He doesn’t lead, and he doesn’t understand why we don’t feel led.

It was a blustery day in Nairobi on Dec 28, 2007, as it often seems to be on that day especially in Kenya. Normally, the air would be filled with pregnant celebration for Christmas and the New Year. It was not however. The country was waiting with baited breath for Mr. Samuel Kivuitu to announce the winner of the presidential elections. As I watched the results being announced, I had a feeling of unease. It wasn’t just that the man who could be so eloquent had seemingly chosen not to be on this auspicious occasion, although that turned out to be a troubling harbinger of things to come. It was that there was a story the Kenyan people were waiting to hear — and needed to hear — but he didn’t tell it. And in the ensuing months we paid.. and him too…and he continued not to tell it, no matter how outrageous the slings and arrows his opponents, us, threw at him.
The stories our leaders tell us matter, probably almost as much as the stories our parents tell us as children, because they orient us to what is, what could be, and what should be; to the worldviews they hold and to the values they hold sacred. Our brains evolved to “expect” stories with a particular structure, with protagonists and villains, a hill to be climbed or a battle to be fought. Our species existed for more than 100,000 years before the earliest signs of literacy, and another 5,000 years would pass before the majority of humans would know how to read and write.
Stories were the primary way our ancestors transmitted knowledge and values. Today we seek movies, novels and “news stories” that put the events of the day in a form that our brains evolved to find compelling and memorable. Children crave bedtime stories; the holy books of the three great monotheistic religions are written in parables; and as research in cognitive science has shown, lawyers whose closing arguments tell a story win trials against their legal adversaries who just lay out “the facts of the case.”
When Mwai Kibaki rose to be sworn in, the nation was in tatters. Kenyans were scared and angry. Tension smelled putrid. Then hell broke loose and the nation was thrown into a spin. What ensued, no one ever imagined: The ethnic political violence shattered the nation’s image as an oasis of calm in a turbulent corner of Africa. More than 1,200 people were killed and up to 600,000 displaced. The violence had assumed an unsettling ethnic character that saw neighbor turn against neighbor with machetes and other crude weapons. As militia mobilized on both sides, Kenyans began to self-segregate along ethnic lines. The economy was spinning in reverse. Thousands of people lost their jobs. Many had lost their homes and families, and with them the only nest eggs they had. Even the usually impervious upper middle class took a hit, with the stock market dropping in value with no end in sight. Hope was as scarce as credit.
In Feb. 29th 2008, the country was re united again, albeit fluidly. Calm was restored, normalcy returned, hope was renewed.
In that context, Kenyans needed their president to tell them a story that made sense of what they had just been through, what caused it, and how it was going to end. They needed to hear that he understood what they were feeling, that he would track down those responsible for their pain and suffering, and that he would restore order and safety. What we were waiting for never came.
We moved on, as we always do. Banking on our resilience, that African aspect that made us survive worst tragedies ever: slavery, colonialism and several wars in the continent.
Now is 2011. And the fear and anxiety we had in 2008 is back. Kenyans are dying of hunger amid plenty; the government functionaries do not accept reality. The minister responsible once came on national TV and promised that no Kenyan would die of hunger again. It is no surprise that she is quite now. The Government spokesman denies that Kenyans are starving. He terms the reported deaths as unofficial. Media reports show untold suffering of our own brothers and sisters, a story of anguish and despair.
Again, at this critical juncture, Kenyans needed their president to tell them a story, of why we had to die of hunger, why while there is massive shortage in North Eastern, food rots away in Bura and Hola. We wanted a story on why he could not summon an emergency response when the government had been forewarned of the impending disaster long before. We simply wanted an assurance that it was going to be fine, that he was in control and that he had enough compassion for the starving.
That story never came and it still hasn’t when the Kenyans 4 Kenya Initiative is nearing the 1 Billion Shillings mark.
We have shown, consistently that we can pull ourselves up from whatever gutter he put us in. we are doing it now with the hunger initiative. But we can do more.
We can fight!
Let us summon the fighting spirit of our founding fathers, let us call for their help at this hour of need, let us awaken in us the African Dream, the Kenyan Renaissance, let the blood of our warriors, they who courageously fought for our independence, flow in us, let us reignite the spirit of Pan Africanism, that which Kwame Nkurumah, Abdel Nasser and Mwalimu Nyerere yearned for, let us rely on the one thing that distinguishes the African people- Our RESILIENCE: To fight; to persevere; to sacrifice, if only for a brighter tomorrow.

Let us revel in the beauty of our people, in the pride of our diversity, in our sensuality and emotion, our song and dance, our gaiety and spring of step, our laughter that springs from the heart, our ability to love and capacity to learn, the spirit of ubuntu and good neighbouliness- that which is distinctly African, the fountain of humanity.
We are doomed, at present, but there is nothing more beautiful than knowing that tomorrow is uncertain for all of us. But then the uncertain future makes us hope for the light at the end of the tunnel, that tiny speck of light that comforts us, that little star that leads us on, that faint echo that reminds us of our humanity, our mortality, our being African. When dawn breaks, we would be ready to face tomorrow, when the sun goes down, we would rest in the full knowledge that we have played our part and that, this future would be better and brighter though in its uncertainty.
We all are braver than we believe, stronger than we seem, and smarter than we think... if we resolve to think, work and move together, our synergy can help us soar to heights we never thought we could reach. We have done it before, we can do it again!
May we have the moral courage to wish each other comfort during difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, sunsets to warm our hearts, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for our eyes to see, friendships to brighten our days, faith so that we can believe, confidence when we doubt, courage to know ourselves, patience to accept the truth, love to complete our lives.
Therein lies our hope for he doesn’t lead, and he doesn’t understand why we don’t feel led.

Eddie Ombagi
African Union Youth Volunteer Fellow, Works for the World Youth Alliance in Nairobi and a Kenyan youth representative to the Commonwealth Youth Caucus.

In The Sea...... Is Where I Want To Be....

Yes!.
There comes a time in all of our lives . .
When the shades of blue and green tipped in white . .
Seem to paint the colors of a souls day and night! . .
Never are we alone! . .
Yet alone is the feel . .
A hunger brewing deep within . .
And the need to feel! . .
O how the sea rings to me . .
Her reasonings lingering in the waves . .
The crash in and rush onto the lands banks . .
To yonder where am free..
To dream dreams..
And wish wishes..
To where my heart is..

Life of Hope/ Death of Despair

I wanted all the realistic things love, peace, and security
I wanted all the material things cars, clothes, and jewelry
And all of my life I never stopped hoping eventually
My dreams would come true
And deep in my heart I knew
I’d try to do all I dreamt I would do.

So I continued to fight the one thing in my life I knew
That could stand in my way
So I fought with my self
To be all I could be each and every day
I lived through the games of life
And followed rules expected of us all
If I got knocked down and couldn’t stand
At least I’d start with a crawl

So all of my life I lived with the hope
That one day my life would be completed
And in my soul I’d do all I could not to be defeated

So as I got older in age
I still held onto my hope
I wasn’t young anymore
Yet I hadn’t reach the end of my rope
I hadn’t progressed in society
Only a small group of family and friends.
Hope was always there until the very end

Lying on my deathbed I looked back into my past
Finally letting reality come into my grasp
Life is what you make and life’s not always fair
Why did I live with hope just to die in deep despair