Do you know this man?

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Of course you don’t. You can take a closer look if you want. He does look familiar now that you think about it, doesn’t he? Here is a hint: he is a policeman. That certainly throws a spanner in the works, doesn’t it?

You don’t know this man because you don’t care. It’s not even about ignorance. You just don’t care. You don’t care because you won’t meet this guy at Mercury. Or Brew. Or at Sierra. You won’t find him at all those places you frequent; Blankets and Wine, Rugby 7s, Bacchus. He doesn’t drive a Subaru, or post ceaseless pictures of it on Instagram. He doesn’t need to sound intelligent on Twitter. Or funny. Or schooled. He doesn’t actually have a Twitter account. I don’t think he does. But if he does I don’t see you following him because he isn’t cool enough for you. Urbane enough. Which is just as well because your paths will never cross. But tragically, if they ever do, you won’t notice.

Let’s take a detour for a minute.

Let’s say, for shits and giggles, the Ethiopian army is about to surge in through our border at Moyale. About a million of them. Armed. Chanting war-songs, stamping their boots in the dust that drifts to Kenya with an ominous message. In a month’s time they will march into the capital. Kenya is under an imminent attack from outside. An enemy with a face, a name, a flag. There is a grim radio announcement calling all able-bodied men (and the national women’s volleyball team) to go to their nearest police station and get armed, ready to defend our country. The national anthem plays endlessly on every TV and radio station. And Eric Wainaina’s haunting song plays in the air. Someone from Internal Security tweets messages like, “We suspect this is the work of the opposition, but we call on all of you to stand by this great nation.” And it gets 1.2M retweets. The drums of war are thudding.

You are suddenly confronted with an even bigger question; would you take a gun and die for this country? Would you spill your blood for Kenya?

I wouldn’t.

I wouldn’t put my life on the line for this country. I would pick that gun all right, but not to defend this country. To defend my family and myself. And perhaps close friends of mine. OK, maybe three. Hehe. But not Kenya. Let the boys in the barracks who are getting double-chinned on tax-free things die for this country for a change. Let Otieno Kajwang die – I see him humming his mapambano hymn as he marches north to meet the Ethiopians. Let the AG pick a gun. Let the Jubilee and Cord firebrands pick guns and fight. Them and all those chaps who fly flags from their juggernauts. They should be able to defend the honour of those flags. Not me. I won’t die for Kenya. Not even if it had breasts.

Why? Simply because Kenya won’t remember me once I’ve succumbed to an Ethiopian bullet. Kenya will move on. Quickly. Truth is, Kenya hasn’t given me much to make me die for it. The things it has given me are the things I deserve. “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country,” remember that line from J. F. Kennedy? I remain spectacularly unmoved by that quote.

How many times has your heart swelled with pride at being Kenyan? When was the last time you felt undeniably proud to be Kenyan? When? Westgate.

A pal of mine told me how when they were coming from Machakos during the infamous Masaku 7s, they saw Moi’s car rolling by, him seated, not back left, but front seat, waving at guys as they cheered wildly. All of them “watoto wa Nyayo” screaming and waving, and Moi with that wry grin, and sculpted face, waving back. My friend says it almost brought tears to her eyes seeing Moi. Made her feel “so Kenyan.” Maybe. But I told her that wasn’t patriotism. That was nostalgia. I could be wrong. But I doubt it. Patriotism is different. Patriotism is when you know without a doubt that you are in the right country, that your sense of belonging is irrefutable. That if you were to come back again in the next life, you would want to be born a Kenyan.

Would you want to be born Kenyan again?

My last moment of patriotism was watching Rudisha win the Olympic 800meters. You saw it didn’t you? That evening in the Olympic stadium, even the stars in the sky came out early that night, because the gods knew something big was about to go down. Rudisha was largely unknown. This was before the BBC and Vanity Fair headlined his triumph; “The greatest runner you’ve never heard of.” After that the world couldn’t forget Rudisha. Before the race he is believed to have told his Kenyan counterpart Timothy Kitum, who took silver, not to try keeping up with him if he wanted to win because he was going to pull some crazy shit. Rudisha knew. And as the world waited, and an unsuspecting stadium of 80,000 waited for the much-anticipated Usain Bolt/ Yohan Blake’s 200m final later on, nobody thought that an extraordinary happening was afoot. Nobody knew Rudisha was about to make the 800m race cool.

