Short on formal education but full of a realist's demeanour and hilarious theatrics, John King’ori depended heavily on luck and goodwill of councillors to govern Nairobi as its mayor.
He was elected to City Hall in 1994 and his reign lasted until 1998. Heavy in Kikuyu accent, Mayor King’ori’s speeches often left his audiences in stitches. His solutions to problems were often simplistic.
King’ori died on January 22 at Nairobi Hospital after short illness. He had been battling a brain tumour. He was 75. He will be buried this weekend.
Before his election, the city’s management had been in the hands of successive commissions instituted by the national government after mayors before him failed to steer the capital as expected.
City roads were in a sorry state, garbage and filth littered everywhere, health services poor, no lighting and violent thugs roamed free.
Upon his election, Kingo’ri told the New York Times that he ran because he “received a call from God to salvage this city.”
His approach when dealing with journalists or councillors or anybody else was the same - unscripted and full of apparent guesswork.
When the Times reporter asked him about his agenda for the city, he famously said: “I do not have any hidden agenda for the city.”
And on the traffic menace in the city, Kingo'ri once said: "Those motolists (motorists) who are farking (parking) their cars on the pavement will be heaviry sharged (heavily charged)!"
In 1997, one of the city dailies published a stinging commentary titled ‘City Hole and the mayor,” reserving the most brutal rebuke for King’ori.
With 1997 elections around the corner, the good mayor called the editor the same day the article ran, requesting that he visits his Parlour (para as King’ori would call it) so he could set the record straight.
While the editor honoured the appointment at the mayor’s parlour at the agreed time, not even King’ori’s secretary and his assistants had a clue about the meeting or his whereabouts.
After hours of waiting, the aides suggested to the editor to try checking at the mayor’s Accra Hotel along the city’s Accra Road if he could be there.
From the hotel, it emerged that King’ori had travelled to his Karatina home after he arranged for the meeting. No one had a clue when he would return. When the editor dashed back to the newsroom, he dutifully wrote about it, espousing his experience at the mayor’s hand.
At mid-morning the following day, King’ori would call and with a self-deprecating mien give a lengthy apology.
“You know I’m a wicked mayor,” King’ori explained. He meant that he was “a weakened mayor”.
And when he was caught in usually heated politics of the city, he would quip: “I is the mayor and others are mere kanjuras…” and “no vegetation is allowed in Nairobi beyond vegetables”.
His fight against the city's legendary corruption cartels was spirited and almost cost him his life.
At one point, he dodged gunmen who were after his life because of tough decision he made at City Hall.
