Congratulations, Mr President! My call to Uhuru and how I convinced Raila to concede

In the fourth installment of our ongoing serialisation of Ahmed Issack Hassan’s memoirs, Referee of a Dirty, Ugly Game, the former chairman of the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission remembers the evening he decided he would announce the winner of the 2013 presidential election, the calls he made to Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga, and the different reactions he received from the two.

Those two calls, and the announcement the next day, were perhaps the hallmark of his reign at the commission, and they would come back to haunt him days later.

When the tempers eventually calmed down and our staff began churning out the verified (2013 presidential election) results once more, we started announcing them much faster. It seemed that the nation breathed a collective sigh of relief as some semblance of order was restored. 

The attempt to sabotage and delay the announcement of the results had failed. This window of tranquillity in the midst of madness gave me an opportunity to rush home while it was still daylight, as I had spent the previous two days and nights at Bomas. 

I had already partially moved in with a few of my clothes to the national tallying centre during the election week, with the awareness that I would be required there for longer hours than usual.

I was surprised to find my eldest daughter in the living room when I got into the house at 10 am that Thursday, March 8. She was seated in front of the television watching cartoons.

“Ohh, what are you doing here? Are you not supposed to be in school?”
She turned towards me, reached for the remote control, and then switched to one of the local channels showing the IEBC announcements. Normal programming had been interrupted for all the local television stations from the election day and only updates from IEBC were aired throughout the day.

“Dad, you have still not finished announcing the results. We cannot go to school,” she said, pointing to the television. It had slipped my mind that the children were on holiday. March 4 mostly found them in session in a normal school curriculum calendar. However, the government had made a special arrangement with schools to have them close early for the election.

The commission was also using some of the school premises as polling centres. It dawned on me once again, as she said those words, that the entire nation was on a pause from regular activities and that how the commission handled the election process would determine whether we would all go back to normal life. I was even more determined to wrap up the process the soonest as we could. I narrated what transpired in my house on getting back to the commissioners’ lounge.

“This has hit closer home today. We must work harder and finish announcing the results. I have been reminded this morning bado hatujamaliza hii kitu,” I said, explaining how my daughter pointed out that we had not finished our job. The sentiments were comical but the underlying seriousness and message in those words were not lost on us.

Crisis committee

The National Security Advisory Committee had formed a crisis sub-committee with four members — Dr Mohammed Isahakiah, Michael Gichangi, Francis Kimemia and David Kimaiyo. Their intelligence reports from around the country by March 8 indicated that tension was building.

There was the need to find ways to temper it as the country gave the commission time to verify and announce the results. The four came to Bomas for a meeting to update me on the rising tension and flickers of unrest they had already received intelligence on.

They suggested that we find ways of managing it. I was advised to prepare updates on the results the commission was receiving, and then make regular announcements.

Read: Issack Hassan: Day furious William Ruto called me over ‘bad’ election results

Keeping the pendulum from swinging towards pandemonium and chaos was extremely critical within the seven-day window that the commission had to make the final announcement. I continued receiving intelligence reports and doing my part to lead Kenyans towards what they were all waiting for — the credible verdict of their votes. I answered with clarity every question that was asked, knowing that being open and honest about the situation at hand needed to be maintained all the way. I also prayed a lot the entire time, fully aware that I was in dire need of divine providence to succeed in my assignment.

As the day wore on, it occurred to us that Oswago was nowhere to be seen. He was not within the vicinity of Bomas for the day, and could not be reached on phone. His absence led to rumours about his whereabouts. He eventually turned up in the evening and I demanded to know where he had been all day.
“Chairman, I was tired and I went to get some rest. I just decided to switch off for a while,” he responded nonchalantly.
“When the commissioners go for the next press briefing, you must ensure that you join them at the podium and explain your whereabouts to the country,” I instructed.

Unpleasant surprises

The response he gave did not seem to add up, and I wondered what else he could have been up to while he was away. I had gotten used by this time to the unpleasant surprises from him. I was hoping he would not pull a fast one on the commission.

“Among the reasons that I stand here is to show that I am not in prison and not dead. But I’m stressed. I’m very tired. This is a difficult process because you have to get it right the first time,” he said when he finally stood on the podium.

