Gration is a soldier who knows art of retreat without surrender

By PETER KIMANI
Good morning Your Excellency Scott Gration. I was hoping to make your acquaintance this week, as you marked the US Independence Day, but I received no invite.

The only invite in my possession came from the Russians who wanted me to attend some event I can’t quite remember.

I attributed the snub to a shift in policy, which is understandable. Your predecessor, whom we call Redi Mbaga, routinely invited scribes, especially the bearded ones, perhaps to extract the sort of gossip that finally spilled out in the open through the infamous WikiLeaks.

But I understand you are different, not just in temperament, but approach to issues as well. As a former soldier, you live to the true meaning of the expression: intelligence has to be collected intelligently.

So when I read the claims circulating on the World Wide Web casting aspersions against you, I was tempted to give you the benefit of doubt.

IMPROVISED OFFICE
But the deluge of information kept sweeping in, the most interesting being that you improvised an office near the loo to escape security surveillance and even conducted official business on a private email account.

Then there was the claim that you threatened to shoot some staff in the head. I could not, for the wits in me, imagine you dragging a member of staff by the scruff of the neck to a corner where, eyes popping out with fury, you threaten to shoot their head off.

I believe all these are fabrications. But then, why bother? Who would be trying, as we say kukumaliza kisiasa (to finish you politically)?

Audit
One sage long predicted where there is smoke there must be fire, or at least embers that can be stoked to make one. Officially, there is talk of some audit, in which your office is reported to have fared miserably.

Let’s hold that thought for a moment: You have barely been in office for a year, so why is the audit assessing five years? Isn’t that an indication that you are a fall guy, taking responsibility for mistakes attributed to those before you?

I think there is a book you hadn’t read in school, the one that says you shouldn’t suffer in silence. Actually, it is your silence that cost your job.
And when you chose to speak, you said the wrong things, such as conveying humility and respect for locals and their way of life, and playing by the rules of diplomacy.

Why, your country is a leader in neo-colonialism, and its diplomats are expected to behave like colonial governors, contradicting or criticising presidents, and lecturing on what they consider to be the yardsticks of a “modern” democracy.

In between the lecture sessions, Western diplomats retreat to exclusive lodges in our game parks for drives in air-conditioned four-wheel drive vehicles sipping chilled beer on one hand, the other resting on the lap of lasses young enough to be their granddaughters.

Old-fashioned
You simply couldn’t keep up with the game. Moreover, you were too old-fashioned as your wife always tugged along. You failed by being brutally honest and modest in your dealings.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you declined to authorise that travel advisory, and some sanctimonious chaps at Washington flew it over your head.

Drop me a line whenever you can, using that private email address, and let us know how you are faring.
I might not miss you, for we were not acquainted, but I will certainly miss the sobriety that you represented.

Gatundu cops toast to a good drink with a gun salute or two

I know I might be scandalised by confessing I haven’t been to the land of my birth for the better part of this year.

It is true Thika Road has almost been completed, but the stretch from Kenyatta Road is still a patchwork of red soil on tar, or so I gathered, as locals try to fix the tatters by their own hands.

I’m optimistic the local MP, Uhuru Kenyatta, will be able to shift focus on his constituency once he is done with the International Criminal Court or TNA campaigns, whichever comes first.

Deteriorating security
But bad roads are the least of my worries; I might just be able to crawl home. What I dread the most is the deteriorating security situation.

No, don’t get me wrong; my village, Kimunyu, is secure, policed as it is by a band of officers based at the local police post.

It is the police who are the source of insecurity. The corporal in charge likes to make a gun salute after a night out.

Last Sunday, at 9.30pm, he shot in the air three times, and the mama mboga who were still at the market scampered for safety, as did the revellers at the trading centre, all convinced they were under attack.

Apparently, this is not the first time the cop in question has made a gun salute after a tipple, and locals fear it is a matter of time before the cop aims in a different direction and kills someone.

I’m equally curious how the cop accounts for the bullets discharged in his gun salutes.

Fake ISO certification confirms CCN still master of masquerade
The City Council of Nairobi (CCN) is in the news, once again. No, it’s not about the kanjoras demanding a hefty payoff in gratuity for demonstrating remarkable restraint in throwing seats at each other.

The CCN is in the news in regard to their ISO certificate that they received about two months ago, and which gave them bragging rights.

CCN can still brag to be the only such outfit in the world with massive ghost workers who, at the last count, were estimated at 4,000. This raises the question, why keep them if you know they are ghostly?

Alternately, CCN brags having the least qualified personnel, a majority of whom leave jackets on their seats – presumably the clothes move some files in their owners’ absence as they only return in the evening to collect the coats, after an honest day’s work.

The latest revelation that the firm that gave CCN its certificate is not accredited with the government agency that deals with such issues, is great.
It means the certificate that former Town Clerk Philip Kisia displayed to the world is as good as any printed in River Road.

I’m impressed at CCN’s consistency as masters of masquerade. Their deception ways know no bounds.