Shoe throwing incident rekindles ‘traitor’ memories

It feels like 1984 all over again, when President Daniel Moi’s remarks at a public rally in Kisii, that foreigners were grooming a traitor to topple his government from power, touched off a massive national reaction that ended in the political demise of the once-powerful Minister for Justice and Constitutional Affairs, Mr Charles Njonjo.

This time, the trigger is the incident in Migori where shoes and chairs were thrown towards the presidential dais by a rowdy mob that attended a meeting he was addressing.

In 1984, Moi’s remarks were followed by an orchestrated nationwide campaign against the “traitor” whom Moi had not identified in his speech.

Two days after the Kisii rally, Kerio Central MP Francis Mutwol, who was secretary to the Kanu Parliamentary Group, provided further clues as to the identity of the traitor, saying he “is no less than a minister” and that he “travelled a great deal” and had “a lot of money” outside Kenya.

Njonjo had travelled when that story broke, and his mere return to the country made the headlines, with this newspaper screaming “Njonjo is back.”

Then Njonjo attended the fateful Sunday service at Rungiri PCEA church in Kikuyu, during which an elder referred to the Kikuyu saying that “when the leading sheep limps, the others will not reach the grass”.

There were references to the biblical Silas and Daniel in the same service. Njonjo had provided a new entry point to the scheme that was to lead to his downfall.

When Parliament convened the following Tuesday, Lurambi MP Wasike Ndombi sought an adjournment to discuss “what happened in Rungiri as a matter of national importance”, an application that was granted.

Ndombi then informed the House that the elder who had used the Kikuyu parable in Rungiri “was trying to poison the minds of the people in Kikuyu Constituency against the Head of State … this has left the nation wondering who had been imprisoned like Paul and Silas and whose chains have now been cut…”

STRIPPED OF DIGNITY

There followed countrywide public demonstrations to condemn the still unnamed “traitor”. When, finally, Cabinet Minister Elijah Mwangale named Njonjo as the “traitor”, Moi suspended him from his Cabinet the same day, and appointed a commission of inquiry into his conduct.

The commission was to strip Njonjo of his dignity and the final payback act against the man who had helped Moi ascend to the presidency was when the President “pardoned” him of the wrongdoing that the commission had established against the former Attorney-General.

Why did Moi treat Njonjo, who had so bravely stood for him against the Ngoroko Movement, in such a mean way?

Moi’s biographer, Andrew Morton, has written in his book, Moi: The Making of an African Statesman that while he had helped Moi into power, Njonjo remained so powerful that Moi could not establish himself once he became president.

According to Morton, “Njonjo represented a stumbling block if Moi were ever to be recognised as an effective head of state both at home and abroad. A parting of the ways became inevitable.”

While the reaction to the Migori chaos has received wide condemnation both in the country and also among compatriots abroad, the decision by the Kirinyaga County Assembly to hold a formal discussion of the incident, which was followed by a paid advertisement, recalls the manner in which the fall of Njonjo in 1984 was coordinated.

At this stage, there has been no naming of names other than a “local politician” whose prosecution is demanded. There have, however, been calls for opposition leader, Raila Odinga, who has already condemned the incident, to hold a public rally in Migori to lead locals in an apology to the president.

To be sure, the Migori chaos is inexcusable, both because violence, even in the absence of the president, is always bad, and also because the last time that the president of Kenya was treated to similar chaos, which was in Kisumu in Luo Nyanza, the incident ended tragically.

On the previous occasion, the presidential guard volleyed bullets into the crowd, killing tens of people. That president, the father of the current one, was never to return to Luo Nyanza.

RESTRAINED

In the Migori incident, the restrained conduct of this president, a contrast with the actions of his father, has correctly been praised.

However, it was easy enough for him to think that this was déjà vu, recalling what his father had gone through. In such a case, an unimaginable tragedy would have occurred again.

The reaction by Dennis Itumbi, the presidential social media chief, who has condemned the use of public funds in Kirinyaga to react to the incident, suggests that if there is a scheme to use the Migori commotion to settle a larger political score, similar to what happened in 1984, the presidency may not be part of it.

Whatever the case, the Migori disorder has invoked a reaction by a section of the country that the time for a definitive resolution of the question of who is the boss in Kenya has come.

It is in this light that the Kirinyaga advertisement can be understood. If this assertion is correct, the president’s partisans feel that the Migori episode represents a crossing of the line in a continuing campaign of disrespect for the president, and that Odinga needs to be put in his place, once and for all.

Unlike in the Njonjo case, Odinga is not in the government and cannot therefore be dismissed. As leader of the opposition, there is a naturally antithetical relationship between the president and Odinga.

What the president’s corner resents is the lack of a power distance between the president and Odinga.

They feel that the president is not sufficiently “bigger” than Odinga as should be the case. Like in the case of Moi, the president is unlikely to establish himself in office unless Odinga is somehow downsized.

Viewed in isolation, the Migori incident is small and does not merit the level of anger it has elicited. It is a devised response, rather like Kanu’s overreaction to the Rungiri parable in 1984.

It is its place in the cumulative effect of the little indignities on the president, and the possibility that it can be instrumentalised towards a defining showdown with Odinga that makes the Migori incident important.

Unlike Njonjo whose power derived from a mastery of official bureaucracy, which Moi carefully uprooted through the commission of inquiry, Odinga’s power, like that of the president, stems from the people.

Both got massive support in the last elections and Odinga also disputes the results, like those of the 2007 elections. Unlike what Moi did to Njonjo, the president cannot orchestrate a bureaucratic shutdown of Odinga.

The question of how to lawfully downsize Odinga, therefore, is a difficult one, since his power derives from the same source as the president’s.

If, in the coming months, Odinga maintains his political base, this will continue to frustrate the president’s efforts to settle down the country after the last elections, and to govern in tranquility.

In that case, irrespective of the president’s personal views, his corner, following the Kirinyaga County example, may be forced to find a way to cut Odinga down to size with some finality.