I was now even more alert than ever, not knowing what else would have been up the sleeves of those planning to disrupt and meddle with the process. I was later updated by my bodyguard who had inquired from Oswago’s security about his whereabouts. He was told that Oswago had locked himself in his office at the tallying centre, switched off his phone, and slept for the time he had been missing.

Our final announcements were not entirely without error as the staff and commissioners were bound to make some mistakes, given the fatigue from the preparations and the long hours they had been working all week. There was an error, for instance, in the announcement of the results for Tiaty Constituency, and Ambassador Nzibo came back to make a correction but made an error again, unfortunately, before finally giving the correct results.

The announcement for Wajir East Constituency had also been erroneous, although the verified form showed the correct final tally. The newly elected MP, Adan Keynan, called me to point out the error. He complained that the final figure announced for Raila in this constituency was 15,000 votes, whereas the commissioner had announced that it was 5,000 votes. We apologised after confirming the error, and read the correct figure.

This may have triggered the next demand from Cord. Prof. Nyong’o came to Bomas with a letter, in which Cord presented a list of 100 constituencies whose results had already been announced. They requested the commission to conduct an audit on all of them, claiming that votes cast for Raila had either been understated, or Kenyatta’s votes had been inflated.

I could already smell trouble with this new request, but the commission received and stamped the letter. The Constitution stipulated that the results of the presidential election had to be announced within seven days from the date of the election. If this window lapsed, the election results would automatically be declared null and void. Our window of seven days thus allowed us to make the final announcement of the winner on or before March 11, 2013. 

Read: The memorable events of 2013

The letter requesting for the audit came on the evening of March 9 when we were eagerly looking forward to announcing the results of the remaining few constituencies, before declaring the winner the following day. Within a short while of receiving this letter, I got a call from Bernard Namunane, one of the reporters working for the Nation Media Group.

100 constituencies worry

He was calling to ask for comments on the new allegations raised by Cord about the 100 constituencies. I happened to overhear Raila’s voice in the background as I spoke with Bernard, and I could tell they were together. It became evident that the plan was to make the story a major headline in the newspapers the following day. I spoke candidly to Bernard as all this came together for me.

“Bernard, do you really want to make this a headline tomorrow? Do you think it will be helpful for the country at this point? As you have heard, Cord has submitted the letter with the list of 100 constituencies. The commission is currently conducting an audit to verify those results.”

I was aware that there was little I could do if he was determined to go ahead, but I pushed to change the direction of his imminent decision.

“I am surprised that you already have the story with you, just a short while after the letter was delivered to the commission. If the Prime Minister is with you, tell him that this is not going to be a good thing for him or the country.”

I could hear the Prime Minister’s familiar voice in the background.
“This seems like a planned story, and you will create unnecessary tension if you proceed in that direction. I will hold you personally responsible if this causes any further trouble for the country,” I said.

They must have had further discussion with Raila on the matter and decided against the idea, as it did not become the lead story in the papers the following day. It was allotted a column inside the newspaper. I handed over the list to Sharawe, instructing him to oversee the audit. Because of the little time remaining before our deadline, I directed that it was not possible to carry out a complete audit of all 100 constituencies. Instead, a random sample would suffice to represent the rest of the constituencies. 

Sharawe took a team of staff members, and they went through the list as instructed, conducting an audit of a sample. They found no anomalies. The records and numbers announced were all correct, which he duly reported back to me. With this confirmation, I asked him to draft a letter to that effect, outlining that the commission had done the audit and that no error had been found in the sample constituencies, and I signed it.

Delay pressure

I still had my hands full trying to attend to numerous stakeholders. Kofi Annan called to find out what was going on and why there was a delay in the announcement of the results. Various diplomats were also calling to get an update on the results. A lot had been on my mind, and as the day wound down, I contemplated the journey we had come through as a commission.

Read: Chickengate scandal: Former IEBC boss James Oswago fined Sh7.5m or 4 years jail in default

It was about 9.30 pm and I sat pensively in my lounge all by myself, mulling over everything. The flood of thoughts had taken a consistent lull, and my mind was never unoccupied at any one time. It was becoming clear that the Jubilee team, Kenyatta and Ruto, were winning. What did this mean for us? Just then, a knock on the door from my bodyguard, Maritim, interrupted my thoughts.

