There’s more water in Nyachae well

Kipkoech Tanui

I read the autobiography of former Finance minister Simeon Nyachae with intense interest and curiosity. The story of the Son of Nyandusi is spellbinding, particularly because like that of Moi, President Kibaki, Matiba, Njonjo, Ntimama and Michuki, his story cuts through the colonial period to present day Kenya.

Theirs is the story of Kenya, from colonialism, birth of a nation, challenge of nationhood and Africanisation of governance, and transfer of the economy and enterprise, fairly and unfairly, to a few elite.

Some beneficiaries of this post-Independence largesse are the privileged class Ngugi wa Thiong’o in his Detained: A Writer’s Prison Diary, describes as the Black inheritors of the colonial instruments of political advantage, oppression and economic bounty.

The ex-detainee’s book bears copy of a letter from his wife Nyambura, from whom he was whisked away in a police car to Kamiti Maximum Prison while she was pregnant, telling him she had delivered a healthy baby girl.

It also said she had enclosed underwear, toilet paper and toothpaste for him. Ngugi called his girl Kana Ka Bothita, meaning ‘Child of Post Office’, because of how he got news of her birth.

The story of Nyachae’s life excited me because of three things. He was a junior public administrative officer and brave businessman before Independence; he was sent abroad and at Independence joined the first batch of black District Commissioners.

Under Kenyatta who was a friend of his father, late Senior Chief Musa Nyandusi, he became a Provincial Commissioner, and when his friend Moi took over, he was appointed Permanent Secretary and later Chief Secretary, the only one Kenya has had.

He retired in 1987, later joined politics, and became a Cabinet minister under Moi and President Kibaki.

During the book launch Nyachae, ever the straight-talking leader declared he was held back by Official Secrets Act, which he signed, and personal decision not to embarrass those he worked with. That is why I believe his 152-page book is too small to carry all his experiences.

However, I happily took note he told his story and let posterity judge him. The publication does not afterall stop anyone from pursuing the Nyachae story further because he, too, is an enigma.

First 40 pages

As he acknowledges in his book, told using first person singular, he wanted to tell his story because he felt he was a misunderstood person and also had a lot to share with Kenyans.

Those who have sat with him will understand why the first 40 pages are about him, his family, parents, clan and rural home. That is vintage Nyachae; his family is at his heart.

Despite dwelling on historical land issues, challenges of office, education and life abroad, hip problem and retirement from politics, like me you are sure to be left with the feeling our grandfathers and fathers will never miss secrets they will never let go.

Given his rich legacy, array of his friends and enemies whom he acknowledges in his book, largely inherited from public office, one could relate with his stand. I congratulate Nyachae because he has given us, his children, the stepping-stone to peek deeper into his life and the Kenya he knows.

That is what Njenga Karume, GG Kariuki and Moi gave us when they published their books. They were never meant to be exhaustive but still it was their story as far as they wanted to tell. They were never going to tell it like Ngugi because they were not writers and lived on the other side of life.

With due respect to my friend Nyachae, one of the few leaders in Kenya so much misunderstood because he does not camouflage truth or sweeten his messages, I will tell you three spellbinding stories that are not in the book.

In the famine of 1965-66 while Rift Valley PC he rode a police plane with Moi, who was then Home Affairs minister, and due to a mechanical problem, almost crashed. Moi later told him, "Simeon, if we did not die today, we shall live for a long time, until we get grey hair, that is God’s will, let us be friends."

Despite their political differences, the last I heard is they joke about it often when they meet.

The other is how Moi the Veep, fed up with frustration by powerful politicians around Kenyatta, wrote a resignation letter in Nakuru and thought of letting PC Nyachae, who was in Nyeri, know of his intentions.

Nyachae asked him to hold onto it until he arrived, convinced him it was cowardly and unwise, and took the letter and tore it to pieces.

And Moi went on to succeeding Kenyatta despite the odds.

Then there was a breakfast meeting with Moi and Kanu bigwigs at Kabarnet Hotel after the Jogoo party lost Kipipiri by-elections, "despite Moi wearing gum boots and getting stuck on the campaign trail".

It was decided Nyachae, being the Agriculture minister and MC at Kabarnet Show, should set off the attack on "thankless Kikuyus".

Nyachae set the ball rolling but when he called the others to greet wananchi and politick, they praised Moi as champion of development and national unity. When Moi spoke he declared he was President of all Kenyans.

Milton’s counsel

There is also that instance Nyachae, infuriated by the then Nyanza PC Joseph Kaguthi’s hidden politics, confronted him in front of Moi. The then President was left asking Nyachae, whose hand was cast in plaster; "Simeon sema pole pole, Simeon tulia, tulia tafadhali!"

Yes, reading my friend’s book, I was challenged by author Toni Morrison’s advice: "If there’s a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it."

I find the only way to congratulate Nyachae is through the words of English polemicist John Milton’s counsel: "A good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured upon purpose to a life beyond life."

The writer is managing editor Standard, Daily Editions.

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