Big ego syndrome is the bane of African development

By Kenfrey Kiberenge
In early 2003, two remarkable incidents took place, one of which I recall vividly and the other hazily. The first is when President Kibaki, fresh in office, vetoed attempts to clear traffic off the clogged Nairobi roads.

That I cannot guarantee happened and my search on (you guessed right) Internet wisdom, Google, ended in futility.

The second is when the new President made impromptu visits to neighbourhoods around the city and he would be mobbed by euphoric wananchi. In fact, I recall a young girl who refused to wash her hands for some days as she relished a rare presidential handclasp.

If you skim through the news archives on January 2003 on the State House website, you will find articles with nostalgic sentences like “a jovial President Kibaki mixed freely with guests many of whom reached out to shake his hand” and “Kibaki answered questions posed by primary school pupils”.

A few months into the office, though, all the pleasantries disappeared. Motorists are literally shoved off the roads a couple of minutes before His Excellency’s motorcade are furiously driven past.
And unless you are one of the flower girls, getting near Kibaki nowadays could earn you a few nights at Kenyatta National Hospital.

We also have Cabinet ministers, depending on the portfolio, with chase cars and others who drive on the wrong side of the road during rush-hour. Several incidents have caught my eye here in the UK. On Tuesday, British Prime Minister David Cameron went to buy coffee and a snack from a café in Gloucestershire.

The waiter did not recognise him and after he asked if they sell take away, she replied: “Yes, but I’m in the middle of serving somebody.” Cameron coolly said, “I’m so sorry” and got to the back of the queue for a whole 10 minutes when his aides got him coffee and a doughnut from a nearby café.

The PM sat outside, had his snack and with no hard-feelings went back into the café where he’d queued and posed for photos and chitchatted with the guests.

By then, the waiter had been alerted whom he was and she went and apologised for failing to recognise him but still – light-heartedly though – scolded him for buying coffee elsewhere. Last year, Cameron had another rough encounter with a waiter while on holiday when he requested her to take three cups of beverages at a table outside. She told him he would have to take them out himself because she was busy behind the bar. She too did not recognise him at first and the PM later posed for a photo with her.

Forget Kenya where I believe virtually every waiter would identify Kibaki’s face – I believe Cameron’s ‘tormentors’ would have sensed power straightaway going by the demeanor, the number of vehicles parked outside plus the number of security guards around him.

I will not pursue this argument any further because I know it is easier for Israel and Palestine to make peace than have President Kibaki or PM Raila Odinga buy their coffee from a café. Then there is a picture of Culture Secretary (minister) Jeremy Hunt riding on a bicycle to work last month and one of Cameron and London Mayor Boris Johnson boarding an underground train to an event in March this year.

Compare that with the toe-curling remark by a Kenyan MP who accompanied ICC suspects to Netherlands and observed: “We took cars and buses from the courtroom to our hotels while Louis Moreno-Ocampo rode a bicycle. Why should we respect such a person?”

This big ego syndrome is the bane of African development. Elections are turned into a battle of egos where losing is not an option. Once in power, good leaders quickly become aliens to the electorate and with time, turn into monsters as they enter into survival mode.

I believe one writer’s argument that “if the Museveni of 1986 met the Museveni of 2011, he would have him shot on sight” could be said of most Kenyan leaders.

The writer works for The Standard and is winner of the David Astor Journalism Award 2012. He is on a fellowship programme with ‘The Independent’ in London, UK.