Just weeks ago people stood in line to vote. Today they stand in line for food.
The Kenya election took place on Thursday, December 27. Two days after Christmas. According to reporters it was a clean, well run election, until the ballots reached the ECK (the Electoral Commission of Kenya).
We left Nairobi on the 24th. Took the train to Mombassa. To a lovely beach. Soft sand. Blue water. The hotel staff were fired up to vote. They all took shifts and went to a small town near the hotel, to vote. They felt change in the air. They wanted Odinga. It was clear that Odinga was the front runner. The election was his.
The day after the elections people waited for results. As the hours dripped by, people became restless. They wanted results. They smelled corruption, rigging. They took to the streets. By the 28th there was chaos in the streets. Tires burned. Shops looted. Roads blocked. People injured.
We were in a boat. On aqua colored water, cruising the white sands, looking for dolphins. We pulled into a reef. We slathered on sun screen to get ready for snorkeling. The driver’s cell phone rang. It was base. I listened and heard something about a loud noise and we must go back. Thunder I thought? Strange, the sky is clear. Our driver explained that on shore rioting broke out and guns were being fired, he thought it best we go back to the hotel. We agreed.
At the hotel, while people played tennis, sipped pina coladas, we were glued to the TV.
Saturday the ECK held a press conference. The head of ECK took the microphone, said he would report on the four final areas that had not yet been announced and then he would announce the final presidential results. As he read the provincial results “ODM X, PNU Y….” I thought “they are really going to do this.” As you started to tally the votes in your head, it was evident that the four final areas were going to put Kibaki ahead. But before he could even get that far, in front of our eyes, anarchy broke out in the press room. A man stood and challenged the speaker, more and more people stood. People got on chairs. Climbed over chairs. Yelled. Waved their arms. Pushed their neighbors. Remember, this is a political press conference. Soon the Chairman of ECK was escorted out by armed guards while others followed.
Within moments Ralia Odinga entered the room. His gang following. He sat in the chair of the Chairman of ECK. “Rigging,” he claimed. “This election has been rigged.” They would not accept the results.
One hour later, in a closed room, the ECK announced Kibaki the winner. Ten minutes later Kibaki was formally sworn in as President. Kibaki declared the following day a holiday. A friend said to me, welcome to your first African coup. People ran from their radios, phones and TVs and the real mayhem started. 30 minutes later all live media coverage was cut off.
People lit fires, hacked each other with machetes, blocked roads, burned houses. Yelled, screamed, cried and pleaded. Kenya spiraled.
Around us at the beach resort, people swam. The hotel “animation team” held step classes by the pool. The 4pm tea had a line of people.
The next morning we were to head back to Mombassa, but the airport was closed. Mobs had taken over the airport road. Reports in Nairobi were grim. Mombassa was no better. Stay? Go? We called the airlines and the next flight out was January 3. We were stuck.
While going back to Nairobi did not appear to be safe, staying on the coast was worse. Petrol would run out, the town we were in was out of gas. Taxi drivers immediately doubled their price. Food was limited—people stood in line in the next town over for maize. Limited transport, fuel and food, meant chaos. There is only one road in and out, meaning, to get to the airport, we’d have to take that road and a short ferry. Anyone with some boulders and a couple pangas could easily block that road.
We got a flight and left the hotel at 5am in a convoy of eight cars and armed guards to the airport.
We got to the airport fine. However, when we went to pay for our ticket the women said, we need cash, nobody is taking credit cards anymore. We had ventured out the day before to find cash. All banks on the coast were closed and had been for the last four days because of riots and holidays. All the ATMs were dry. We begged, borrowed and finally made it on the plane.
The Kenya election took place on Thursday, December 27. Two days after Christmas. According to reporters it was a clean, well run election, until the ballots reached the ECK (the Electoral Commission of Kenya).
We left Nairobi on the 24th. Took the train to Mombassa. To a lovely beach. Soft sand. Blue water. The hotel staff were fired up to vote. They all took shifts and went to a small town near the hotel, to vote. They felt change in the air. They wanted Odinga. It was clear that Odinga was the front runner. The election was his.
The day after the elections people waited for results. As the hours dripped by, people became restless. They wanted results. They smelled corruption, rigging. They took to the streets. By the 28th there was chaos in the streets. Tires burned. Shops looted. Roads blocked. People injured.
We were in a boat. On aqua colored water, cruising the white sands, looking for dolphins. We pulled into a reef. We slathered on sun screen to get ready for snorkeling. The driver’s cell phone rang. It was base. I listened and heard something about a loud noise and we must go back. Thunder I thought? Strange, the sky is clear. Our driver explained that on shore rioting broke out and guns were being fired, he thought it best we go back to the hotel. We agreed.
At the hotel, while people played tennis, sipped pina coladas, we were glued to the TV.
Saturday the ECK held a press conference. The head of ECK took the microphone, said he would report on the four final areas that had not yet been announced and then he would announce the final presidential results. As he read the provincial results “ODM X, PNU Y….” I thought “they are really going to do this.” As you started to tally the votes in your head, it was evident that the four final areas were going to put Kibaki ahead. But before he could even get that far, in front of our eyes, anarchy broke out in the press room. A man stood and challenged the speaker, more and more people stood. People got on chairs. Climbed over chairs. Yelled. Waved their arms. Pushed their neighbors. Remember, this is a political press conference. Soon the Chairman of ECK was escorted out by armed guards while others followed.
Within moments Ralia Odinga entered the room. His gang following. He sat in the chair of the Chairman of ECK. “Rigging,” he claimed. “This election has been rigged.” They would not accept the results.
One hour later, in a closed room, the ECK announced Kibaki the winner. Ten minutes later Kibaki was formally sworn in as President. Kibaki declared the following day a holiday. A friend said to me, welcome to your first African coup. People ran from their radios, phones and TVs and the real mayhem started. 30 minutes later all live media coverage was cut off.
People lit fires, hacked each other with machetes, blocked roads, burned houses. Yelled, screamed, cried and pleaded. Kenya spiraled.
Around us at the beach resort, people swam. The hotel “animation team” held step classes by the pool. The 4pm tea had a line of people.
The next morning we were to head back to Mombassa, but the airport was closed. Mobs had taken over the airport road. Reports in Nairobi were grim. Mombassa was no better. Stay? Go? We called the airlines and the next flight out was January 3. We were stuck.
While going back to Nairobi did not appear to be safe, staying on the coast was worse. Petrol would run out, the town we were in was out of gas. Taxi drivers immediately doubled their price. Food was limited—people stood in line in the next town over for maize. Limited transport, fuel and food, meant chaos. There is only one road in and out, meaning, to get to the airport, we’d have to take that road and a short ferry. Anyone with some boulders and a couple pangas could easily block that road.
We got a flight and left the hotel at 5am in a convoy of eight cars and armed guards to the airport.
We got to the airport fine. However, when we went to pay for our ticket the women said, we need cash, nobody is taking credit cards anymore. We had ventured out the day before to find cash. All banks on the coast were closed and had been for the last four days because of riots and holidays. All the ATMs were dry. We begged, borrowed and finally made it on the plane.
