by OP | Sep 23, 2013 | Culture
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It is almost two weeks into Kenya’s invasion of Somalia. If you don’t watch the news or read the papers you could almost forget that Kenya is at war. There is so much new information streaming in daily. It is getting harder to decipher hype from fact. Feelings of uncertainty are rising in the city because we fighting an amorphous enemy. Two grenade attacks in Nairobi, allegedly a copy cat terrorist pledging allegiance to Al Shabaab has brought the war on Somalia onto our doorsteps. It is no longer over there. The next man in the streets could be the enemy within. Given the amount of aggrieved jobless youth in our midst, it does not paint a pretty picture. The government has some great advice though, be vigilant and patriotic. We desperately need a man in Somalia to tell us what’s going on?
The news is not too racy as yet because the war has been ‘good’ so far. TV stations are groping for fresh angles. KTN had a clip on a captured Al Shabaab soldier, some smiling teenage in a loose T-shirt. I might be mistaken but think I saw a Kenyan soldier’s arm resting lazily on the boys shoulder. We clearly treat our prisoners-of-war amicably. Our military looks like the Salvation Army on a meet and greet tour. You almost half expect them to start handing out Brand Kenya flyers. NTV chose a depressing causality of war story and had me wondering how many body bags were making it across the border. Jeff Koinange on the bench at K24 had better pulse on situation on a recent interview with Dr. David Matsanga of the Africa World Media. Even as the outspoken Matsanga took a pro war stance in between the furious banter, a proxy war was alluded to that had all the markings of a NATO conspiracy. But our man in Somalia Michael Njenga of Citizen TV took the prize. His transition from business suits to combat fatigues was progressing well. By day 10 on the frontline he had bullets strapped across his shoulders, clutching a gun and grimacing like Arnold Schwarzenegger in the flick Commando. He was cautious as he delivered military intelligence to the captive audience at home something along the lines of, “The army will be moving to the town but we cannot tell you when because of security reasons but all we can say is it that is very soon”. Indeed.
War time reportage is clearly new territory. It is lucrative as it guarantees a wide captive audience and crucial eyeballs for advertisers. Audiences are hooked to the daily dose of depressing news and wars sell like hot cake. Worryingly though, prime time news casters are starting to look like spectators, seemingly uninformed as the rest, heavy on innuendos and speculation all delivered in a manner that is already starting to disrupt peoples’ lives. Between the opinion polls, controlled images and footage, objectivity has lost ground to patriotic duty. Our men in Somalia have the heavy responsibility of helping us understand the premise of this war. We do not need them to be part of a press junket facilitated the military’s PR machine.
The war on terror was a ‘surprise’ turn of events especially this close to Christmas and a General election. Kenya’s foreign policy though viewed as cowardly had always taken pragmatic decisions in regional conflicts. The drum beats of war against Al Shabaab and the sketchy detail around the cause for retaliation are not holding up too well to scrutiny.
Somalia is not a single country in the conventional use of the word and the political issues behind the perennial conflicts are complex. Ever since Said Barre was deposed in 1991, every foreign invasion has been expelled with heavy consequences and left the situation worse than they found it. Daniella Kroslak of the International Crisis Group in an All Africa article dated 26 June 2009, suggested that militant Islamists were trying to draw Kenya into a trap and argued strongly against getting drawn into the Somalia conflict. We are now in the early stages of an occupation with no clearly stated exit strategy. We are fighting an unorthodox enemy and guerilla units throughout history have been underestimated to everyone’s detriment.
This war has gained legitimacy over a very narrow range of discussion. There has not been sufficient public information and serious discussion on the repercussions of this engagement. The constitutional mandate has not been sought. The Commander in Chief and the Prime Minister have been very economical with the official position. The usually cackling Parliamentarians seem more preoccupied with their ICC witch-hunting. When the minister for Internal Security (the late) George Saitoti invoked UN article 51 proclaiming a country’s right to self defense, the constricted reason provided was the economy in this case protecting precious dollars attached to tourism and aid business revenue from rogue militia.
Nonetheless, the social economic consequences at hand and Geo-political interests hinted publicly by military sources such as ‘logistical support’ from NATO lords US and France cannot be ignored. It should not be long before we hear the words ‘freedom and democracy’ followed by aerial bombardments and drone attacks. The retaliation is likely to be disproportionate and portends open season for war crimes against a civilian Somali population condemned to a never ending humanitarian crisis.
Religious propaganda will likely form the ideological basis on both sides. Soon we will be all killing each other in the name of God. Especially worrying is the xenophobic wave that will tar the Kenyan Somali population weary from successive government ‘screening’ operations. The discriminatory treatment could be justified in the name of public good. Al Shabaab has becomes our bogey man, lurking in every corner making innocent civilians collateral damage in a war they do not understand.
The Somalia affair is an unlikely to be a 7 day raid. It has the potential to be long drawn out war that could involve the entire East African region lending Al Shabaab, a new lease of life as the underdog and rallying jihadists against the invaders. Alternatively, the assault might smother Al Shahaab, only to bring rise to a new resistance inspired by their predecessors. The world is not a safer place after the death of Sadaam, Osama or Gadaffi. As late American comedian George Carlin said, “Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity”.
Therefore, can my man in Somalia drop the showbiz and tell us what’s going on?
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Confucius says
Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
Originally published: October 27, 2011
2011©OyungaPala™
by OP | Jun 15, 2012 | Ecology
Most people can easily name five favourite destinations they would like to visit. However put out the question of a favourite river and many will draw a blank. Modern living does not offer much opportunity for meaningful interaction with rivers. In the cities they are practically open sewers. In the news, rivers are brought to our attention only after a devastating flood misfortune that results in scores of desperate villagers getting washed out. In school books, rivers are ranked by length, size, economic or historical significance. Alternatively they are romanticized and captured as beautiful snapshots of nature. I have a few those shots as mementos taken after gazing down at rush of water under a bridge or staring at the spectacle of a waterfall.