And I will never forget that race because it was so unexpected. So astonishing in its beauty. Watch that YouTube video. Rudisha, 6’3”, lithe, long limbed, graceful like an animal in Amboseli, eating the tracks with his spikes, headed for

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glory with that determined look on his face. Andy Bull of the Guardian newspaper described that moment: “Rudisha pulled the field around behind him, like a speedboat leading seven water-skiers.” He later went on to become the first man in history to run two laps of the track in under 1min 41secs. Of course lesser men tried to catch up with him in that race, and the ones who pushed their bodies to the limit, like the silver medallist, 18-year old Nijel Amos from Botswana, were carried from the track in a stretcher. A stretcher guys! But not our Rudisha. Not the Kenyan gladiator. Look at him moments after he broke that world record, how calm the guy was, how modestly he waved, how awe-inspiring he was, and how he stirred a sleeping Kenyan animal in you. Of course you felt that with Kemboi, right until he jumped on the Frenchman and gave him a “French hug.” Then you looked away to see if kids were watching.

That Rudisha moment and when the national anthem was played in the Olympic Stadium, and the world, the whole world stood for our flag and our Rudisha, that is something that makes you feel so proud to be Kenyan. You want to protect the flag. You will pick a gun at that moment.

The man in that picture up there is Wilson Kipsang Kiprotich. Another Kenyan champion. Men cut from the same cloth as Rudisha and Kemboi and Lorupe. Kipsang won the Frankfurt Marathon twice; won marathons in Japan and USA, then won numerous half marathons. He also won the London Marathon in 2012 taking to the cleaners big names like UK’s Mo Farah. Visit Kipsang’s Wikipedia. Google him. He’s a champion. Some even call him jambion. But it doesn’t matter what a sheep calls a lion, does it?

I met Kipsang at a SuperSport event. But I wouldn’t have known who he was had I met him in the streets. And I’m ashamed. I interviewed him and was struck at how unassuming he was. How hard these guys work for themselves and for our flag, despite how little we cheer them on.

Thirty of these guys, winning races, flying our flag, singing our national anthem can change how we feel about Kenya. This is homage to all the faceless athletes out there doing it for themselves, for their families and for Kenya.

But most importantly this is to the Ethiopians. Bring it on. Uhm, the injera, that is.

[Photo credit: Susan Wong.]

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46 Comments
  1. Nice read.. im somewhat patriotic. key word “somewhat,”,yes i know shame on me.., i love Erick wainaina but if i hear that song “mzalendo kenya” one more time at ANY function ill pull my hair out…we need a new “anthem” already…

  2. Nice piece Biko. As always. You have inadvertently understated Kipsang’s achievements. First of all, he is the mf current word record holder in the marathon. 2:03:23 it is. Now what that feat alone entails is worthy of two articles – believe me, very very few people can run 100m at the pace he runs 42Km. Then, to shut the doubters the hell up, he destroyed a stacked field in this years London Marathon. Arguably the fastest field ever assembled by humanity. The guy is a marathon God. Please edit and update the article with this guys accomplishment.

  3. Another fringe factoid: Mo Farah wasn’t running marathons in 2012 though Kipsang did win the London marathon then. Kipsang destroyed the field in 2014, that field included MoFarah.

  4. yani you write such an insipiring article then u sign off by asking the Ethiopians for food??????????? lol very good work, i love your blog

  5. I did not know that guy, would not have picked him from even 3 people, and would anyone blame me? I think not, because, we seem to have lost the plot of patriotism, and as it is, we only get moved by events that touch us at a personal level, like missing lunch

  6. If I had a choice to come back in another life, I would not come back Kenyan…I would come back in a country with a functional justice system. Yesterday I (sorry my husband) had to bribe a cop on my behalf, why because I had made a wrong turn, why? because I needed to get somewhere and a matatu was blocking me. Was the matatu arrested? No! It had gone already. The idiot who arrested me was in plainclothes ( I only stopped because he was outside the police station and well- he held a radio gadget too); is this the result of abolishing the traffic department? Who bloody knows. Now in this other country I dream of returning to in my next life, there would be a functional justice system, I would put a cash bail of 5,000 and be released then be in court by 8:00a.m the following day, be fined (a commensurate amount for a petty offence) and be in the office by 10:00a.m at the latest. But here in Kenya, I risk the humiliation of being held in them filthy police stations, wasting my entire day at the court, and being fined whatever the judge pleases.
    Not feeling Kenya very much right now.

