Post by JAHAATWACH on Feb 7, 2008 12:26:55 GMT 3
From Mau Mau to Mungiki: 50 years later, Kenya is still a bloody mess
by Geoffrey Clarfield
During the last few weeks, the world has watched in horror as rival gangs of Kenyan slum dwellers attack and kill one another. Even Members of Parliament are now being targeted.
The anti-government vigilantes from the Luo tribe have come to call themselves “Taliban” (this despite the fact that these Luo are mostly non-Muslims). Pitted against them are the Kikuyu — in particular, Kikuyu followers of the “Mungiki.”
On Jan. 9, Maina Kiai, head of the state-funded National Commission of Human Rights, accused President Mwai Kibaki’s Kikuyu dominated government of “activating” members of this mysterious, formally banned sect. Government spokesmen have dismissed the claim as groundless.
But Muthoni Wanyeki, the chairperson of an independent Kenya-based human rights monitoring group, suggests politicians from both tribes are financing and encouraging semi-organized tribal militias. Given the Mungiki sect’s particularly violent history, it would be surprising if one side or the other hadn’t sought to co-opt them.
Ritual murder, inspired by traditional religious beliefs, is on the rise in Africa. You can read about it in any of the national papers, from Zimbabwe to Senegal — and now Kenya.
On July 13, 2007, I was sitting in a hotel lobby in Nairobi, reading a disturbing article in a Kenyan newspaper. The day before, a two-year-old boy had been killed in the Korogocho slums of Nairobi. He had been beheaded and his limbs hacked off. The boy’s body had been identified by his shocked and grieving father, who had reported him missing a few days earlier. The manner, style and place of his murder was no accident. Police, sociologists and other experts immediately identified it as an act of violence (possibly a ritual murder) perpetrated by the Mungiki.
In the nine months leading up to the recent spasm of election-related violence, it is estimated that the Mungiki were responsible for the murder of more than 43 people, 13 of whom had their heads cut off, mostly in the Kikuyu tribal heartlands of central Kenya, and in the slums of Nairobi.
Despite the recent realignment of the Mungiki in support of the Kikuyu-dominated government this same government declared membership in the Mungiki sect to be illegal last Spring. So far, there have been more than 3,000 arrests nationwide. By last July, more than 79 Mungiki members had been killed by police.
In the Bantu language of the Kikuyu of central Kenya, mungiki means a “united people” or a “multitude.” The name is meant to suggest that these contemporary Kikuyu are the spiritual and political descendants of the Mau Mau, those disenfranchised Kikuyu who, in the 1950s, rose up in revolt against British colonial authorities and any tribe that co-operated with them.
Although the Mau Mau were defeated, the rebellion sapped the will of the British to stay in Kenya. In the early 1960s, Kenya became an independent republic under the leadership of Jomo Kenyatta, a British-educated Kikuyu who held a PhD in social anthropology from Manchester University. Like most new African leaders, Kenyatta eventually used the state apparatus to enrich his friends and relatives.
But the children of the Mau Mau were not among the beneficiaries. They eked out subsistence existences in the villages, and when the harvest failed, migrated to the slums of Kenya’s large cities to join the reserve army of labour. There, they languished in growing resentment of the Kikuyu elite and their European allies.
When Kenyatta passed away, the presidency of the country fell into the hands of his vice-president, Daniel arap Moi, who, in imitation of his Kikuyu mentor, used the state to support the advancement of his own ethnic group (the Kalenjin), leaving the Kikuyu to fend for themselves. This culminated in inter-tribal clashes that at time bordered on civil war.
This civil strife died down with Kenya’s return to multi-party democracy in the 1990s. The newfound political freedom gave the disenfranchised Kikuyu time to organize themselves — including the Mungiki. As one former Mungiki leader recently said, “We are the true sons of the Mau Mau … today is just like 1952 [when the Mau Mau insurgency began]. The government now is no better then those who collaborated with the British.”
But despite what Kenyan academics and journalists might call the “political agenda” of the Mungiki, the sect is wrapped in a complex and murky amalgam of traditional African and modern populist beliefs — many of them harkening back to some of the less savoury practices from pre-Christian Kikuyu customs: magic, witchcraft and sorcery mixed with ancestor worship.
We do not have a clear idea of the beliefs and practice of the Mungiki sect because most of it goes on in secret. We do know from interviews with current and former leaders that they reject modern Western culture, including Christianity. In their hostility to the West, Mungiki are known to have given up alcohol, smoking, watching Hollywood movies and wearing American baseball caps.
Instead, they pray “facing mount Kenya.” They have been known to publicly call for the circumcision of Kikuyu women, and have forced many to undergo this rite. Many sport dreadlocks and swear oaths of loyalty to Mungiki in secret. In some cases, they engage in ritualized murder — a pathology that anthropologists generally observe in pre-industrial societies going through periods of pronounced stress. They are also notoriously involved in a whole range of extortionist activities in Nairobi’s slums. These activities include extracting “protection payments,” various forms of informal taxation, and the violent domination of the informal transport sector. Mungiki leaders claim they can deliver more than a half a million voters to any politician who supports them.
With their bizarre rituals, and murderous ways, the Mungiki seem like an invention out of a racist’s imagination. But they are very real, and they symbolize many of Kenya’s problems — poverty, the agony and vulnerability of slum life, corruption and, above all, the country’s violent tribalization.
Despite all Kenya’s promise, it is shocking how little it has progressed in the half-century that has passed between the Mau Mau and the Mungiki.
