Kunyonga is not in the Constitution. That clarification brought the house down. And united Kenyans.
What Agano Party deputy presidential candidate Ruth Mucheru clearly meant and what most of her audience chose to hear were two different things. Happens all the time.
Mucheru was responding to questions on how to deal with corruption by journalists Zubeida Koome (KTN) and Francis Gachuiri (Citizen TV) during the first televised deputy presidential debates on July 19.
She was on the floor with Roots Party’s Justina Wamae. Why lie, “pundits agree” Wamae stole the show with her extensive grasp of public affairs, fascinating eloquence and sheer presence.
Mucheru meant hanging corruption convicts, but it turned out to be a moment of learning for those who did not know what the full phrase “kunyonga monkey” means in Kenya’s world class linguistic invention, Sheng.
Later, the second session of the debate was a veritable clash of titans. Rigathi Gachagua of UDA and Martha Karua of Azimio left Kenyans riveted to their TV screens and radio sets. Print editors across town bit the back ends of their biros for the hundredth time, refusing to send their papers to bed until the debate was done.
Lively post-debate analysis consumed hours of airtime on TV, radio and online live shows, and produced acres of newspaper commentaries for at least the next 48 hours. Social media was ablaze as Gachagua and Karua trended.
The entire nation was talking.
And that is the whole point of televised debates during election. The Star encapsulated the essence in a pithy editorial:
“Presidential debates are getting popular worldwide. The forums help voters get clarity on the rhetoric by politicians out on the campaign trail,” Lion Place wrote.
“The candidates, on the other hand, get an opportunity to reach a much wider audience to expound their positions and values”.
Yet no debate or interview is exhaustive or conclusive. And any media political debates need not be. They are not evangelical crusades where people are invited to “come expecting a miracle”.
You have attended a public lecture. It’s enough that the platforms provide some information and provoke critical questions for further inquiry and analysis by journalists, researchers or any citizen.
Watching debates instigates voters to think about what the election means for them and who among the candidates might have some bankable answers to pressing public problems. There are no easy solutions to anything. No magic bullet. No miracle.
In fact, whoever wins an election – president, governor, MP, Senator, woman rep or MCA – must face the daunting task of managing public expectations once the dust of the campaign settles; that is, matching the soaring rhetoric with the onerous job of delivery.
That is the case with every election, but more so in 2022 when Kenya’s economy is deep in the doldrums – huge public debt, mass unemployment, hopeless poverty, hunger, high level theft of public money. Things will certainly get worse before they get better – if at all.
Debates offer a dedicated opportunity for citizens to intimately reflect on national leadership and re-imagine their country.
Seeing a politician defend a proposal on TV and get his feet held to the fire by experienced journalists is qualitatively far better than reading the same proposal in a manifesto on your own, or hearing it trumpeted from the podium on the charged campaign trail where the acquiescent audience, often bussed to the venue or motivated by other means to attend, cheers even the politico’s sneezing.
On Tuesday, the four presidential candidates in this year’s election – William Ruto, Raila Odinga, George Wajackoya and David Mwaure – are expected to face Kenyans in the second and final live debate.
Tune in and urge your family and friends to do so as well. But don’t come expecting a miracle.
See you next week!
