The ‘politics of jealousy’ drives violence in Kenya

Laborers living on a tiny coffee farm here in western Kenya awoke in the middle of the night last week to an odd light radiating from their huts. At first it seemed like an early sunrise. Then they realized their homes were on fire.

“I told my children, ‘Now we are dead,’ ” recalled Rosemary Nasimiyu, 53, who warned her five youngsters not to scream as they fled, so attackers would not shoot them.

She and other victims said they recognized the culprits: neighbors from a different tribe across the river. But they say the motive had little to do with ethnic rivalry or even the disputed Dec. 27 presidential poll that has rocked this East African nation.

“They’re after this land,” said Helen Bosibori, 28, a coffee picker who lost her belongings in the blaze.

Chaos in Kenya since last month’s election has often been linked to simmering tribal tensions or a political power struggle. More than 600 people have been killed in the violence, including at least 17 who were burned alive in a horrific church attack that drew comparisons with the 1994 genocide in Rwanda.

But as the story of Katata illustrates, much of Kenya’s violence is rooted in economics. In the Rift Valley, the epicenter of recent killing and destruction, leaders and residents insist that much of the fighting stems from competition for land, jobs and business opportunities. They describe it as a classic struggle between haves and have-nots.

“It’s the politics of jealousy, and it’s been brewing for a long time,” said Ken Wafula, a human rights activist.

Even the electoral tug of war between President Mwai Kibaki and challenger Raila Odinga largely is a fight over wealth, thanks to a political spoils system in which victors dole out rewards, including grants and government jobs, to fellow tribespeople.

“It’s not about race,” Odinga said Wednesday in Nairobi, the capital.

“Kibaki represents a small clique that has been presiding over the inequitable distribution of Kenya’s resources.”

Several thousand of Odinga’s supporters clashed with riot police in several cities Wednesday, defying a ban on demonstrations. At least two people were reported killed as police used tear gas and live bullets to quickly disperse crowds. In Nairobi, police used tear gas against newly elected parliament members who attempted to gather for a march.

“We have a right to assemble,” said Najib Balala, a member of parliament, his eyes red from the gas. Balala was chased several blocks by police before escaping in a car.

The attack in Katata last week left one security guard dead and 32 homes destroyed.

On the other side of the river from Katata’s coffee fields, in a farming valley known as Mathmbei Ward, residents say poverty is worsening. They blame their problems on the farm owners, who are from Kibaki’s Kikuyu tribe, the largest in Kenya.

Since Kibaki took office in 2002, said Jeffrey Ndiema, 23, a farmer, Kikuyus are increasingly better off, whereas the Kalenjin tribe members who largely make up Mathmbei Ward have struggled. A neighbor was fired from the police force to make room for a Kikuyu, he said. The Kikuyu school across the river gets government subsidies, but the Kalenjin school has five teachers for 1,000 students.

Kikuyus had allowed Kalenjins to grow corn on the edges of the coffee fields. But three years ago, Kikuyus stopped leasing the land and began planting corn themselves in competition with Kalenjins.

When asked whether Kalenjins led the Katata attack, Ndiema denied involvement -- as did other Kalenjins interviewed. But he said violence was a justifiable way of “sending a message” against Kibaki, who was hastily inaugurated Dec. 30 after being declared the victor in an election that Odinga insists he won.

“Kibaki is all the way in Nairobi,” he said. “We can’t reach him there. The only way is to hit those here who supported him.”

Elections in Kenya have often spurred unrest, partly because of the country’s winner-take-all tradition. Victors are expected to reward supporters handsomely. Kenyans, ranging from powerful businessmen to impoverished laborers, view national elections as an opportunity to improve their lot once every five years.

The modern practice started with Kenya’s founding father, Jomo Kenyatta. After taking office, Kenyatta stacked his Cabinet with fellow Kikuyus. The nepotism filtered down to all aspects of society, from bank loans to taxi franchises.

Kenyatta helped Kikuyus buy up millions of acres of land owned by the British colonialists in the prime Rift Valley. Kikuyus grew to become Kenya’s most prosperous tribe, migrating from their ancestral home in central Kenya to every corner of the country.

Subsequent presidents followed his example. The Kalenjins enjoyed their turn during the 24-year rule of former President Daniel Arap Moi, a member of their tribe.

Supporters of Odinga believed strongly that victory would give his long-marginalized Luo tribe its chance to eat at the government table.

Kikuyu domination of Kenya’s politics and wealth fueled the tensions that erupted after the election. In the slums of Nairobi, Kikuyus were hunted and attacked. Kikuyu-owned shops were burned down. Nearly 250,000 people have been displaced, mostly Kikuyus.

In some parts of the country, members of other tribes moved quickly to occupy land, homes, jobs and businesses left behind by Kikuyus.

“What have we done to deserve this?” said Miriam Wangari, 57, a Kikuyu who was chased out of her home in the village of Kipkabus. Now she and her nine children are living in the courtyard of a church in the western city of Eldoret, clinging to the few bags of corn they were able to salvage.

But Kikuyus are not only victims. They also have contributed to the violence, striking back with their own armed gangs.

Many Kikuyus suspect that the attacks against them are part of a planned campaign to grab their wealth, not a spontaneous outburst of frustration.

In Katata, villagers say their Kalenjin neighbors taunted them with warnings about an impending attack weeks before the Dec. 27 presidential vote. They say the Kalenjins launched a similar campaign during the 1992 election, taking a stretch of land about a mile away.

Tribal affiliation and presidential preference do not appear to be primary factors in the Katata assault, residents say. In fact, most of the villagers here are not Kikuyus; they just live and work on a Kikuyu-owned farm.

Charles Musiomi, 54, a Katata coffee picker, said he voted for Odinga, not Kibaki. “They still burned my house,” he said, standing in front of the ashes.

Pastor Stephen Mburu, founder of the Assemblies of God church near Eldoret that was burned down Jan. 1, said he believed the strikes against Kikuyus in the Rift Valley would have been launched regardless of the election outcome. Residents say 35 people died at the church, though the International Committee of the Red Cross reported recovering 17 bodies.

“Even if [Odinga] was elected president, we would have been targeted and chased away,” said Mburu, who was beaten by mobs while trying to rescue children from the flames.

“They think we are occupiers of their land. They tell their children that the Rift Valley is their inheritance.”

Before Wednesday’s protests, violence had been subsiding. Most parts of the country have been slowly returning to an uneasy normality. Schools reopened Monday. Most businesses are operating.

But at the same time, signs of the chaos are everywhere. Burned-out trucks dot the highways. Scavengers pick through the ashes of Kikuyu-owned businesses. Displacement continues in some parts of the country because of fears that attacks will resume.

Maina Kiai, chairman of the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights, said the country could not afford to return to business as usual without first addressing the underlying issues of tribal resentment, social injustice and economic disenfranchisement. He is calling for a national reconciliation conference, similar to ones held in South Africa and Rwanda, to promote healing.

“There’s a whole list of horrible things that have happened in the country, and we never talk about it,” Kiai said.

“If we don’t do it now, as painful as it is, it will hurt more later.”

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edmund.sanders@latimes.com