“Chairman, Amina Mohamed is here to see you. She says it is family business,” he reported.
“That’s okay, allow her to come in.”

Ambassador Amina was at that time serving as the assistant secretary-general and deputy executive director at Unep. I welcomed her in and invited her to take a seat. She was in a white dress and a white shawl.
“I know you are under a lot of pressure, Ahmed,” she began. The conversation centred around what had happened over the last few hours of that day and the week.

“I know that the two Jubilee Party candidates have been charged at The Hague. There is no doubt that announcing the winner will cost you, friends, among the Western envoys and civil society, but these two have been elected by the people. They are the choice of the people. They also did a good job of mobilising their voters, as evidenced by the results. Your job is to announce the results, and you should not worry about the consequences. That was your job. Do it and let the chips fall where they may. It is not your job to think about the aftermath and what the Americans or British will do or not do.”

I listened, and as she spoke, a lot that had been foggy and uncertain in my mind slowly began to clear. Our conversation helped to unsettle much of the doubt and turmoil that had stubbornly lodged in the recesses of my mind, refusing to give me peace. As with everyone else in the nation and around the world, I had the same questions lingering in my mind about Kenyatta and William Ruto.

What would happen if they were actually convicted at the ICC after they were elected? How would the country run if they were jailed? What would be the way forward from there? What would I be setting the country up for by declaring them as winners? As it were, the commission and I were already being bashed for having cleared them as candidates to run in the election. These and other persistent questions kept me company like an unyielding hum.

Keyboard warriors and abusive bloggers on social media were having a field day at my expense. They turned to fake news, cyber stalking, bullying, and trolling to spew their hate-laced messages. In one of the numerous memes that were a little less offensive, I was depicted as being interrogated by the tough, counter-terrorism agent, Jack Bauer, in the US television series, “24”. His hand was on my neck as he hollered:
“I’m not going to ask you again! Where are the results?’

Read: Ex-IEBC boss Hassan seeks to stop LSK disciplinary case

I was shocked to discover that fake Facebook and Twitter accounts had been opened and were being operated in my name. I had to lodge complaints against them so they could be shut down.

Voice of reason

Finding a voice of reason and redirection in the midst of so much negativity, particularly at a time when I was in such dire need of it, went a long way in getting me back on track. The conversation that evening with Ambassador Amina, did just that.

As an angel in human form would do, her concern and affirmation that I was doing the right thing helped to anchor my decisions and enabled me to proceed with what lay ahead of us with greater confidence. Not only was Kenya standing at a historical crossroads, but it was going to set a precedent from the moment I announced the winner.

“I will prepare a guideline for your speech. It should be a compelling and potent oration. All you have to add are the technical bits with the figures and results of the election,” she said as we concluded our conversation.
Sure enough, she sent me a draft first thing the following morning, which I adjusted for my speech to the nation when I eventually declared the results. It was an evening that seemed to have too much on its plate.

The entire nation was at its wits’ end with fatigue from waiting for the results. The commissioners and staff were also apprehensive and on edge about completing the work. The weariness and exhaustion from working excruciatingly long hours under protracted pressure, and the intense glare of an anxious populace, made the burden of completing the assignment even more urgent.

It was also evident that everyone earnestly hoped we would get a winner the first time around. Going through the exercise a second time, in case of a run-off, already felt unpalatable, a nightmare that everyone hoped and prayed would be avoided.

Before the evening wound up, the commissioners were in agreement that we should go ahead and finish announcing the results of the final constituencies. However, since it was late, it occurred to us that making such a critical announcement at night would probably not be such a good idea. It was no secret to Kenyans and the world, who was in the lead.

From the results announced so far, it was clear that we would have a winner in the first round. It was highly unlikely that there would be a run-off. The media were making their projections with the latest tallies that had been announced by that time.  A celebratory mood was already picking up across the nation for the majority of the people, with an equal measure of disappointment for those that could foresee the impending loss.