I developed a fascination for rivers early in life. After years of exploring several l decided l had a favourite river and the attachment has nothing do with some romantic boat cruise. I compare all rivers to the Mighty River Yala. It is not so mighty now, that I have seen the raging waters of the Nile and the sheer breath of the Mekong in South East Asia. But river Yala embodies many happy memories. It’s a symbolic part of the place I call home. My ancestral roots are located in Sinaga valley of Siaya county in the Western part of Kenya. The river forms the natural boundary between two villages and our family home stretches down to the rugged and steep river bank.
Growing up, I do not recall hearing any intriguing tales of the Yala. No mythical heroines emerged from the waters to impart deep social lessons. There were no annual religious ceremonies that drew pilgrims from far and beyond. There were no gory ones either or a monster of Loch Ness proportions. Crocodile mishaps were unheard of. The closest I heard to scary was a tale my uncle kept telling. He was on his way home from the booze den across the valley one moonlit night. Halfway through the river, three guys in white plunged in after him shouting, ‘don’t leave us here’. We caught the drift and resisted the urge to swim during moonlight.
The headwaters of the Yala River rise from an altitude of 3000m in the Mau forest complex to drain in at about 1000m into Lake Victoria. The basin covers an area of 3280 km. With that much water flowing past, one would imagine thriving business along its banks. Commercial enterprise is glaring absent on our stretch of river. Perhaps the rapids only navigable by kayak act as a deterrent. Most villagers hardly seem to notice its existence. The only fishermen I ever see on its banks are solitary creatures who keep all their catch for themselves.
A good part of my youth was spent getting acquainted with the waters of the Yala. As teenagers it became the closet thing we had to an initiation rite. The ability to swim cross its rapids waters was akin to a rite of passage. We faced the fear of unknown force of nature and quickly learnt our limitations. Few dared and those who accomplished the feat enjoyed a level of respect that was sufficient motivation for the gallant effort. Boys were restricted to the shallow banks where they could splash away merrily. Men swam to the opposite bank. Swimming was all about practical purposes. Men swam when they wanted to cross the river or to wash soap off their bodies. They were really good swimmers whose reputations preceded them. They swam effortlessly and drew admiration. No one really pulled any stunts. They simply crossed the rivers during the dreaded rainy season and that is how they earned their stripes. Swimming was a skill of necessity typically amounting to an opportunistic act to get to the other side for a party or for the sheer thrill of an adrenaline rush.
Swimming trunks were generally considered vanity objects as the garment did not aid your swimming in any fashion whatsoever. It also meant that when you got to the opposite bank, you would have to wait at least a half hour for the piece of clothing to dry. Advanced swimmers simply tied their clothes on top their heads with a vine and strived to get across without causing a splash. Nudity was accepted around rivers because no one took a bath with their clothes on. There was no voyeurism because nudity did not evoke the allure that it did in urban spaces. Women usually enjoyed first user rights and when a woman or girl got to the bank before you, one had to change sites. The river was a shared resource so exclusive spots were not in existence. Whatever little exclusivity that existed was enjoyed by hardcore swimmers who had ridden over the fear of the unpredictable current.
The only reason our parents even let us anywhere near the waters was because there were no wayward wild animals like hippos. However they were designated swimming spots. Nobody ventured into uncharted waters unless they were some crazy aspiring-survivor-series types. Rivers were viewed locally as a force that could be malevolent or benign all with total disregard for human sentiment. The rules of swimming in a fast flowing river were based on pure common sense, which thankful is still prevalent in the countryside. We learnt through experience that when the waters seemed calm, the lurking danger was the under current. It was erratic, unknown and perfectly camouflaged. One underestimated its power to one’s own peril. The sheer embarrassment of drowning while naked was too much to contemplate. Distinct boulders served as water marks to gauge depth, speed and water volume. Others were clearly acknowledged points of no return. As for stray wild life, we learnt that snakes generally mind their business if you mind yours and crabs hide from humans. Since there were no life guards it was widely understood that safety was a personal responsibility.
Rivers are always in a state of flux and only the uninitiated believe that they can step into the same river twice. But it was not until I encountered ‘sick’ rivers, abused by human activity and festering with waterborne diseases that I came to appreciate the great physical condition of river Yala. A key factor of Yala’s salvation was its remoteness. Its banks were sparsely populated and it did not flow past any densely populated areas.
Even so, in the wake of climate change warnings, I have come to have more concern for its well-being. Water wars are intensifying in the scramble for diminishing natural resources and pollution that is as a result of industrial activity is on the rise. Economic prosperity is the singular aspiration placing rivers purely as natural resources to be harnessed to exhaustion. The whole green fad follows a largely aesthetic oriented approach and has become a new gimmick for making profit off the bandwagon of sustainability and conservation. Little is preached about the interrelatedness between people and the natural world. Contemporary living disregards the time tested lessons from indigenous societies worldwide who understood intrinsically that the survival of a community across generations was a function of living harmonious with the nature. They developed norms and customs that motivated the respect for the natural world as an act of gratitude.
Even though rivers have a self cleansing system there is a limit to how much abuse they can take. When we kill our rivers, the ripple effect destroys plant and animal life in our lakes, oceans and ultimately ourselves. So, if there is a river that inspires you, do a little more than singing an ode. Make it your duty to keep as pristine as possible so that those who come after you may enjoy the same bountiful gifts of Mother Nature.
