Civic education is no use to a dead Kenyan

In countries where people lack ‘peculiar habits’ and behave normally, a gunshot is enough to send everyone diving headlong to the ground.

But in Kenya, we assume it’s just a tyre burst and continue praying. Never mind that a ‘born again’ army chaplain would have whipped a pistol out of his robes and hit the ground rolling for cover.

Our peculiarity doesn’t end there, though. The thing is, when you hear one, two or three explosions, who is to know whether there are ten more? That’s why in countries where people are normal, they run like the wind. They evacuate from the scene as fast as robbers.

But you want to know what we do here? We run for a few seconds and then scamper back to watch. In the process, we are not only sitting ducks for the next explosion, if at all, God forbid, there is one, but also trample all over the crime scene. That’s why even when police say they will not leave any stone unturned, they know it’s futile because we kicked over every stone as we ‘watched’.

Still, you have to understand why our behaviour is peculiar. You see, the people in normal countries take off like the wind because they know that at that precise moment, blaring sirens are bringing ambulances, trained paramedics, SWAT teams and every other expert to the scene at breakneck speed.

In such places, the scene is quickly cordoned off. The wounded are quickly attended to even as investigations begin in earnest.

It’s a little different here, though. You could blame us for being paranoid but if truth be told, we have stood staring helplessly at dead accident victims for six hours before cops came. And when they did, they invariably always turned up with automatic assault rifles — not ambulances and medics.

That is why we take matters into our own hands. We mill around the victims, hoist them, bleeding, into a matatu and order them to kaa square because we have six victims more to shove in. Gaping and bloodied wounds, no thought to the basics of first aid, no protective gear in sight.

Managing the chaos

As this goes on, a keen looker will discern that there is no leader managing the chaos. Everyone is just milling around, moving like headless chicken, thoroughly confused. If there was a fourth blast at this point, causalities would be in the hundreds.

Much, much later, a witness tells the Press, "I ran. There was a policeman with a rifle ahead of me. He was running away, too, running like a bullet." A cop running, you said? Yes. Indeed, if we are peculiar, it’s just because we never have sirens hurrying experts to our rescue. We are mostly always alone, frightened, confused, hurt, dying.

Someone needs to get into public barazas, on radio and television and teach Kenyans basic First Aid, what to do in emergency situations, and what not to do. Civic education is great but it’s of no use to a dead Kenyan.