The unholy trinity triumphs in democracy of acclamation

By PETER KIMANI

Heritage William ole Ntimama was conspicuously visible in his red garment when he rose this week in Parliament, slowly and deliberately, like a python that had swallowed a goat.

The choice of costume matched the historicity of the moment: for generations to come, he knew this day would be remembered as the turning point in the history of contemporary Maasai politics, as embodied in the struggles of one of “their” own, Keriako Tobiko.

“The list,” Ntimama said in reference to the names of three nominees approved by the Committee for Implementation of the Constitution (CIOC), “was welded together,” he said, and so, intractable. You could not mess with one, without messing with the rest. This was a fine twist to the meaning of collective responsibility.

Armour of honour 

Let’s put some context to the razzmatazz that played out in Parliament on Wednesday night. Although things appeared to go in circles, there was a straight matter to dispense with, namely, the approval of the CIOC nominees.

These were Willy Mutunga, who wears a stud on his right ear like the armour of honour, and who is now on the way to becoming our next Chief Justice; while his deputy-designate is the feisty Nancy Baraza, the straight-talking mama who says she is straight like an arrow.

Keriako Tobiko, the third man in the unholy trinity is the man destined for the post of Director of Public Prosecutions, and whom Ntimama rose to defend, with the persuasive mitigation that he was being persecuted because he was from a minority community. Some even wanted Tobiko’s nomination referred further back, to establish who nominated him and how. It turned out to be Francis Atwoli, the man on the “move.”  You see, Atwoli often flails his arms to show the magnitude of his followers, the movement, as he calls it, and his limousine is fabled to change colours like a chameleon.

Heightened drama

But the man of the moment in Tobiko’s defence is Energy Minister Kiraitu Murungi.

Without twisting his mouth an inch, Kiraitu worked himself into such a frenzy he appeared a shade paler as he explained those opposed to Tobiko’s nomination were actuated by malice, jealousy and revenge.

All this heightened drama appeared unnecessary, although more MPs than I care to remember, spoke animatedly in defence or against Tobiko’s nomination.

The staccato of verbal violence appeared misplaced when the House was called to order, and the debate reduced to a question by Deputy Speaker Farah Maalim, whose simply ordered MPs to vote through acclamation.

Those in support of the motion say “aye,” to which a resounding blast: “ayyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” like the cry of well-fed hyenas, cut through the air, against the feeble whimper of “naaaaaaay,” one would think it was a flute blown from the bottom.

“The ‘ayes’ `have it,” Maalim said with finality to bring debate to a close. Just like that.