Down in the caves of Narok was born a child who was to be
named Munyankei. He grew up to be a civil servant and a whistleblower and later
the most hated person Kenya ever conceived. Munyankei was one horrible person
in this country. The son of the soil that stinks to the chagrin of those trying
to clean him. He was rescued from the annals of poverty and after a few strings
had been pulled this nincompoop landed a job in the Central Bank of Kenya. As a
clerk Munyankei rubbed shoulders with the high and mighty. He knew the secrets
of the government and knew the nooks and cranny of the filth within the
country. When he couldn’t take it in any more, he let out a loud fart that
could make the country stink in the wake of a grand corruption that was slowly
making the women of Mathioya reeling with itchy fingers because of jiggers, a
problem we could easily solve.
Munyankei saved Kenya at the hour of her need, or perhaps he
thought so. By saving our poor country, this poor man literally killed his
mother. He murdered his mother for, “there comes a time when a country is more important
than an individual.” For his sincerity, David was thrown in the gallows and
later released to the hungry jackals who wanted to chew him alive. He was awarded
a sack by his employee and when he demanded far too much he was threatened
which led him to exile in Mombasa.
Confused Munyankei took to Islam and name change to save his
skin. The Goldenberg slowly faded and Munyankei now a Muslim was temporarily forgotten.
A perfect way to continue wallowing in riches the Goldenberg lords nodded a
sigh in relief.
Come 2002 Munyankei felt a new guy when finally the spirits
of the dead stirred into life and the Goldenberg was re-opened. Fresh
investigations were launched with Kibaki breathing fire on the Lords of
impunity. Kenyans and especially Munyankei was going to feel the amazing treat
that comes when a hero is honoured. That was a dream that would send poor
Munyankei to the grave three years later. Thanks to Pneumonia that knew too
well to save him of the agony of suffering the pain that this country putting
him to torture.
Munyankei was gone; July 16, 2006 was the darkest day that
Kenya saw. A story ran in the media of how Goldenberg had lost a vital witness
and that also passed, the lords of Goldenberg breathed another sigh. “Phew! We
did not have to fake an accident!”
My point is that as we go on mourning some of our falling
heroes from the skies, why don’t we pay homage to young and irrelevant people
in our life. If it were not for people like Munyankei, if he had chosen to bury
his head in the sand, then this country would have rotten in jiggers, famine
and obesity.
It is time we played it safe if not by the book, its that
time we re-invented ourselves and looked into what surrounds us in a fresh
angle and move on to demand what hitherto is justice denied or rather
downplayed, justice bended, justice withheld, justice cast out in plays and
justice tampered with the dog that bites literally the masters of have tamed them.
All the mechanisms that are put forth are just barriers that
be, that prevent the common mwanainchi to get to the bottom or at least halfway
towards the bottom of the matter. It clearly inundates the characters in a play
that ironises the true story of a Kenya sleeping.
Munyankei’s statue should be gracing our streets; it should
be placed near the aging integrity house that has lost its integral role of
being an integral part of shaping the country that slowly has the jackals for
leaders.
One thing that really makes me go mad is the fact that we as
Kenyans have become warthogs. We already know that the current crop leaders are
just but predators of the economy. We already know that these individuals are
vultures that Boniface Mwangi painted as the vultures who pee on the patriotism
of Kenya. We have clear judgement that these guys, some of them who own tonnes
of land that could resettle the IDPS, squatters et al, have their greed
unquenchable on the ‘half loaf’ of Kenya.
It beats me when state resources are misused and we ruefully
nod our heads in agreement. It is like watching someone unzip his trousers and
directs his penis in your direction and you encouragingly nod your head to permit
them to go ahead and pee on you!
How then can a nation reward Lords of filth while we watch
in silence? How then can we scorn at those who want the goodwill of this
country? Are we really humane? Can’t we just accept the fact that, Kenya does
not just need a new constitution but an overhaul of personal conscience, a new sense
of perception and reason beyond the village of thought that has forever
embalmed our thoughts into village hood?
My heart is torn apart when I learn that, the act Munyankei
did sent his mother into shock. The shock terminated his mother’s life; the
shock made David Munyankei an orphan. Yet the tears he shed for his mother, the
life he lost in his mother, bore no fruits. He was ousted from work. He was
hated. He was so alone. His funeral was a final blow for he died a poor man
struggling to make ends meet. The strength he had while revealing the vices
that were deteriorating Kenya’s economy had been usurped from him. He died and
he was buried the dark clouds that had cleared in 2002 to usher in a ray of
hope slowly caved in a soil was heaped on his coffin. Motionless the clouds
thumped in darkness where the vultures would start hunting again, giving birth
to Anglo-leasing. Another cloud cleared as John Githongo resisted being
tempted. The cloud would soon be replaced.
The late David Munyankei, John Githongo and quite a number
of us, represent just a fraction of the over 40,000, 000 of us, who have been
audacious enough to raise a finger when the vultures strike. What will happen
if the 40,000,000 of us rose up and demanded for what so belongs to us?
I wish we could only have shed tears for Munyankei and even
raised the flag a half a mast for even a half a minute. Then more justice would
have been our shield and defender.
Comments
Post a Comment