Five decades after independence, we are stuck with colonial relics

The military officer in ceremonial uniform is an unmistakable figure standing behind the President.

Whenever the President makes to stand or sit, the aide-de-camp shoots to attention and salutes.

Fifty-two years since Kenya attained internal self-rule, we remain stuck with an inexplicably long list of colonial relics that, by their very nature, have ironically become part of our tradition.

As Kenya marks the 52nd Madaraka Day on Monday — the day commemorating when the country attained internal self-rule from Britain on June 1, 1963 — we take a look at some of the colonial customs and symbols that serve no purpose but which, for some reason, we have refused to let go.

From Major (rtd) Marsden Madoka, who was President Jomo Kenyatta’s ADC, to Colonel Peter Njiru, who currently serves President Uhuru Kenyatta, the military has continued to provide the ADC who is the personal assistant to the President in his constitutional position as the Commander-in-Chief.

ROYAL AUTHORITY

“It is one of the things we inherited from the British but sincerely doesn’t make a difference because the ADC does not do any protection duties. The office is largely ceremonial and just symbolises the old royal authority,” retired Major Bashir Haji Abdullahi told the Sunday Nation.

Aside from military traditions borrowed from the British like the ADC, there is another relic that might only serve in the present day to suck funds from public coffers.

The Presidential speech is delivered by road or air to every county commissioner, district commissioner and district officer across the country. The speech is read to the public by the county administration, previously the provincial administration.

A nagging question is why this practice should continue when more and more Kenyans have access to radio and television to listen to or watch the celebrations live from Nairobi and at a time when attaching it to a simple e-mail would move it in milliseconds at almost zero cost.

And then, on every national day, the President rides in a specially made cruiser — previously the British-made Land Rover, which was recently been replaced by an armoured Toyota Landcruiser — for a lap of honour when he waves to the crowd.

The shiny and spotless military vehicle is only used on national days after which it is returned to military barracks for safe keeping.

And have you ever wondered about the origins of the horsehair wig worn by judges, lawyers and parliamentary speakers? It was borrowed from the British.

It seems to have been nagging Chief Justice Willy Mutunga before he rose to head the nation’s bench. And soon after assuming office, he advised lawyers not to be tied to the wig.

For instance, in a memo in 2011, he directed that judges and magistrates will no longer be referred to as “my lord” or “my lady” and wigs were to be discarded with immediate effect.

“No head gear of any type will be worn except by the kadhis,” said Dr Mutunga, adding that there would be a ceremonial and functional robe for each court.

According to the CJ, magistrates will, through their association, deliberate on whether or not to wear robes and that each court will determine the dress code of advocates appearing before it.

“I want to bring to your attention the decisions arrived at by consensus at the just-concluded Judges Colloquium also attended by the Judicial Service Commission. You will note that some of these decisions take effect immediately,” the CJ’s August 23, 2011 memo said.

JUDGES' ROBES

The decision notwithstanding, some judges have kept to their robes and only discarded the wigs. Some lawyers have also kept to addressing judges as “my lord” or “my lady.”

According to Dr Hezron Mogambi of the University of Nairobi, a culture and development expert, it’s time Kenya created its own culture and history.

“The Constitution is the people’s culture. But we cannot retain colonial things and pretend that we are in a new constitutional dispensation,” said Dr Mogambi.

Sticking with the British symbols and culture, he said, is a form of identity crisis and “anybody who suffers from an identity crisis cannot develop”.

“Democratic authority is not vested in attires and symbols but actions,” he said, pointing to Huduma Kenya, a novel idea implemented by the Ministry of Devolution that recently won the United Nations Public Service Award (UNPSA) for its exemplary work in serving Kenyans.

In Parliament, the Speakers of the Senate and National Assembly have to be “dressed appropriately” in robes and wigs when they are in the seat. Like Justin Muturi, in a wig.

Similarly, Parliament has kept to the British tradition of the parading of the ceremonial mace, which was introduced by the colonialists to represent the royal authority of the British monarch, currently Queen Elizabeth II.

The mace, formerly a weapon of war, has been a part of British tradition since the 16th century.

More than half a century since independence, the Kenyan parliament has kept to the British tradition and no formal sitting can lawfully take place without the mace.

The parliamentary mace weighs about 13 kilogrammes and is under the watchful eye of the Chief Security and Safety Officer Solomon Obange. According to Mr Justin Bundi, the Clerk of the National Assembly, the mace is an alloy of gold, silver and bronze among other metals.

“There has been a big debate on whether or not we should continue having the mace. But the traditionalists have always won. The mace is simply a symbol of power and authority,” said Mr Bundi.

The tradition filtered down to the former local authorities and now even the counties have picked it up.

For each chamber of Parliament and county assemblies, the mace is carried in and out of the chambers in a procession to mark the formal beginning and end of each sitting. Within the chambers, the mace is one of the items that are specially protected by the parliamentary orderlies who also polish it.

“In our setup, it would make a huge difference if we discarded the mace because there is no business that can go on without it. It is taken so seriously and even guarded because we have made it part of our life,” said Mr Bundi.

The Senate, which came into existence after the promulgation of the 2010 Constitution, has been using a temporary mace, but the Sunday Nation learnt that they are expecting a delivery of their mace from South Africa next month.

Zambia’s mace looks like a spear, South Africa’s 1.196 metre long and 9.86 kilogramme mace has an 18-carat gold drum covered in springbok skin and attached to the drum using 18 buttons made from South African minerals and gemstones.

On top of the drum rests a book made from gold on which, in raised text, is an extract from the preamble to their constitution. Ghana, too, has modified theirs using traditional and locally available minerals.

According to Mr Bundi, even the clock tower at the National Assembly is borrowed from the UK House of Commons.

“We are generally traditional. We do not even want to shift from this location. Instead we are creating a parliamentary square,” he said.

Until the 2010 Constitution abolished the local authorities, there was the mayoral chain — a gold or gold-plated chain worn by mayors on ceremonial occasions. It is not known what has become of the chains, many that cost tens of millions of shillings.

That Kenya has firmly been rooted in the British colonial system is also noticeable in the county administration, formerly provincial administration’s attire, which was passed down to us by the colonialists. In their attire — the uniform and the pith helmet or beret — the administrators exude an air of authority to command respect from the ordinary person.

Meanwhile, the British system of indirect rule through local chiefs and assistant chiefs — who did not exist in pre-colonial Kenya — has also remained a core part of our “tradition”.