Why return of 'Baba Yao' bodes well for future of politics in the city and beyond

Some people just have them. Where some folks toil all their lives to set foot in the august House, sinking small fortunes in the process, there are those who can cast a dice and decide which seat they covet and simply pick it, as Ferdinand Waititu, also known as “Baba Yao,” illustrated this week.

His nickname means the father of them all, and Baba Yao has lived to the true meaning of his alter ego by walking from Embakasi, which he last represented in Parliament, cutting through the city centre, where he staked a claim in gubernatorial seat and lost, and moved on to Kabete where he was recently elected to Parliament with a landslide.

And Baba Yao has revealed, without any fear of contradiction, that he is only using the Kabete seat as a stepping stone to Kiambu governorship, presently held by William Kabogo.

Now, that’s what one would call guts, and Baba Yao has lots of them, draped in his shiny, pointed shoes; and shirts whose tails remain untucked. And when he acts, it’s usually in the streets where roiling crowds hang on to his every word, or occasionally join him in hurling of stones at their perceived adversaries.

But the return of Baba Yao has greater value than the momentary victory that has left his supporters – or many of those opposed to Kabogo – with sore throats from shouting.

It marks the beginning of the end of so-called technocrats in politics. That’s the breed of people we were promised would bring efficiency to the Government, and see where they have taken the country in only two years. Ooh, see where most of the Cabinet are today.

And after two years of virtual paralysis, many Nairobians admit they erred in not voting for Baba Yao as their governor. City politics, after all, is a different ball game, the sort that only Baba Yao can play best.

First off, Baba Yao has a critical mass of so-called underclass, the demography that the World Bank defines as living below the poverty line because they have less than a dollar for daily spend.

But even that is a misnomer; what’s called the underclass is actually the city’s ruling class: they include the chokora who decide where and when you can park, petty traders and pick pockets, street beggars and streetwalkers.

This is a critical mass largely responsible for congesting city streets and making movement difficult and business unsafe.

To get them off the streets, all Baba Yao needs is to speak in their street lingo and say: kuanzia kesho nataka mjipange... (from tomorrow, I want you sort yourselves) and they would take the cue that their presence in the streets is untenable.

Let another politician try that. He or she would have to sell City Hall, as I hear somebody tried to do to raise enough to bribe city fathers, MCAs, MPs and God-knows-who before such a decision can be implemented.

Just ask Governor Kidero. As he realised, to his chagrin, even the ghost workers on his payroll wield quite a bit of influence, so he couldn’t get rid of them.

But the enduring lesson of Baba Yao’s return to Parliament and the ease with which he has managed the feat is that the electorate wants a return to days of proper politics, when voters could not be bought. They could only be imported, and that demonstrates a bit of foresight and planning.

Baba Yao has shifted base a few times to demonstrate his universal appeal.

But that also conveys an interesting perspective on how the electorate perceive politicians: They think they are all the same, which explains why a man can walk from one edge of the city to another, use the same words to woo voters and achieve great results.

Which means Baba Yao could still return to Nairobi, instead of heading down to Kiambu and save the city from the drains where Kidero has consigned it. Baba Yao’s brigade, for instance, would surely clear the containers blocking city roads to better use at Gikomba market.