Laugh or Cry?

So Kenya stands on the brink of catastrophe. Ethnic tensions have been laid bare in a month of post-election violence. Kalenjin and Kikuyu gangs are intent on taking lumps out of each other. Slums have been razed and hundreds of thousands of people sent fleeing.

“Violence continues, threatening to escalate to catastrophic levels,” is how Ban ki-Moon, UN secretary-general, summed it up today at the African Union summit in Addis Ababa.

And then an opposition MP is shot dead for knocking off a policeman’s missus.

Nottingham Forest in Kenya II

 

The second sighting of the Garibaldi Red during Kibera’s troubles came down at the railway as Luos and Luyhas gathered to take on a gang of Kikuyus. It looks to me like the shirt from the early 90s, shortly before relegation.

Derek told me he was an Arsenal supporter and wondered whether there was any chance I could procure a Gunners strip for him.

I was just about to start explaining how Arsenal play in red to this day because Forest generously donated their spare kit to the Woolwich Arsenal once upon a time. But the GSU were preparing to charge so it seemed prudent to let the matter lie and vacate the area.

Naivasha: Killed for Not Being Circumcised

So the BBC has gone the way of The New York Times in avoiding references to tribalism. Auntie’s euphemism of choice is “inter-communal violence”. The tribalism deniers should talk to John Oduri, a Luo.

I met him in Naivasha yesterday. He had been with his brother when a mob of Kikuyus arrived at the door on Sunday. They tried to pretend they weren’t Luos but there was one way the gang could check. They stripped his brother naked. When they found he hadn’t been circumcised – marking him out as a Luo living in the lands of the foreskin-less – they hacked him to death with pangas.

Whatever the cause – whether colonial rule, land, or the inability to distinguish Ls from Rs – and whatever sparked off this latest round of violence, things are spiralling out of control. This past week has seen a series of revenge attacks as Kikuyus are bussed in to launch attacks on Luos, Kalenjins and anyone else who has killed their kin.

It may have started as political violence with ethnic undertones but now the Rift Valley has moved into a new phase of killing.

I’d like to agree with the likes of Madeleine Bunting or those who believe western reporters are dealing in dated stereotypes. And my usual position is that people all over the world are the same, driven by the same rational motives as you and me. But now I’ve met too many people like John Oduri.

My Safari Soundtrack III

It’s been a busy week backwards and forwards into the Great Rift Valley. The road climbs out of Nairobi until the plateau opens out on the left hand side and then swoops down towards the lakeside town of Naivasha. In places zebra grazed at the edge of the Tarmac. And all the way we passed cattle trucks coming in the opposite direction, crammed with bedframes, bikes and sacks of clothes, their owners perched precariously on top. In Londiani we found thousands of people camped out in a churchyard being cared for by three ageing, but entirely unfazed, Irish priests. In Nakuru, gangs of Kikuyu youths – armed with pangas, clubs and iron bars – ruled the streets.

Muindi, my driver, would have preferred a spot of R&B but I think even he was eventually coming around to my way of thinking that rock is called for on African roadtrips. These songs are going on to my Safari Soundtrack:

• The Bear, My Morning Jacket - the bass drum managed to make the whole car (a big one) reverberate even as we completed the rough road which serves as a diversion on the last stretch into Nakuru (with thanks to bloomlikeflowers)
• Gypsy Biker, Bruce Springsteen - this came on as we began crunching over the shattered glass of windscreen after windscreen signalling we were close to Nakuru. The right mix of melancholy and grandeur
• Sunday, Sonic Youth - the only band for post-Apocolyptic noise-scapes. Streets empty but for armed gangs. Smoke spiralling in the sky. That sort of thing
• Bye Bye Baby, Ronnie Spector and Joey Ramone - In my view there’s only one way to improve on a Phil Spector original… and that’s to have Joey Ramone singing on it

For now, I’m revisiting my not-so misspent youth with a bit of twee pop in the form of Talulah Gosh, which I suspect may not be quite the thing for roadtrips. Any suggestions always welcome…

A Rant

I never understand footballers. Rugby was my game. After kicking seven bells out of each other we would give the opposition three cheers at the end, shake hands and then go to the bar and drink until we couldn’t stand up. Footballers seem to touch fingers while looking anywhere but at each other, and get away as quickly as possible.

But even I felt sickened watching Mwai Kibaki and Raila Odinga shaking hands and smiling after their meeting on Thursday. This wasn’t a game of rugby when differences can be left on the pitch. I’ve just come back from Nakuru where their followers are marching up and down the streets armed with big rods of steel, planks studded with nails and homemade flame throwers. Kibaki and Raila have unleashed a tidal wave of hate, and had the audacity to look pleased with themselves because they managed to sit in a plush armchair with each other for an hour.

Odegle Nyang reckons there are some other people looking pleased with themselves.

They Don’t Seem to Know Me From Adam

The entry has been changed, but for a while there on Tuesday my story on The Times website was bylined Adam Crilly. Presumably an editing slip confused my name with that of the British High Commissioner, Adam Wood. It’s not the first time the subs have messed up my byline. For some reason when I appear on The Times home news pages I always end up as Robert Crilly – not Rob – and The Daily Mail had me as Rob Krilly back during the Gillian Gibbons whirlwind. But my favourite was my first paper, The Chester Chronicle, which called me Rib Crilly. (A very meaty article, as one wag put it)

I generally find it best not to bring up these sorts of errors with sub-editors. They are a sensitive breed, to be handled with caution… as the following episode illustrates.

