Private tomb in a public space? The paradox of Kenyatta’s mausoleum

In the small hours of August 22, 1978 at State House, Mombasa, President Jomo Kenyatta died. Later that morning, they put his body in a Kenya Air Force Buffalo transport plane and flew it to the Eastleigh air base in Nairobi.

Then the President was driven to State House, Nairobi, in a deliberately-arranged modest convoy that would have escaped the attention of passers-by.

His embalmed body lay in state for one week at State House as silent, respectful and tearful wananchi filed past all day long. Then it was taken to his Gatundu home for one last wake on the day before his funeral.

Meanwhile, construction workers put up a stone, glass and marble mausoleum in the grounds of Parliament where the President was buried in state ceremony attended by heads of state and government from around the world on August 31, 1978.

LONELY SHRINE?
Unlike mausoleums of many other deceased heads of state, President Kenyatta’s, though situated in the most public of spaces – Parliament Buildings – has remained a restricted place. For 36 years, the guarded tomb has remained off limits to the people he ruled for 15 years.

But it regularly comes to public attention, as it did on Friday, during the anniversaries of his death and on rare occasions when visiting heads of state go there to pay their respects.

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In effect, Kenya’s founding president lies in private grave in a public space. Or does he? The government department charged with the maintenance of the grave is Parliament although the premises are secured by the Kenya Defence Forces who have maintained a presence there since the day the President was interred.

Thousands of people file past the body of, say, Ho Chi Minh in his mausoleum in Vietnam. Why not President Kenyatta?
Jeremiah Nyengenye is the Clerk to the Senate, one of the two houses of Parliament.

“It is necessary for the mausoleum to be secured to prevent desecration of the final resting place of the first President of Kenya. The mausoleum is secured by the Kenya Defence Forces who have never left since the state funeral of His Excellency the late Jomo Kenyatta.

COST OF MAINTAINING THE GRAVE

“The mausoleum is not a private facility. The public may access it upon request to the Secretary of the Parliamentary Service Commission to enable suitable arrangements be made.”

How much do the people of Kenya pay to maintain the grave? Mr Nyengenye says that the maintenance budget of the mausoleum is part of Parliament’s overall budget. The mausoleum is maintained as part of the general maintenance of the grounds of Parliament, he says.

“We can give you the specific costs of maintaining the mausoleum itself but that would take a bit of time,” says Mr Nyengenye. “Suffice it to say that it is not a significant proportion of Parliament’s maintenance costs”.

There are no current plans to give the public unfettered access to the mausoleum and neither have any such concrete proposals been made.

Seventy per cent of Kenya’s 40 million people are below the age of 40. To them, Jomo Kenyatta is a distant historical figure with whom they have little, if any, psychological connection.

If there has been no public clamour to make his burial site universally accessible, this is perhaps the reason why. He was a colossal figure of whom there are as many critics as there are admirers. He is the subject of books and academic papers.

Of Kenya’s four presidents, he was miles ahead of his successors in charisma and his public speeches, delivered in a booming voice that he punctuated with pregnant pauses for effect, held his audience in either awe or amusement depending on what he wanted to achieve.

They were loaded with sexual innuendo and he was forgiven uncountable times for the obscenities that he frequently spewed to his audiences. Many are too graphic to be reproduced in this family newspaper. But sample this printable one: “Some people are going around saying that I am impotent. If they doubt my virility, let them go and ask Mama Ngina!”

Kenyatta’s chosen successor, Daniel arap Moi, walked into impossibly huge shoes in this particular aspect of character trait. One British journalist uncharitably – but accurately – described him as having the charisma of a dry maize cob.

But he was a fox; the quintessential political operative who didn’t need a college education to outsmart the sharpest professors.

PROFESSORS OF POLITICS
Nobody could match him for cunning. For describing himself as a professor of politics, he would have scored a one hundred per cent mark. He reigned for 24 years after serving 12 as vice-president, a record that is certain to run unbroken for perhaps centuries to come.

Moi’s successor, Mwai Kibaki, the haughty old Makerereian who often showed great difficulty in concealing his snobbishness, is a lot more familiar with the current generation of Kenyans. He learnt in Kenyatta’s court, though not exactly a kitchen member of it.

Thus, younger Kenyans, bemused by his public abuses like kubafu! (dimwit) mavi ya kuku! (chicken droppings) and bure kabisa! (completely useless) now understand from which master of the fine art of public insults he took his lessons from.

It is perhaps too early to make a judgment on President Kenyatta Number Two. He’s been in office for only 15 months and it is perhaps fair to give him time as we make keen observations and take copious notes.