The irony of Kenya’s ‘uniting’ national anthem

Kenyan coat of arms

The expatriate hails from a stable country (unless he’s American), which has enjoyed unity within its own borders for ages.

If European – as the expatriate so frequently is – he’s part of a continent-wide club that had seen regional peace entrench itself since the last war.

Such countries tend not to raise flags or sing anthems excessively often, as they anticipate few fractures within the nation state nor any reason to prepare jingoistically for war with neighbours.

Take the UK, for example. It’s true that the Union Flag – more popularly, the ‘Union Jack’ – can be seen on the bellies of sport fans or the front doors of racist skinheads, but few people in the majority ever use it.

 Perhaps, during a national disaster, the flag will appear on the television at half-mast. But apart from these few occasions, it’s a hidden symbol, one that’s considered to be fundamentally unnecessary to the smooth running of everyday lives.

And on the European continent, well, you’ll often see a country’s national flag only when the head of government is giving a press conference, and in such a case, the European flag will be seen flying beside it simultaneously.

 Only the UK, I believe, never flew the European flag in this manner, and now of course, following Brexit, we’ll never see it.

Similarly, anthems. Okay, the French might proudly sing their Marseillaise as frequently as Catholics utter The Grace, but beyond this, Europeans tend to be suspicious of nationalism and its symbols, especially after two world wars killed millions and excessive patriotism led to the wickednesses of Imperialism.

The British almost never sing their national anthem, which is probably just as well, as it’s a horrible piece of music with lyrics that embarrassingly remind them that they’re not citizens but – yes, in the twenty-first century – mere subjects of a monarch.

Further, beyond its first stanza, the British anthem tends to promote disunity rather than unity, stating as it does that the Scottish should be destroyed. A lyric calling for the destruction of part of the union is not one that people wish to be reminded of, post-Brexit, when Scotland is already threatening a second independence vote.

But In Kenya, these symbols are everywhere, from school parades to cinemas. To the expatriate, it still feels ‘new’ to visit the cinema with his young family to watch the latest Disney film, only to have to stand for the anthem before the main feature.

But the expatriate respects this, and understands it, and stands – and sometimes sings – with enthusiasm. He does this respectfully, even when all the Kenyans around him are half-standing and half-sitting while playing with their smartphones and munching popcorn.

Of course, such cinema-going Kenyans are more-or-less middle-class. We have to hope that, come the elections, those Kenyans whom expatriates in their wealthy arrogance never mix with, are more concerned about the wider country and population, rather than their own ‘ethnicities’ alone.

The ‘elites’, too. Time will tell. Now sit down and enjoy the main feature.