The making of a Kenyan tragicomedy

The migration to the villages by Nairobi’s jet set is hilarious.

Politicians of all shades are returning to the hamlets from whence they came, having rehearsed their lines to deliver the performance of their lives. “I am one of you,” they say, “I went to this local school and sang in the church choir. All that I am and will be is because of the people of this village…”

At appropriate intervals, there will be a thunderous applause from a dozen hired goons (they are a force for good when things are calm, and for violence when they want to instigate trouble).

And from this venue, the performance is staged at another venue, the lines better rehearsed, building a momentum towards election date.

Heeh! This guy is making inroads, locals converse. It appears he will get it.

The deal breaker is the anointing by elders. If these sages with several centuries of life between them have invested in this guy, people say, our future is secure.

The man or woman gets in. They do not send their children to the schools that made them; they steal from the same people and send them abroad.

You know the rest of the script… We shall defend them and declare: that’s our thief… they’re being targeted because of us.