How did the 14 little angels of Kenya die at Kakamega Primary School? A stampede was widely reported. What happened exactly? What caused the fatal commotion?
The children’s sudden deaths on Monday afternoon, February 3, shocked the nation. The pain of losing a child is unfathomable. Only tears can express the utter desolation of unspeakable sorrow.
But many hours later, former president Daniel arap Moi died. All media attention shifted almost entirely to the politician. That is Kenyan journalism’s best subject. The politician. The children were almost forgotten.
Never mind that Moi’s death at the ripe age of 95 was not a surprise. He had been ailing in hospital for months, most of that time on life support.
Not many Kenyans live to be 95 in a thoroughly messed up society where the basics of life are often missing. Millions die young. Only a tiny elite might be kept for months on life support at public expense.
But in the world of mainstream journalism, all deaths are not equal. Prominence tops. In this sense, the media entrenches social hierarchies. You have a Fourth Estate completely incapable of championing a truly transformed society where every life counts.
A glaring consequence of this was that reporters dwelt on writing stories eulogising Moi, who said what about the former president, and neglected thorough investigation of how the children died in Kakamega.
In moments of a major event in a sane society, like the tragic death of small children, people look to the media to help them understand what happened. If anyone practicing journalism doesn’t understand this critical role their profession plays, kindly find other things to do.
On any day, the county-based news correspondent is unreliable when the big story breaks. A good editor in the newsroom might guide the man or woman on the ground. But major news channels would usually dispatch an experienced reporter to the location to tell the story.
Yet we have 14 children dying in a school in unclear circumstances and editors in Nairobi are content with gabbled accounts by sleepy correspondents about what happened. What kind of journalism is that?
On Thursday, February 6, The Star ran a story titled, “Stampede: Ghosts, devil worship, wicked prank?” (p.2). The reader apparently was expected to take their pick. But that was only the first question.
The story’s kicker was another question: “Or was it a teacher caning pupils who fled in terror and tumbled down staircase?” Who was Lion Place asking these questions?
The story began with five more questions, one after another. “Was it a ghostly figure with a teacher’s body and a cow-like head that sent children into a panic and caused a stampede?
“Was it deadly devil worship linked with a businessman or church cults?
“Was it a teacher caning students who fled in terror?”
“Was it a prank?”
“Or did a child simply trip on the metre-wide concrete staircase, causing a stampede that killed 14 pupils at Kakamega Primary School on Monday?”
Oh boy! What goes in your mind when you read a story full of questions? Why do you read a newspaper, listen to radio news, watch news on TV or browse news sites?
To be informed. Who? What? When? Where? Why? How? Those are the basics of journalism. You don’t expect to be asked questions. Journalism is supposed to find the answers for you.
Kenyan journalism must bow its collective head in shame. Scribes failed the 14 children of Kakamega. May they rest in peace.
