Impeachment is in the air and everyone in Kenya is holding their breath. I have no clue how this will end-a week can be a very long time in politics.
This country has seen its fair share of impeachments, the first one dating back to 1909. The colonial masters, in their pedantic wisdom (or lack thereof), appointed one Wangu wa Makeri as headman. At a time when men couldn’t stand the idea of taking orders from a woman.
To throw salt on the wound, Wangu was tougher than a tin pot dictator with a personal vendetta against everyone. She enforced the Finance Bill ruthlessly, ensuring everyone paid hut taxes to the British Crown. If you dared refuse, she’d have your kienyeji cows confiscated. Had KRA had been around, they would have feted her.
As Wangu worked hard to impress the Crown, she became more tyrannical by the day. Rumour has it that when she called a baraza and nobody bothered to give her a chair, she would casually order the nearest man to drop down on all fours. Then, she would address the meeting perched on the man’s back. Good thing there weren’t any Gen Z kids around to cancel her for those “impunities.”
But one day, the men of the village had had enough. They gathered under the great mutuya tree in the dead of night for a secret kamukunji. It was an all-men’s club, and the main agenda was impeaching Wangu. Luckily for them, Wangu didn’t catch wind of this illegal gathering.
The next Saturday, young men organized a mugithi night, but then it was called kibaata. Such a dance, usually held under the moonlight to celebrate a successful raid, was male warriors only affair. Wangu was invited to represent the government.
Unaware that it was trap, she donned her gava beret, stuck her state issue swagger stick under her armpit and marched to the dance of men. At first, it was all vibes, with the men gyrating to the sway of the evening breeze. Wangu joined in, her hips swaying in time to the beat of the bongos. Soon, Madam headman was having a blast—so much so that she forgot she wasn’t one of the boys.
As the dance heated up, the lead singer yelled, “Wapi nduru ya Wangu!” and the men jumped higher in excitement. Wangu forgot that she was representing gava of the day and lept sky high. That’s when disaster struck—her sisal skirt fell off mid-jump, leaving her and the entire government of the day in a nude situation. The dance ended abruptly.
The next day, the men held an emergency meeting. One young firebrand stood up and tabled a motion of impeachment, citing Wangu’s “abuse of office” (a.k.a. dancing naked). The second charge was her recently acquired wealth in form of cows which she had accumulated during her brief tenure. Apparently, Wangu had grown wealthier than her boss, Paramount Chief Karuri wa Gakure, in just seven years.
And just like that, the council of elders agreed that Wangu had to go. In June 1909, her reign as headman came to an end, marking Kenya’s first-ever successful impeachment. Moral of the story? Sometimes, an impassioned jump can bring down a government.
(This article first appeared in “The Nairobian”.)
