More often than not, Why? is the most important question to answer. Here is the reason behind the choice to do "The Greedy Lords of the Jungle".
I’m not sure how the dark cloud of violence, killings and destruction that covered our country during and after the 2007 general elections affected you, but I know it deeply affected my wife and I.
We got married in December 2007, just before the elections and even though tensions were high, we moved to Nakuru in January 2008. Very soon, the post election violence had gotten to the point where we felt it was no longer safe to remain in Nakuru. There were gun shots in the night; running battles on the fringes of Nakuru town; fires; so many people fleeing for their lives. We saw many of them walk past our house, carrying whatever they could as they sought refuge at the police compound in Nakuru town. There were threats circulating, warning certain tribes to leave or face the consequences. Vigilante groups were forming to protect their own. B (my wife), who was at the time an interning doctor at the Rift Valley Provincial General Hospital, shared with me the rumours that were circulating at the Hospital of an advancing army from the north. All the while casualties continued to stream into the hospital. In the evenings we would watch the news reports on television, showing the destruction in Kisumu, the standoff in Kibera and the general upheaval in the nation. We prayed. After a couple of days our parents called to prevail upon us to come home to Nairobi. After only a few days in Nakuru, we decided that we would retreat.
We had to pick my grandmother who lives just a few kilometres beyond Nakuru town. The morning we were to pick her, our pastor from Nairobi called us and put us in touch with a contact person who was to advise us on the security conditions in the surrounding area. The contact person, a churchman, was co-ordinating the evacuation of at risk persons in our particular area. Thankfully we were able to pick granny up without incident and after she had prayed for our journey we set off. But the journey was a troubling one. There were literally no cars on the usually busy Nakuru - Nairobi highway. Plumes of smoke rose from various burning structures within the valley and along the escarpment. Some of the fires seemed freshly lit. We travelled in shocked silence that day. Having never before experienced such things first hand, B and I were deeply troubled. And so we retreated to Nairobi for a couple of days.
After three days in Nairobi, B had to get back to work. Once again we prayed for God’s protection and set off for Nakuru. There was literally no civilian traffic that day, just enormous military vehicles in convoy heading towards the Northern Rift. I’m sure our armed forces were themselves distressed at the fact that they were being deployed upon their own countrymen. It was an eerie feeling for sure. It felt like we were in some kind of movie. Was this Kenya?
When we got back to Nakuru, B continued her internship with a baptism of fire in the surgical rotation. She would on a daily basis come home visibly shaken by what she had been dealing with through the long shifts at the hospital. People riddled with arrows, some with bullets lodged in various parts, partial amputations, gaping head wounds, bludgeoned bodies, broken bones and other gory injuries were what the medical staff at the Rift Valley Provincial Hospital were dealing with day in day out. Many died while receiving emergency medical attention. To the medical personnel and especially the surgical team at Rift Valley Provincial General Hospital, God bless you. From what B told me, many lives were saved thanks to your tireless efforts.
When the smoke had cleared, another sight became the unfortunate centre of attention; the I.D.P. (Internally Displaced Persons) camps. At first they were pockets of people huddled together at various locations around the town. As tents and supplies started being organized, most headed for the ASK Showground, just up the road from the Hospital. We passed this scene every day on the way to and from the Hospital. Some relief was achieved as a generous outpouring of support came in from sources like the government, international agencies, and the general public. I believe that the I.D.P.s appreciated the supplies, but for people who have seen family members maimed or killed, their women raped, their property burnt, their neighbours turn on them and a bleak prospect for the future, one can only imagine the mental anguish our Internally Displaced brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers were contending with.
It’s important to bear in mind that after months of living in the camp, the conditions in the camp progressively deteriorated to the point of squalor. Unfortunately the re-settlement effort was not adequate. The amounts given to families were hardly sufficient to start over, and the very real fear of attacks from the same people who meted out the violence but were never captured loomed large in their psyche. Many fled to their relatives’ homes and may still be living there. Still others are living in tents and other makeshift shelters. When bulls fight, truly it is the grass that suffers.
But of course this is just one of many very serious problems plaguing Kenya. Originally the story from which “The Greedy Lords of the Jungle” is adapted was an allegory about the disenfranchisement of the Kenyans during and after The Scramble for Africa and subsequent colonization. The story is equally true of any situation in which one party, wrongfully and especially forcefully, acquires another party’s property or rights. Unfortunately this is a problem still rife in Africa and one that regularly rears its ugly head right here in Kenya. Justice is often illusive in the face of greed and impunity.
Forgive me for going on like this but why one does something is almost as important as what they do. Even so I shall try and bring this discourse to a close.
Life informs art and art has a responsibility to in various ways, respond to and affect life. I am an artist. I love my country and there are few things that make me happier than to see Kenyans in all their diversity, working and playing together in dignity and with a sense of hope and purpose in their eyes. Some Kenyans are doing well, they should thank God. Sadly, most Kenyans are teetering on the brink of despair. Like the fear and desperation we saw in the eyes of the I.D.P.s, the fear and desperation that stems from barely being able to feed your family, fearing for your safety and wondering whether promises made to you by your leaders can ever be trusted is becoming an all too common presentation seen in the eyes of millions of Kenyans.
But surely there is hope. My prayer is that we would not give in to this inertia and that we would instead make every effort to see that Kenya rises to overcome the vices that have for so long prevented the realization of our immense national potential. In due time, I hope to share further about what I hope will come of all this.
God, please have mercy on us. God bless Kenya.
- Gatumia