Of our terrifying security guards

By PETER WANYONYI

KENYA: Nairobi is in a tizzy over terror. Ever since a bunch of cowardly terrorists struck the Westgate Mall, leaving dozens dead, hundreds injured and making us look like a Banana Republic, Kenya has never been the same. Kenya in general and Nairobi in particular has been on the alert to avert any recurrence of such madness.

This is a good thing. Never again should we have to sit horrified, looking helplessly at TV footage of gangsters shooting wananchi like clay pigeons at some expensive Nairobi shooting gallery. But we cannot police everything. In the case of private buildings, the job of forestalling terrorists has been handed over to private security guards.

 And there are fewer people as more skilled at meting out terror as security guards.

 Indeed, were there to be a firm definition of terrorism, one suspects most Kenyan security guards would meet the criteria pronto.

Glory

First, there’s the uniform. Security guards have delusions of grandeur and pretensions at armed-forces glory.

 So they have these ridiculous-looking uniforms, designed to look like Police or military uniforms by all means.

The obvious lack of any armed forces training or etiquette, however, gives the game away rather fast.

 The rakish angle at which the cap or beret is worn is more reminiscent of Congolese rebel commanders than of anything else.  Granted, South Sudan’s president Salva Kiir held a press conference looking like a Nairobi security guard — with an ill-fitting combat fatigues and a clueless expression on his face — this is no excuse for the way our security guards don their garb.

The fake rank epaulettes usually look like they were sewn in place by a drunken cat. The scuffed boots normally are in urgent need of being thrown away. And what is it with the whistles? Every security guard in Nairobi has a whistle, as if they moonlight as football officials.

Facial expression

After the uniform, comes the facial expression. You see, Kenyan security guards are stuck in that child-like dream of wanting one day to be policemen.

In their dreams, cops wear a scowl that makes them look like malformed devils.

So when you walk into one of Nairobi’s swanky buildings, the expression on the security guard’s face is likely to be one of extreme disapproval —“how dare you walk in just like that?”

The facial expression, though, is warning of another, more serious shortcoming: attitude.

Kenyan security guards need classes in anger management, and none is exempt.

The attitudes on display range from anger — usually unleashed by male guards — to a misguided notion of being beautiful and irresistible, usually worn by female security guards in blue or purple uniforms.

Granted, a few are quite easy on the eye, but must they wear it like a badge of some sort?

The attitude is a harbinger of mistreatment for those unfortunate enough to encounter these guards.  There appears to be an unwritten language rule with security guards in Kenya.

 If you speak to them in Swahili, they take offense and reply in broken English.

 How dare you assume they don’t speak the Queen’s language? If you speak to them in English, they reply rudely in Swahili. Who are you to plaster them with your cheap kingereza?

Eventually, they do let you in — with a rueful smile that says, “Got you there!” — all in the name of fighting terror!

Really? Do they have to look that terrifying all in the name of preventing terrorism?