| Kenyans spent much of the last Sunday of 2007 glued to a radio or television, awaiting the ominously delayed news of the presidential election. Amid scenes of chaos and serious allegations of vote-rigging, the news finally broke late in the afternoon. The chairman of the Electoral Commission of Kenya ended three days of mounting speculation by announcing that Mwai Kibaki had been re-elected as president.
Forty-five minutes later, in a hasty low-key ceremony, he was sworn in at the State House. Meanwhile, Raila Odinga’s Orange democratic movement had become by far the largest party in parliament, and more than half of President Kibaki’s cabinet had been voted out of office.
Within moments of the swearing-in, smoke began to rise from Kibera slum, the centre of support for Mr Odinga in Nairobi. That night, we spent much of the time on the phone, and received text messages from students and church members, who were fleeing for their lives amid scenes of violence, looting, and burning.
There was Lillian, who was fearful of gangs of youths ransacking homes and businesses, and of the flames that were engulfing the area where she hid; Zadok, a fellow student, standing at the door of his iron-sheet home protecting his few possessions and those of an elderly widow who had already fled; the Revd Richard Mayabi, an Anglican priest in Kibera, witnessing the destruction of the shopping centre next to where he lives, and receiving threats that three homes in his block of flats would be destroyed the following day.
Almost universally, the media have blamed tribalism for the violent response to what is widely regarded as a rigged election. The ethnic dimension to this crisis is undeniable. The training centre in Kibera slum, where I work, was broken into, but only to ransack one part of it — the home of Leah, a Kikuyu woman who cooks for students.
She now sits in our bungalow, possessing little more than the clothes she is wearing. Her flat, like so many others in Kibera, was emptied of everything that could be carried out. This was a message that she no longer had a place in that community.
Yet the situation is more complex than mere tribalism. Kenyans from all ethnic communities united in voting Mwai Kibaki into office five years ago. The past few days have seen Luos across Kibera sheltering Kikuyu neighbours, and escorting people like Lillian and hundreds of others to safety. This is a story that has been replicated across the nation.
Nairobi is a divided city, but the divisions are not confined to ethnicity. While angry young men roamed the streets, barred from an opposition political rally and seeking ways to vent their anger at an electoral injustice, the burgeoning middle classes of every community — beneficiaries of the Kibaki era — stayed at home or made quick forays to the supermarket.
Nairobi has been described as a city of economic apartheid, a city of Dives and Lazarus. This is a city where 55 per cent of the population occupies five per cent of the residential land. It is a warehousing of humanity in shanties that are devoid of infrastructure and urban investment. While Kenya has achieved significant economic growth over the past five years, the urban and rural poor have seen little of that benefit. At least in Nairobi, it is their anger that is fuelling this crisis.
In the midst of all this, the Church faces unprecedented challenges. News of a church in Eldoret being burned while people sheltered within it has shocked the nation to the core (News, 4 January).
In Kibera, it is empty churches that are on fire. The Lutheran, Presbyterian, and African Inland church have all been burned — amid accusations that the Church has been too slow to challenge the legitimacy of the election. The Anglican Archbishop, the Most Revd Benjamin Nzimbi, however, and other church leaders, have spoken publicly of irregularities and injustice in the presidential election process.
Across the country, the rapidly formed National Association of Churches is at the forefront of humanitarian initiatives, working with the Red Cross to get basic supplies to the Rift Valley and other affected areas, including the slums of Nairobi.
Yet the greater challenge remains. The search for a just and peaceful solution may require a journey beyond ethnic tension to address the aspirations of the disaffected, including the many young people who feel they have little stake in the future and in the growing national prosperity. On Sunday, church leaders united at All Saints’ Cathedral in Nairobi, in order to repent of division, and to pray for unity, reconciliation, and the healing of the land.
Possibilities of dialogue and power-sharing are emerging, and, in many parts of the country, life is slowly returning to normal. Amid the rights and wrongs and senseless atrocities that have been committed in recent days, however, the voices of those from many different communities shouting in the streets “Tunapigania haki yetu” (“We are fighting for our rights”) must be responded to, if Kenya’s widespread reputation for stability and democracy is to be regained.
The Revd Colin Smith has been a CMS Mission Partner in Kenya for eight years, the past four of them as the Director of the Centre for Urban Mission in Kibera, Nairobi.
|
back to Comment
previous story
|
next story 
