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A Tale of Exile
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Kenya and The Mantle of the First-Born
Childhood.
We were born six siblings in my family, the first five following each other pretty close. That made growing up in the seventies in rural Kenya a lot of fun for us. Without the modern toys every child is brought up with these days, our imagination grew rich and vibrant as we improvised games, imaginary friends, and scenarios from the banal, to the absurd, to the grandiose. I remember the day we ganged up with huge tree branches to go and kill Gladys, our first-born sister's imaginary friend who lived under a tree behind our house.
What made imaginary Gladys extraordinary was that we had all bought into her existence. Our elder brother installed lighting for Gladys, attaching a tiny torch bulb to a piece of copper wire and Eveready battery. We cooked for Gladys using any odd leaves, a tomato illegally harvested from mum's kitchen, a Kimbo tin for a pan, and a miniature three stone fire. If she was lucky we would even make ugali. She was real to us, even if she had no physical form. Ordinarily, when children create imaginary friends, their siblings or friends do not share in the vision. But my sister's Gladys became "ours". And eventually the call to homicide to send her away from our world was just as real.
There we were, a file of five snot-nosed kids hauling branches down the dirt path to go and end the life of an imaginary friend, a vision whose mission had expired. This is one memory that still leaves us falling off the chairs in stitches. In my quiet moments, childhood memories remind me of my big sister's peanut head bobbing up and down the footpaths, leading the gang, bearing upon her little shoulders the mantle of the first-born. She created the vision, sold it to us, allowed us all to enjoy its reality, and led us to ending it when the time came.
The first-born's mantle is that of leadership, of responsibility, of taking initiative. It comes with honour, respect, and power. It is also the painful mantle of self-sacrifice.
Adulthood.
Traditionally, in many Kenyan families, the mantle of leadership is bestowed upon the first son, regardless of whether there's a girl before him or not. While the crown of honour and power glitters on his head, the burden of responsibility weighs heavy on his shoulders. He is expected to conform, to bring pride to the clan, and to bear sons who will carry on the family name. But the modern socio-cultural structures are not very friendly to this tradition, what with everyone being nurtured into a bread-earner.
The equivalent of the first son's special stool in the hut is now the swiveling chair behind a mahogany desk; it belongs to whosoever merits it, boy or girl. We all begin to know what it means to bear the mantle of the first-born, whether we are the forgotten middle-born or the favoured last-born. Some siblings are simply born leaders, and there's no stopping them. Did not Jacob usurp the leadership blessings traditionally reserved for Esau? Has not Tinga Tinga usurped the big stool traditionally reserved for Oburu? And speaking in the broadest sense of family, has not Charity usurped the bow and arrow traditionally reserved for Kalonzo? It matters not, but that the cloak fits its wearer.
The tragedy happens when a sibling fights to sit on a stool he or she does not merit, to wear a crown his or her head cannot carry, to don a mantle his or her shoulders cannot bear. This is the tragedy of Kenya, that we have become a family guided by inept siblings for leaders. What happened to leaders with vision?
Vision begins with a notion of the mind and a conviction of the heart. Without a leader's conviction to a grand idea, a people can never be moved to action.
Nationhood.
We stand at a precarious point in the history of our "nation", if it could be so called. No, I'm not about to go into clichés of tribalism, nepotism, cronyism, ism, ism, ism. The precariousness I want to bring to our attention is the exodus of young Kenyans running to other countries as economic exiles. Since that word "retrenchment" gained a head complete with horns, fangs, and a big eye at the centre of the forehead, our lot has been terrorized into the Americas and Europe, investing their golden handshakes in the shaky venture of living the life of an exile.
The majority of course are those who still have to remain in the country and figure out a tomorrow which holds no promises. Some have invested in private businesses, built upon the quicksand of an economy gone to the dogs. Some still seem to be climbing the ladder of success, a ladder set upon the quicksand of foreign NGOs in "Third World" countries. Some are returning to their rural homes to till the land, a land dependent on the quicksand of nature's unpredictable seasons.
What we need right now is a plan, a vision, a solid promise for tomorrow that will stir us to action today. But our first-borns are busy having a party with the family spoils. It's time for the Jacobs among us to arise and usurp that mantle of the first-born.
Inter-Nationhood.
We know that our nation now extends beyond its geographical borders, courtesy of all the Kenyan exiles abroad. For this part of the Kenyan nation that overflows across the seas, we know that our hearts and minds are not severed from our country, our people, and when we pretend we don't care, we are simply practicing our emotional survival tactics.
We struggle to shake off that "foster child" syndrome that comes with being a foreigner who thinks they have nowhere else to go, whether we are citizens, residents, temporary immigrants, or illegal aliens. We look for our own kind, seeking familiar warmth wherever we can find it, in physical neigbourhoods or virtual spaces. A good number of us have become a well endowed lot and important chips in the academic and corporate mosaics of foreign lands. Some of us are comfortable enough to be cruising the waters of opportunity with no sense of urgency.
It is somewhere in this comfort zone of opportunity and personal growth that we have thrown away the mantle of the first-born. We must once again take up the spirit of the usurper that caused us to dare to explore the land beyond the seas, to dream, and to achieve. We have nurtured enough first-born power to shift crucial paradigms that are now detrimental to the well-being of our nation.
The only challenge is that we need a first-born among us to sound the clarion call that will drive us to action as a common block. Not a "messiah", for no human being should be crowned "deliverer"; that is the recipe for a cult, not for nation-building. A visionary leader inspires synergy and causes the sum-total of our abilities to achieve far more than the individual expression of the same. Let they that know they can bear the mantle take it NOW. To know and to declare that you can lead is a necessary act of hubris. To seek to lead just to "eat" is an act of primal instinct driven by fear; it belongs to the jungle. To really be an effective leader is an act of sacrifice, of humility, and of wisdom.
Let us therefore remember to lift each other up as the Kenyan family, to continuously challenge and change for the better. For there are many amongst our siblings at home and abroad who need a hand, advice, a little push in the right direction. To stretch out a hand for another, that alone, is indeed the mark of a first-born.
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