How the young and restless could change Kenya’s political future By Peter Dörrie

[Elisabeth Janaina]

How the young and restless could change Kenya’s political future
By Peter Dörrie
August 4, 2017
0
Share:

The headlines after 8 August will be about Kenyatta vs. Odinga. But
the real contest for Kenya’s future is being waged at a more intimate
and local level.
MCA candidate Samantha Maina on the campaign trail. Credit: Peter Doerrie.

MCA candidate Samantha Maina on the campaign trail. Credit: Peter Doerrie.

There is an epic battle afoot over the future of Kenya, but it’s not
happening where you might expect. As the 8 August general elections
approach, the ever-closer contest for the top job is understandably
getting much of the attention. But given the only minor differences in
their political platforms, it’s unlikely a Raila Odinga presidency
would produce markedly different outcomes from a second term under
Uhuru Kenyatta.

[Kenyatta vs. Odinga: A study in contrasts]

The real fight for Kenya’s political transformation is unfolding
elsewhere and being led by a new generation.

One of those leading this fight is Eddy Oketch, who is running for
senate in Migori in western Kenya. He is one of a number of young
candidates across the country to have emerged from the country’s
social and human rights movements.

For contenders like Oketch, running for office is not just about
changing political outcomes but also the modes through which politics
is conducted. This has led to some distinct approaches to
electioneering.

“My style of campaigning is community-based,” says Oketch from the
back of his black SUV as it barrels out of Migori town, his driver
nonchalantly accelerating over speed bumps. “Most candidates just go
to big rallies with loud music. I meet with people in their
communities. I sit down with them in their houses and talk about my
policy. They tell me about their issues, I tell them how I think our
country should be run.”

The car swerves right and enters a patch of grass between a few houses
where around 150 people are waiting. The crowd is made up of locals
that the wannabe senator’s advance team has identified as influential.

Oketch jumps out to greet them. What follows is a lively back and
forth, alternating between questions from the audience, unabashed
campaign rhetoric, and civic education on the role of senators. As the
young candidate had promised, this is no typical Kenyan campaign
rally.
Eddy Oketch making the case for why voters should trust in him.

Eddy Oketch making the case for why voters should trust in him.
Credit: Peter Doerrie.

However, Oketch does come prepared with a stump speech that he will
repeat several times that day. It ranges from his personal story – of
how he grew up in Migori and spent time on the streets before getting
a scholarship to Yale University – to his policy agenda. He explains
that, if elected, his top priorities would include better oversight of
the county budget and small-scale agricultural and manufacturing
investment to boost economic prospects for young people.

The crowd responds positively, but then this is one of Oketch’s
strongholds. Among less supportive voters, those who equate age with
experience and personal wealth with political desirability, the fact
that the young candidate doesn’t conform to type may be more of a
barrier.
Young, female, unmarried, and on foot

Samantha Maina, a 26-year-old running to be a Member of County
Assembly (MCA) in Kileleshwa, a ward in Nairobi, has to fight similar
prejudices.

“I do not look like a politician. I’m not married – that is an issue.
I’m young. I don’t come in a big car, I’m walking. People react to
this on the campaign trail,” she says.

Maina takes a more limited approach to canvassing than Oketch, who
visits an average of eight communities each day.

“The campaign money is not funding my living,” she says. “I continue
to work in our family’s business.” She hits the campaign trail in the
afternoons and evenings, walking from door to door in Kileleshwa. The
ward is considered middle-class, but today, Maina and her team are in
the northern part where ramshackle traders’ stalls and bars line
unpaved roads with open sewers.

“I come from a middle-class background and a single parent home,” she
says. “Before the campaign I knew few people in the neighbourhood.”
She nevertheless insists that Kileshawa is home.

“I’ve schooled here and I’ve seen how bad it has become. There is no
local leadership. There are no proper walkways and the roads are
deteriorating. We have potholes the size of craters. In some, you can
literally leave your car. There is a lack of proper lighting and that
increases security issues. We have boda-boda [motorcycle] issues where
you are being robbed in broad daylight. I just want to get these
things done.”

Around the ward, there are dozens of posters of Maina’s smiling face,
but she tries to have direct contact with as many voters as possible.
“I want to change things through public participation. I want to go to
the people and listen to their priorities,” she says. “This is more
intimate. It takes more work, but it is an interesting experience.”
She estimates that by the end of the campaign, she may have talked to
2,000 of Kileleshwa’s 24,000 voters in person.

For many people, this is an unusual experience. As one voter commented
happily after meeting Oketch, “no politician has come and sat down
with us before”.
Maina campaigns with some of her team of young volunteers.

Maina campaigns with some of her team of young volunteers. Credit:
Peter Doerrie.

