Building The Nation - The 300

Today I did my share in building the nation. 

I took part in a public protest against the Members of Parliament who have thought it wise to award themselves a hefty pay rise despite the current state of affairs in this country. This pay rise has put them at par with American congressmen who earn about $174,000 a year; the pay hike would put Kenyan MPs at earning $176,000 a year. $2,000 more, but compare the GDPs of the two countries and you will realize that we just can't afford to keep silent anymore. The new pay will ensure that Raila Odinga is the highest paid Prime Minister in the WORLD. Paid 240 times the GDP per person in Kenya. The Prime Minister of Singapore follows him on the list. He gets paid 40 times the GDP per person in Singapore. You get the picture?

I'm reminded of a good friend that I met while in Sierra Leone 8 years ago, just post the conflict that tore the country apart and made headlines the world over. A conflict caused by the selfishness of a few individuals who wanted to control the country's diamond stash. I'll call him Kamara. Kamara was a 60-something year old big shot engineer in Freetown. He was well established and pretty wealthy. If he lived in Nairobi, he would have a ginormous mansion in Kitisuru, Nyari or Runda. He drove an S-Class Mercedes and even owned a yacht. I should have started with that piece of information. Would have saved me 3 sentences of descriptions.

Wait. Did I say he was MY friend? Actually he was a good friend of the Country Representative of the UN organization that I worked for. I was just a plankton then, but the Rep treated me like his daughter and once allowed me to join him for dinner with Engineer Kamara. It was at that dinner that he told us how far he'd come and how far he would have been if it wasn't for the conflict. Because a number of years earlier, he had left Sierra Leone in a canoe, with only his shirt on his back. He left everything behind. His family. His numerous houses. His stocks. His engineering firm. His projects. His ATM cards. His everything. He had left everything he had worked half his life to obtain. He had fled his home. And he was only now, years later,  getting back on his feet; with the help of his sons who were lucky enough to be in the UK when the war broke out.

So with that story in mind, and after a couple of texts back and forth with my girl Njeri, I was in Upperhill where I dropped off the car AND my wedges, put a thousand bob in my pocket and a copy of my ID, and then set out on foot to Freedom Corner, the assembly point for the demo. When we arrived there, we noticed that there were only a handful of people. We found the other fearless influencers that had invited us to this protest on Facebook, and then we set out to think up canny lines to put on our placards that would drive the point home. Mine said "PAY US FIRST - "TEACHER, POLICE, IDPs". Hers said "WHAT ABOUT THE IDPs?". None of us from the Facebook group had ever been part of a public protest by the way. No seasoned veterans. No Stone-throwers. No Nairobi University alumni. Just young angry Kenyans needing to make a point.

Today I played my part in building the nation. Today I braved the chilly Nairobi weather and took part in a protest!

When the placards were done, we gathered together. I wondered where everyone else was. I wondered where everyone who had something to say on Twitter or on Facebook was. Where were all these people who confirmed on the event page that they would be part of the protest march? Where were all those people that had written "Open Letters To The President" in cyber space. I highly doubt that Kibaki has a facebook account that he reads and responds to. Heck, I'm certain Raila doesn't care what's said about him on Twitter. I'm almost certain a large majority of our MPs still use snail mail. Now look, there was what, 300 people at the most making all the noise for an issue that is causing heartache in the lives of 30million Kenyans. But I had no time to worry about that now. It was go time.

I have never heard so many church songs converted to mock MPs. I was tickled for most of the march to Parliament. Njeri and I yelled and shouted and took pictures of ourselves at our first-ever protest. It was fun for most of the trip. Things however changed when we got to Parliament. It got emotional. A woman with a baby strapped on her back wiped tears as she yelled at how little she gets paid. An elderly woman shouted in her native language, I couldn't understand, but I knew she was bitter. A middle-aged man shared his financial troubles with me. And then the emotion started welling up and I could feel the tears of anger welling up in my eyes. Tears for the child strapped on a back, that will never own a piece of this beautiful country. A child stuck in a cycle of poverty. Tears for the policemen and women who give their lives selflessly and yet are paid almost nothing for their hard work. Tears for the teachers who educated these greedy selfish MPs, teachers who are now being laid off because the government cannot afford to pay them.

The hot tears caused me to shout even louder and to dare to move closer to the gate of Parliament and yell at the top of my voice "WEZI!!!!!!!!!" "BUNCH OF THIEVES!!!" "GREEDY SELFISH MPs!!" I couldn't stop yelling. I needed someone to hear how displeased I was. I needed to drive the point home. The few MPs who dared to come and check out the action smiled. Dry sarcastic smiles. I later came to learn that parliament was actually in session as we were causing a raucus outside the gates. A session during which the dishonorable parliamentarians argued that if they were to pay taxes on their handsome salaries as proposed in this year’s Budget, they would have to each part with Sh8.7 million between now and end of their tenure. They added that this would be unfair to them because their pay has already been committed in such personal conveniences as car loans, mortgages, and other long-term plans. (Standard Newspaper)

Sarcastic smiles. Like they knew they were safe behind those gates and that there was little we could do to harm them. They knew we would shout and leave, and they would go back and make their selfish decisions anyway. They probably thought we couldn't represent the views of the majority of Kenyans. There was only 300 of us after all. Not so scary huh? But they need to be scared. They need to be so afraid that they don't sleep at night because they people in this country SCARE them. The people in this country are so united that it scares them that we could make decisions that would be written on the pages of History books for a while yet. They need to know that what they resolve today will determine their successes OR failures tomorrow. They need to know. And we need to let them know.

I put it to you that if you and I don't start protesting. If you and I don't take time off our gisty jobs to go and drive points home. If you and I leave it to violent hired gangs to carry out violent protests in this country, it is you and I that will suffer. Our cars will be burned, our houses ransacked, our jobs gone, our investments will crash, our families will be displaced, it is us, the young upwardly mobile individuals of this country that will pay the price if our country goes down. I don't know about you, but I would prefer not to leave my country on a canoe with only the shirt I have on my back to my name.

I played my part in building the nation today. Play yours.