That he was born a son of his father is as straight up as he was born to be a president. Uhuru Kenyatta or UK dearly, is the one man ever groomed to be the president of Jamuhuri and to pass the test with the highest pass mark given. Or did he?
When the former president Daniel the-failure Arap Moi rethought his “I am president for life” drive, his unquenchable love for the sovereign state and the people’s nation of Kenya found it important to choose someone who could inherit the power and the gold mine he was leaving behind.
His decision to bow down and let somebody more capable be bowed upon was forced of course but he did not see anything wrong with leaving behind a kaMoi puppet.
And thus entered UK the greenhorn into Kenya’s executive politics. Without the necessary clambers otherwise experienced for one to be in the centre of Kenya’s whirlpool like political game. Let’s call it a game because it never gets serious.
When Moi shouted Uhuru tosha!, half the giant crowd of Moists calmly left the famous Moi sports centre and vowed Moi kwisha! Well to cut that story short, Kenyatta inherited but no presidency, while Moi never recovered from the backlash!
After that, Kenyatta junior has since grown up to a man capable of not only managing the country’s finances but also being the current president’s most powerful advicer after the late Minister John Michuki. The last government reshuffle is the best testimony to that fact.
When UK took over KANU’s leadership and embarked on his first quest for the presidency, it was hard for him to convince the most, including myself, that he had what it takes to take Kenya to the next level after Mzee Moi had messed up everything good in the land.
Kenya needed someone who knew more than stealing and letting steal. And to inherit from someone who could magically make billions of the wananchi's shilingis disappear was just not the coolest thing at the time. So, who wondered how Kibaki, on a wheel chair, floored the young rookie?
The good thing that came out of all these is that UK learned how to throw a good jab and duck a dangerous hook in the ring of politics. He has since understood that the cockerel he was given was long gone slaughtered and the independence party he inherited was nothing but a sickly old donkey compared to the mustangs everyone else in his equal was riding.
The next time he aimed at the presidents seat was not much defferent. But then he quickly experienced a dejavu and made the choice that let him remain a man to reckon with. He loudly joined Kibaki in a battle for votes that ended with lose of life and much blood, the infamous PEV.
But before this, on his practical lessons, he had learned that the road to state house, which was all along his destination was about taking and giving even while hitting and getting hit. He had no respect for the old man who had beaten him hands down and as the leader of the opposition in parliament and elsewhere, he did his best to show that he was indeed a bad looser.
Anyway, as in life, where opportunities are always around the corner, and a dog somehow gets its own day, the talk about a new constitution was introduced. First on the streets, then in parliament and then in all drinking dens of the ever thirsty voters. After what they then spread the rumours to their homes.
Because they so demanded and a promise had been pronounced by one Kibaki, the making of a new constitution took way and then all Wanjikus were told to say either ay or nay. This was the golden opportunity the young Uhuru waited for and he gladly joined the nay sayers to humiliate the old man who had given him a humiliating defeat earlier.
My son, My son, For What Do You Persecute Me?
Well, and so it came to pass that the president of the land felt that all those who said nay can not, had not and could not have the good intent nor could they hold the affairs of the nation at heart. And fired they were.
Suddenly the now full grown moran found good comfort in the good company of the rejects of president Kibaki’s first government. And then he joined in, in the talk about ODM, it so became a party though in real sense a movement and one so lovable it remains the party (or movement) to beat. But comfort for how long?
As the first term of what was meant by Moi as his, young UK soon realised that though he had indeed made many friends from many tribes and sub-tribes, his clan, and clans and sub-clans saw nothing much in him but a spoilt rich brat who had no big heart enough for a nation like the great Kenya.
And they said pooh (while kutema mate), unless he goes back to the son of Mwai…pooh, he is as forgotten as his dead father, we shall cast him out…Stop stop! He eventually came to his senses before it was too late. And he heard the voice of his father’s friend also known as the son of Mwai who at the time was still the president, who had indeed defeated him to be ruler. My son, my son, for what do you persecute me? He heard.
Like a good lad, brought up by non-less than the nation’s first first lady, he went back, him and his followers, to the embrace of his godfather, the same Emilio. Welcome home my boy, it is not yet lost, or Uhuru, it is through me that you will make Uhuru and your destiny, to be the next ruler of this great nation called Kenya.
To Be Continued.
P Bryan Njoroge.
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