Kenya 'on the edge of a precipice'
(Photo by Sarah Elliot for UUSC)
Walter, a member of the Kikuyu ethnic group, became separated from his father as they fled mob violence in Eldoret, a city of 200,000 in western Kenya. He is one of many boys who have been separated from their parents and living on their own in this internally displaced persons tent city of about 25,000 at the Eldoret Show Grounds.
Charlie Clements, president of the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee, an international human rights organization based in Cambridge, Mass., returned to the Boston area this week after leading a fact-finding delegation to Kenya to learn firsthand the extent and root causes of the violence that has engulfed the country. More than 850 people have been killed as Kenya has splintered along ethnic, socioeconomic, and political lines following the declared victory of President Mwai Kibaki in elections in which opposition leader Raila Odinga had been favored.
By Charlie Clements
January 30, 2008
As the plane lowered its landing gear approaching Jomo Kenyatta airport in Nairobi, I wondered what we would encounter. I was returning to Nairobi, where I had just been in June; the last time it was about Darfur, this time I was leading a delegation of three on an emergency assessment mission related to the post-election violence. Straining to see out the planes windows, it was already dark. I was told the previous week that transport from the airport, which is only about three miles outside the capital, needed police escort because of hastily thrown up roadblocks along the highway. Those roadblocks were often accompanied by small fires, often fueled by tires, but I couldn't see anything burning. I wondered whether it was a good sign or whether it was due to the light rain. ...
After our week-long visit to Kenya, it is apparent that the political and humanitarian crisis is far from over, most noticeably in the Rift Valley in western Kenya where we spent the last two days of our fact-finding mission. Violence, often horrifying, continues to break out sporadically in far-flung parts of the country on a daily basis.
Shortly after arriving back in the United States, I received a message from a friend in Nairobi, who said, "Kenya feels like it is on the edge of a precipice. Anguish and anger are pushing people toward a free fall toward communal violence, which neither the leaders nor the security forces may be able to easily halt once it begins."
On our visit, we saw that Kibera, a Nairobi slum where an opposition member of Parliament was murdered early Tuesday, is virtually a ghost town after the rioting set much of it on fire. People were hesitant to return to their homes, because they may have been destroyed, along with places to buy food, or because they felt insecure as tensions about the electoral fraud continued to simmer.
The daily reality of many Kenyans is shaped by inequality and poverty, which all too often lead them to frustration and hopelessness. Again and again, Kenyans told our delegation that this crisis is not primarily about ethnicity, but about corruption, about decades of politicians "feeding at the public trough." Kenyans told us that illegally armed militias were intentionally set loose to incite violence.
On our last day in Kenya, we learned that President Kibaki had been urging internally displaced persons, or IDPs, to vacate the camps and return to their homes, saying that the government would provide security. I asked one of the IDPs, a member of Kibaki's own Kikuyu ethnic group, what he thought about that notion. He looked at me like I was crazy and said with some emotion "I cannot ever return to that place. Even though I've never had problems with my neighbors … until now. How could I ever place my family in this kind of danger again? There's another election in five years and it will be the same thing."
In the same IDP camp, in a corner, was a man with a sewing machine. He cuts sacks and sews them into awnings and other items. Despite his ready smile, he had a sadness about him. He says he's Kikuyu and that he and his family are living at the Eldoret Show Grounds, because their home was burned by a mob.
There was growing anger in Kenya about what the United States -- one of the first countries to congratulate Kibaki on his victory -- was not doing. While Britain and the European Union pressed Kenya's leaders to engage in a meaningful political dialogue to contain the violence, the long silence of the United States was deafening to ordinary Kenyans. The message being received by Kenyans was that the United States did not want to risk the alienation of Kibaki, or as Kenyans told us, the United States seems to be interested in peace, but not justice.
Usually I feel fine getting to the airport half an hour before our a flight, but with dusk approaching at the end of our last day and fires being lit at roadblocks, I was glad to arrive an hour before our scheduled departure for the United States. We said goodbyes, and I have to acknowledge the privilege that allowed me to leave all of this uncertainty, fear, and tragedy. The commitment we made to everyone whom we spoke with or who assisted us is to use what they told us to increase understanding and aid, as well as contribute to a lasting solution.
I welcome the opportunity to share with readers a taste of our experiences and what we learned during our week in Kenya. You will find much more at our website at www.uusc.org and particularly in our own blog.
For information on how you can contribute to the Passport blog, please contact the Globe's assistant foreign editor, Kenneth Kaplan, at K_Kaplan@globe.com.
