Matiang'i's 'sarakasi' is brainy and riveting and crosses many 'red lines'

Former Cabinet Secretary Fred Matiang’i wears many hats, although he wore none to church last Sunday in Othaya, where he and other leading opposition politicians converged in solidarity with Rigathi Gachagua, aka Riggy G, who had been smoked out from another church the previous weekend.

By smoking out, I mean having those irritating teargas canisters being lobbed inside the church, or firing in the air, two acts that trigger smoke and smog, and Riggy G has had to constantly flee for dear life, putting to the test his credentials as a valorised son of Mau Mau, whatever that means.

Matiang’i said such desecration of places of worship constitutes the crossing of a red line. He would know, he added, because he had served as the Cabinet Secretary in charge of Interior Security.

Virtually, all Riggy G’s previous outings, whether attending a funeral, wedding, or church service, had been disrupted by goons that, Matiang’i said, now walk side by side with police officers. Even though Matiang’i did not explain the genesis of this security model, it is suspected to have evolved from Kenya’s recent peacekeeping in Haiti, where goons and police walk side by side.

“Hiyo ndio akili mingi?” he posed, mocking whether the deployment of crooks to police our streets is a hallmark of “brain power.” This contrasted notion, propounded by Prezzo Bill Ruto about opposition politicians being pea-brained, “hawana akili,” he said, allegedly for not paving roads leading to their rural homes.

“Tuache hii sarakasi,” Matiang’i said for the umpteenth time, his fleshy face freshly shaven, then enumerated the different hats that he had worn, from serving as Education minister and subsequently that of Interior Security. He forgot to enumerate that of Information and Communication, perhaps because he did not remember much about it.

Which would have been surprising, as Matiang’i recalled everything else, some dating back to 2003, when departed Prezzo Mwai Kibaki introduced free universal education.

And now, Matiang’i said, straight-faced, delivered a stinging rebuke of Prezzo Ruto’s insults with well-aimed bouts of his own. “Sisi hatuwatukani,” he reminded, before proceeding to explain the misadventures in various sectors of our country that he said were a direct consequence of “too much akili,” not its deficiency, being deployed by Prezzo Ruto and his administration.

“Sijui kama ni akili imewazidia,” Matiang’i chided, meaning the task of bearing humongous brain power was to blame for the defunding of schools, so that had kept more and more kids at home, rather than at school learning, because those at the helm were staggering from bearing the weight on their heads.

“Tunaongea pole pole,” Matiang’i went on, to imply he and his ilk were intent on swaying supporters from the force of their arguments, rather than the levels of decibels generated by those who had too much akili or brainpower.

To illustrate his point, Matiang’i wondered how Nairobi’s State House could clear through a neat pile of cash, some Sh7 billion, in his estimate, in just three months, when they do not run a school or hospital. I was about to speculate they possibly opened a church there that was a State priorit but then I think churches tend to receive from, not dispense cash to, congregants.

“Kenya is suffering because it’s under average leadership,” Matiang’i concluded with the same gentleness of punch so that “average” did not sound as an assessment of mental vacuity, but an impediment that could be overcome when the citizens make the appropriate judgment calls at the polls.

The last jab was spared for the church, the same house whose sanctity he wanted upheld. They were complicit, he charged, in ushering Prezzo Ruto’s administration, or “kisirani,” as he called it, a phenomenon that defies easy translation. They also had the power to undo it, he said, if the electorate gave Matiang’i and his team the power to undo the mess occasioned by the use of too much akili by Prezzo Ruto and his team.