Our Kenyan elections, where the people vote, but the judges decide.

The Kenyan August 2022 General Elections have been dubbed the blandest, most boring elections ever since the return of the multiparty elections in 1991. Now, the initial reaction is to resist the title of Boring. I am a millennial after all and so, I am afflicted by the perpetual desire to be special and unique. That the comparison stands considering the history of Kenyan elections, starting from the Mlolongo system where Kenyan voters queued all day, and the candidate with the longest queue won is saying something. Then we went to the ballot system with a manual voter register, a system that was rife with voter drama, manual addition and subtraction of voters and illegal stuffing of ballot boxes. We are halfway into the digital age now, I could say we are quasi-digital, where the voter register is online, and voters are identified by their biometrics but the vote counting is done by lifting the ballot paper up and loudly reading out loud the voter's choice, then piling the ballot papers for a manual count. I remember laughing when I saw videos of vote counting online and seeing it actually done. It was a sad laugh, but still.

Unfortunately, I found myself as an involuntary observer in this year's general elections. For context, I am a 26-year-old Kenyan who has never registered as a voter and consequently, has never voted in any election. It is not something I am proud of, in fact, it fills me with sorrow and a sprinkling of shame after witnessing the mini-circus that is the Supreme Court hearing of the disputed election results. I am keeping in mind the Azimio truck purported to be carrying the evidence of electoral fraud for this year's elections, as disputing results is becoming a piece of the original culture of Kenyan elections.

Now, let me take a couple of steps back and highlight what not voting meant for me and a group of people I know. The Kenyan general elections are held every 5 years, and traditionally, have been a cause for spectacle, drama, pain, horror, joy and a means to change lives, depending on which side of the rails you were born in. Kenyan politics have long been drawn along very deeply entrenched tribal lines, with the fate of the country lying in the hands of the fraction of the 44 tribes, namely Kikuyus who are the most populous, followed closely by Kalenjins then Luos. The Kalenjins and Kikuyus regularly fall in and out of bed together, so they technically have a big say in the direction and tonality of whoever wants to win the Big Seat in the country. Whose ass they kiss, who they blame for the economic woes, things like that. The Kamba community has famously and historically been neutral for the most part, their hearts seemingly easily swayed and have therefore been proven to be a bit unreliable, they are what the Americans consider a Swing state, basically could go either way. They could be turning up to your rallies and chanting your name but shock you when the ballot numbers start to trickle in. The Coast community could potentially be considered as another swing voting block, but slightly skewed towards Luos. The rest of the country usually aligns with whoever the majority is in that season.

Now that we have covered the basics of the voting blocks, we will take a look at the seasonal behaviour that blows into town every 5 years. There is usually a certain tension in the air whenever we have to make a decision on who occupies the big house on the hill. Kenyans have a tendency to be emotionally and even spiritually tied to their leaders. Since these leaders, more often than not, come from their communities, those ties are natural. However, we also tend to go overboard in their idolization, taking their word for Gospel and being sheeplike in our actions based on their direction. People who have been living and working together, having their kids brought up together suddenly turned into mortal enemies because a politician lifted a finger and pointed. The most devastating effect of this culture came to head in the 2007 elections where the post elections' chaos and violence resulted in the deaths of several hundred people and the displacement of up to 600,000 people, some of who are still considered IDPs (internally displaced people)in their own country. The fact that it took so little for the citizens to turn against each other spoke volumes of the depth of tribal divisions in the country. Thankfully we have not experienced that kind of violence since and we hope it remains that way.

The underlying thread to all this, and why a lot of Kenyans seem to be on a hair trigger could be because we are a third-world country, hanging on a thread, struggling to eke out a living from this rocky farmland and our economy has had its ass handed to it by the deteriorating shilling. Things are not good, people are perpetually angry and anxious and when given a target for their anger, they will not hesitate to aim and fire, which is perfectly natural. However, our politicians have perfected the art of exploiting this perma-tension by finding a scapegoat, usually from the opposing tribe, or someone who did not play ball when they were in bed together and hanging them out to dry, and election season is prime time to switch up the gear and get people fired up. This formula has always seemed to work, except this election season.

This season has been characterised by the most boring of campaigns. The politicians did not put in the effort they usually do by charming the masses with their half-cooked excuses, semi-exciting parables and victimhood. Kenyans seemed to have been able to see through it. Witnessing our country being run like a private pocket money fund could also be the cause of the greatest voter apathy seen. Or, perhaps the economic strife that has plagued all citizens alike, regardless of political affiliation has been the seismic shift that we needed to shake loose our senses and get us to see our reality the way it is, and not the lenses coloured by tribal violence as has been traditional.

From my end, I was not convinced that queueing for 8 hours to vote and having my vote not really matter was a good use of my time. My inner conspiracist believed the voter outcome is already predetermined and I, therefore, did not see the appeal of wasting my time voting. A lot of young people seem to have felt the same way because voter apathy was at a record high, and the voter turnout of 56.17%, the lowest it has ever been in this country. There are a lot of factors that led to that, and of course, the decision to vote or not is ultimately personal. One thing I think is of note is that for a country that runs almost entirely on the digital system, not having a digital voting system seems incongruous with our operating model, What I know is, if I could have had the option of voting from my phone, I would have done so. I think a lot of Kenyan youth feel the same way.

Now let us look at the side shows that dominated the election culture this season. We have always had moments of lightheartedness to break the heaviness that making a decision of the country's CEO for 5 years tends to bring. We had Githeri man last elections who, in an organic moment, was seen on the queue with a bag of Githeri as he waited in the long line to carry out his democratic right. His life changed dramatically, if only for a moment, and he got brand deals and money flowing his way, he even got a CBE commendation from the president. This year's elections were filled with lots of clout-chasing youth looking for that Githeri man moment, with some being spotted in the queues with towels on, minimal clothing, foodstuff and just begging for that lightning strike but it never happened. Can't really blame them, you have to do what you can do to get that golden ticket, and if braving the chill, wearing a pink towel around your waist clutching a toothbrush at 6.00 am is one way, what can we say?

Another classic and original moment of the Kenyan elections is Raila Amolo Odinga refusing to accept losing the popular vote. He has notably refused to accept defeat 5 times, since 1997, each time with a claim of electoral fraud. Each election result was contested in court, where the most recent case, against William Samoei Ruto, is set for a decision announcement by the Supreme Court of Kenya this coming Monday 5th September 2022. After witnessing the councils from both sides of the argument getting schooled in court, resorting to nursery rhymes and sweating profusely trying to justify their arguments, (Seriously though, what was that Azimio lorry carrying?) and then reading a headline from The New York Times, saying - In Kenya, the people vote, then the judges decide, I am now more determined than ever to ensure I get my name on that voter to register and to make my voice heard. I think it is time to make my voice count, for real this time.