I remained in constant communication with most of the presidential candidates. Some called to make inquiries or clarify details of unfolding developments, depending on what was going on at the time. I kept seeing incessant calls from a number I did not recognise, but I was not keen on receiving or returning the call.

Read: Issack Hassan, other IEBC officials agree to leave office

I had made this a habit as some of the anonymous callers ended up being annoying, with some insulting and abusing me. After a while, I saw King’ori Mwangi walking towards me. He was the Head of Security at the Bomas of Kenya throughout the election week.

“Chairman, Uhuru Kenyatta has been trying to reach you, but he is unable to get through to you. Here, he would like to talk to you,” he said as he handed me his phone. I realised that the missed calls I saw on my phone were from him.  I may not have been duly updated by Lucy Ndung’u, the Registrar of Political Parties, on the most recent contact numbers of the presidential candidates. 

“I’m sorry I missed your calls, as I do not pick up any numbers that I do not recognise,” I said as I answered his call. “It seems I was given a different phone number. I will have to save this one now.” 

Uhuru jubilant, consternation for Raila

“That’s okay, Chairman, I understand,” he said. “I don’t want to steal anyone’s vote, but I also don’t want my votes to be stolen. Just do your work, that is all I want. You have to do the right thing. I want to win fair and square. I know that we have won, we know that. But just do your job.”

“Of course, that’s why we are here as a commission. Our responsibility is to declare and announce the results of the election which reflect the will of the people,” I said.

Letangule, Nzibo, Bwire, and Sharawe had left after we agreed that we would not be announcing the final results that evening. Those that remained, however, expressed concerns about delaying the announcement of the results, as Kenyans already knew who was in the lead. We weighed the matter again.

The discussion now leaned towards declaring the pending constituency results and leaving the presidential declaration for the following day.

“It is not a good idea to keep the country in abeyance,” Alawi stated. “We should declare all the remaining constituencies tonight and allow the country to prepare for the final announcement tomorrow.”

By this time, we had made the calculations for the two leading presidential candidates. Kenyatta had crossed the 50 per cent plus one threshold as required by the Constitution. Both he and Raila had met the second condition required for victory in the election, as they had garnered at least 25 per cent of the total votes in more than half of the 47 counties.

My earlier gaffe in stating that the calculation of total votes would include both valid and rejected votes seemed to have still produced a winner in the first round, in spite of the stakes that had been raised. 
The decision to proceed and announce the results of the remaining constituencies was unanimous among the commissioners who were present. 

We had agreed that at all times, there would always be a quorum of four commissioners and myself at the Bomas of Kenya to ensure that no urgent decision would be stalled. The remaining results were announced, effectively completing the list of all constituencies. It was a great relief to have gotten that far. 

Read: Hassan: We are not registering voters secretly

The thought that it would all be over in a matter of hours after I delivered the final verdict helped us all breathe much easier. The only thing that the entire nation now hang on, and which according to the law was next in line, was my declaration of the winner of the presidential election. 

Results calls

I decided to call each of the presidential candidates to let them know what would be happening the following day to manage their expectations. The first call was to Kenyatta. “I will be making the formal announcement on the final presidential results tomorrow, March 10, as the commissioners have announced the final tally from all the constituencies. And congratulations, you have won the election. You are the President-elect.”

“Thank you very much, Mr Chairman, for a good job,” he responded, delighted with the good news.
I called the Prime Minister next and gave him the same brief.

“Prime Minister, we are going to make the official announcement of the results tomorrow. The results from the total tallies show that Uhuru Kenyatta has won and you are the runner-up. It would be a good thing, and helpful for the country, if you would concede early to allow the country to...”
He cut in as I was speaking.

“No, no, no…are you sure about that? You know my team was not happy that you chased them from the tallying centre…You have not done the proper audit of the 100 constituencies we listed for the commission…”

I chimed in to give clarity on his concern: “Prime Minister, we actually did, and we sent you the letter after the audit was done. That is the reason we have taken all the time to give you a hearing on all your pleas so far. We know that you have fought for democracy and liberation for many years, and your efforts towards delivering the new Constitution have also not gone unnoticed.

Please do not spoil your legacy by rejecting what the people have decided. I know that, in spite of the technical failure on the commission’s part, we have taken all the time to count the votes manually, and it is a credible job — as you have witnessed with the election of all the governors, senators and the rest of the leaders who have won fairly in Cord.”