A family friend was starting out in the newspaper business back in the 1960s, I think. His first splash (ahem) for The Daily Record was a story about a trawler sinking in the North Sea. He’d been out in a plane with a snapper, battered out his copy as quickly as he could and then waited eagerly for the first edition to appear in the Glasgow pubs at around 10pm. So you can imagine Jim Laurie’s bitter disappointment when his maiden appearance on the front page was bylined John Laurie.

He dashed to the nearest phonebox and called up the paper’s chief sub to set the matter straight.

Jim: Ah hi, it’s Jim Laurie, the new reporter, the one with the story about the trawler…

Chief Sub: Aye.

Jim: Well, you see you’ve got my name wrong. It should be Jim not John.

Chief Sub: Aye. Well we’ll get that fixed for the next edition, don’t worry.

It duly appeared an hour or so later- with the byline removed entirely.

Disgusted of Hurlingham

The death of Heath Ledger, and Meskel Square’s marathon debate about homosexuality in Africa, remind me of the time a friend went to hire the DVD of Brokeback Mountain, I think from a store in Hurlingham here in Nairobi.

Shop Assistant: Are you sure that’s what you want?

Friend: Yes

Shop Assistant: Do you know what it’s about?

Friend: Yes

Shop Assistant: And you still want it?

Friend: Yes

Shop Assistant: That’ll be 200 shillings please (MUTTERED) Disgusting

Kenya is “Not A Banana Republic”, says Government

I’ll overlook the poor use of an apostrophe.

My Week in Media

Andrew Heavens at Meskel Square has tagged me in the growing my week/month in media meme (btw I’m not entirely sure I understand the difference between a meme and an idea. And that’s only one of my problems with Richard Dawkins. But anyway.) Here it is:

What I’ve read

My normal day starts with a double house coffee (cold milk on the side) at Java House with The Daily Nation and The Standard Kenya’s two top dailies. For months I’ve been moaning that they’ve been too heavy on the politics and that the election was going to be a dull affair. One of many poor predictions I made on that front. This week’s headlines have included “Police shoot dead more protesters in day two of demos” and “Where did the rain start beating us?” on the comment pages.

I’ve been a subscriber to the New Statesman for years. Michaela Wrong is usually excellent on Africa, but I find myself reading the Arts section first these days. Time and Newsweek predictably round things out for world affairs.

What I’ve watched

Sky News is rapidly becoming an addiction, given that it’s one of the few ways that I can keep up to date with what’s happening back home. But there can be no excuse for my fascination with BBC Food (one of a number of slightly odd satellite channels available in Africa) featuring as it does five-year-old reruns of River Cottage etc. DVD box sets are the other way of keeping sane. Season 2 of The Sopranos and I, Claudius (both of which feature scheming matriarchs by the name of Livia. Coincidence? I think not) both came back in my luggage from the UK.

What I’ve listened to

Precious little apart from the BBC World Service. My pal Adam Mynott has been broadcasting at what seems like five-minute intervals from the slums of Kibera on Kenya’s post-election violence. Meanwhile, Mark Coles has been on holiday so The Ticket and The Beat were not their usual selves, although still entertaining.

Bruce Springsteen and Yes are both getting heavy rotation on my iPod as part of a project to find the perfect music for long road trips in Africa. Neither is really my cup of tea, but Bruce is in with a shout of making it on to my Safari Soundtrack. Yes less so.

What I’ve surfed

Most of the British newspaper websites. As well as an assortment of NGOs – mostly through Reliefweb. And a few Kenyan and African blogs, listed in my blogroll. All mostly for work. Wikipedia is losing interest for me as my sister has beaten me to getting her own page (albeit a stub) but for light relief I always enjoy Richard Herring. David Aaronovitch and Nick Cohen keep me strong when everyone around me seems to think that all that’s Left is Liberal.

I tag: Reluctant Memsahib, Shashank Bengali, and Nick Wadhams.

Clear as Crystal, Polished and Viewed Through X-Ray Specs

So Adam Wood, British High Commissioner to Kenya, was called in by the country’s foreign minister, Amos Wetangula, for clarification on Britain’s attitude to President Mwai Kibaki today. Or at least that’s how British Foreign Office staff characterised the meeting.

I’m not quite sure there was any need for clarification. Here’s what Meg Munn, Foreign Office minister, said in the House of Commons last week when asked whether the Foreign Office formally recognised Kibaki as president of Kenya.

Our Government have not recognised the Government and are calling on both leaders to co-operate in a process of mediation.

And she was only echoing what David Miliband, foreign secretary had said a week or so earlier on BBC Radio 4’s PM programme when asked, who is president of Kenya?

Well at the moment there isn’t a recognised Government in Kenya. We’ve had an election and it’s disputed and the dispute centres on some very we, seemingly very well founded allegations of irregularities that have been exposed by the European Union amongst others and very few Governments around the world have recognised President Kibaki after the election.

That answer was hardly a slip of the tongue. The Foreign and Commonwealth Office has posted the transcript of the interview on its website to make the matter crystal clear… as if there were any room for doubt.