When Bwana DC counted imaginary voters

I had an uneasy feeling as I went to bed. I couldn't explain the queasiness in my stomach. I turned and twisted for hours before sleep stole me. It is the sound of boots and heavy breathing that woke me up. The door to my single room came flying towards my bed and a sudden blow landed squarely on my face. More punches rained on me. Blood was gushing from my nose. My mouth was swollen and lips were torn. The attackers overpowered me and I was bundled into a waiting vehicle.

They came in the dead of the night. Not even the drunkards of Nakuru's Kivumbini estate were staggering outside then. I was thrown into a dark cell with no water or food. Two days later, I was brought before some hefty men for questioning. I realised then that I was being held at the Rift Valley Criminal Investigations Department (CID) headquarters.

I was accused that while covering the 1988 General Election, I committed an abominable act against the ruling party, Kanu. I covered a leader hostile to Kanu. I even gave him a lift in a government vehicle.

A day before my dramatic arrest, I gave a lift to a legislator from Molo in our Kenya News Agency (KNA) Land Rover to a political rally I was scheduled to cover in Molo township. At the rally, the legislator used figures of speech and songs to deride the mlolongo voting system. Such accusations could easily cost one's life.

In 1988, President Daniel arap Moi marked 10 years in power. Mzee Jomo Kenyatta, Kenya's first president, had died in August 1978. The aftermath of the August 1, 1982 failed military coup saw the State embark on a massive campaign to make Kanu an all-powerful entity. Under the leadership of powerful politicians such as Mombasa's Shariff Nasir and Nakuru's Kariuki Chotara, Kanu became superior even to Parliament. The party then devised a 'brilliant' idea of democrasia ya mchana (daytime democracy) for its party nominations. It introduced the mlolongo (queue voting system).

Voters lined up behind the photos of their preferred candidates. The District Commissioners (DCs), who were the returning officers, would move along the queues loudly counting the voters. There were instances when the returning officer would pause at the same spot and continue counting imaginary voters. He would then declare the shortest line as the winner.

As a KNA reporter, I was supposed to tell the government and ruling party story. However, I stuck to my journalism ethics. I even had the temerity of speaking on BBC radio, giving insights and details of the chaos the mlolongo was causing.

The clergy were among the first people to boldly criticise mlolongo. Archbishop Manasses Kuria of the Anglican Church of Kenya described it as unchristian, undemocratic and embarrassing. A brave editor of a Christian magazine, Beyond, Bedan Mbugua said it was a mockery of justice. His magazine was immediately banned.

During the queuing, those who garnered more than 70 per cent of the "standing votes" were declared winners. More than 50 per cent of the Kanu die-hards were elected to Parliament through this messy system. At the party nominations in February 1988, only Kanu members were allowed to participate. The rest of Kenyans were expected to vote in the national polls in March.

Heavy casualties

Mlolongo had heavy casualties, among them Vice President Mwai Kibaki, and government critics Martin Shikuku, Charles Rubia and Kimani wa Nyoike. An angry Kibaki told the media that "even rigging required some intelligence". He was dropped as VP and appointed minister for health. Kanu had cleaned the party of unwanted leaders. The ruling party spread its tentacles across the corners of the republic, gaining absolute power.

Earlier in 1985, it established a Kanu Disciplinary Committee chaired by Dr David Okiki Amayo. The committee became so powerful that it could punish members of Parliament for utterances made on the floor of the august House. Powerful leaders such as Peter Habenga Okondo and Nassir were humiliated by the committee to the point of shedding tears. Nasir actually cried after Bamburi Councillor Emmanuel Maitha called him an "illegitimate child".

Okondo had told Parliament that he had been victim of Amayo's "boisterous and bloated conduct" of party affairs, which to him was so "bombastic" as to make "utter nonsense of reality and truth". Within hours, Okondo was summoned by the committee. He was given a tongue lashing and ordered to apologise to Kanu on the floor of Parliament. The Weekly Review wrote that: "Okondo sat ruefully and appeared bereft of the bravery he had effortlessly displayed in Parliament."

On September 10, 1987, upon arrival from Finland and Romania, Moi dissolved the committee; "...the Kanu disciplinary committee. I want wananchi to live without fear," he told journalists at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (JKIA). The committee had been turned into a terror object. It destroyed many careers and lives of those perceived to be enemies of State and the ruling party.

