Tribal Rivalry in Kenya Causes Death and Displacement for Many

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The grafittied words drifted past in a blur as my bus from Nairobi to Kampala entered the battered Kisumu province. Evidence of its recent troubles whispered from the remains of torched gas stations and shops — charred skeletons sprinkled among their intact neighbors. I was glad to be leaving Kenya, but I also felt guilty — like a shameful mother leaving my family behind — because I couldn’t face the complicated mess that life had suddenly become.

I’ll just let them sort this out on their own, and do they ever have a lot to sort out. During the two weeks I spent working in Kenya with the nonprofit organization Moving Mountains, I slowly came to realize the depth and breadth of the sticky political situation brewing in this East African destination that is on many tourists’ itineraries. With this realization came a sadness for the Kenyan people, for the fragility of their democracy, and for their suddenly frozen hopes.

I arrived in Nairobi less than a week after 40 people had been locked in a church and burned alive. A week after, angry protestors had filled the streets in outrage against the latest election’s outcome, and the military had retaliated with gas, bombs, and bullets. My time spent here was similar to being under house arrest with a few brief and guarded excursions. On occasion we walked to the nearby supermarket, but the tension in the air was thick and uncomfortable, and we had to avoid the usual route that passed by the Kibera slum (portrayed in the movie The Constant Gardener and where much of the violence occurred).

When the Moving Mountains team headed from our base in Nairobi to the farming town of Embu — known to be a safe area — I breathed a little easier. Though more removed from the violence, news of ongoing death and destruction was blasted over the airwaves, quickly shattering our illusion of peace. Reports of gruesome beheadings and severed arms dangling from trees failed to warrant a batted eyelash from the locals. I found myself more worried for their country than they seemed to be.

That’s when Kioni, the head of Moving Mountains, explained things to me. “If Kenyans are good at one thing, it is forgetting,” he said. “We have endured a lot, and the only way is to forget. Give us time and this will pass, too.” Funny — that wasn’t my impression when words like tribalism and revenge were tumbling from sour tongues. Not when more blood was spilling and more displaced families were filling refugee camps. It certainly wasn’t the response I expected to hear from Kioni, a father of five who had been a direct victim of the violence. His business was burned to the ground the previous week simply because he is from the Kikuyu tribe. Herein lies the problem.

Mwai Kibak

There are 42 tribes that comprise the nation of Kenya; the two biggest are the Luo and the Kikuyu. Mwai Kibaki, the contested reelected president who had been in office for the past five years, is from the Kikuyu tribe. Kikuyus are known to be good farmers and shrewd business managers and tend to live in wealthier areas. They see themselves as hard-working and deserving of what they have. A majority of the Kikuyus whom I spoke with — as well as Kenyans from some of the smaller tribes — said Luos are lazy. They said Luos want a better life and more money but aren’t willing to work for it or use their earned wages wisely.

Luos said President Kibaki is corrupt and favors people from his native tribe (a tribal version of nepotism), which, they said, explains why the Kikuyus have better jobs (especially government-related ones), better homes, and more power. The majority of Luos I spoke with accuse Kikuyus of being thieves. They said that if you read about theft in the newspaper, you always know a Kikuyu is responsible.

Raila Odinga

This is what had been brewing before it all boiled over on the night of December 27, 2007. Kibaki was suddenly declared the winner of the elections just minutes after it was announced that Raila Odinga — the Luo-backed opposition candidate — had been leading by some 400,000 votes. That’s when all hell broke loose, and it hasn’t settled down since. The last count was around 900 people dead and 700,000 homeless and displaced. For now, progress toward resolution unfolds behind closed doors. Once-semi-buried tribalism — freshly unearthed by the election saga — has taken on a momentum of its own, fueling mistrust between neighbors and friends.

Two members of parliament from Odinga’s opposition party have been assassinated, conveniently giving Kibaki’s party the majority. Although these two leaders seem content to let their nation rip itself apart while they thumb-wrestle in parliament, I like to believe in Kioni’s remark. The average Kenyan wants peace more than anything, and this crisis, too, will soon pass onto the dusty shelves of history and memory. Maybe Kioni is right. For the sake of Kenya and its beautiful people, I pray that he is.

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