Wednesday, December 28, 2005
A LESSON IN PATRIOTISM
In those days we used to take pride in being Kenyans. In a continent of military coups and political instability, Kenya was an oasis of peace and tranquility. The East African Community had just collapsed and a sense of nationhood was gaining root in Kenya. We had left Kenya on first January in an East African Airways plane and were to come back home in December in a Kenya Airways plane. In between a lot of water had flowed under the bridge.
At the elite naval officers’ training school in Dartmouth, Kenyans were a welcome and respected lot. Together with Nigerians, Ghanians, Bangla Deshi, and other commonwealth and Middle East nationalities, we formed a strong team of international officer corps. We shared our experiences and respected our cultural diversity. As happens when in foreign lands, you tend to identify with and befriend other foreigners more than the indigenous people. And so was the case in Dartmouth. The first circle of friends was other Kenyans, then other Africans, then other internationals and finally the British. This eventually changed as we got better acquainted with the British and started interacting with them more. Some came into the second circle but the first circle was always sacrosanct for the Kenyans and could not be bleached.
The six of us had gone through the six month basic training in both Lanet and the naval base together. This had tied us together through common experience. The training did not only instill military tactics and knowledge, it is created a common bond between us. You end up being your brother’s keeper. You never leave a fallen comrade behind. The bond created during basic training persists for a long time and serves to sustain friendships among the officers. Here we were in the midst of British winter furthering our military prowess. The experience was daunting just as it was exciting. As relatively young cadets, I was the oldest at twenty five, we were ambassadors at large for our country. We took this role literally and were very vocal in defending our country any time there was a debate on any issue touching it. Our history and particularly our country’s future kept coming up especially because of the advancing age of our then president. The question most often asked was what would Kenya be like after Kenyatta. We were very defensive of our independence and believe in stability and peaceful continuity even after Kenyatta. History has at least vindicated our faith.
One day my friend and I walked into Barclays bank at Marble Arch in London. As we lined awaiting our turn, we saw this man ahead wearing what was then the national tie. The national tie was made up of the national flag colors. Wearing it was a sign of pride in the nation and people wore it especially on national days. Later the tie was emasculated by the Kanu party who made it a sign of loyalty to the party. Today no one, other than the die hard Kanu activists and some recalcitrant village demagogues parade themselves in the tie. This has made our nation lose its symbol of identity. The moment the national symbol was made a party symbol it made it repugnant among the non party members to identify themselves with it. Kanu hijacked the national tie and made it their own.
The gentleman I was talking about was patiently lined up ahead of us. We debated as to who was to approach him and test whether he was truly a Kenyan. My friend just stood next to him and while pretending not to address him simply said ‘habari mzee’. The man turned with a wide smile on his face and answered the greetings enthusiastically. He went on to explain that he wore the tie specifically to announce to all and sundry that he was from Kenya. His reasoning, which we could not fault but rather confirmed, was that by wearing the tie he was proud to be a Kenyan and more so in the land of former colonizers. He was proudly going about his business showing off as it were and announcing to other Kenyans, that he was around. He emphasized that our having approached him had vindicated his claim. After our self introductions and having finished our business in the bank, we shared a cup of coffee and exchanged contact address. It turned out that he even knew my father and this cemented our bond.
The thing I remember most about this incident is the pride the man showed in our national tie. The loss of this symbol to party demagogues and sectored interests haunts me every time I remember this man. Living in foreign land, I find myself looking for a national symbol. When I look at a number of flags flying at a hotel or other venues I instinctively look for the Kenyan flag. I wear with pride my T-shirt with a miniature flag sewn on the pocket and the word Kenya emblazoned across the front. I hang a miniature emblem of the Kenyan flag on my rear view mirror in my car. These small symbols serve as constant reminders of my country. Sometimes you meet somebody who will ask you whether you are from Kenya after they see you so attired and you strike a conversation. But the most frustrating thing about all this nationhood hullabaloo is when you go back to the motherland. There you discover there is nothing called Kenya. There we have provinces. We have regions, Mt Kenya, coast lake, dry regions etc. There are no Kenyans only tribes. You are either a Kikuyu or Luo, Luyhia or Kalenjin, Masai or Kamba never a Kenyan. When you go to check the tribes, they are not there only the clans remain. Where did the Kenyans go?
