Conflict simmers in west Kenya

Even after being torched by looters, the Kimwa Grand bar remains one of the most popular gathering points in this western Kenyan city.

But rather than dancing and drinking, dozens of young men are looting the nightclub’s charred remains, carting away door frames, metal scraps and whatever else they can carry.

“This is our vote,” said Allen Ojwang, 18, one of the scavengers, referring to Kenya’s disputed Dec. 27 presidential election. “We were denied our rights, so now we are taking this.”

This restive area, birthplace of presidential challenger Raila Odinga, was among the hardest hit by looting and rioting after the election.

On Wednesday, that unrest continued when a funeral procession led by Odinga in the Kenyan capital, Nairobi, turned violent. Protesters set fire to a government building, looted nearby offices and robbed public telephone booths.

Former United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan, who arrived Tuesday night, began mediation talks between the government and opposition, with the latter agreeing to cancel a protest scheduled for today.

Kisumu, the main city in western Kenya, has been relatively calm in recent days. However, residents are grappling with an economic hangover that is striking hardest on the most impoverished, including many of those who took part in violent demonstrations late last month.

More than 5,000 people lost their jobs after half the city’s downtown businesses were looted or damaged.

Prices for staples such as sugar, flour, tomatoes and potatoes have doubled. Some items, such as peas and carrots, are impossible to find because trade has stopped amid ethnic tensions and insecurity.

People trying to leave the city face long lines and higher fares at the bus depot because the transportation industry was run by Kikuyus, who belong to the same tribe as President Mwai Kibaki and have borne the brunt of the attacks. Most Kikuyu business owners have fled, leaving the city’s transportation and service industries in disarray.

Supermarkets, electronics shops and other retailers owned by South Asians also suffered heavy losses, and few have reopened.

Now the city is facing food shortages, inflation and lack of services. Even finding a place to grab a beer has become difficult because Kikuyus ran most of the pubs.

The rioters “didn’t gain anything out of this,” said local business owner Damji Mandavia, whose bakery and Internet cafe were looted. “In fact, they are suffering much.”

Asked whether he planned to reopen, he shrugged. “I don’t have the money,” he said.

But even as they acknowledged the self-inflicted pain caused by the postelection violence, many in Kisumu defended their actions.

“I have no regrets,” said Humphries Odongo, 45. He said he participated in the rioting even though his small restaurant was an unintended casualty of the fires.

“I would do it again. . . . That’s anger.”

The city lost at least 120 businesses and reported more than $45 million in damage, mostly inflicted during riots shortly before and after Kibaki was declared the winner Dec. 30, according to the local chamber of commerce.

Chamber Chairman Jared Ochanda worried about the city’s recovery if business owners remained afraid to return. “We’re going to face a bleak future,” he said.

A handful of Kikuyus still in Kisumu vowed they would never reopen. Thousands of Kikuyus once lived in the lakeside community. Now only a few dozen remain, living in tents on police station compounds until they can make arrangements to leave. Even under police protection, they continue to receive threats from non-Kikuyus, who shout at them through the chain-link fence.

From one makeshift displacement camp, David Githura, 48, watches as looters dismantle his father’s office building 200 yards away. “It’s so painful to see every day,” he said.

They are bitter about their sudden fall from the top echelon of Kisumu society to desperate refugees. Using vitriol that underscores the ethnic tensions, the Kikuyus accused rival tribes of being jealous of their success.

“They are lazy and don’t know how to run a business,” said barber David Marete, 32, speaking about Kisumu’s majority tribe, the Luo. “They just want to grab our businesses, our houses and other property. Kikuyus are hard workers and clever. We worked for it.”

Luos, in turn, say their neighbors owe their prosperity to the central government, which has long been dominated by Kikuyus. That resulted in land grants, bank loans and favoritism that enabled members of the tribe to seize control of much of the region’s economy. Factories were relocated to Kikuyu-dominated provinces farther inland.

“We remained poor while they got rich,” said Esther Akiayi, 30, a used-clothing vendor. Her supplier, a Kikuyu, was looted, so now she’s out of work too.

Despite the animosity between tribes, the conflict in Kisumu and other parts of Kenya is largely rooted in economic and political marginalization. Luos here say they would welcome back the Kikuyus as long as there was a more equal distribution of money and power.

“If Raila became president, they could come back and we could live together,” said Teresa Atienion, 33, selling tomatoes and greens outside an abandoned Kikuyu storefront. Her old wood shack was burned down during the rioting.

Not only has it been more difficult to find fresh supplies because of the disruption in trade, but sales also have evaporated. “No one has any money, so there are no customers,” she said.

Grace Kaindi, head of the regional police department in Kisumu, said the problems provide a reminder of the interdependence of Kenya’s tribes. “We need each other,” she said.

A handful of entrepreneurs are finding opportunity in the turmoil.

A month ago, 32-year-old truck driver Edwin Kirwa charged $375 to haul a load of fruit and vegetables into town, making about two trips a week. Today, amid heavy demand and fuel shortages, his price is $600 and he’s making daily trips.

Smiling as he watched eager buyers offload a shipment of mangoes, Kirwa said, “The work is good.”

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edmund.sanders@latimes.com