One moment he is busy rationalising his ruffian traits as expressions of his unique brand of “social” activism meant to “recover” stolen public lands, and to scare away land-grabbers; the next, he is busy expounding on his visions of Nairobi, as discerned from the graffiti bearing his name.
This past week, Nairobians’ surprise that Waititu had clinched the nomination from a major political party, and which puts him in very good stead for city governorship is still bubbling.
And why not? The man is a perfect fit for the kind of leadership needed to transform Nairobi in a regional hub, and a 24-hour economy.
Gullible scribes
As a former truck driver, he will have first-hand experience about the sort of bottlenecks that frustrate movement of goods and services within the country and the region.
When politicians are falling over themselves in their retreat to the bunduz to claim their spot in village politics, Waititu proclaims he is Baba Yao, and stakes a claim smack in the middle of the city. Now, even his detractors admit that takes a bit of courage.
But his detractors often miss the point by focusing on what Waititu lacks, rather than what he possesses.
And gullible scribes have followed suit by pursuing a non-story. There is no doubt Waititu lacks the urbane sophistry, the sort that men who hide public funds in Jersey Island display; he wears neither Italian shoes nor Savile Row suits.
Yet, the man has outwitted the media through deft information management and “humanised” political violence to make it seem inevitable, if not necessary.
Fractured English
He has done this through repeated displays of thuggish conduct, and rationally explained himself.
Through his dastardly actions, Waititu has been posing the unspoken question: who between the uncouth politician and the smooth, but thieving politician, is a threat to our future?
But that’s not the whole story; it would not be complete without the story of how a man of such rugged conduct arrived on the national political scene in the first place.
Again, this is a question of class. Waititu speaks fractured English, interspersed with first language influence. His English statements cannot make fine sound-bites unless he is subject of ridicule.
We even notice the shoes but not the trek that he must have made in less polished shoes decades ago to attend high school, when some of his Kibera peers were probably too high on bangi or something more potent.
Let’s not forget his return from India, bearing the name of Clifford or whatever, did not include the sense of entitlement so many “been-tos” display upon their return. He took a truck and hit the road. Now, that’s the kind of mystery the man holds over the denizens. They recognise him as one of them who got his big break. He reflects their aspirations.
And the refusal by class-conscious scribes to ascribe to any other definition of Waititu – beyond the stone-throwing ruffian – is seen as a conspiracy to keep “Baba Yao” in his place.
Fortunately, our class driven politics has turned Nairobi into one large ghetto where more than half the populace live in the sort of environment Waititu would call home.
Those are the people who will surprise Nairobians in just a few weeks. And Baba Yao will wear a fresh scowl to register his new surprise.
Now that game’s almost up, Prezzo needs a real ‘game-changer’
Prezzo launched Konza City this week, and described the milestone as a “game-changer.” That’s what he called our military success in Somalia, and he must have called the Thika superhighway something close to that.
Please don’t blame him; he is an old man in his 80s, and should be forgiven for repeating himself. We should suspend our judgement even further because I suspect he writes the speeches himself.
Yet, somebody should tell him there is something infantile about the expression – game-changer – it reduces everything to a game.
I doubt if Prezzo is playing any games here because, at his age, he has little time or energies for games. He is not playing even games where he should, like in the contest over his successor in Othaya, where TNA has been giving and snatching nominations ovyo ovyo.
Apparently, Prezzo, if we believe his son Jimi (he doesn’t quite open his mouth when he speaks, so we may have misunderstood him), implied his father prefers a certain candidate to replace him.But TNA gave their nomination to a certain Mary Wambui, who is likely to be a “game-changer.”
Othaya host
Why, if she gets elected, as all indications are, and Prezzo becomes a resident in Othaya’s Karima village, she would be the one hosting him if he attends public barazas.
Now, that would be a “game-changer,” no doubt a fitting occasion for Prezzo to use his favourite expression. “Kweli mambo imebadilika,” he would mutter to fellow villagers. “Hiyo ndiyo ilikuwa inaitwa ‘game-changer’ huko Nairobi!”
When lawyers think of covering their bodies, something is amiss
I kept wondering what would happen when things were in perfect order in the Judiciary, and we got the first results this week: the directive from the Law Society of Kenya curtailing female lawyers’ freedom to show a bit of leg. Men are not to show their toes.
The society demands the stitch of the hem of their skirts and dresses must be above the knee, while sleeveless shirts and shorts, jeans, etc, are out of the question.
Pettiness
I think this pettiness has got something to do with recent reforms. When judges and magistrates were given deadlines to dispense with case backlog that had been pending for years, a whole political economy was put in serious jeopardy. A prosecutor would hide a file until a lawyer cooperated. A client would provide some inducement, and the prosecutor would pass on a portion to the magistrate or judge.
Dispensing with case backlog means there is no file to hide from a lawyer, no bribe’s available for the prosecutor, and by extension, judge or magistrate.
In the absence of something productive to do, each will start scrutinising the other. And lawyers have started by focusing on dress codes and hairstyles. This is the price for order; something had to give.
Source: Standard Digital
