Just over a week ago, veteran Ugandan opposition leader Dr Kizza Besigye and his long-term ally Haji Obeid Lutale were “abducted” in Nairobi by what they claim were Ugandan security operatives. The pair were driven to Kampala under the cover of night.
Besigye had travelled to Nairobi to attend the book launch of “Against the Tide” by former Kenyan Justice Minister Martha Karua, as part of a broader East African opposition communion. Ugandan authorities have claimed that Kenya cooperated in seizing Besigye, but Nairobi insists it played no part and is investigating the incident.
The Law Society of Kenya and democracy activists are outraged, calling Besigye’s capture and the manner of his transportation to Kampala a grave violation of both Kenyan and international law. Ugandan media report that several Kenyan lawyers, including Ms Karua, plan to attend Kizza’s trial when he appears in court on December 2.
The lawyers and activists will pursue their cause, but the Besigye affair also sparked a profound domestic conversation about what Kenya is or is becoming.
Such actions, like the removal of Besigye from Kenya to Uganda, were common during the regime of former President Daniel arap Moi in the early 1980s, but had largely ceased in the post-2002 democratic era. However, in July, 36 Ugandan supporters of a faction of the opposition Forum for Democratic Change (FDC) were abducted in the lakeside city of Kisumu, where they had travelled to attend a democracy conference, and were forcibly taken back to Uganda where they faced terrorism charges.
These events have provoked an indignant patriotic response from Kenyans, who feel their country has become a vassal state to Uganda. Kenya’s famed exceptionalism seems to have suffered a dent, if not a major blow, as they perceive their once proud nation as now playing second fiddle to Uganda, a country smaller in area, and population, and which some of them deride as having an economy that’s more than twice smaller than Kenya’s.
A weekend cartoon in The EastAfrican portrayed Uganda and Kenya as one country called “Uganya”, with President Yoweri Museveni as its supreme ruler issuing instructions to Nairobi. On social media, maps have circulated showing Kenya wiped out of existence, with Nairobi renamed “the new Kampala”. CNN journalist Larry Madowo quipped about Uganda being Kenya’s new “overlord”.
However, if truth be told, the Besigye incident merely acted as a trigger. For the last five years, Kenya has been beset by self-doubt, which is now reaching its peak.
Ironically, this doubt has its roots partly in a grander version of the Besigye kidnap —the trial of President William Ruto and former President Uhuru Kenyatta at The Hague for crimes against humanity allegedly committed during the 2007-2008 post-election violence (PEV) in Kenya.
Kenya’s most perilous post-independence moment saw nearly 1,400 people killed and up to 600,000 displaced in the violence following the disputed December 2007 presidential election. This violence led Kenyans to understand what they almost lost, resulting in an outpouring of creativity to nurture it, and radical nationalism.
Although Ruto and Kenyatta were on opposite sides of the conflict, the dynamics led them to form a presidential ticket in the 2013 election after being charged at the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague. This galvanised Kenyans, who drove one of the most spectacular waves of innovation in Africa, earning the country the moniker “Silicon Savannah”.
The spectacle of Kenyatta and Ruto on trial at the ICC was overwhelming. Even some of their leading critics felt it was an affront to the nation to have them tried abroad. Kenyan intellectuals rallied, and other African anti-imperialist forces joined the cause. The nationalist fervour swept them to electoral victory in 2013.
By the time their cases at The Hague fell apart, Uhuru and Ruto had become the great African martyrs of the moment. The ICC was taken aback by the vehement pushback. Even the otherwise lethargic African Union fought the hardest it ever did, and barked its loudest, over the UhuRuto ICC case.
The year 2017, and its elections, marked the beginning of a turning point. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what soured the mood. We know 2017 was an unusually acrimonious election, culminating in the first-ever annulment of a presidential election in Africa by the Supreme Court justices in their famous red-headed woodpecker robes. This was a moment of great judicial bravery but did not last.
The second term of Uhuru-Ruto deepened the sense of ennui. The disaffected, however, clung to the notion of a great Kenya, “East Africa’s largest economy” and “most strategic nation”, as frequently touted by the media. Kenyans had risen like the proverbial phoenix from the ashes of the 2007-2008 PEV, but the saga of Besigye might now force them and country to confront questions whose answers they might be terrified to hear.
The author is a journalist, writer, and curator of the “Wall of Great Africans”. @cobbo3
