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At Christmas, families celebrated together:
feasts and new clothes. Sugarcane farmers were proud citizens. They fed their
kids, took them to good schools, built fired brick houses and boasted of a good
social standing. Inevitably, there was a downside to this sweet tale. HIV/AIDs
infections increased as the newly rich eloped to urban centres to spend their
money on prostitutes, mostly from across the border in Uganda. The distinctive feature of life in Bungoma and
Mumias in the 1990s was these: expansive sugar plantations, jobs, regular
income and happy families. This is not true today. So much ground
has shifted in the past decade and half. Due to poor government policies, sugar
cartels, smugglers, and subdivision of land into uneconomical units, the sugar
industry is on a rapid decline. Today, many former employees of sugarcane firms,
both skilled and unskilled, wander the village hopelessly. Uncertain when they
will resume work, they have sunk into alcoholism. Chang’aa dens have tripled or
quadrupled since trouble began to stalk sugar farmers. There is so much wasted
energy, so many dysfunctional families and so many broken dreams. Deny licenses to millers who don't develop cane, say workers Baby formula: How added sugars predispose children to diabetes, hypertension Kenya Simbas gear up for Elgon Cup with unique camp at Kabras Sugar Moses Simiyu, a thirty-two year old father of
four is drunk when I meet to interview him. Eight years ago, he was a casual
labourer at Nzoia Sugar Factory. Now he is jobless. His attempt to wade into
the bodaboda business came to a sudden halt when he was involved in an accident
and his Bajaj Motorcycle was impounded by traffic police. He is a defendant in an
ongoing court case. Moses owns a small plot of land in the village of Malinda,
Kabula Location, Bungoma County. When I arrive at his home, all I can here is
shouting. He is drunk and hungry. His wife, a tall lean woman with short hair,
greets me with a smile. The children have either gone out to play or fetch firewood. I am hesitant about the whole
interview thing. But my people have a saying; only the drunk tell the truth.
Though inebriated, Moses invites into the house. He is suddenly sober and
amiable. I am taken back by my host’s strange beaviour. ‘We have nothing.’ These are the first words
that escape his lips. He casts his eyes around in a bored way. He looks
terrible. His trousers are torn at the knees. He recalls the broken promises from political
leaders. I ask him what he thinks about President Uhuru Kenyatta’s recent trip
to Mumias Sugar Factory where he pledged Ksh. 1 Billion. ‘They are liars,’ he says in a matter-of-fact
way. ‘Who?’ ‘The politicians. They are shameless liars.
Before this administration there was the Kibaki administration. Our local
leaders have routinely failed us. They don’t even raise these issues in
Parliament.’ A trip into the hinterlands of Bungoma reveals
scattered and pale sugarcane farms. On the roadside, a few goats are grazing.
Mud-walled houses stand next to each other like ill-fated creatures. Scattered
on the dirt roads are a few men and women tending small plots of maize, beans,
nippier grass and sweet potatoes. This is where I was born. This is where I grew
up. Everything seems to have changed since my childhood. For the first time
since my childhood, I spent a week without catching sight of cane cutters and
tractor trailers. Christmas will not be what it used to be. Most families
cannot afford decent meals. They can’t send their children to good schools.
They can’t even afford new clothes for the festivals. Young people are nowhere
in sight. I cannot locate any of my childhood friends. Elders refer me to
places in Nairobi, Mombasa, Nakuru, Eldoret and Isiolo. Some of my childhood
friends have flown out of the country to UK, US, Norway, Saudi Arabia and
Jordan. My interview with Moses brings up the 2017
general elections in Kenya. Out of curiosity, I ask him what parameters he will
consider when electing leaders. ‘The truth is that I don’t know if I will vote,’
Moses tells me, ‘if I do, I will vote all of them out, from the first to the
last man or woman. No one seems to keep their promises nowadays. Today’s
leaders know nothing about integrity. It is a pity.’ Meanwhile the governor for Bungoma County, Ken
Lusaka, is hopeful that the resuscitation of Panpaper Mills, which was recently
sold to a private investor, will create hundreds of jobs. He has also urged
young people to use the funds provided by the Youth Fund Initiative to venture
into business. Thomas Wanyonyi, a post graduate student at Moi
University had this to say when I asked him about the state of unemployment in
the region. ‘Young people should move from job seekers to job creators. I know
there is a big challenge of accessing credit especially for young people. But
we must live with the conviction that we can make the sun rise even if it’s
unwilling to. The Youth Fund Initiative is a good starting point.’ As for the sugar growing commune of Western
Kenya, there seems to be nothing but darkness at the end of the tunnel. As
residents wait on their elected leaders and the government to show the way,
despondency and alcoholism is sweeping through the land like a storm. I look forward to celebrating this year’s
Christmas with my siblings at my parents’ home in Bungoma. What I dread is the
sight of able-bodied people like Moses wasting away in alcoholism because of
lack of employment. I wonder how Moses and his family will celebrate
this year’s Christmas. Will his kids wear new clothes to church and feast all
day like I used to when I was their age? I doubt not.
READ MORE
For residents of Bungoma, sugar is no longer sweet
By Wanjala Njalale
| Oct. 27, 2016