Geoffrey Clarfield is a Toronto based writer and can be reached ongwclarfield@yahoo.com
Source: National Post
www.network.nationalpost.com/np/blogs/fullcomment/archive/2008/02/05/geoffrey-clarfield-from-mau-mau-to-mungiki-50-years-later-kenya-is-still-a-bloody-mess.aspx
by Geoffrey Clarfield
During the last few weeks, the world has watched in horror as rival gangs of Kenyan slum dwellers attack and kill one another. Even Members of Parliament are now being targeted.
The anti-government vigilantes from the Luo tribe have come to call themselves “Taliban” (this despite the fact that these Luo are mostly non-Muslims). Pitted against them are the Kikuyu — in particular, Kikuyu followers of the “Mungiki.”
On Jan. 9, Maina Kiai, head of the state-funded National Commission of Human Rights, accused President Mwai Kibaki’s Kikuyu dominated government of “activating” members of this mysterious, formally banned sect. Government spokesmen have dismissed the claim as groundless.
But Muthoni Wanyeki, the chairperson of an independent Kenya-based human rights monitoring group, suggests politicians from both tribes are financing and encouraging semi-organized tribal militias. Given the Mungiki sect’s particularly violent history, it would be surprising if one side or the other hadn’t sought to co-opt them.
Ritual murder, inspired by traditional religious beliefs, is on the rise in Africa. You can read about it in any of the national papers, from Zimbabwe to Senegal — and now Kenya.
On July 13, 2007, I was sitting in a hotel lobby in Nairobi, reading a disturbing article in a Kenyan newspaper. The day before, a two-year-old boy had been killed in the Korogocho slums of Nairobi. He had been beheaded and his limbs hacked off. The boy’s body had been identified by his shocked and grieving father, who had reported him missing a few days earlier. The manner, style and place of his murder was no accident. Police, sociologists and other experts immediately identified it as an act of violence (possibly a ritual murder) perpetrated by the Mungiki.
In the nine months leading up to the recent spasm of election-related violence, it is estimated that the Mungiki were responsible for the murder of more than 43 people, 13 of whom had their heads cut off, mostly in the Kikuyu tribal heartlands of central Kenya, and in the slums of Nairobi.
Despite the recent realignment of the Mungiki in support of the Kikuyu-dominated government this same government declared membership in the Mungiki sect to be illegal last Spring. So far, there have been more than 3,000 arrests nationwide. By last July, more than 79 Mungiki members had been killed by police.
In the Bantu language of the Kikuyu of central Kenya, mungiki means a “united people” or a “multitude.” The name is meant to suggest that these contemporary Kikuyu are the spiritual and political descendants of the Mau Mau, those disenfranchised Kikuyu who, in the 1950s, rose up in revolt against British colonial authorities and any tribe that co-operated with them.
Although the Mau Mau were defeated, the rebellion sapped the will of the British to stay in Kenya. In the early 1960s, Kenya became an independent republic under the leadership of Jomo Kenyatta, a British-educated Kikuyu who held a PhD in social anthropology from Manchester University. Like most new African leaders, Kenyatta eventually used the state apparatus to enrich his friends and relatives.
But the children of the Mau Mau were not among the beneficiaries. They eked out subsistence existences in the villages, and when the harvest failed, migrated to the slums of Kenya’s large cities to join the reserve army of labour. There, they languished in growing resentment of the Kikuyu elite and their European allies.
When Kenyatta passed away, the presidency of the country fell into the hands of his vice-president, Daniel arap Moi, who, in imitation of his Kikuyu mentor, used the state to support the advancement of his own ethnic group (the Kalenjin), leaving the Kikuyu to fend for themselves. This culminated in inter-tribal clashes that at time bordered on civil war.
This civil strife died down with Kenya’s return to multi-party democracy in the 1990s. The newfound political freedom gave the disenfranchised Kikuyu time to organize themselves — including the Mungiki. As one former Mungiki leader recently said, “We are the true sons of the Mau Mau … today is just like 1952 [when the Mau Mau insurgency began]. The government now is no better then those who collaborated with the British.”
But despite what Kenyan academics and journalists might call the “political agenda” of the Mungiki, the sect is wrapped in a complex and murky amalgam of traditional African and modern populist beliefs — many of them harkening back to some of the less savoury practices from pre-Christian Kikuyu customs: magic, witchcraft and sorcery mixed with ancestor worship.
We do not have a clear idea of the beliefs and practice of the Mungiki sect because most of it goes on in secret. We do know from interviews with current and former leaders that they reject modern Western culture, including Christianity. In their hostility to the West, Mungiki are known to have given up alcohol, smoking, watching Hollywood movies and wearing American baseball caps.
Instead, they pray “facing mount Kenya.” They have been known to publicly call for the circumcision of Kikuyu women, and have forced many to undergo this rite. Many sport dreadlocks and swear oaths of loyalty to Mungiki in secret. In some cases, they engage in ritualized murder — a pathology that anthropologists generally observe in pre-industrial societies going through periods of pronounced stress. They are also notoriously involved in a whole range of extortionist activities in Nairobi’s slums. These activities include extracting “protection payments,” various forms of informal taxation, and the violent domination of the informal transport sector. Mungiki leaders claim they can deliver more than a half a million voters to any politician who supports them.
With their bizarre rituals, and murderous ways, the Mungiki seem like an invention out of a racist’s imagination. But they are very real, and they symbolize many of Kenya’s problems — poverty, the agony and vulnerability of slum life, corruption and, above all, the country’s violent tribalization.
Despite all Kenya’s promise, it is shocking how little it has progressed in the half-century that has passed between the Mau Mau and the Mungiki.
Geoffrey Clarfield is a Toronto based writer and can be reached ongwclarfield@yahoo.com
Source: National Post
www.network.nationalpost.com/np/blogs/fullcomment/archive/2008/02/05/geoffrey-clarfield-from-mau-mau-to-mungiki-50-years-later-kenya-is-still-a-bloody-mess.aspx