Martin Shikuku once told me that, "Okiki Amayo and his team became drunk with power. They became reckless and completely abused their mandate. I refused to appear before their Kangaroo court when they summoned me. I'm sure Moi realised that at the pace they were moving, they could easily forget who was the boss and summon him. It is this disciplinary committee and the 1988 mlolongo elections that eventually destroyed Kanu." I had embarked on the writing of Shikuku's memoirs in 2001. He, however, decided to do it on his own after he received some writing grant.

The 1988 elections lit up a fuse. Citizens were tired and restless. The pent-up frustrations exploded when Foreign Affairs Minister Robert Ouko was murdered in February 1990. The Ouko murder gave the civil society movement the fuel needed to agitate for expansion of democratic space.

Then in 1991, Moi appointed a Kanu Review Committee to investigate the party's internal electoral and disciplinary conduct. The committee chaired by Vice President George Saitoti traversed the country, collecting views and opinions from citizens. It allowed wananchi a rare opportunity to vent their anger against the party.

Recommendations by the Saitoti Committee led to the 1991 repeal of section 2A of the Constitution of Kenya, allowing the reintroduction of multipartyism. Kanu initiated internal changes as it prepared for the first multiparty elections in 1992. Sadly, while begrudgingly ushering in pluralism, some leaders instigated violence in parts of Rift Valley, Western Kenya, Nyanza and the Coast. I covered the killings and heartbreaking violence across Kenya. I also covered many political rallies where Moi cautioned Kenyans against the multiparty excitement: "Wakenya bado kufahamu demokrasia maana yake ni nini. Multipartyism is equal to multi-problems," he said.

As opposition politicians initiated campaigns to sell their democracy agenda, sparks of violence started to light up embers across the country. Opposition rallies would be disrupted by armed policemen. Their supporters were teargassed and violently dispersed.

Suddenly, homesteads in Nyanza and Western Kenya were being set ablaze. At one presidential rally I covered in Kapsabet, leaders told residents that they should fight and defend their leadership. The following day homes and farms were set ablaze. After retaliatory attacks, the president launched peace rallies.

Meanwhile, Kanu launched the Youth for Kanu 92 (YK92) to promote the party among the youth. A senior YK leader once visited my office in Kisumu with briefcases filled with money. He offered me Sh16 million to sign an already printed resignation letter describing my employer, the Nation, as a tribal entity. I declined and threatened to beat him up. He hurriedly left shouting expletives.

In Kisii, Simeon Nyachae had fallen out of favour with the Kanu regime. All provincial administrators were instructed to frustrate Nyachae and ensure he didn't address any pubic rally. They did so with zeal. Bungoma Governor Ken Lusaka, in his forthcoming autobiography, narrates how the son of Nyandusi would at times outmanoeuvre them. At a funeral of a road accident victim, Nyachae arrived much earlier. He told mourners, "My people, is it fair for me to be denied a chance to speak in my own home yard? If opposition leader Jaramogi Oginga Odinga can address mourners in his home, why should Nyachae be denied a similar right?" The crowd roared back in support and ululation.

Then one day, "we were told that President Daniel arap Moi was coming for breakfast at Nyachae's residence. It sounded like a bad joke. How possible was that? How could the president visit the home of a man we had been wired to treat as an enemy of the State? We were all in shock. Indeed, the following day, the presidential motorcade called in to the home of Simeon Nyachae," recalls Lusaka.

There was a realisation that for Kanu to win the Kisii vote in the 1992 elections, it needed Nyachae in its camp. With Nyachae back in favour, all the DOs were transferred. Lusaka was taken to Muhoroni Division in Kisumu District, the heart of opposition politics.

It is here in Muhoroni that I covered Lusaka. He had been given an impossible assignment; to stop Jaramogi from addressing public gatherings. Like Nyachae in Kisii, Jaramogi was unstoppable in Luo land. Lusaka says he could only see death and massacre of civilians if he blindly followed the government directives.

My photographer and I had arrived in Muhoroni one early Sunday morning. Huge crowds swarmed through the streets of Muhoroni. Thousands of people, singing and dancing, had come to listen to Jaramogi.

