Why it is hard to unravel the mystery of Kenyan politics

One of the most comical things about Kenya’s politics is that some people pretend to understand it. Sometimes I sit and watch political analysts on TV trying to predict what’s next in the endless cloak-and-dagger power games between the Opposition and the ruling coalition.

But, with hindsight, the analysts’ forecasts and predictions almost always end up missing the boat by the river, largely because they predict what they want to see and not what is likely to happen. And it always leaves me in stitches.

In 1992, at the apogee of the clamour for multiparty democracy, the Kanu machinery was busy fighting off calls for the repeal of Section 2a of the then constitution, not knowing the man on whose behalf they were doing it, had long given in to pluralism.

Then came 2002. I watched with incredulity as, just when the Kanu machinery was at its most beatable, Raila Odinga led the so-called Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) brigade into the baba na mama party.

At a mammoth political wedding held at Kasarani, the venue of many a political circus, LDP merged with Kanu. I watched many an analyst on TV and read acres of newspaper copy predicting what the political landscape would be after the merger. Then, as in African folklore, the god of logic was pulled out of the machine and LDP fled the independence party like a bat from hell.

So LDP joined the National Alliance Party of Kenya, formed after numerous meetings between Charity Ngilu, Mwai Kibaki, Kijana Wamalwa and other top Opposition figures.

And again, the political analysis industry went into overdrive. I ordered the popcorn to enjoy another round of predictions, this time on whether the Opposition could agree and front a single candidate to face off with Uhuru Kenyatta, who had been fielded by Kanu, much to the chagrin of those who had gone to – can you beat this? – “democratise Kanu from within”.

As predictions swirled, Raila said ‘Kibaki Tosha’. And so we went to Uhuru Park. There were colourful balloons, choppers and a new song in the air. We were unbwogable, and all was possible without Kanu. And alas, the inimitably imaginative crystal balls started extrapolating into the future, only to be cut short by a bitter fallout in the Rainbow Coalition.

Then came 2005 and a referendum on the so-called Wako draft constitution split the land down the middle. There was an Orange side and a Banana side. Later, the Banana side morphed into the Party of National Unity (PNU), as the Orange Democratic Movement sprang from the ashes of the referendum euphoria.

And just when we were wondering who between Raila and Kibaki would win the 2007 polls, we ended up all wrong. The outcome eluded even the so-called eminent persons from across the continent. I bet even the witch doctors, who, according to The Nairobian newspaper, can make you a governor for a million bob, were at a loss.

Never willing to give up, we predicted a run-off, until Kibaki pulled a fast one and brought Kalonzo Musyoka to his side, and we ended up with a grotesque edifice called a Grand Coalition government. How could you have predicted such a thing, surely?

And look at where we are today. Ababu Namwamba, who swore by Raila in 2008, is being whispered to be blowing hot and cold. Kalonzo is a co-principal in Raila’s coalition. You see, in Kenya loyalties don’t shift, they melt like wax.

As we head to 2017, you might want to toss a coin or see a witchdoctor on what to expect between now and August next year. Forget logic and science. They don’t work here.

My point? Some of my readers have been asking me to make electoral predictions as happens elsewhere. But my friends, Kenyan crystal balls make for rib-cracking comedy. I’d highly recommend that you order popcorn, tighten your political belt and wait for the Fat Lady’s turn.