Our conversation took quite some time, and he seemed convinced at the end to accept my proposal to concede. A comment that he made before we concluded the call, however, piqued my interest.

“The entire country expected that we would go for a second round, and now you are saying that Uhuru has won in the first round. It will be good for you and the commission if we went for a second round,” he said.

I sensed there was much more to that statement, though I did not give it much attention then. I went on to call each of the remaining presidential candidates; Musalia Mudavadi of Amani Coalition, Peter Kenneth of Eagle Alliance, Mohammed Abduba Dida of Alliance for Real Change, Martha Karua of National Rainbow Coalition-Kenya, James ole Kiyapi of Restore and Build Kenya, and Paul Muite of Safina Party. I did not reach all of them, as it was understandably late in the night.

I followed up with calls the next day for those I couldn’t reach. My message to each of them was the same — that we were going to announce the President-elect and that it would be advisable if they could concede early before the declaration was made.

A short while later, I received a breaking news text message indicating that Raila had called for a press briefing, and the media were headed to his house in Karen. I believed that it would only be a matter of time before he gave his concession speech. 

About half an hour later, I received another text message indicating that the press briefing had been cancelled. 
I learnt much later that Cord political leaders disagreed on the matter, insisting that he should not concede. They wanted to exhaust every avenue available to them. There was little we could do about it, as it was their constitutional right to raise any dispute they had with the courts.

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The Elections Act, 2011 guided the commission in the ‘Determination and declaration of results’ under Section 39 (2): Before determining and declaring the final results of an election under subsection (1), the Commission may announce the provisional results of an election.

Further, under Section 82, which gave guidelines on ‘Provisional results to be transmitted electronically’, the commission was duly guided as follows: (1) The presiding officer shall, before ferrying the actual results of the election to the returning officer at the tallying venue, submit to the returning officer the results in electronic form, in such a manner as the commission may direct, and (2) The results submitted under sub-regulation (1) shall be provisional and subject to confirmation after the procedure described in regulation 73.

Clear guidelines

The guidelines were clear that the results being transmitted through the ERTS were provisional, as the system had been integrated into our processes mainly to improve transparency. Whether the ERTS had worked at 100 per cent, or not, as was the case for us, I would not have declared the winner of the presidential election based on the provisional results. 

I would still have waited, as we did, for all the returning officers to bring their hard copy results to the tallying centre for verification before the final announcement. While I cannot downplay the dismal performance of the ERTS, which was regrettable and disappointing, the furore Cord and their followers raised blew things out of proportion. 

The commission was vilified when we announced that our returning officers were on their way to Bomas with the hard copy results for verification. The uproar led to an outcry across the country, disparaging the commission, which was simply following the law. I was eager to go home and get a good night’s rest so I would be fresh for the major announcement in the morning. As I was preparing to leave, my bodyguard, Maritim, asked to talk to me.
“Chairman, it is not a good idea for you to go home.” “Is that so? Why?”

“You have to spend the night here. The security team is in agreement that you cannot leave. It is not advisable for you to go home.”

I did not inquire about the reasons for this directive, but I was aware that I could not demand to have my way, especially on this evening. The few remaining hours before the declaration were critical, and my safety, was non-negotiable. The Constitution stated that the chairperson of the IEBC was to declare the results of the election within seven days after the date of the presidential election. 

The chairperson was also to deliver a written notification of the results to the Chief Justice and the incumbent President. 

Security fears

There could have been the fear of the risk I might be exposed to in case anything happened on the way home, and the security team was not taking any chances on my safety. While the law stated that the chairperson of the IEBC was the returning officer for the presidential election, there was no provision or legal requirement for the commission’s vice chairperson to be appointed as a deputy returning officer for this particular election.

Read: IEBC commissioners walk out of House team meeting

In all the other five elections, however, the law allowed the appointment of both the returning officer and the deputy returning officer. Out of an abundance of caution, I gazetted my vice chairperson, Lilian, as the deputy returning officer for the presidential election in February 2013, to avert a crisis in case anything happened to me. This was done at the same time that we gazetted the other 290 constituency returning officers and the 47 county returning officers.