This new style of local electioneering based around policies could
prove to be effective in 2017. But it almost certainly wouldn’t have
done in the past. It is only since power was significantly devolved
under Kenya’s 2010 constitution that local power has been demystified.
Unlike previously, voters today can scrutinise how local politicians
use their budgets and authority.

[Kenya’s 2017 elections will be like none before. Here’s why.]

In some counties, people have seen roads and bridges being built,
while in others they have simply watched as local leaders have come to
drive nicer cars.

“Our MCA did nothing for us”, says one voter in Kileleshwa. “I voted
for him in 2013, but this time I’ll vote for someone else.”

The new electoral process also works to the advantage of fresh
candidates. Except for the president, all other levels of office are
elected by a simple majority. This means that with several contenders
splitting the field, it is possible to win with even a relatively
small fraction of the vote.
Money rules the campaign trail

When choosing to run for office, both Oketch and Maina decided to
reject the big political platforms such as the ruling Jubilee party
and opposition National Super Alliance (NASA). Oketch is running as an
independent, while Maina joined the Ukweli Party, the brainchild of
the prominent activist Bonifance Mwangi. Ukweli, meaning “truth” in
Swahili, is only running 12 nominees, having turned away candidates
that did not meet its requisite standards of integrity.

In both Oketch and Maina’s races, there are nearly ten contenders,
amongst whom the Jubilee and NASA candidates are the greatest
challenge. Politicians backed by these coalitions are usually
associated with a specific ethnic identity, guaranteeing them support
from those that vote purely on those grounds.

Furthermore, because NASA and Jubilee encourage candidates to
essentially buy a place on the party ticket, their nominees are,
almost by definition, wealthy. $250,000 is considered a normal
campaign budget for a seat in the National Assembly.

In Kenya, money has long been the best way for politicians to
differentiate themselves from opponents. Campaign swag like t-shirts
and drinks, or simply a few Kenyan Shillings in cash, are considered
essential to turn out the vote.

“Voters here expect to be given money,” says Oketch. “Politicians
interact with them on a very superficial level. You just go and leave
money.”

However, this new generation of politicians is eschewing this approach
and adopting a strict “no cash” rule. Oketch says that he urges people
to forgo the short-term gain of accepting money in exchange for votes
in favour of longer-term benefits that come from voting for the
candidate with the best policies. “You deconstruct notions like
tribalism and the role of money in politics by constantly re-educating
people,” he says.

But Oketch and others do not stop there. They are trying to turn the
traditional model of money in politics on its head. Instead of
distributing money to the masses, they invite people to contribute to
them.
Boniface Mwangi (in red) poses with voters. Credit: Boniface Mwangi.

Boniface Mwangi (in red) poses with voters. Credit: Boniface Mwangi.

The well-known activist Mwangi has been the most successful in this
regard. According to his campaign manager, Khadija Mohamed, he has
raised $53,000 through these methods, mostly from small donations.
“The split is from all tribes, we can tell by their names,” she adds.

With much less of a public profile, Maina has raised only about $700
so far. But because her campaign team is made up of enthusiastic
volunteers, she can spend her entire budget on pamphlets, posters and
logistics.
The hard part begins after the votes are cast

Oketch, Maina and Mwanga all say that they have a good chance of
winning on 8 August. But nobody knows for sure. There are no reliable
opinion polls for these races.

Moreover, even if they do spring a surprise, it is unclear if they
will fulfil their campaign promises. Historically, both Kenya and
Africa more broadly have had their fair share of reformist politicians
come to office only for them to succumb to the pleasures of power.

[Kenya: On the hopes and limits of Boniface Mwangi’s revolution]

Willy Mutunga, Kenya’s Chief Justice from 2011 to 2016, has seen a few
of these promising revolutionaries turn into power-hungry strongmen.
He warns against relying on the inherent integrity of individual
politicians.

[Kenya has become a “bandit economy”, says Chief Justice Willy Mutunga]

“We need to bring intellectualism, ideology and politics into new
parties like Ukweli,” he says. “You need to build institutions around
the individuals. And they need to stay connected to their roots in
activism. Social movements need to hold them accountable.”

Oketch is aware of these tensions between being in power and staying
connected, but he believes it is possible to bridge this divide.
“After winning the election, you go back to the community and every
step of the way you walk with them,” he says after a long day of
campaigning. “From the time you get into leadership to the time you
leave leadership, you should be able to walk with them every step of
the way.”

For a long time, there has been a certain way of doing politics in
Kenya. But a new generation of leaders like Oketch and Maina, plucked
from Kenya’s young population, is refusing to conform. They are
forging their own path and changing what it means to be a politician.

The headlines after 8 August 2017 will be about whether Odinga or
Kenyatta secured the presidency. But, ultimately, the real contest for
Kenya’s future and what it could be is being waged by a new kind of
candidate at a much more intimate and local level.