to appease rowdy spectators who wanted their money back and voila! A sport was born. For every lap, the athlete encounters four barriers and one water jump. They have to lap the field seven times and in total, jumping over 28 barriers and seven water jumps. In many ways, the race, summarises the Kenyan experience.

Life in Kenya sometimes feels like running round in circles and facing the same barriers you were certain you left behind after the last General Election.

Disability is not inability

If there is one athlete that has left me harbouring serious body image issues, it is South Africa’s Oscar Leonard Carl Pistorius aka the Blade runner. You watch Pistorius run and it leaves you feeling like an absolute lazy slob. What possible excuse could I give for not reviving my jogging regimen?

I knew Pistorius was fast. However, it took watching him against able bodied athletes to appreciate this phenomenal achievement. The bionic man of my childhood fantasies had come to life.

Pistorius technically has no legs. He lost both legs at age eleven months to a bone disorder known as fibular hemimelia. Yet, it is as if he did not even notice. In school he played rugby, water polo and tennis. He only switched to running after a severe injury he picked in a rugby game.

The double leg amputee runs with the help of artificial limbs that are shaped like short skis. Oscar Pistorius has been so dominant in his field to the extent that when he first ran alongside able–bodied athletes, he was accused of having an unfair advantage. That is no different from saying Kenyans have an unfair advantage in steeplechase because they grew running 10kms to school. Nuff respect Oscar!