Every inch of the soil and grass was covered in dusty feet and sweaty bodies. It was a highly charged rally. Among the speakers were Dr Mukhisa Kituyi, Wamalwa Kijana, John Munyasia, Henry Obwocha, Raila Odinga, James Orengo, Prof Ouma Muga, Oloo Ogeke and Jaramogi. Protocol demanded that the provincial administrator speaks first to set the tone and also give government policy. Lusaka, then a young DO, spoke first. In a trembling voice he told the gathering that since it was a harambee, he didn't expect people to talk politics. Years later, when I became his biographer, I understood why his voice trembled that afternoon. Henry Obwocha, the first speaker, told him: "Bwana DO, I must speak politics."

Then the local MP Ogeke made matters worse when he said: "We are very lucky to have bwana DO who is a member of Ford Kenya." He was referring to the fact that Lusaka hailed from Bungoma, a Ford Kenya stronghold. The crowd cheered as the DO cringed.

Dr Kituyi attacked the Kanu leadership. He led the crowd in singing anti-Kanu songs. Wamalwa, a great orator, told the gathering that it was the DO who was bringing tension to an otherwise peaceful occasion. Lusaka says he wanted to sink into the ground. However, he got some brief reprieve when Jaramogi stood to speak. He called for calm. He said even though he was vying for the presidency on an opposition ticket, the opposition must work in corporation with the ruling party, Kanu.

Raila was in a combative mood. He turned the peaceful atmosphere that was engulfing the gathering into a tidal wave: "Hata kama Baba anasema eti tufanye kazi na serikali, hii ni serikali ya kihimla, serikali ya mabavu (even if my father is beseeching us to work with the Kanu government, this is a dictatorship)," he told an electrified crowd.

Lusaka's bosses had issued firm instructions that he must disperse the crowd and not allow Jaramogi to speak. The police officers at the meeting sought his permission to teargas the gathering. "My mind was spinning. I visualised a frenzied crowed, the stampede, panic and Jaramogi being trampled to death. The political repercussions would have been unimaginable. I told them no. Let the meeting be. That night I went to bed apprehensive but at peace," he says in his book.

Politically speaking, Nyanza was a country independent from the rest of the Kanu nation. Here, Jaramogi was the ultimate leader. The King. Here, Ford Kenya was the party. The provincial administrators came face to face with death and intimidation. The working atmosphere was perpetually hostile. Government vehicles were frequently stoned. Yet some brave men such as Dalmas Otieno, Lazarus Amayo and Ndolo Ayah stuck with Kanu.

Elected dead councilor

James Onyango Midika, Regional Development Minister, served Kanu diligently. But the sheer presence of Ford Kenya forced him to paint the gate to his residence in Ford Kenya colours. He lost his job. In those days colours could bring you joy or grief. Midika had to "comply" to live in peace. The hatred for Kanu in Luo Nyanza was so deep that in 1992, voters in a Muhoroni ward elected a councillor who had died just to teach the party a lesson.

Journalism was then an adventure. After the rallies we would look for a telephone booth to file the copy to Nairobi. Photographers would send their film rolls via public transport. If the event took place in Mombasa or Kisumu, we would drive to the airport and patiently scan the travellers. We would then approach the one who looked friendly and kind, to request him or her to deliver the films to Nairobi. Good people existed then. A total stranger would ensure the parcel was delivered to the newsdesk.

The Kenyan electoral system has indeed evolved. In 1974, one couldn't be elected to Parliament without an election symbol. Kanu had total control and ensured that those considered hostile knew about the symbols too late in the day. Shikuku once said, "Some of us did not know what our symbols were until the last day. We would then rush to print posters. My opponent had been informed of the symbol a week earlier. He told the people I wasn't vying."

In the 1969 General Election, candidates even had their own ballot boxes. In 1974, JM Kariuki, Nyandarua North MP, complained that; "Anybody could carry as many votes as he could in his pocket and put them in the ballot box."

Candidates were required to present themselves before the electoral body. Some would disappear and only be found after their rivals had been declared winners. Kidnapping became common during election time. After elections, ballot papers would be transferred to the district headquarters for counting. Many would disappear or be thrown into raging river waters.