Lawyers' memoirs shed light on darker parts of Kenya's history

Aga Khan University Regional Librarian Arnold Mwanzu, Associate Vice Provost & University Librarian Peter Gatiti and Suba North MP Millie Odhiambo during the university’s Authors Day celebrating first-time authors and early career researchers on November 11, 2024. [File, Standard]

This has been a rich literary season with three lawyers launching their biographies. First off the publishers was Millie Odhiambo’s “Rig or be Rigged”. Lee Muthoga followed with “Audacity and Sacrifice” this week, and Martha Karua launches her “Against the Tide” next week. 

In these biographies, these lawyers, who have been engaged in the practice of law and in public service for decades, infuse their personal stories with a record of Kenya’s society and politics that are surprising to many who did not live in their season.

They throw light onto aspects of law and politics that illuminate dark corners and explain why events occurred in the manner they did, and thus enable us to appreciate critical aspects of our legal and political history. This must be celebrated and encouraged. I have always believed that much like a human being, a country is only able to move forward if it comes to terms with all aspects of its past.

Kenya has never really recognised all aspects of its history, particularly its darker side, and yet that past continues to impact its present day political, economic and societal development. If, for instance, you want to appreciate today’s restiveness in ‘Mountain’ politics, it is not enough to analyse the politics of Ford, Narc and Jubilee; one must go back to the inner and outer workings of Kanu, Kadu and such early formations to appreciate the way that the Mountain has interacted with politics since the 60s and how the narratives, shared in smoky kitchens, have informed people’s attitudes to government and leadership.

Since we do not expect the official recorders of Kenya’s history to unpack all such elements of Kenya’s story, it is left to biographers to fill the missing gaps and help us appreciate the early days of this great nation. Granted, most biographers will colour their stories to leave a positive impression, but they will still leave enough morsels for us get a better sense of history. It is important, as we try and weave a united nation, to appreciate details of how Kenya evolved after its Independence until the demise of the Moi State.

How was the first government put together, beyond the oft-repeated mantras. Who supported who, who were the deal-cutters, who took which oaths and why, and who betrayed who in that season. Even though these events occurred away from the public domain, they nevertheless were whispered in private spaces and eventually impacted the public domain. But they remain hidden in people’s memories and yet are part of Kenya’s mosaic.

What sets this period between the early 60s and around mid 90s apart is the reality of a deeply censured media. What the media reported was largely reworked to align it with the desires of the State. Those were the days when magazines like “Beyond” and “Society”, which tried to tell a different narrative, were proscribed and their editors hauled to jail. By the mid-90s, media freedom had significantly expanded. This freedom has since exploded in the social media season, and so the different narratives that explain Kenya are available.

It is therefore unfortunate that major players in the unrecorded post-independence season have departed without telling their stories. As we speak, we have no memoirs from the first President of Kenya with details of how the transition from colonial government to the Republic occurred. I mourned Charles Njonjo not because I had any personal interaction with him, but because I felt that a major portion of Kenya’s history had been buried with him.

I wished this gentleman who had served as Kenya’s first Attorney General and therefore had been engaged in the intrigues of the Jomo Kenyatta government, and who had been the subject of a Commission of Inquiry into his conduct, had shared his perspectives, even if posthumously, filling in gaps that would explain critical aspects of Kenya.

I pray that somewhere in the personal archives of Jomo, Njonjo and others like them, those stories have been stored and that we will soon be surprised by a posthumous biography from these illustrious Kenyans. They owe Kenyans their stories, and this country will be much richer once our abundant and prolific history is expounded through multiple perspectives.

The writer is an advocate of the High Court