After the conversation with Maritim, I had to adhere to the security team’s instructions that night. Maritim organised to get some bedding from my home for me. I was pensive as I waited. The weight of the nation’s fate weighed heavily on my mind. In addition to not being able to get any food down, I had barely slept. I would get into bed and sleep would evade me. 

My closed eyes only served to bring my mental vision to life. Numerous scenes played out each night. I had panic attacks of impending doom, and anxiety was never far from me. Every possible outcome of the election, the good, the bad, and the ugly, rolled out on the stage of my mind. I was wide awake with my eyelids shut, pondering and mulling over many things. I had to seek my doctor’s advice, and he prescribed medication to help me sleep. He cautioned, however, that I could only take the medication when I was sure I was turning in for the night, not at any other time.

I knew I would need the medication for this particular night, so I took it and lay on the couch in my lounge. The time on my watch was 2.00 a.m. The sedatives knocked me out within minutes, and thankfully, 

I managed to get a restful four hours of sleep. I remained under guard with reinforced security while I slept. Alawi was the first one to get to Bomas at about 5.30 am on March 10. 

Maritim was startled when Alawi knocked and came into the lounge where I was sleeping. Alawi was shocked when he found himself staring at the muzzle of my bodyguard’s cocked gun. Both men relaxed when they recognised each other.

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“Chairman! Chairman yuko hapa? What happened?” he asked, surprised that he found me on the couch, dead asleep.

Maritim explained to him the decision that had been made the previous night. They allowed me to rest a while longer, and I woke up at around 6 am, still groggy and tired. I rushed home to freshen up, then came back to declare the winner of the election. On getting back, I asked Oswago and Immaculate to prepare a final document on the election results. 

The report was to have detailed information on the votes that each presidential candidate had garnered in all the constituencies with the respective totals. The two of them were to append their signatures to all pages of the report before submitting it. I then called for a meeting with the commissioners where Oswago presented the report. 

They each adopted it by signing against it before I appended my own signature, effectively making it a commission document, fully ratified and approved by all members. I was not just making the declaration as the chairman of the commission and the returning officer of the presidential election, but the entire commission was standing behind the words I spoke to the nation that day.

Lucy, the Registrar of Political Parties, approached me with a document as I left my lounge and handed it over. She explained that it contained tallies for the results that had been signed by political parties. I was not going to have any further delays interrupting the progress we had made, so I instinctively tore it up and disposed of it, then proceeded to the Bomas arena.

Once everyone was settled, the national anthem was played, as the first order of business for the day. The Communication and Corporate Affairs Manager, Tabitha Mutemi, had organised for different choirs to present a variety of songs, which provided entertainment for those in the arena before I went to the stage.

“Fellow Kenyans, ladies and gentlemen, the long road to the 2013 election is now drawing to a close. The six-ballot election which the new Constitution stipulated be undertaken within the same day was quite ambitious and challenging to the electoral management body, the political parties, and the voters,” I said in my introduction.

“Our task was to conduct and manage a rather complex election under a new Constitution. No electoral management body, within and beyond the region has had the courage and resolve to do what we have done.”

I outlined both the significant victories and the daunting challenges we had faced as a commission in our mandate to deliver a credible and transparent election. As I came to a close, I read out the various tallies of the eight presidential candidates, then declared the winner.

“Pursuant to the provisions of Article 138 (4) of the Constitution of Kenya, Uhuru Kenyatta received total votes of 6,173,433, representing 50.07 per cent of the votes cast and more than 25 per cent of the votes cast in 32 counties. Having fulfilled these requirements by law, I, therefore, wish to declare Uhuru Kenyatta as the President-elect and William Ruto as the Deputy President-elect of the Republic of Kenya.”

“Thank you, God bless you, and God bless Kenya.”

Tomorrow: As Ruto cautioned me about Chiloba, Uhuru rallied to save me from a lynch mob: In the final instalment of our serialization of his memoirs, Issack Hassan reveals the intrigues behind the hiring of Ezra Chiloba as CEO of the election's agency, the distrust that met his decision, and how Uhuru intervened to rescue him from a political and media lynch mob