We are indebted to Kenya’s great achievers and thinkers of our time

Some time I look back at Kenya’s history and just marvel at some of the great achievers we have had who we neither recognise nor celebrate.

I am not talking of the well known writers like Ngugi wa Thiong’o, statesmen like Tom Mboya, artists like Elimo Njau, men of letters and culture like Joe Murumbi or athletes like Kipchoge Keino. I am talking of that doctor on River Road or Cargen House who toiled for years curing the sick at a meagre fee from colonial times, through independence and into our times until he retired into oblivion.

I am talking of the journalist who wrote columns for years, quite often thrown into prison and then finally forgotten by us. I am talking of footballers like Joe Kadenge and Allan Thigo who made Kenyan football famous and were sportsmen per excellence. Let me revisit some of these great achievers today.

Not many people know that Phillip Ochieng’ is a legend in the world of Kenyan journalism. And he is still going strong writing every week for a paper he has been with as long as I can remember: and that goes back to the time I was at the Alliance High School—Ochieng’s alma mater—in the 60s. In those days,  The Sunday Nation was the paper to look forward to every Sunday: and Ochieng’s opinion piece captured the essence of the issues of that week in Kenya as well as in East Africa.

When I joined Makerere University in 1968, Sunday mornings were not complete without The Sunday Nation becoming the focus of students’ attention in all the quadrangles of the halls of residence.

A copy could be shared from student to student and eventually from room to room with nobody willing to miss what Ochieng’ had written about that particular week. The issues ranged from discussing African Socialism and its application to planning in Kenya to racist rule in South Africa.

Quite often culture dominated the headlines with novelists locking horns with Ochieng’ and ardent believers in Senghor’s “negritude” stating their case. The intellectual atmosphere in this region was very lively and very engaging.

Legend has it that Ochieng’ migrated from Kenya to go to work in Tanzania because he had told off some racist white woman he was interviewing for The Sunday Nation.

Apparently Ochieng’ kept his cool for quite some time during the interview until towards the end when he got so fed up with the lady’s bigotry towards Africans.

Being a chain smoker then, Ochieng’ took the burning end of his cigarette and thrust it on the woman’s forehead saying: “that should be a permanent sign to stop you from being rude and abusive to Africans.”

Knowing that the woman had powerful political connections, Ochieng’ packed his bags and left for socialist Tanzania the next day. I have never checked this story with Ochieng’ but it made its rounds among his admirers then.

Equally legendary was George Githii. Some time in the early seventies, George was editor of The Nation.

He earned the notoriety of having authored a misleading story in March 1975 purporting that the late JM Kariuki was in Zambia on a business trip while JM had actually already been assassinated here in Kenya. But in the early 80s when he was editor-in-chief of The Standard during the Moi regime, he suddenly—and bravely—turned against the regime to virulently attack Moi’s rule and detention without trial.

On pages 233 to 237 of his autobiography, “The Flame of Freedom”, Raila Odinga tells this story at length. It is amazing how Members of Parliament then spoke so harshly against Githii and so sycophantically in defence of the regime they were serving. Listening to some of them today speak in public, in the Senate or even in churches one cannot believe these are the same people.

I do not know who is going to take his or her time and write the history of medical practice in this country. In late colonial times— which I experienced as a kid— African doctors were a legend to behold.

They were very few in Nairobi for example, but they were known by almost all Africans in town. Their reputation was everywhere, and I don’t remember anybody going to them for treatment and being turned away for lack of money. The older ones I remember were Dr Ang’awa (thuon wuod Oremo), Dr Ouko and much later Doctors Oluoch, Nesbitt and Kamau.

To go to Makerere and study medicine in those days was the real pinnacle of learning. To finally carry a stethoscope around your neck and wear a white coat going round a ward caring for patients in remote rural hospitals was something I thought these people did for sheer satisfaction and not simply for want of money. But things have changed: the culture of a “sindano for a shilling” in downtown Nairobi and elsewhere in Kenya has come to stay much to the detriment of this noble profession.

Given the population that we have and disease complications that have emerged over time, it has for long been my strong feeling that we need to re-conceptualise our medical delivery systems.

For a long time the private practitioner has kept his trade going without much worry regarding what is happening in the public sector. Indeed the inefficiencies in the public sector have pushed patients to the private sector.

Needing to cover his cost and remunerate himself for services rendered, the private practitioner cannot really be a missionary, neither should he be Shylock the Jew! For all intents and purposes, affordability and access to quality healthcare, in both the private and public sectors, is what we require.

Universal health coverage is a must. But if we could also have a look at what we did and what we achieved in both sectors in the 60s and early 70s I am quite sure we can learn something. People like Dr JH Oluoch are still around: they should help us.

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