Day Mboya taped his conversation with Kenyatta amid party wars

President Jomo Kenyatta and Economic Planning Development minister Tom Mboya at an event in 1965 in Nairobi. [File, Standard]

The call to the hallowed Government House came with the attendant excitement. It was not every day that the governor invited Africans to his official residence. Furthermore, the occupant of the house on the hill was notorious for his hatred of native politicians.

At the time, the country was pregnant with expectations. Finally, Africans had been allowed to go to the polls. Although their chosen leaders James Gichuru and Tom Mboya, the Kanu flag bearers, had been competing for power against Ronald Ngala and Masinde Muliro, the former protagonists were now united in hope.

At long last these champions of African rights and black freedom could dare dream of a better tomorrow in a country where their people could govern themselves. On hand to receive them at what we know today as State House was the governor, Patrick Renison.

After exchanging pleasantries and engaging in small talk, the no-nonsense colonial administrator ushered his guests into a room, looked at his watch and like a magician waving his magical wand, switched on the radio.

The faces of the four men were contorted in fury as soon as the governor’s voice thundered from his radio in what appeared to have been recorded broadcast now being relayed live across the country.

The words pierced the hearts of the listeners in Government House with the force of sharpened daggers and dimmed all their hopes of swift formation of government.

Like sugar coated poison, the governor started, “In spite of the great difficulties of conscience after the Mau Mau horrors, it is not my view that Jomo Kenyatta should be kept in restriction indefinitely.” 

Renison twisted the knife deeper into the troubled hearts, as he continued, “I do not however propose to release him until the new government is working and well and until I think that the security risk can be accepted and contained and that the danger his return presents to the new economy and our constitutional progress towards independence can be minimised.”

Gichuru, Mboya, Ngala and Muliro were shocked. They had initially thought the they had been called to discuss Kenya’s political future and Kenyatta’s role in it.

They were, however, dumbfounded when their host held them captive as they listened to the governor shred their icon, Jomo Kenyatta, to pieces and with a straight face seek their opinion.

They told him to the face that their opinion was inconsequential as he had already broadcast his mind, which was law but disassociated themselves from his utterances. They had promised their voters that they would ensure Kenyatta was released and the governor had played them.

Security risk

Ten years after the debacle in 1968, Kenyatta summed up the intriguing meeting thus: “Ordinary rational scrutiny of this sort of behaviour must have any interpreter adrift. He mentioned security risk and danger after careful schooling, his imagination was obsessed.”

But whenever the government was pressed to explain how it was treating political prisoners, especially Kenyatta in light of torture which had been witnessed in horror, the state would explain that his life was not in any danger.

Kenyatta wrote in his book, Suffering without Bitterness that while in detention, he was paid a monthly stipend of six pounds (about Sh800 at today’s rate), which totaled to 72 pounds per year (Sh9,554).

This is peanuts compared to what Rawson Macharia was paid by the government to give the false evidence that was used to jail Kenyatta. Macharia was given air passage to the United Kingdom worth 278 pounds (Sh36,890).

The rogue star witness was also granted a scholarship for a London university worth 1,000 pounds (Sh132,700) while his family was put on a 250-pound (Sh33,000) subsistence for two years.

Macharia was also promised a government job when he completed his studies but he was ultimately jailed for two years when he scandalised his government with his confessions after he swore an affidavit on December 3, 1958 detailing how he lied in court.

Macharia’s evidence in court had been that Kenyatta had participated in an oathing ceremony on March 6, 1950 at Kiamwange in Githunguri, Kiambu.

While in Lokitaung, Kenyatta was allowed to go shopping three times a week but he was not allowed to talk to people. If he felt the need to talk, he had to wait for 10am every day when he was escorted to report to the District Commissioner.

One of the most memorable visits to Kenyatta was on November 3, 1959 when Daniel Moi, who was by then a member of the Legislative Council went, weighed down with fresh vegetables and fruits and a human touch.

In his book, Kenyatta had unflattering things to say about Governor Renison whom he described as a baby-faced professional who was unsure of himself, lacked the mind of a supreme political strategist and had a mentality of a Boy Scout.

The hatred between the two was mutual for Renison had on May 10, 1960 while still new in Kenya ruled out any possibility of releasing Kenyatta from Lodwar, after he was convicted of managing the affairs of Mau Mau.

But as the two men sparred and parried like boxers about to engage in a title fight, Mboya executed some moves that left Renison with egg on the face after the speech on the radio.

Mboya, who was a smooth operator and an accomplished politician, replicated the Renison trick and beat the government in its own game. This time, he and five officials from Kanu and Kadu were allowed to visit Kenyatta in Lodwar after a lot of pleading with the government.

After the visit, the delegates released a statement urging the government to release Kenyatta and other political prisoners so that the country could stabilise politically.

Thereafter Mboya travelled to Egypt on March 26, 1961 for the All Africa People’s Conference where he caused a stir after he casually told the meeting Kenyatta was alive and well and that no government would be formed while he was still a prisoner.

He then shocked the hushed conference when he played some recordings.

“This is Jomo Kenyatta speaking from Lodwar. I am very happy to send you my greetings and best wishes. I hope All Africa People’s Conference will work for the unity and strength of our people everywhere. The time has come when Africa must stand with other nations and show that she has something not only to receive but also to give to the world.”

Mboya then explained that he had made the recordings in Lodwar and this embarrassed the government.

Nine days after the conference in Cairo, a shamefaced government moved Kenyatta from Lodwar to Maralal in Samburu County where he was made more accessible to the international press and politicians.

It was in Maralal that a compromise was reached between the government, Kanu and Kadu that a house be built for Kenyatta in Gatundu before he could be released.

The story of how Mashujaa Day previously came into being is incomplete without talking about the role leading politicians at the time, especially Mboya who kept the freedom flame burning.

It was Mboya’s party, which after a meeting in September 1958 in Kaloleni Hall, Nairobi, resolved that October 20, be commemorated until Kenya got political freedom.

This, according to Nairobi People’s Convention Party, was to remember the day Kenyatta, Achieng Oneko, Paul Ngei, Kungu Karumba, Fred Kubai, Bildald Kaggia and more than 180 other politicians and Mau Mau leaders were arrested.