At the elite naval officers’ training school in Dartmouth, Kenyans were a welcome and respected lot. Together with Nigerians, Ghanians, Bangla Deshi, and other commonwealth and Middle East nationalities, we formed a strong team of international officer corps. We shared our experiences and respected our cultural diversity. As happens when in foreign lands, you tend to identify with and befriend other foreigners more than the indigenous people. And so was the case in Dartmouth. The first circle of friends was other Kenyans, then other Africans, then other internationals and finally the British. This eventually changed as we got better acquainted with the British and started interacting with them more. Some came into the second circle but the first circle was always sacrosanct for the Kenyans and could not be bleached.
The six of us had gone through the six month basic training in both Lanet and the naval base together. This had tied us together through common experience. The training did not only instill military tactics and knowledge, it is created a common bond between us. You end up being your brother’s keeper. You never leave a fallen comrade behind. The bond created during basic training persists for a long time and serves to sustain friendships among the officers. Here we were in the midst of British winter furthering our military prowess. The experience was daunting just as it was exciting. As relatively young cadets, I was the oldest at twenty five, we were ambassadors at large for our country. We took this role literally and were very vocal in defending our country any time there was a debate on any issue touching it. Our history and particularly our country’s future kept coming up especially because of the advancing age of our then president. The question most often asked was what would Kenya be like after Kenyatta. We were very defensive of our independence and believe in stability and peaceful continuity even after Kenyatta. History has at least vindicated our faith.
One day my friend and I walked into Barclays bank at Marble Arch in London. As we lined awaiting our turn, we saw this man ahead wearing what was then the national tie. The national tie was made up of the national flag colors. Wearing it was a sign of pride in the nation and people wore it especially on national days. Later the tie was emasculated by the Kanu party who made it a sign of loyalty to the party. Today no one, other than the die hard Kanu activists and some recalcitrant village demagogues parade themselves in the tie. This has made our nation lose its symbol of identity. The moment the national symbol was made a party symbol it made it repugnant among the non party members to identify themselves with it. Kanu hijacked the national tie and made it their own.
The gentleman I was talking about was patiently lined up ahead of us. We debated as to who was to approach him and test whether he was truly a Kenyan. My friend just stood next to him and while pretending not to address him simply said ‘habari mzee’. The man turned with a wide smile on his face and answered the greetings enthusiastically. He went on to explain that he wore the tie specifically to announce to all and sundry that he was from Kenya. His reasoning, which we could not fault but rather confirmed, was that by wearing the tie he was proud to be a Kenyan and more so in the land of former colonizers. He was proudly going about his business showing off as it were and announcing to other Kenyans, that he was around. He emphasized that our having approached him had vindicated his claim. After our self introductions and having finished our business in the bank, we shared a cup of coffee and exchanged contact address. It turned out that he even knew my father and this cemented our bond.
The thing I remember most about this incident is the pride the man showed in our national tie. The loss of this symbol to party demagogues and sectored interests haunts me every time I remember this man. Living in foreign land, I find myself looking for a national symbol. When I look at a number of flags flying at a hotel or other venues I instinctively look for the Kenyan flag. I wear with pride my T-shirt with a miniature flag sewn on the pocket and the word Kenya emblazoned across the front. I hang a miniature emblem of the Kenyan flag on my rear view mirror in my car. These small symbols serve as constant reminders of my country. Sometimes you meet somebody who will ask you whether you are from Kenya after they see you so attired and you strike a conversation. But the most frustrating thing about all this nationhood hullabaloo is when you go back to the motherland. There you discover there is nothing called Kenya. There we have provinces. We have regions, Mt Kenya, coast lake, dry regions etc. There are no Kenyans only tribes. You are either a Kikuyu or Luo, Luyhia or Kalenjin, Masai or Kamba never a Kenyan. When you go to check the tribes, they are not there only the clans remain. Where did the Kenyans go?
