Mr Kinisu, it’s not the media wielding sword of Damocles

What makes Philip Kinisu think that he can survive and continue in office as a credible chairman of the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission? I don’t like writing about individuals but this case provided an opportunity to explain how journalism works.

Mr Kinisu, through Esaki Ltd, which he is reported to own with a member of his family, was a government supplier. His company entered into a supply contract with the National Youth Service. The EACC is investigating similar contracts at that institution.

The company associated with him made tens, possibly hundreds of millions from government tenders, which is not a crime. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it. But a ‘tenderpreneur’ does not quite cut the image of Caesar’s wife, a beyond-reproach paragon of virtue.

There is something funny about being required to lead investigations in the public interest into the kind of transactions from which you have benefited so much and against an institution with which you have traded for years.

Many times people scream: Journalists are corrupt, brown envelopes are changing hands, media are being used against me. It is not their fault that they think that way; they just don’t understand how journalists reason.

This is not to say that there are no corrupt journalists or that journalists don’t often have bad agendas. But when somebody brings documents and other evidence to our newsroom, our first concern is the truth. Are the allegations true? If they are, then we have a story. In many cases the motivations of the person offering the documents are not germane to the issue.

A full 98 per cent of whistleblowers have a personal agenda, may it be revenge, jealousy, competition or just plain malice. But the Lord uses the most unlikely of vessels to achieve His aims.

Looking at the media reporting of Mr Kinisu’s difficulties, it occurs to me that the documents showing up might not be getting off the shelves of their own volition and blowing themselves in the direction of reporters.

Now Mr Kinisu’s position reminds me of a plucked chicken: robbed of its plume, bereft of the protective cover of its feathers, exposed to the vagaries of nature and the vicissitudes of fate. He is alone with his many problems. His deputy, Sophia Lepuchirit, along with chief executive officer Halakhe Wako, have basically asked him to beat it. They were supported by commissioners Dabar Abdi Maalim, Paul Mwaniki Gachoka and Rose Mghoi Macharia.

And now the sword of Damocles has been further sharpened and swung in the direction of his neck by lawyer Albert Mokono Ondieki, who has petitioned Parliament to recommend to the President the formation of a tribunal to try the beleaguered chairman.

He appears to be damaged goods, a wounded entity slowly dragging its exposed neck towards that blade of Damocles.

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On Wednesday morning, at 6.30am, Nairobi Governor Evans Kidero lost my vote. An overlapping biker rammed into my little car, wreaking havoc on the body work from rear to front. I had stopped and indicated I was turning right on Gitanga Road and waited for oncoming traffic to give me way. But this cowboy zoomed out and rammed into me, dragging himself the length of my car.

Good brakes and quick reflexes, native to my tribe, saved his life and him from serious injury. I was on the school run. As a responsible father, my first concern was for the safety of my passengers. Second, was to clear the road. There is nothing as selfish and annoying as a driver who blocks morning traffic to argue over an accident.

After parking safely I walked over to the biker who, I was very pleased to see, was in great shock at how close he had come to becoming past tense. “Do you know how to use the road you cretinous village oaf?” I greeted him cheerfully.

Before he could gather his wits and answer, we were surrounded by a gaggle of smelly, big, padded-up bikers. I was reduced to addressing this roiling group of motorcycle thugs.

“If you don’t take the trouble to learn how to use the road, you will all die,” I told them. And they took great offence, as I had hoped they would. First, they wanted me to forgive their friend and second they wanted me to stop kuongea laana (speaking abominations).

I left them open-mouthed when I walked off, got into my damaged car and drove off to bear the cost of repairs like a man. It will take a sacco loan to do the job, but I’d rather get in debt than be subjected to the indignity of touching a biker’s soiled coins.

Governor Kidero has been very bad for our streets. He has allowed them to fill up with lawless motorcycle bandits. And he has allowed matatu gangsters to convert major thoroughfares, such as Moi Avenue, into parking lots. For such a smart guy, the governor doesn’t seem to have applied himself very productively to sorting our traffic. It’s not the way to win and keep my vote. 

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