A month or so ago, I attended a relative’s burial. He had been well-known and well-liked where he lived, and his sudden death had shocked everyone who knew him. As you can imagine, therefore, his burial was attended by many.
You all know that burials are an irresistible magnet for our politicians since they provide a sizeable and mostly restrained audience that is unlikely to heckle them off the podium, or worse, pelt them with stones. We respect our dead, after all.
And so, drawn like a moth to a flame, they had attended the burial in large numbers, many of them aspiring MCAs, woman reps, and to crown it all, an MP seeking another term. I’m sure majority of them did not even know the man lying there nor his wife, children, mother and siblings. They were simply there to campaign.
I was therefore appalled when each was given “two minutes” by the master of ceremony to introduce themselves, say which seat they were contesting and under the benevolence of which party, and why they thought they were the best candidate. This invitation took place after the family had given their tributes, just right before the body was taken a short distance to the resting place.
As they stood, one by one, many going beyond the two minutes they had been allocated, prompting the master of ceremony to forcefully take the microphone from them, my heart went out to my relative’s immediate family, who were forced to listen to unwanted speeches that had nothing to do with consoling them when all they wanted to do was bury their loved one and then go home and mourn in private.
But it turned out that not everyone was dismayed at this insensitivity, in fact, it was as if majority of those who had gone to commiserate with this family had been waiting for this moment. In no time, the burial ceremony turned into a market place, with people howling with laughter, clapping or murmuring with dissatisfaction depending on whether they agreed with the politician holding the mic or not. Believe it or not, there was even some heckling.
I wasn’t seated where I could observe this relative’s immediate family, but I can bet that the grief they had been feeling that morning doubled in the face of the circus playing out on the saddest day of their lives.
But as I took in that scene, it occurred to me that politicians are not the problem in such situations, the people are, because they are the ones that condone, no, encourage, this kind of behaviour. Simply put, you cannot enter and take a seat where you’re not invited, leave alone address those that you find. The fact is that we the electorate look forward to the sideshows that our politicians put up, and it does not seem to matter to us where these sideshows take place, not even during a burial.
When the last one finally sat down, the incumbent MP that is, the somber mood gradually returned, and the people remembered that they were not at a political rally, that they were mourners who had come to help a grieving family bury their loved one. But the damage had already been done, even though few noticed.
The writer is editor, Society & Magazines, Daily Nation. Email: cnjunge@ ke.nationmedia.com
