F
ive years ago, after a
landslide victory put Mwai
Kibaki in power, a vast
crowd gathered in
Nairobi's Uhuru Park to hear their
new President vow to purge
corruption. The departing
president's convoy was pelted
with mud and Daniel arap Moi
was jeered with cries of ''thief'' by
Kenyans who had triumphantly
flexed their electoral muscles.
Some called it their ''second
liberation''.
Two years ago, Kenya's voters
demonstrated their independence
once again, by giving Kibaki a
bloody nose in a referendum to
extend his powers.
The tragedy of Kenya's 2007
elections is that it nearly
completed the revolution that
began in 2002. A relatively
youthful opposition, which cut
across ethnic lines, was sweeping
the board and the political
victims included men like David
Mwiraria, who was implicated in
corruption, Nicholas Biwott, one
of Moi's most feared allies, and the
former president's son, Gideon
Moi. There was talk of elderly
hippos being overtaken by young
cheetahs. It smelled like a new era.
Instead, it appears that a
Government caught napping by a
groundswell of opposition support
has tried to interfere with the
result at the last minute. There are
parallels across Africa. In Ethiopia
in 2005 the Opposition made
dramatic gains, but was denied
power amid claims that the vote
was tampered with after the polls
had closed. Similarly, Nigeria's
2007 elections were criticised for
large-scale rigging.
There is speculation in Kenya
that the ruling party may have
sought to manipulate the electoral
commission before the poll, but
election monitors' reports point to
meddling with the vote tallying.
Kenya has set the worst of
examples.
The violence is even more
dismaying. The Government's
claim on Wednesday that it is
''well-planned, financed and
rehearsed'' by the Opposition was
exaggerated. Kenya is not Rwanda,
and this is no orchestrated
genocide. But there may be a grain
of truth in the claim that the
opposition Orange Democratic
Movement (ODM) has a role in the
bloodshed.
Kenya, in common with many
impoverished developing world
countries, has plenty of young
thugs available for hire. David
Anderson, director of the African
Studies Centre at St Antony's
College, Oxford, said, ''The ODM
is causing as many fires to break
out in as many places as possible
so the Government is kept on the
run and forced to come to the
negotiating table. Raila [Odinga] is
saying he doesn't want violence.
That may be true in his heart but
not in his head.''
Kenya's future lies with two men
who were once allies. In 2002,
Odinga, now Opposition Leader,
helped Kibaki win. By 2005, he led
a cabinet rebellion against Kibaki,
quitting power to call for a No vote
in the referendum.
Odinga ostensibly quit on a
point of principle, but he was also
frustrated at his lack of influence
in government and felt he had
been cheated. That history makes
it unlikely that he will gladly seek a
compromise now.
Kibaki unquestionably has a fine
mind. He was top of his class at
Uganda's respected Makerere
University and a scholarship
student at the London School of
Economics. He was in a car
accident and suffered a stroke on
the eve of the 2002 election,
forcing him to slow down. His
skilful grassroots campaigning in
the run-up to this election has
tempered his aloof image, but he
remains a distant president, even
compared with the autocratic Moi.
Now 76, his style of government
has been to surround himself with
a trusted cabal. Some believe this
clique is now egging him on.
Tom Cargill, Africa program
manager at Chatham House, an
international think tank in
London, said: ''The big problem is
that Kibaki is being pushed more
than he's pushing. On the other
hand Odinga is getting old and
knows this is his last shot. He feels
outraged he thought he had it.''
Five years ago, Kibaki was
inaugurated as President in the
park where Prince Philip handed
power to Jomo Kenyatta in 1963,
ceremonially ending British rule.
After this election result, Odinga
called for a million people to
march on the same park today.
Unless a compromise is reached,
Uhuru Park could see blood and
tears replace the joy of 2002.
Guardian