Tabichi symbolic of our yearning for heroes

In the almost five decades of living in this country I have come to realise that the true meaning of a hero has always eluded us. In our search for heroes, we stumble and fail miserably as once in a while, we imagine that we have finally nailed it, and then we are hit with the reality that our search is still long way from being rewarded. We don’t want to admit it, but most of us know inwardly, even mentally, that our society is composed of some of the most wicked and vindictive villains God ever assembled for one country in a lifetime. I talk of lifetime because many Kenyans live and die without witnessing and experiencing the true splendor as envisaged in our National Anthem. That is if they are lucky to live long enough before they are hunted down by criminals (civilian and uniformed), disease, hunger and road accidents. Hence the hunger for redemption from a real hero. The Tabichis, Wanyamas, Rudishas and Tergats of this world, are always at hand to provide some symptomatic relief, once in a while. Therefore, the reason why the prize that Tabichi won was a huge relief for Kenyans.

As a nation, found something positive to smile about and be happy in a deluge of negative political, economic and social context. The social media platforms, offices, prayer rooms, bar corners, playgrounds and school yards are animated by talk about our new found hero. We are experiencing a fleeting moment of celebration of moral bravery and courage in the face of adversity, but soon we will be given a reality check. The high we have attained from savouring the success of Teacher Tabichi will soon dissipate, if it has not already. The truth of the matter is that this individual success, is an unflattering narrative of how deeply and flawed our society is. We have to idolise those whose actions of moral valour momentarily lifts us from the morass of corruption, the mother and father of our hunger and disease.   

Teacher Tabichi is not alone and he must be saluted. Our modern history is replete with our collective sigh of relief when some Kenyans demonstrate their courage and bravery to excel in the midst of social and economic despair. When we held the first and probably (to date) the last clean, free and fair elections in 2003, all Kenyans were in a euphoric mood. One particular Kenyan was christened Njamba and was promptly hoisted to the high throne of a cult hero. Determined not to let the moment sip away, the new government demonstrated some real resolve to correct the many wrongs that make our country perpetually morose. Then our realty check came in abruptly and we back to where we rightly belong.

Then came the time when Barack Obama was elected the first African-American president of the USA. We even declared a national holiday to celebrate the achievement of our own son. Of course we stopped thinking about our bad electoral and social habits and embraced a person who is technically non-Kenyan as our new found hero. That was another moment of escape for us, before reality set in again. Lewis Hamilton became the first man to win the Formula One Grand Prix Series and we embraced him. We always pray an African team progresses in the World Cup, so as to give us something to smile about. We are still hoping.

What am I saying? We should be grateful to Teacher Tabichi and all those before him for their achievements. Those achievements have elated us to the point of giving them a heroic welcome back home, even if symbolic. But where was he before this milestone? He was probably one of the many good men and women of this country who are the laughing stock of the masses because they are engaged in what the masses believe are thankless endeavours. Why do they do it? Is it for the country? Is it for the people he has been helping? Is it for their family? The questions are endless. However, those momentous triumphs remind us that we are the enemy working against our hope towards transformative politics, economics and society. Every now and then, a Tabichi, Tergat or Maurice Odumbe emerges to carry a messianic storyline which we want to cling to while the moment lasts. 

- The writer is a Research Fellow Institute of Anthropology, Gender and African Studies