Kenya's sad tale of the haves and have-nots

Man, life is tough on these streets. We went from zero to the Finance Act 2018 in record time and it didn’t take much longer for prices to adjust upwards. I once made a lame joke about Uhuru Kenyatta’s administration, and the thought that it would tax the wind if it could.

It wasn’t funny then, and it isn’t funny now, but feel free to raise your hand if you feel like you’re gasping for air. The longer we stay alive, the more expensive it becomes to keep living. Everything we touch turns to taxes. And yet life in the upper echelons of government continues as if milk and honey is flowing down every street.

I’m reminded of Joseph and his Technicolor coat. He managed Egypt’s wealth through seven years of plenty, and ensured that the surplus lasted through the next seven years of lack. The story is told that those two seven-year periods came one after the other.

Here in Kenya, we live in similar times. We have years of harvest, and years of drought, the only difference being that they happen simultaneously. At any given moment, there are Kenyans who are gorging on the fat of the land, and others whose belts are pulled so tight that they can barely breathe. It’s the tale of two Kenya’s - a story of the haves and the have nots.

Kenya is nothing if not replete with epic Biblical comparisons. In this handshake era of ‘my brother this and my brother that’ you have to wonder what Jesus would do. Jesus is, after all, the first son, and therefore the first brother of Christendom.

The covenant

The story goes that every believer is a joint heir with Christ. So for Jesus, brotherhood could never be a calculated political statement. He’s a ride-or-die typa brother. The kind that would take a nail in the hand, and a sword in the side for you. The kind that would give his life for you, and then share his inheritance with you.

I was thinking about this ultimate sacrifice when I came across a startling definition of the common phrase ‘blood is thicker than water’. It is often interpreted to mean that family bonds are stronger then friendships. But what it really means is that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

Otherwise put, the relationship with those to whom you are joined in covenant is much stronger than the relationship with a brother – even despite having shared a womb. In other words, the blood that Brother Jesus spilled for you has created a stronger bond than you could ever have with your siblings and close friends. That’s deep.

How fascinating, this idea that covenant brotherhood is a next-level bond. Think about it. Whenever the words ‘my brother’ leave your lips, you are making a weighty, spiritual statement. So to apply the idea of brotherhood to tenuous political alliances is really and truly an affront to everything sacred.

Leadership circles

But when has sacrilege ever stopped politicians, their sycophants, and cohorts? Talk is cheap in political circles. Words are only currency in the moment; they are casually thrown about because their value dips as soon as they are spoken. Which is unfortunate, because no matter how careless your speech is, your words will still alter the energy of the universe, setting things in motion that you were too reckless to consider before you spoke.

I wonder if the new (and old) brothers on the political block understand the import of their words. I wonder if they realize that there is power in the tongue especially when leaders speak, no matter how unqualified and undeserving they are deemed to be. Leadership, like covenant, is a spiritual undertaking.

It should never be seen as a simple game of thrones, or a scramble for other people’s resources. The ‘me first’ approach in leadership circles - particularly in our Kenyan context - has impoverished generations materially, spiritually, morally, and emotionally since 1963.

The truth is that we have never quite achieved the freedom that so many Kenyans spilled their blood for. Instead, the covenant between the home guards and the settlers continues to speak; the extractive energy of the colonial state has only gained momentum, and local leaders continue to shore up the gabions of division between the rich and the poor. So fifty-five years after independence, it remains a tale of two Kenyas - a story of the haves and the have-nots.

Ms Masiga is Peace and Security Editor, The Conversation Africa