Out of Africa
I am alarmed by the news that is coming out of Kenya, about the chaos and mob-rule that has erupted after recent presidential elections there. The news focuses on the impact the upheaval is having on Kenyan economy (the tourism sector has been devastated by the crisis). And the Peace Corps has pulled out, after forty-eight years of operating there. My concerns, however, are on a more personal level.
Since winning independence from Britain in 1963, Kenya has enjoyed an era of progress and forward movement, and has been an island of stability and progress in Africa, a modern and cosmopolitan state of racial and ethnic mix. Kenya was a peaceful, idyllic land the times I visited there. But now the region is plunged into bloody turmoil and internecine rivalry, reminding us that for all its progress and enlightenment, Kenya is still very tribal. As a result, the political upheaval is having a very personal affect on people’s daily lives.
I chronicle Kenya’s turbulent history in my book Green City In the Sun, and during trips to Nairobi and the Highlands for research, I made many friends – African, British, Indian – with whom I have kept in touch. While most are feeling the economic and political effects of the recent turmoil, some are suffering significantly because they are in a mixed marriage.
“Mixed-marriage” in Kenya does not mean matrimony between African and white. It does not carry a racial connotation. The phrase, as used in Africa, means inter-marriage between two tribes. My friend Dr. Muriuki, a Kikuyu (the dominant tribe in East Africa), has been married for years to Alice, a school teacher who happens to be a member of the smaller Luo tribe. They live in the town of Nyeri (where I placed my fictional house of Bellatu in Green City). Although their parents initially disapproved of the union, the respective families eventually accepted it and life has been good for Joseph and Alice. Now, however, after years of getting along, the post-election riots are reopening generations-old feuds among Kenya’s ethnic groups, and the two families have become bitter rivals. All over East Africa people have grown suspicious of one another. In a recent letter, Alice tells me that the new cry one now hears is, “Kabila gani?” – Swahili for “What is your tribe?”
I love East Africa. It is a beautiful, timeless place (I set three of my novels there, and plan to do so again with another one) and so I pray that the people of Kenya find their way back to peace and stability once again, and that harmony and goodwill are restored for my friends Joseph and Alice.
To all my friends in Kenya: “Natumai kukuoneni kwa hivi karibu!”
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