A while ago, I chanced upon a heated discussion on politicians and philanthropy. The matter was triggered by rumours that a relative of a certain flamboyant politician was detained in hospital over a huge bill. Why could the politician, whose generosity is a matter of legend, not help out? Of course at the back of my mind I knew we first needed to establish whether the rumours were true. But I was not willing to let my journalistic sense of doubt create a party-pooper out of me.

The debate soon veered to the demands of being a politician in Kenya.
After the so-called Rainbow team romped to power in 2002, we killed harambee, that noble yet largely abused African spirit of helping one another in times of need and to set up schools, hospitals and so on. But still, to this day, harambees are held every weekend for various noble reasons. There are those that seek to raise funds for important social matters such as health and education. These have become commonplace and quite necessary, largely because we are unable, half a century after independence, to ensure all our bright but needy students access higher education. Again, our health system is such that we lose more to graft than we spend on health, that is why people with conditions that we can’t treat locally and affordably need help to go to India and other places for help. The cases are so many and dire that politicians — you know them — have used it to justify hefty and mainly undeserved perks. In fact, before banning political harambees in 2002, there was a feeling that politicians just wanted to stop sharing their obscenely hefty pay, even as the majority sunk deeper into the mire of poverty. Again, I have heard the rather uncharitable view that most politicians will not help in the absence of cameras, unless of course when bribing us for votes.