  7. @Jacob Aliet covered what I was to say, and yes I would recognize him but that might be because I enjoy sporting events including athletics. Great piece and definitely bring on the injera. lol

  8. A real jambion…for a second i thought that is you in highschool..just for a second..couldn’t have picked a greater blog..ahem country to be in right now.

  9. As always, good stuff Biko. I however didn’t like your dig on the “boys in the barracks”. The common assumption just isn’t true and you Biko, a celebrated writer really should know better. I however forgive you and invite you to visit my home and learn what the “boys in the barracks” actually do. Seriously.

  10. “and the national women’s volleyball team” Really! Did you have to go there? May they never forgive you!

  11. “watoto wa Nyayo” screaming and waving, and Moi with that wry grin, and sculpted face, waving back….. now i need to do some soul searching and see if am a patriotic or not 🙁 good work Biko.

  12. I see Kenya as that kid on the block with not the best toys in his drawers running around with hand me downs but still the kid that everybody wants to play with.. and i for sure want to play with that kid forever.

  13. Kipsang is a marathon god walking on this upturned pile of rubble you call earth – this guy should be worshiped. You should have described him with words that you couldn’t sell, words that you treasure MOST and also put a wand of inspiration to give those words a MAGICAL effect to any avid readers sensual mind- In truth I am not hurt but disappointed at how you hv casually thrown Kipsang’s achievements in your writeup like a kid doodling in putty, shame on you man but I like the the part where you admit you wont die for this country even if it had breasts! I wouldnt either, infact I would tell Saddam not to bother with making another bomb coz I am crashing all this shit with the palm of ma hand!

  14. one day, us fans, will hold a natinal gathering paying homage to your fantabulous writing, keep ’em coming, champion!

  15. Blame it on our media. Kenyatta this, Raila that, Ruto there… whereas we have so many spectacular Kenyans doing great things at the local level and at the international arena. Heroes who go unreported; but since their stories can’t sell papers, why bother publishing their stories? I am with you here; I can’t die for Kenya; maybe in a parallel universe where our systems and institutions are functioning, justice reigns supreme and we have got our priorities right. No, endless politicking is not one of them, though you can get a good story from it (read my short story http://www.zurikiki.com/stories/of-bananas-and-oranges/).

  16. I love Kenya, would want to be a Kenyan in the next life, but I don’t know if I will die for Kenya..

    And of course my most patriotic moments is watching Kenyan athletes sweep the medals, like they do in the 3,000m steeplechase.. Nothing like the national anthem being played in front of the world. I must attend the 2016 Olympics!

  17. Another nice piece-raises pertinent questions about patriotism-or lack of it.Kudos.One parting shot though-the writing would be better without the frequent mentions of all those pretentious middle class haunts and events-Bacchus,Blankets and Wines,Masaku 7s etc.

  18. Nice one Biko I Loved it keep up. our patriotism only comes when such things happen… I pity My country.
    Why do we allow tribalism to take over this sweet patriotism?

  19. Nice piece, I Love Kenya , I would pick up a gun, but not to shoot the Ethiopians though, but the cool idiots we call our politicians

  20. Wanjiru winning the Olympic marathon last action in Beijing hoisting his hands in the air and the funny way the commentator said his name will stick on me forever

  21. Aaahh Biko, let’s not get mushy. I do my job daily and no one celebrates me. You know, because I am not doing national service, forget that I am involved in the hard labor of building the nation. These guys are lucky to have a flag under which to perform their feats and make their millions…They are just doing their jobs and better still following their passions. Besides, patriotism is too often blind and stupid. Notice the Americans, Israelis and etc blowing up everything in the name of patriotism. This is my Kenyan patriotism–doing my job as best as I can and not shooting matatu drivers.