The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops
against the window has turned into an intense thrum that signifies that the
rains are finally here. The onset of the short rains not only gives a columnist
a good background and intro, but also shows up the farcical nature of Kenyan
planning, and why the best intentions often come a cropper in an environment
where showiness is much more important than real action.
A drive through Nairobi’s streets a few
nights ago was an illustration of the limits of our style of management. That
evening, it had rained only moderately, and only for about an hour or so. Yet
the streets and intersections were showing the usual signs of flooding, despite
all the sincere noises that had been made about being prepared, finally, for
the long- anticipated El Niño deluge.
The issue at hand is not even the KSh
37,000 bars of soap and other attempts to use a predicted emergency to steal
from the public. It is that, as Kenyans, we now have a finely-developed habit
of showmanship over results; public pronouncements take the place of quiet
effectiveness. The result, predictably, is that nothing actually happens, and
Kenyans are left worse off than they were before.
In a column in the Business Daily last
year, I called it ‘management by magic bullet’. We’re fond of substituting the
necessary drudgery to make things work with loud pronouncements about what we
intend to do. The self-important photo ops of senior government leaders
‘inspecting El Niño preparedness’ take the place of young people simply
clearing drains, and of someone preparing public service announcements that
will tell you what to do if you’re caught in a dangerous flood scenario.
The symptoms are everywhere. I have sat
through countless government presentations about making life easier for foreign
investors, and very little about improving the lot of the small-scale
businesspeople who actually take most of the risk and provide the jobs that
power the Kenyan economy. There are dozens of photo-ops for international
businesspeople meeting the President at State House (or governors in their
mansions and offices across the land), when these investors are simply busy
judging a beauty contest between Kenya and other countries they are considering
investing in. But there are very few, if any, meetings on Presidential and
gubernatorial diaries with small-scale farmers, or hawkers, or kiosk owners who
want to scale up and grow to sufficient size to be competitive.
The little policy gestures, and their
necessary implementation, that would actually help to formalise and scale up
businesses in Kenya are on very few people’s radar, and thus get neglected in
the attempt to chase the few-and-far-between international investors we seem to
so adore. Little effort seems to be put into ensuring that policies and laws on
paper translate down to where it matters.
Supply chains for small businesspeople are
full of ravenous policemen, shortsighted counties levying illegal taxes, and
rickety roads. Licensing procedures may have been improved in theory, but
little happens on the ground to ensure that small businesspeople do not have to
navigate a thicket of tedious, and unnecessary, regulation.
The lack of adherence to the small (but
important) stuff is most evident in any Kenyan town today that has been taken
over by ill-trained, ill-disciplined motorcycle riders. If you haven’t had an
accident, or a near-miss, from these unhelmeted miscreants, consider yourself
lucky, or a victim-in-waiting. Motorcyclists believe in no law that applies to
them, but our enforcement attitude has been to wait until they become a rowdy,
unstoppable mob before we attempt to control them. Policemen and county
officials stand by while boda boda operators ride on pavements, into oncoming
traffic, and ignore all traffic lights. Yet, as sure as night follows day,
there will be an announcement of a crackdown when they cause a particularly
nasty accident, or when motorbike-riding murderers kill someone particularly
prominent. Yet this is a menace that could have been controlled at the outset.
Most Kenyan public policy is geared towards
the ribbon-cutting ceremony, or the red-carpeted speech. There is little
recognition that success is achieved step-by-step, through very dull, but very
necessary, steps, and that the photo-ops and bold headlines are only the cherry
on top of the cake that sits on the tip of a very big iceberg.
Many of those in charge in governments, county or national, have had the opportunity to visit Singapore, Israel, the United States or the United Kingdom and to a man or woman, they come back impressed by the clean streets, functional and functioning municipal services, and the sense of pomp and circumstance that holders of high office bring to the job. They want to emulate these foreign governments. They are, as you say, unwilling to do the little things that make the big things great.
ReplyDeleteIf you visit, for example, Governor Kidero's office, you will feel the importance he is accorded by the senior members of his government. So too with Governor Mutua, Gvernor Joho and the remaining forty four county governments. What you might miss are the abject conditions that the rank-and-file in these governments labour under. For example, the lifts in City Hall Annex are a hit-or-miss affair; sometimes they work; sometimes they don't. In either case they are always filthy.
When was the last time you had your yellow fever vaccine administered at City Hall? The doctors' office feels like an afterthought - after the internet, carpets, outriders and bodyguard have been provided for the governor. The governor will not personally sweep the streets of his city; but the men and women who do will do a bad job of it if they are treated like second-class employees by their governor and his senior staff. These are the small I things I speak of. You don't have to pay them the moon; but treat them with dignity and there is little that they will not accomplish. Treat them like rabble and they will turn your lofty Singapore dreams to rubble.