Naivasha victims didn’t have to die

DP William Ruto (2nd-R) visits the crash site of a truck that rammed into several vehicles before bursting into flames near Karai on the busy Naivasha highway, some 85 kms west of Nairobi. PHOTO: JOHN MUCHUCHA/STANDARD

When a truck explodes in the still of the night killing 40 people and injuring 10 others, that should be a wake up call.

Our President called the accident “unnecessary”, and that is the story of our lives. When presented with the opportunity to make the right choice, we consistently make the wrong ones.

As soon as darkness covered the land, that truck should have been parked. And even then, many have argued that the driver should have been on the Mai Mahiu route. It goes without saying that he should not have been speeding.

The hilly bumps should not have been so dangerously erected. Even then, they should have been marked. There should have been adequate warning signs of the bumps ahead for oncoming traffic.

In the end, it comes down to an unnecessary mouthful of should and should nots. There were unnecessary failures right across the board, omissions by both State and citizen that led to unnecessary deaths. True to form, the Naivasha inferno has been marked by outrage.

In the aftermath of this tragedy, as is the case with every other national disaster, our righteous indignation is matchless.

And yet we are active participants in our own downfall. Every single time you choose to bend the law to suit your own purposes, you add fuel to a fire. A fire that will engulf this entire nation if we continue to fan the flames with impunity.

To be clear, this is in no way to blame the victims of the accident. Or to somehow take away from the crushing pain of loss felt by those they left behind. They are neither responsible nor deserving of such unmitigated horror.

This is to say that we, the people, are all responsible. Every shortcut we take - sidestepping laws, rules and regulations - counts. It’s abundantly clear that our Government is not in the business of accountability.

In a message of condolence issued by his spokesperson, our President noted that the “Canter responsible for the deaths should not have been on that particular road at that hour” adding that he expected the agencies responsible for enforcing traffic regulations to fully investigate the tragic breach.

This narrative was reinforced by Transport Principal Secretary Irungu Nyakera who took it further when he stated that “light trucks” are not required to take the Mai Mahiu route.

The PS called the tragedy an accident for which State agencies cannot be expected to take responsibility.
I am not suggesting that we should hold our President personally answerable for every shortcoming of the State machinery. That would be absurd.

However, in times of national tragedy, it is even more absurd that a ruler would distance himself from the suffering of his subjects.

Indeed, his “security starts with you” comments were a foreshadow of things to come. But much as we would hate to admit it, in many ways our President is not far off the mark.

As citizens we are complicit. We benefit from a national framework that is held up by pillars of corruption. What we would like to ignore however, is that in a very real sense, the decision to follow the rules or to break them is a choice between life and death. You need look no further than Naivasha for proof.

It might seem like nothing to pay a teacher for exam leakage or to buy your high school certificate on River Road.

To grease a few palms at the registration office to facilitate speedy processing of your ID card. To pay for your driving licence instead of taking the test. To slip an immigration officer a few shillings for a yellow fever certificate minutes before you board your flight.

To leave a traffic cop a little richer because you don’t want the hassle of going to court. To bribe a judge to get charges dropped. To over-quote on a tender so that your middleman can get his cut.

Everybody does it, right? That’s the Kenyan way. But only when a tanker explodes and the flames engulf 12 cars do we begin to make the connection between our penchant for shortcuts and the slow but steady demise of our nation.

The shells of those 12 cars are symbolic of a country that has been driving backwards since independence, ignoring every sign that the engine is overheating until the very point that it implodes.

As outrage swept across the inter-webs in the immediate aftermath of the accident, with Kenyans calling for someone, anyone, to take responsibility for the “tragic breach”, one tweet by Barrack Muluka struck a chord: “If you expect any heads to roll, you need to have yours examined,” he tweeted. “[This is] a perfect photo opportunity for government top brass.”

Indeed, this is the story of our lives. Leaders will gather in front of the cameras to condole with the families, and for a while the nation will hold on to its outrage.

But as days turn into weeks, we will forget. We will accept that these are the days of our lives. We will move on.

Let’s examine not just our heads, but our collective conscience. Grief is a powerful emotion; let’s not waste it on momentary indignation.

Let’s use it to remind ourselves that the fastest route to hell will always be a shortcut.