Every so often, the mind goes bounding on an irrepressible frolic all over the fields of memory, turning up unexpected things. A recent bout of runaway reminiscences was triggered by the nomination of my wonderful friend and colleague, Alfred K’Ombudo, for appointment as principal secretary.
While K’Ombudo’s deserved elevation must have duly elicited various kinds of dramatic reactions, my memory of K’Ombudo-associated drama takes me all the way to a Thursday night in 1992, and more precisely, a certain portion of the proceedings of the Junior Debating Society that were instigated by the said gentleman’s late entry.
Ombudo was late because he was also an ace swimmer and had probably been held up, being understandably all too eager to splash about with the girls in the then-spanking new, ultra-modern pool, Nyayo’s gift across.
Anyhow, the debating society membership of those days keenly followed parliamentary proceedings, and from time to time used club time to have a go at the matters canvassed in the House.
In any event, K’Ombudo’s unfashionably late arrival caused several honourable members to take off a shoe and in unison, vigorously bang the table with it.
Nevertheless, the ensuing riotous explosion attracted anxious masters on duty, who arrived post-haste, keen to quell a thuggish insurrection.
For some reason, I imagine an ensuing eloquent chastisement, delivered in the crisp, stinging verbal lashes typical of Donald Othoro, then Deputy School Captain and master of all he surveyed.
Apropos of the good doctor’s surname, the ungovernable mind, I believe, then took me to that place well past Rodi Kopany, en route to Kisii, called Othoro.
Does the great Donald have a country seat named after him? Or is he, like my friends the Alila brothers, or my learned senior Tom K’Opere, the scion of exemplary ancestors after whom places are named?
This absurd logical train of thought promptly wends its muddled way about the historical undergrowth, and smartly whisks me back to Kikuyu, the constituency, not the town, which in those days had been represented by the honourable Philip Gachoka, the predecessor of Paul Muite.
Kimani Ichung’wa was then still a junior debater alongside K’Ombudo aforesaid and I, and Charles Njonjo had long been put out to pasture.
The thing about Kikuyu being represented by Gachoka is that there was, in that same parliament, a member named Kikuyu, and a constituency called Gachoka.
Onesimus Kikuyu represented Machakos Town, and both Joseph Nyaga, scion of the celebrated Embu dynasty, and the equally illustrious Rev. Mutava Musyimi would enter politics as successive members of Gachoka constituency.
In those days, it was typical of a keen debater to have an excellent grasp of current affairs, including knowing Kenya’s elected members of the National Assembly, all 188 of them.
Until Parliament exploded into a 419-elected-member-strong National Assembly and a 47-elected-member Senate, I did my best to retain this grasp.
Consequently, a basic audit of the nomenclature of parliamentary constituencies and representative membership revealed consistent and disconcerting misalignment.
For example, Hamisi constituency in those days was represented by Nicodemus Khaniri, and after him, by his son and much later, Vihiga senator George Khaniri.
Meanwhile, a whole Joe Khamisi, a prolific chronicler of turpitude in high places, was representing a constituency in the coastal region, called Bahari.
That is not the end of the story, it so happens that a Hon. Bahari, Abdul Ali Jillo’s mileage claim parameter located in his constituency as Isiolo South.
In fact, there is a Caleb Amisi who represents Saboti constituency, and Hamisi remains with Khaniri’s successor, my venerable senior, Charles Gimose.
How can I forget the wonderful constituency represented by one ka-Wanjiku? Kiambaa has seen its share, even if only nominal, of feminist masculinity in its legislators.
For isn’t a former MP famous for naming a city landmark Lillian Towers? Yes indeed, and that would be the venerable Stanley Githunguri, who pipped Njenga Karume to the seat, once upon a time.
Which would leave you thoroughly perplexed if you knew that Githunguri constituency neighbours Kiambaa, and was at material times represented by the legendary Arthur Magugu, before giving way to Njehu Gatabaki, an inveterate gadfly.
In the South Rift Valley, there was once a member of the National Assembly by the name Eric Bomet.
He would have represented Rongai or the such like, but never Bomet, which was famously led by the inimitable Gerald Kipkalya Kones, from time to time.
The etymologies of Bomet the surname and Bomet the region, are as stark as night and day.
What is the moral of this tale? To attend to names of people, places, meanings and non-meanings, I suppose.
